Day by Day by JanieB

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 21/11/2004
Last Updated: 27/02/2005
Status: Completed

Their years at Hogwarts are behind them, Hermione and Ron are living (separately!) in London and
Harry has joined them after being at Hogwarts for some time following his defeat of Voldemort. Ron
is now happily going out with Luna and Ginny is in love with Dean Thomas who is very supportive of
her and her career. Career wise things look up for her when she's asked to interview a newly
released inmate of Azkaban, Draco Malfoy. Harry and Hermione struggle with a friendship that is
doomed to romance... A fun fic with a little touch of drama/angst and a tiny twist of mystery. The
sequel to this story is "Four Weddings & A Funeral".




1. The One Which Is Rather Short Because It's Really An Introd
--------------------------------------------------------------

Note I usually list spoilers for Books 1-5 because then I’m covered just in case, but it doesn’t
always mean there **are** spoilers so please forgive me in advance if you’re expecting something
that’s not in the story! I uploaded Chapters 1 and 2 together for obvious reasons – Chapter One is
**really** short. I hope you enjoy this because that’s why I wrote it! And I just love reading
your reviews!

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter One: “The One Which Is Rather Short Because It’s Really Just An Introduction”

‘You want me to *what?!* But Professor, how on earth is that going to help?’

Hermione felt helpless, struggling to maintain her usual calm, cool and collected demeanour. Her
thoughts were flying here and there at a frightening rate, desperately seeking a way to say no to
the request Professor Dumbledore had just made of her. A sinking feeling developed very quickly
when she realised there were no excuses to be found. After all, how could she refuse a
*request* from Professor Albus Dumbledore, especially when it involved one of her best
friends, Harry Potter?

Unable to stop herself, Hermione sprang out of the chair she’d taken on arriving only a mere
five minutes before and began pacing in front of the Professor’s desk. ‘Why don’t you ask Ron?’ she
cried, ‘I’m sure that would be far more sensible!’

They were in Professor Dumbledore’s office at Hogwarts, the Professor seated behind his desk,
calmly looking at Hermione who was definitely *losing* her calm.

‘Now Miss Granger, please sit down and relax a little. You’re straining my eyes and my neck at
the same time with all this back and forth, back and forth,’ the Professor told her, waving his
hand expressively.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh as she dropped into the chair she’d vacated only a minute
before and took a couple of deep breaths. She had to maintain some semblance of control, or at
least appear to, but it wasn’t easy going. The Professor, of course, had absolutely no idea that
what he was asking of her was akin to torture.

‘Thank you,’ said the Professor, those twinkling blue eyes smiling at her over the top of his
half moon spectacles. Then he continued, ‘The reason why I’m asking *you,* Miss Granger and
not Mr Weasley, is because I believe that the best thing for Harry at the moment is a woman’s touch
and you are the best woman for the job.’

‘I’m not his mother,’ Hermione remarked tartly and considered glaring momentarily at the
Professor but found she lacked the courage.

‘And no one thinks you are. What I mean, Miss Granger, is that I believe Harry will be more
relaxed in your company as he won’t feel the need to put on a front, if you like, with you, but
which he would undoubtedly do if he was with Mr Weasley. I don’t want him wasting time maintaining
false facades when what he needs to be doing is concentrating on getting used to living away from
Hogwarts once more.’ What he didn’t say was that he also had no doubt Hermione would guard Harry’s
wellbeing as would a lioness her cubs.

Hermione nodded grudgingly. She knew what the Professor meant and he was right.

‘So how long is this for?’ she asked.

‘I would say until he’s found his feet and is able to find his own place in which to live.
Perhaps as little as four weeks – perhaps as much as six or eight weeks. I can’t really say.’

Hermione couldn’t help herself – she groaned out loud.

The Professor smiled. ‘Now surely it won’t be that much of a burden having Harry live with you?
I believe he’s reasonably tidy and organised, he’s well-mannered and considerate and you’ve known
him more than half your life. Is there a particular problem I should be aware of Miss Granger?’

Hermione dropped her head, her hand cradling her forehead. *Ha! A particular problem? Well,
now that you mention it,* Hermione thought, *there is just one, tiny, small, insignificant,
minor problem, Professor, only one: I love the man! I’d give anything to be living with him – but
not when he sees me as nothing more than a sisterly best friend. And to add insult to injury, he’s
grown into such a bloody attractive man and – and – well, he’s downright sexy as hell, damn him!
It’s hard enough loving him because of the person he is without him having the hide to turn around
and grow up gorgeous! And the Professor was asking her to shack up with him for Merlin knew how
long – holy hell! A particular problem indeed!*

Hermione lifted her head, barely managing to maintain her all-important composure in the face of
impending disaster as she looked at the Professor. She had no choice. She had to admit defeat. With
a small half smile in place, she answered, ‘No, no particular problem, Professor. Of course he can
come and live with me for as long as he needs to.’ *What the hell,* she thought, *I could do
with some major stress and raging sexual tension in my life – haven’t had any for a while.* She
definitely felt a little hysterical as she accepted the Portkey the Professor offered which would
return her to her flat in London; her mind was already racing ahead of her, thinking about what she
was going to need to do before Harry arrived that afternoon.



2. The One Where Harry Moves In With Hermione
---------------------------------------------

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Two: “The One Where Harry Moves In With Hermione”

**Saturday**

That had been two weeks ago to the day. Now, on this warm Saturday morning in June Hermione had
awoken, but hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. She lay there, thinking. Agonising, if truth be told. She
thought that next time she saw Professor Dumbledore she might very well kill him, rather slowly if
possible. She’d suffered two weeks of hell as she saw it and there was no end in sight. Maintaining
her composure was becoming an *art,* for Merlin’s sake. As she lay there, the sound of the
bathroom door closing reached her, meaning that Harry was also up and going to have his shower. Her
eyes closed as images and events from the last two weeks replayed themselves in her mind.

*Harry had arrived later the same day that she’d seen Professor Dumbledore. She’d prepared the
spare bedroom for him, emptying the built-in wardrobe so that he’d have space for his own clothes
and things. Professor Dumbledore had given him a Portkey which brought him to her loungeroom, along
with his battered trunk; Hedwig had arrived a little later, landing on the windowsill of Harry’s
room.*

*Hermione felt her reservations melt away at the sight of Harry. He looked so pleased to see
her she couldn’t help but feel happy to have him there as he swept her up in a hug, thanking her
for having him as Crookshanks weaved approvingly around their ankles.*

*After he’d defeated Voldemort he’d spent most of his time at Hogwarts under the care of Madam
Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore. His physical injuries had healed well, but Harry had for a time
felt lost, somehow. He told Dumbledore that he’d never thought beyond ridding the world of
Voldemort. Oh, he’d given a little thought as to what career he might follow, but he’d never
actually tried to imagine life with no Voldemort in the world since he’d never really been certain
that he’d win. And now that there was no Voldemort, he felt in a way he was no longer needed and
couldn’t think what to do with himself. Even being an Auror, his original career choice, seemed
fairly pointless now that Voldemort was gone.*

*He’d stayed on at Hogwarts and when Dumbledore asked him to teach Defence Against the Dark
Arts, he jumped at the chance. It probably wasn’t quite as exciting as the DA had been back in his
fifth year, but he found it curiously satisfying and gratifying. The students themselves couldn’t
believe they had Harry Potter as their DADA Professor and many classes were lost to Harry giving
into repeated pleas and requests for first hand versions of his many adventures – they were the
stuff legends were made of! He learnt as time went on and eventually became very adept at inserting
a relevant lesson in each of his many retellings. It was any wonder DADA soon surpassed
Transfiguration as the favourite subject at Hogwarts.*

*Ron and Hermione had visited him regularly over the years; they had both gone on to work at
the Ministry of Magic - Hermione for the* *General Research into Everything Department and Ron
for the Department of Magical Games and Sports (Quidditch Division).*

*Now, four years after they’d done their NEWTs, Harry had decided it was time to leave the
sanctuary of Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had agreed immediately, but felt that Harry should stay
with one of his friends until he readjusted to living “back in the world” as he put it. He also
privately thought that Harry, being Harry, wouldn’t be able to comprehend the adulation and
admiration felt for him by almost every witch and wizard alive. Harry agreed with Dumbledore and
assumed he’d stay with Ron. However, Dumbledore told him he’d spoken to Hermione and she was more
than happy to have him stay with her – she had plenty of room and had a much more ordered and
quieter existence than Ron, the Professor told him. Harry, initially surprised, didn’t take long to
smile and agree that it was an excellent idea. Staying with Hermione? Perfect!*

*Over the course of the last two weeks, rarely did a day pass by that Harry didn’t thank
Hermione for having him, or tell her how much he appreciated it and how much at home she made him
feel. Hermione gritted her teeth. So much at home that he’d come into the kitchen after he’d had a
shower in the morning and sit with her to eat breakfast with just his towel wrapped around his
waist. Sometimes he’d actually put on some jeans or trackpants, but he still never put on a shirt
or t-shirt until he’d finished breakfast. When Hermione finally worked up the courage to ask him
why, in what she prayed was a nonchalant voice, he said if he put on a clean top he could almost
guarantee he’d spill some part of his breakfast on it so he just didn’t bother until he’d finished
eating. It was a habit he’d developed during his years at Hogwarts, from living alone in his own
rooms where he preferred to eat his breakfast rather than under scrutiny in the Great Hall. Did it
bother her? Should he go and put a t-shirt on? Hermione had smiled, waving her hand dismissively,
saying she’d just been wondering, that was all and he should feel free to make himself at home. On
the mornings he appeared in just that damn towel, she’d found herself wondering if there was
anything under it and what would happen if it came undone… then had to perform an agonising mental
exercise to make sure THAT particular thought and the accompanying image didn’t intrude again – her
sanity was rather precious to her and it was feeling a little fragile right now…*

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Hermione groaned, pulling the covers over her head. *It was bloody great,* she thought
bitterly to herself, *to have to sit there in the kitchen every morning with her lean, but
well-toned and shirtless guest, eating toast and drinking tea and trying to pretend that a
half-naked Harry wasn’t driving her to distraction. Just bloody great. The continuous struggle to
maintain her composure was getting harder every day.*

However, she’d leave for work and was able to bury herself in her reading and research so that
most days she managed to keep all those disturbing thoughts and feelings for Harry tucked away in a
corner of her mind. Until she arrived home from work. That first day, he’d offered to give her a
soothing neck and shoulder massage after he’d made her a cup of tea because, he’d told her, she
looked so tense. Despite her fears of what Harry’s touch might do to her, she found the short
massage session very relaxing and on days when Harry decided she looked tense, she had no say in
the matter – he would insist on giving her one of his massages.

But to top it all off, the piece de resistance, the icing on the cake, the final straw – it had
to be the kiss-and-hug routine. Every evening before she went to bed. On the evening of that first
day, once Harry had unpacked and settled himself into his room, they’d decided to go for a walk so
that Harry could familiarise himself a little with his new neighbourhood, which consisted mostly of
Muggles so he was able to walk around unrecognised. They’d picked up some take-away for dinner and
ate it while they watched one of the many DVDs in Hermione’s movie library. When the movie
finished, Hermione stood and stretched, yawning, telling Harry she was off to bed. She’d squealed
with fright when, her hands still clasped above her head in the throes of stretching, she felt
Harry’s arms encircle her, causing her to immediately drop her hands on to his shoulders, looking
up at him in total amazement. He smiled, then leaned forward to kiss her softly on her cheek;
Hermione, despite being in shock, still managed to register the wonderful smell of him and the feel
of his lips against her skin. She’d stared at him dumbfounded, desperately trying to ignore her dry
throat and pounding heart. *Bloody hell! What now? What in the name of Merlin was he doing this
for? Damn it, she didn’t need him hugging and kissing her for heaven’s sake, even if it was only on
the cheek!* Seeing the look on her face and assuming she was surprised at coming face to face
with an affectionate Harry, he’d laughed and said that as a child he’d always wished for someone to
hug and kiss him goodnight and now he had his wish and who better than his best friend to help him
fulfil it? She didn’t mind, did she? ‘Oh no, no, no – absolutely not!’ she’d lied bravely. ‘It’s a
wonderful thing,’ she’d told him, and hugged him back.

Yep, two weeks of hell. She was climbing the wall and there was no end to this torture in
sight.

She threw the covers off, but remained lying down. She’d have to get up and go have breakfast
very soon, **or else**… *or else she’d no doubt have to suffer a repeat of what had happened
when she’d tried staying in bed a little later the previous Wednesday; she’d done so in the hope
that by the time she arrived in the kitchen, Harry would’ve finished his breakfast and so would
have his shirt on and she wouldn’t have to spend the whole time concentrating on NOT looking at his
naked torso. Well, that was a mistake, a BIG mistake - a doozy, in fact, and it had backfired badly
- because what happened was that Harry had then brought breakfast to her, in her bedroom! He sat on
her bed beside her with his own tea and toast – and he was even closer than he would have been in
the kitchen. Breakfast in her bedroom with Harry! Shit! She’d realised that if she lifted her arm
and reached out just a little she’d be able to run her fingers over his – STOP! she’d screamed to
herself – but her traitorous mind wouldn’t stop – it insisted on wondering just how would it feel
if she slid down in the bed and pulled Harry down with her – how his mouth would feel on hers – how
it would feel travelling down her neck – ‘Shit!’ she’d exclaimed as some of her tea spilt onto the
duvet.*

*Harry had laughed. ‘Whoa, Hermione – you can swear! What happened to my prim-and-proper
Little Miss Perfect?’*

*Hermione shot him a dark look. ‘You wouldn’t believe what goes through my head sometimes,
Harry,’ she’d said.*

*‘You can’t shock me, Hermione!’ he replied, laughing.*

*‘That’s what you think,’ she’d muttered under her breath, using her serviette to mop up the
tea and avoiding Harry’s eyes.*

*After that little episode, she made sure she ate breakfast in the kitchen where the naked
torso was well out of reach across the table.*

Hermione swung her legs around over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching. *Another
day.* *More torture-by-Harry. Oh, goody.* As she made her bed, she heard the shower go off
and so a few minutes later she gathered her clothes and headed for the bathroom. As she opened her
bedroom door, she could see the bathroom door just down the hall on her right was ajar which
usually meant Harry was finished and had probably headed for the kitchen to begin preparing
breakfast. She walked to the bathroom and pushed the door fully open, taking a second to realise
that Harry wasn’t in the kitchen preparing breakfast, he was still in the bathroom and not only
that, he was standing at the sink with his back to her, shaving. Which was all very well with the
exception of one small detail: he was starkers. Hermione gave a small scream but was unable to move
for a few seconds, brown eyes meeting the reflection of green eyes in the mirror. He looked rather
surprised but not too perturbed. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more perturbed.
She mumbled something that sounded like “sorry” and shut the door. She stumbled back to her
bedroom, closing the door, dropping her clothes on the floor and leaned back on the door for
support, her heart rate going through the roof. She closed her eyes, only to open them with a start
when she realised that the sight of Harry standing naked at her bathroom sink was imprinted on the
inside of her eyelids.

*Oh fuck!* she thought miserably. *Now I have the memory of one of the best looking
backsides I’ve seen in a long time to torment me on top of everything else! Life with Harry just
keeps getting better!* She let her knees give way and sank slowly to the floor. She was
definitely going to kill Dumbledore. If she didn’t expire first that was, as she was sure the
mixture of desire and frustration she was suffering could be fatal.

When she walked into the kitchen twenty minutes later, showered and dressed in her “Saturday
tracks” as she thought of them, she’d managed to pull herself together and apart from a throwaway
comment to Harry that standing around naked and not closing the door was neither friendly nor
*considerate,* the incident appeared to be *behind* them, although it did insist on
replaying itself in Hermione’s mind over and over during breakfast, making it impossible for her to
read her book. This sorely tested her all-important composure but it did help a little that Harry
for some reason had decided against the towel and put his trackpants on this morning. Thank Merlin
for small mercies.

They’d finished eating their breakfast and were sitting, sipping their tea while they read. Or
at least while Harry read and Hermione stared at the same page, thinking of Harry…

‘You know,’ Harry said, looking up from the previous day’s copy of the Daily Prophet, oblivious
to the turmoil within his friend, ‘I think we should do something with Ron - see if we can persuade
him to have lunch or dinner with us – go out somewhere.’

‘Great idea, Harry!’ agreed Hermione enthusiastically. Being anywhere else other than home alone
with Harry was fine by her. Less suffering involved.

‘I’ll go Floo Ron and see what we can organise,’ he said, as Hermione started clearing the
breakfast things, putting the kettle on for their customary second cup of tea, then bending with a
smile to pat Crookshanks who purred delightedly at her ministrations.

Hermione had just finished cleaning up and filling the teapot when Harry returned from the
loungeroom, smiling.

‘Guess what?’ he asked her jubilantly.

‘Don’t make me!’ Hermione laughed, throwing the teatowel she held at him.

He caught it and threw it straight back at her, his Seeker reflexes still very evident, catching
her unawares as it wrapped around her face. She caught it as it dropped and gave Harry a mock
glare, walking slowly towards him, brandishing the teatowel.

‘Not nice, Potter,’ she said in a threatening tone.

Harry put his hands up in front of his face, ‘Please don’t hurt me!’ he said in a falsely
pathetic voice.

‘No mercy!’ cried Hermione as she launched the teatowel at him.

The second he caught it, an evil grin appeared on his face as he took the teatowel by one corner
and gave it a vicious flick, making it *snap!*

Hermione stood her ground, hands on hips, glaring at him – *daring* him!

For just a second, Harry allowed his perception to shift – his awareness to alter so that he
took in Hermione looking rather cute and very sexy at the same time, standing there, *daring*
him – and felt an instinctive desire to… he mentally sidestepped that thought and quickly lunged at
her, grabbing her around the waist and picking her up, making her squeal. Then they were both
laughing and he put her down, wrapping the teatowel around the back of her neck, keeping hold of
each end and pulling her towards him with it. Hermione had to put her hands on his chest to stop
being pulled against him.

He was trying unsuccessfully not to smile as he attempted to sound threatening while he said,
‘Next time, Granger, I won’t be so lenient. The teatowel will be *wet and will make contact! No
mercy!*’

‘Ha! Just *words* Potter!’ she flung defiantly at him.

Then her situation hit home – she was mere inches from having her entire body pressing against
Harry’s – the extraordinary feel of his bare chest so hard, yet warm beneath her hands – those
galvanising green eyes so close she could see her own reflection in them – the smell of him, not
long from the shower – her eyes dropping involuntarily to his mouth – *oh shit!* she thought,
*I’ve got to get away!*

Hermione ducked down and twisted sideways, escaping the teatowel and smiling at Harry as she
moved around him, heading for the door. Harry turned on the spot to face her, ‘You won’t get away
so easily next time!’ he told her.

‘We’ll see! Now, enough high jinks. What did you and Ron come up with for today?’

Walking over to hang the teatowel up, then pouring their cups of tea, Harry told her Ron was
free for the whole day so they thought they should meet for lunch at The Burning Broomstick and
take it from there.

‘And you still haven’t guessed what, yet,’ Harry finished as they moved to the loungeroom,
sitting in the lounges that faced each other across a long, glass coffee table to enjoy their
second “cuppa”.

‘I have no doubt I’d never guess in a million years, Harry, so you’d better just tell me,’ she
replied, rolling her eyes, wondering if he’d forgotten that he hadn’t put a top of some sort on as
yet, but unable to bring herself to remind him.

‘All right, spoilsport! (at which Hermione poked her tongue out a him) Well, Ron asked me if it
was all right for him to bring someone with him.’

Hermione immediately sat up straight, her eyes widening as she stared at Harry.

‘What?! Who?’ she cried, two thoughts hitting her simultaneously.

The first was that this was the first time the threesome would be a foursome.

The second was that this automatically paired her off with Harry – in a totally platonic way, of
course, but nonetheless…so much for “less suffering” involved by getting out!

‘Luna Lovegood would you believe!’ Harry told her, amazement evident in his voice.

‘Luna Lovegood?’ echoed Hermione, just as amazed.

They sat and stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

‘Well,’ chuckled Harry, ‘she did walk around singing “Weasley is our king” back at Hogwarts an
awful lot, didn’t she? Apparently, they’ve been seeing each other for months now, but wanted to
keep it to themselves till they were sure. I guess they’re sure!’

Hermione shook her head. ‘Well, just goes to show, doesn’t it? Doesn’t matter how well you think
you know someone, they can still surprise you!’

‘Anyway, I told him that we didn’t mind – we don’t, do we?’ Harry continued.

*“We?”* she thought, “*We” don’t mind? Oh, get over it Hermione!* she told herself,
*he doesn’t mean anything by that – he and I are “we” when it comes to Ron.*

She shrugged. ‘Why would we mind? Floo him that it’s fine.’

‘Good! No need to Floo him again, I thought you’d say that so I told him it was fine.’

‘You what?’

Harry knew that tone of voice. It was Hermione’s “Watch out, because what you’ve just done – or
said – has pissed me off and you’re in trouble” voice.

‘It’s not fine?’ he inquired, frowning, trying to figure out where the problem lay.

‘You told Ron it was fine with us – with me – before you’d even asked me?’

*Oh shit,* thought Harry, *I’m out of practice. It’d been a few years since he’d spent
this much time with Hermione and he was decidedly out of practice. Time to do some fast talking!
More than anything he wanted to stay on her good side.*

Harry hung his head.

‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I took it on myself to speak for you without having even checked with
you.’ He looked up at her, ‘I’m really sorry, Hermione, *really* sorry.’

Hermione groaned inwardly. *Damn you Harry! You always could get around me with one of those
bloody looks of yours!*

Still, she spoke grudgingly when she answered – she didn’t want appear too easy.

‘Well, all right. But don’t do it again.’

Harry grinned at her as she frowned at him, her eyes travelling over his bare chest of their own
accord. Harry noticed the direction of her gaze and his grin disappeared. His eyes took on a dark
intensity as he watched her, then he allowed himself a very small smile.

Hermione missed Harry’s change of expression being busy *not* looking at his face. She tore
her eyes away from him, pulled herself out of the armchair and put her empty cup on the coffee
table. She told Harry she was going to get dressed as she wanted to go to Diagon Alley before they
met Ron. As she left the room, she heard him say something like, ‘Okay, I’ll go get dressed too
now.’

‘And about bloody time too,’ she said under her breath.

They both put on jeans, Harry’s being black, Hermione’s white. Harry had put on a casual, deep
green, short-sleeved shirt and Hermione a sleeveless, fitted, golden yellow t-shirt with a v-neck.
They both wore trainers, knowing they’d be doing a bit of walking.

A quarter of an hour later saw them heading for Diagon Alley, enjoying the beautiful summer
weather, then another twenty minutes later they entered the Leaky Cauldron; Harry felt almost as
though he was back at Hogwarts in his first year – some people were glancing at him
surreptitiously, others were staring outright and all of them were whispering to each other. Tom,
the old barman, was still there and he was extremely pleased to see Harry again. Tom would have
been content to indulge in a nice long chat, but as they only had limited time, they excused
themselves and headed for the small, walled courtyard and the concealed entrance to Diagon Alley.
Harry then went to Gringotts to replenish his money supply while Hermione picked up what she wanted
from Flourish and Blotts, arranging to meet up at Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour
afterwards.

Sitting outside Fortescue’s, sharing a sundae (Harry’s favourite: chocolate and raspberry with
nuts), he wondered out loud, ‘Why is it that I could eat these all day when I was small, and now
I’d rather share just *one*?’

‘Your stomach’s grown up, even if the rest of you hasn’t!’ Hermione teased him.

Harry poked his tongue out at her, proving that he hadn’t totally grown up and making them both
laugh. ‘Mind you,’ he said, ‘Ron’s stomach is in danger of *never* growing up – he still eats
almost as much as he did when we were at school!’ Hermione laughed in agreement.

Passersby occasionally did a double take seeing Harry sitting there, but as yet no one had
actually come up to him. Hermione glared at anyone who was rude enough to stare and she was, in
fact, the main reason why no one plucked up the courage to approach Harry. She was doing exactly
what Dumbledore had thought she would: being fiercely protective of Harry.

‘Come on,’ Harry told her a few minutes later when they’d finished, standing up and holding out
his hand to her, ‘let’s get going to the Broomstick – I need to walk off my half of the sundae so
I’ve got room for lunch.’

Hermione automatically took his hand then wished she hadn’t as that simple contact caused her
stomach to do all sorts of flip-flops. She let go as quickly as she could and they fell into step,
Harry causing her outwardly calm exterior to almost crumble by throwing his arm around her
shoulders, and pulling her to him. They were walking very slowly and he looked down at her as he
spoke, his voice soft.

‘You know, Hermione, this has been the best two weeks. I did need that time at Hogwarts to get
past the whole Voldemort thing but I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and
that I’ve earned the right to a happy life.’

‘You more than anyone I know, Harry,’ Hermione told him, her voice full of feeling.

‘Thanks,’ he said, gently squeezing her shoulder. ‘And staying with you has been great.’

Hermione laughed softly. ‘Harry, you don’t have to say that every day, honestly!’

Harry stopped and his face and voice became serious.

‘Yes, I do. I know you like things just *so* and it can’t be easy having someone move in,
making waves in your routine.’

As he spoke, Hermione felt almost dizzy - Harry being serious while he was holding her close
with those *eyes* a mere few inches from her own was, she thought, just about irresistible.
*Just like a naked, shaving one,* her traitorous mind mocked, adding insult to injury by
conjuring up that damned image again. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face.
*He’s making waves, all right, but not in my routine.* *Holy shit,* she thought, *I’ve
got to break this up before I lose control and just bloody well kiss him!*

Feeling shaky, she smiled at him, drawing on her habitual composure and saying, ‘I consider
myself well and truly thanked, Harry, honestly! I know how you feel and it’s great you want to tell
me every day, *but…*’ She wondered how it was possible he couldn’t hear her heart as it seemed
to be pounding so hard!

‘But what?’ he prompted.

Suddenly, a very cheeky grin broke out on her face. ‘You can make as many waves as you like,
just make sure you’re wearing clothes when you do!’ and with that she ducked out of his embrace and
backed away from him, still with that cheeky grin in place, which turned into outright laughter at
the look on Harry’s face.

He was outraged and embarrassed at the same time.

‘Hermione! You make it sound as though I walk around naked all the time! What are you
thinking?!’

A couple passing by gave him a peculiar look on overhearing what he said which only made him
feel more embarrassed. He marched forward and grabbing Hermione’s hand, started walking quickly
towards the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, pulling her with him.

‘For your information,’ he whispered fiercely, looking around to make sure no one was within
earshot, ‘I’ve had to get used to having someone else around because for years I haven’t had to
worry and this morning I just had a lapse–‘

‘Nice *lapse,* Harry, I must say,’ Hermione broke in, tilting her head as though she was
trying to get a look at Harry’s bum, ‘*very* nice!’

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and looked as though he might choke. He couldn’t speak. She
could have no idea the effect she had on him, even with that simple, cheeky remark.

Hermione could only keep laughing as Harry started walking again without saying anything, just
giving her a look that said he couldn’t believe she’d come out with such a comment. Then he
suddenly burst out laughing and stopped in front of her, hands on hips. ‘Where the hell was Cheeky
Hermione hiding when we were at Hogwarts?’ he demanded, then finding her hand again as he walked
on, taking her with him.

‘Oh no, there was no Cheeky Hermione when I started at Hogwarts – it took you and Ron all those
years to coax her out!’ she told him, ‘and she’s here to stay!’

Harry smiled down at her. ‘Good. I like her.’ Hermione was sure she was only a few degrees short
of total melt down.

Harry finally had to let go of her hand as they walked through the Leaky Cauldron, waving at Tom
who was cleaning tables, then back out into the street, turning right to head for The Burning
Broomstick. It was nearly midday and they were meeting Ron and Luna there at half past twelve.

They walked on in companionable silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

Hermione was wondering desperately how much longer she would be able to maintain her composed
front. She was so aware of him that even now, just walking beside him, she desperately wanted to
take his hand… *Take his hand my foot! I want to do a hell of a lot more than just take his hand!
Having Harry at her home was unbelievably wonderful … and hideously torturous, all at the same
time. She knew then that she needed to talk to someone and that someone was one of her best
friends, Ginny Weasley. She’d have to work on arranging that – if she didn’t release some of the
pressure she could feel building up to dangerous levels inside her, it could be disastrous!*

Ron and Luna were already there when they arrived and within five minutes of sitting down, the
four of them were sipping Butterbeer and chatting away happily. Harry was on Hermione’s left, Ron
on her right and she was facing Luna across the small round table. They were sitting in the
courtyard behind the pub where they served simple meals during summer. Harry, Hermione and Luna had
ordered chicken salads but Ron, who said he was feeling a *little* ravenous, ordered lasagne
for starters, followed by steak and vegetables with a bowl of hot chips on the side.

‘I swear I don’t know *where* you fit it all, Ronald,’ Luna told him with an indulgent
smile.

He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

‘I need to keep up my energy levels, sweetheart, now don’t I?’ he informed her, winking,
enjoying the effect his words had on her, which was that she dropped her head, colour rising slowly
in her cheeks.

Harry and Hermione exchanged an amused glance at this, Harry feeling a pang of jealousy at what
was obviously behind Ron’s casual reference to keeping up his energy levels – he and Luna were
lovers. He glanced again at Hermione, wondering whether one day, somehow, he and Hermione would
become lovers. *And I wonder what her reaction would be if she’d been able to hear* that
*little thought!* Harry couldn’t help but smirk. *She’d whip out her wand and hex me, that’s
what! He then had to make a conscious effort to put aside all thoughts of making love to Hermione
and concentrate on the conversation at hand.*

After they’d finished their excellent meal they turned to discussing what they were going to do
for the rest of the day.

‘Actually,’ said Hermione, the rest of what she was about to say being cut short by Ron’s loud
exclamation of, ‘Ginny!’, waving his arm as he called out.

Ginny had just walked into the pub and hearing her name, turned and quickly spotted them in the
courtyard through the open doors and waved back to let Ron know she’d seen them. She paid for her
drink and carried it outside to join them, putting it on the table before giving them all a hug –
Harry’s being a longer one as she hadn’t seen him for sometime.

‘It’s great to see you, Harry! How have you been?’ she asked as she sat down on a chair Ron had
brought over for her and put between himself and Hermione. She peered at him, ‘Looking good I must
say, Harry!’

‘Well, thanks Ginny,’ he replied, feeling a little uncomfortable; he never gave much thought to
his looks which was part of his charm. ‘Anyway, I’ve been great – mostly thanks to Hermione,’ he
caught Hermione’s eye and smiled at her.

‘As usual!’ laughed Ginny.

‘What?’

‘Oh, Harry, I’m being funny – well sort of! I just mean there’ve been a few times over the years
when you’ve been fine mainly because of Hermione, but the same can be said of my dear brother
here,’ she finished, patting said brother’s arm.

‘Thank you, Ginny,’ said Ron, ‘so good not to be forgotten!’

Luna’s dreamy voice drifted around the table. ‘We’ve all helped Harry, but Harry’s helped
*everyone,*’ she said.

‘So true,’ murmured Hermione, glancing at Harry who was looking down at the table, feeling his
customary embarrassment when the subject of his defeat of Voldemort was brought up.

‘Hear, hear,’ said Ron softly.

‘Well said, Luna,’ Ginny told her.

Harry looked up, a crooked smile on his face. ‘Enough, please, it’s embarrassing. Besides, I
couldn’t have done it without all of you.’

Hermione playfully punched him on the arm, ‘We just *love* to embarrass you Harry, don’t we
all?’

Everyone laughed and the moment was behind them.

‘Now, where were we?’ said Ron.

‘I was about to say something when our darling Ginny walked in the door,’ said Hermione, ‘and
she’s just the person I want!’

Ginny looked inquiringly at Hermione who continued, ‘We were going to work out what we wanted to
do and what I’d like to do – no offence boys! – is have a night with you and Luna and the men can
go do whatever it is men do. If that’s okay with everyone?’

Ginny and Luna looked pleased at the prospect of a “girls’ night” although Ron and Harry looked
a little nonplussed. Harry shrugged as he said to Ron, ‘We could see if Dean wants to join us and
we could, um…’

Dean Thomas, with whom Ginny had gone out briefly during the Trio’s sixth-year at Hogwarts, was
a Healer (the equivalent of a Muggle physiotherapist in this case) for the Wigtown Wanderers
Quidditch team and he and Ginny, who was the current second assistant sports editor for Witch
Weekly, had met for lunch to do an interview almost three months earlier; they ended up going from
lunch to dinner and had hardly been apart since.

Ginny broke in, ‘Dean’s free tonight – he could take you both to the Wanderers’ Club – a lot of
the players hang out there for dinner and so forth – you could talk Quidditch to your heart’s
content!’

Both Harry and Ron jumped at the suggestion and it was decided the girls would all meet later at
Hermione’s, Ron would Floo Dean from his place and then Harry and Dean would Apparate to Ron’s
later.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Harry and Hermione walked back to her flat, leaving Ron and Luna to go back to his place and
Ginny to go by her office, even though it was Saturday, as there was a draft report she wanted to
finish for Monday. Her boss, Bill Quillson (often called “Bill the Quill” due to his pithy and
popular reporting style), was a stickler for certain things and doing drafts and being on time were
two of the main things. Ginny wanted to do well at the Weekly and she worked hard at it.

As she sat down behind her desk, she noticed a sealed envelope sitting on top of the draft
report she’d been working on with her name written on it. She opened it to find Bill had written
her a note. It said:

“Ginny, hand this report to someone else to finish. BB wants you to follow a tip off she’s
rec’d. See her 1st thing Mon. morn. Since curiosity’ll probably drive you to interrupt
my w/end to find out what this is about I’ll tell you this: BB’s heard a former follower of Vold.’s
been released from Azkaban by the Ministry & is in London. She wants you to check this &
track him down – get an interview if possible. She feels you’re best for this due to your
connections in the Ministry.”

*And not my brilliant writing style?* she thought wryly to herself. It didn’t matter. This
was a brilliant opportunity and she was going to make the most of it, including using her
“connections” in the Ministry, namely Ron and Hermione – well, more Hermione than Ron! She wrote
two notes herself, leaving one on a colleague’s desk asking him to finish the attached draft report
and give it to Bill by Monday afternoon, the other to Bill, letting him know she’d read his note,
had delegated the draft report and would see him as soon as she’d finished with “BB”, the nickname
for Ida Wordsmith, the Weekly’s Editor-in-Chief. When Ginny had first started working at the
Weekly, she’d asked what “BB” stood for and was told a number of rather amusing names until Bill
said it actually stood for “Big Boss”. *Yeah, right!* Ginny had thought, but said nothing.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Harry couldn’t believe the noise that could be generated by three women. The giggles, laughter
and squeals seemed to be constant. He checked his watch – only fifteen minutes before he was due to
Apparate to Ron’s, thank Merlin!

Hermione, Ginny and Luna were all in the loungeroom, all dressed in their favourite tracksuits,
no shoes, all three with their hair pulled up in high ponytails. Ginny had mixed up a large jug
full of the Muggle cocktail she wanted Hermione and Luna to try – Pina Coladas.

‘*Very* yummy!’ said Luna approvingly, holding out her glass for a refill.

‘I love the coconut flavour,’ Hermione told Ginny, also holding out an empty glass.

‘Harry! We need you!’ called Ginny as she poured the girls’ drinks, concentrating hard so that
she wouldn’t spill any, not easy when you’d downed three Pina Coladas in quick succession and you
only had a few mouthfuls of salsa and a chocolate bar in your stomach.

Hermione and Luna raised their glasses in a toast to Ginny – congratulating her again on the
opportunity she’d been given at work, followed by more laughter and giggling and squealing.

Harry, sitting in the sanctuary of the kitchen, reading the paper, felt a little nervous at the
prospect of finding out what three, tipsy, giggling women might need him for.

*Well, I wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing,* he told himself, walking out of the kitchen and
down the hall to the loungeroom.

Harry couldn’t help but smile and roll his eyes as he stopped in the doorway. Hermione’s flat
had polished, wooden floorboards throughout and in the loungeroom she’d put two large rugs - one in
front of the fire place and one towards the front, near the bay window, on which the dining setting
was placed.

The girls were sprawled over the two lounges in front of the fireplace – Hermione on one, Ginny
and Luna on the other. The coffee table was a mess, littered with half eaten bags of potato crisps,
jars of salsa and chocolate bars and empty wrappers were everywhere, along with boxes of tissues,
bottles of nail polish and assorted bits and pieces that Harry, as a man, had no name for nor any
clue what they were used for.

‘Ah, Harry!’ said Ginny, spotting him standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, her eyes
narrowing as she studied him. He’d left his black jeans on, changing his trainers for black boots
and his shirt for a light, round-necked jumper in a very deep green. His unruly black hair and his
trademark glasses actually added to his appearance. ‘Holy Mother of Merlin! You are one sexy man,
Harry!’ Ginny told him, ‘Isn’t he sexy, girls?’ she asked, looking at Luna and Hermione in turn.
Harry wished he could disappear under his invisibility cloak and slink away – tipsy, giggling women
might appear harmless but he had a strong suspicion he could be in some sort of danger here against
which he had no defence, despite being one of the most powerful wizards in the world.

Luna held her glass up to him, her soft voice showing the first signs of slurring. ‘Deliciously
sexy! But my Ronald is just that much more so!’ Nope, no danger there.

Harry couldn’t help himself, he turned to look at Hermione, raising one eyebrow, a crooked grin
on his face, giving the appearance of humouring their Pina Colada induced comments. But in truth he
was a little afraid. *Afraid that’ll she say she doesn’t think I’m sexy. Shit, how was it that
SHE managed to look so bloody sexy lying there in a pale pink tracksuit, cotton balls between each
of her toes, pink nail polish glistening in the light, her glass delicately balanced while she
looked at him… Holy crap! She was looking at him all right – his instinct about danger had been
right – his self control was definitely in serious danger of slipping!* With a rather seductive
smile in place, Hermione’s eyes travelled slowly up the length of his body, starting from the
floor, until her eyes reached his, raising her glass in a silent toast, then she slowly winked at
him. Amazing how much cheeky courage could be gained from a couple of Pina Coladas! Harry,
momentarily robbed of the power of speech, managed to laugh, then pointing to his watch, he waved
at them, telling them in a gruff voice to enjoy themselves, saying it was time he took his sexy
self off to Ron’s. He couldn’t Apparate out of there fast enough.

The three girls giggled profusely, then Ginny cursed. ‘I was going to ask Harry to get us some
more ice and now he’s gone! Bugger, I’ll have to get up and do it myself now!’

Luna tossed a cushion at her, telling her she was just lazy. When she returned, they settled
down to more talk.

‘Hermione – have you heard anything at work about someone being released from Azkaban recently?’
Ginny had told them she was up for a “real” reporting job and interview if all went well, but
hadn’t yet given them any further details.

Hermione screwed up her face, concentrating hard. It was difficult, not only due to the effects
of the drinks she’d consumed but by the image of Harry standing in the doorway, looking as sexy as
hell and giving her that irresistible smile. Ginny had said aloud precisely what she’d thought the
instant he’d appeared in the doorway. *And she’d actually given him the “once over”! She couldn’t
believe she’d lay there and done that! Shit and double shit! She’d slipped up and it was all the
fault of Ginny’s Pina Coladas. It was enough to drive a girl to drink…*

‘Hermione?’ Ginny’s voice interrupted her train of thought and she shook her head a little to
try and clear it.

‘Sorry, Ginny! These drinks are making serious inroads into my thought processes!’

‘The drinks – or Harry?’ asked Ginny with a slight smirk, laughing at the pained expression on
Hermione’s face. ‘I saw the look you gave him Granger!’ she cried, shaking her hand as though it
had touched something hot.

‘Look!’ cried Luna, pointing at Hermione as she turned to Ginny. ‘She’s blushing!’

Hermione sat up straight, crossing her legs. It was now or never and this *was* the whole
reason she’d organised this girls’ night. She carefully placed her glass on the coffee table and
looked over at her companions.

‘Girls, I need your advice…’

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Harry Apparated to a point just down the road from Ron’s, wanting to walk a little to collect
his thoughts before facing Ron and Dean. *For instance, trying to figure out what the hell was
behind that* look *– that “checking you out and finding you sexy” look Hermione had given him!
Was it just the drinks talking or… Or what? She secretly wants to shag me senseless? In your
dreams, Potter! But dammit! The look in her eyes had seemed so* real! *He could have sworn –
he was* sure *he’d seen… what? Desire? Love? Lust? All three!* He shivered involuntarily.
*The thought of Hermione feeling those things for him was… exhilarating, exciting.*

*He’d slowly become aware in the year after that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries
when he’d lost Sirius that Hermione was just as important to him as Sirius – with a slight
difference of course – after all, he definitely had no desire to do to Sirius - or anyone else for
that matter! - what he wanted to do to Hermione!* He smiled. *Ah! What he’d like to do to
Hermione! It was a constant source of distraction. It had been strange at first, feeling like this
for someone who’d always been just a friend – an amazing, brilliant friend – but still, just a
friend. But over time he learnt to live with his newfound feelings and became accustomed to feeling
one way about Hermione, but having to act another towards her. In fact,* he thought with
amusement, *I could say I’m sort of schizophrenic when it comes to Hermione.*

*During his time at Hogwarts he kept expecting Hermione to say, on one of her many visits,
that she’d “found” someone – had fallen in love. But she never did. Oh, sure, she’d often talk
about various dates she’d gone on, sometimes going out with the same man for months, but eventually
she ended up, “alone again, naturally” as she put it. He’d asked Ron what he thought about it and
he’d simply offered the opinion that Hermione always found a fatal flaw with whoever was her
current boyfriend; he said she was “too fussy and choosy”. Harry learnt to be glad that she was.
The trouble was, he’d come to love her and want her so much – yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell
her, not realising it was because he was afraid of rejection, a legacy of his childhood when he’d
only ever been rejected, never loved or accepted. He had no idea what to do and had had no one to
ask for help. If he could ask Hermione for advice, she’d no doubt tell him to read a book that gave
“relationship advice” or some such thing!*

*And so here he was – living with her for Chrissake! It was the perfect opportunity, he knew.
But to do what?! He pondered whether he could trust Ron and Dean with the information that he loved
Hermione desperately and had done so for years now and needed some advice on “romantic tactics”.
Ron, it seemed to him, had dated and snogged every eligible witch his age so he must know SOMETHING
about all this. He’d risk it. He was getting desperate. He couldn’t stay at Hermione’s forever,
dammit, and being in such close proximity to her day in, day out, simply increased his desire to
move to the “next level” with her. Yeah, right, Potter – the next level – like kissing and hugging
her “good morning” as well as “good night”! He needed some advice on MOVES…whether Hermione turned
him down or not, he was sick of existing in limbo – not knowing. Knowing was important – even if it
was “bad news” – at least he’d be able to get on with is life. Although he didn’t really want to
consider a life without Hermione and he constantly had to put aside his greatest fear – that when
Hermione found out how he felt, he would find out she could never see him as anything but a friend.
And that would have to be the end of their friendship. He didn’t want to go there…*

He’d reached the door of Ron’s flat and knocked sharply before entering. He’d made up his mind,
he was going to talk to his friends tonight.



3. The One That's Short And Just About Sunday
---------------------------------------------

Author’s Note

Thank you, thank you, thank you for the great reviews all! Here’s Chapter Three, which I warn
you now is short, but Chapter Four is as good as ready and it’s **long** and will be up in the
next couple of days.

“spaz141” commented on the spaces between changes so I’ve made them bigger – hopefully that
helps! I always try to make it obvious in the first sentence that I’ve moved to a different
character/scene/POV.

“Muirnin” commented on the Chapter titles being like those used in “Friends” – I’ve done it in
honour of this year having been their last year (wahhh!!)

For anyone wondering about Hermione’s thoughts (and that swearing!), I’ve just always liked the
thought of a real contrast between her “bookish” and “proper” exterior and what exactly goes on in
that very clever head of hers. I was rather quiet and proper myself at school but the things I
thought…!!! (I’m hoping it comes across as funny). Enjoy!

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Three: “The One That’s Short And Just About Sunday”

**Sunday**

Hermione woke the next morning feeling pretty awful and then as she opened her eyes, wondering
where on earth she *was,* she had to concentrate quite hard until she remembered – Ginny and
Luna – and lots of Pina Coladas and some very little, but amazingly lethal drinks Ginny had called
“Cowboys” – and talking and telling Ginny and Luna just about everything about Harry and their
delight and surprise and torrents of advice and ideas and – what the hell had they said? Her brow
creased as she tried to remember. She recalled that initially they’d actually made sensible
suggestions but as the Pina Coladas went down, common sense went up - the chimney! She did remember
one thing: they insisted she should just *go for it!* *That Harry was a man after all and
what normal, red blooded man would turn down a shag? Bloody lovely suggestion that was – she could
see it now: Morning Harry! Fancy a shag?* She giggled, then stopped because giggling
*hurt!* Besides that, she couldn’t recall a whole lot else. She decided she must have just
fallen asleep where she was and someone had covered her with a warm blanket – and cleaned up, too,
she realised as she looked around - because she didn’t remember getting one for herself. She pushed
it off and attempted to sit up, an involuntary groan escaping her lips as she did so. She sat up
slowly with her head in her hands thinking those famous last words: “I’ll never drink again!” and
feeling an overwhelming desire for a brush for her hair, another for her teeth and lots of coffee,
she rose unsteadily to her feet to go in search of those three Holy Grails.

The bathroom provided the first two and she felt a little better as she headed for the kitchen
in search of the third, wondering what time it was. She’d remembered that it was Sunday…the sun was
shining brightly, she could see it through the bathroom window…there was no naked Harry shaving in
the bathroom… *oh shit! Harry!* She stopped in the hallway just short of the kitchen door. Her
brain suddenly felt totally scrambled. *What had she said? Had she said anything? Had she done
anything? Damn it! She couldn’t remember – she was sure Harry had been there, at least at the
beginning. It would probably come back to her in bits and pieces but she sure as hell couldn’t
concentrate at the moment. Well, that was a good defence. Just waltz in as though nothing had
happened and be her usual composed self. If necessary, plead drunkenness, humiliating as that was,
and say she remembered nothing and should not be held responsible for anything she may have done or
said*.

She knew Harry was in the kitchen as she could hear the chink of a cup on a saucer and the
rustle of his newspaper as he turned the page. She unconsciously straightened her shoulders and
lifted her chin a little as she entered the kitchen, smiling despite the rather ugly feeling in her
head and stomach. Harry was sitting at the table as usual and looked up with a smile that was both
welcoming and quizzical.

’Morning, Hermione. How’re you feeling?’

Well, he seemed normal. And he looked normal – for that read “sexy and gorgeous”, sitting there
in his favourite – for that read “oldest” – pair of jeans and no bloody t-shirt as usual. Well, at
least that meant the chances she’d done or said something really embarrassing were fast heading for
zero or surely Harry wouldn’t be so - so - *Harry*. She allowed herself to slump a little,
feeling safe to revert to how she *really* felt.

‘You don’t want to know,’ she said, giving him a small smile as she headed straight for the
kettle to make herself a cup of coffee.

‘No?’ said Harry, putting down his paper. ‘Try me.’

Hermione looked at him over her shoulder, then turned to add boiling water to her mug which
contained a generous helping of instant coffee; brewed coffee took too long and she needed it NOW.
Walking back to the table and sitting down, Hermione breathed deeply of the heavenly caffeine fumes
rising from her cup before answering.

She closed her eyes as she took her first sip then looked at Harry, her eyes now showing that
she was indeed suffering from classic hangover symptoms. His expression softened into one of
sympathy.

‘Hey,’ he said, ‘you want me to make you some toast? Doesn’t matter how you feel, you should try
and eat a little.’

Hermione shook her head, smiling weakly at him, grateful for the sympathy, however
undeserved.

‘Thanks, Harry, but no thanks.’ She gave him a quizzical look. ‘What time did you get home? Do
you know when Ginny and Luna left?’

Harry nodded, sipping his tea. ‘I got back a little after one and all three of you were asleep
in there,’ waving his hand in the general direction of the loungeroom. ‘I woke Ginny and Luna up
and Apparated with them back to their flats and put them into bed. I didn’t have the heart to
disturb you, so I just covered you, cleaned up and left you to sleep. Must’ve been some night!’ he
finished, smiling at her.

‘I’d probably agree if I could remember all of it! I feel like such an idiot!’

Harry laughed and winked at her. ‘We’ve all done it, Hermione – don’t worry!’

The wink seemed to stir a memory… only she’d been the one to wink, because, because – Harry, in
the doorway - Ginny, saying Harry was sexy – Luna agreeing – then *she’d* looked – *‘Oh,
shit!’*

‘Swearing again Hermione? Must be serious!’ she heard Harry say, which made her realise she’d
cursed out loud. He was standing up, taking his cup to the sink.

‘Just bits and pieces coming back to me… not good,’ she mumbled, embarrassed.

‘I’ll leave you to your memories and coffee,’ he said, turning to walk and stand behind her, his
hands resting lightly on her shoulders. He bent down and kissed the top of her head. ‘Look after
yourself – I have to go out for a little while but I’ll be back by about one. I made up a “morning
after” potion for you – it’s in the fridge. Take it and go back to bed, you’ll feel better.’ With a
loud “pop!” that reverberated through her throbbing head, Hermione realised she was alone.

She shuffled to the fridge and opened the door, leaning on it for support, trying to see the
potion Harry had mentioned. She spotted it on the top shelf – a glass of a rather sickly yellow
liquid and taking it out, murmured, ‘Down the hatch!’ and drank. It tasted pretty awful. Rinsing
the glass and leaving it in the sink, she made her way back to bed and crawled in, gently pushing
Crookshanks (who’d taken up residence when she’d gotten up) off the bed and hoping that when next
she woke, she would feel a lot better than she did right now.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

At least Ginny woke in her own bed, although it took her a little while to piece together how
she actually got there. It wasn’t until after a long, hot shower, two cups of coffee and a good
swig of “Horatio’s Hangover Cure” (which she always kept in the fridge) that she remembered two
surprises from last night: firstly, Hermione telling them how she felt about Harry and asking if
they had any ideas as to what she should do (*‘seduce him, Hermione, he’ll love it!’*) and
secondly, the name Hermione had given her; the name of a wizard she’d heard bandied about at work,
a wizard who had been released because he’d supplied a lot of incriminating evidence against those
on Voldemort’s side, evidence that would finalise a lot of convictions. Hermione told her she
hadn’t really taken it seriously, mainly because of who it was, that it was probably just one of
the many strange and wonderful rumours that were always making their way around the Ministry.

Ginny shuddered. She prayed Hermione was right about this being nothing but a rumour. But for
some reason she felt she was wrong – and that this was the real thing. There was a good chance
Hermione wouldn’t remember telling her about this last night – at least not immediately; Hermione
definitely hadn’t been to as many “girls’ nights” as Ginny had, meaning she couldn’t hold her Pina
Coladas as well! In the meantime, she thought it best that as few people as possible knew she was
going after this released wizard who was trying to keep a low profile. She had no doubts whatsoever
that her friends – and family – would do everything possible to discourage her if they knew she was
going after Draco Malfoy.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

At a local Muggle Sunday market not far from Hermione’s flat, Harry moved slowly amongst the
various stalls set up to sell the myriad wares ranging from fresh flowers to pickled onions. He’d
been pleasantly surprised last night at the insights offered by both Ron and Dean. Who would’ve
thought they’d know so much? But Ron especially was an amazing source of helpful hints! Over the
years, he’d tried and rated various “moves”, Dean having done the same to a much lesser extent, and
they now passed their “expertise” onto Harry.

‘Of course,’ advised Ron, ‘it all hinges on how well you know your…um, “prey” is probably not
the best word in this case scenario…*intended*,’ he’d finished, smiling triumphantly.

Well, he certainly knew Hermione better than he knew anyone else. They’d given him quite a
number of pointers and ideas and Harry had decided that given the current state of Hermione’s
wellbeing – or *un*wellbeing as the case may be – the suggestions for taking care of your
poor, sick, “intended” were the way to go. So he thought perhaps a quiet day at home so Hermione
could recuperate while he lovingly prepared some sustenance was a good start. Besides, he really
did want to make her feel better.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Hermione woke to a delicious smell wafting down the hallway from the kitchen. She could hear
Harry in the kitchen, humming as he worked… *humming?* Hermione groaned in disgust at the
thought that anyone could feel good enough to *hum* for Merlin’s sake! She must’ve groaned
loudly because a few minutes later Harry appeared with a steaming cup of tea which she accepted
gratefully, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her eyes.

‘Feeling better?’ asked Harry, sitting on the bed beside her.

She nodded, grimacing. ‘Much better – but still not normal! Thanks so much for that potion – I’d
be a far bigger mess without it.

Harry shrugged, smiling. ‘I’d do anything to help you, you know that. For instance, I’ve made a
pot of super-soup for dinner for us, guaranteed to be kind to your stomach.’

‘I guess I owe you one, hmm?’

‘Yep!’ Harry stood up, smiling down at her. ‘See you at the table in about twenty minutes, all
right?’

Twenty minutes later, showered and feeling much better, Hermione was sitting at the kitchen
table with Harry, a big bowl of steaming, homemade chicken, noodle and vegetable soup in front of
her.

‘This smells *delicious!*’ she told Harry, picking up her spoon and taking a mouthful.

She closed her eyes and gave a small moan of appreciation, licking her lips to capture every
drop of the delicious soup. Harry’s spoon froze halfway to his mouth as he stared at Hermione.
Unbidden, unexpected and rather unwanted at this particular point in time, an image rose in his
head of Hermione just as was now, with her head tilted back, eyes closed, moaning appreciatively –
not for soup, but because she was naked, in his bed, and he was – *Jesus Potter! Get that idea
out of your bloody head NOW!* The admonition roared inside his head and just as Hermione opened
her eyes to smile her thanks at him, he dropped his head and put the spoon in his mouth knowing
he’d have to think of some pretty awful things pretty damn quick before he could get up from the
table without embarrassing the both of them.

TO BE CONTINUED…



4. The Really Busy One About Everyone's Monday
----------------------------------------------

Author’s Note Hello all! I LOVE reading your reviews – you make me feel so good! Here is Chapter
Four, the “long” one (not as long as I originally thought but longer than the previous
chapter).

This is a very “busy” chapter as I “visit” all the characters separately throughout the day at
least twice (some more). I’ve given each “visit” its own heading though, so I hope that prevents it
from being too confusing. Chapter Five is all but ready and I’m hoping to upload it in the next
24-36 hours.

**Warning**: I seem to be delving into D/G territory here. Damned if I know why – it just
seemed to come about as I wrote! If you don’t like it, please tell me (nicely)! I’m actually not
sure where it’s going to go as yet.

Also, for all of you who have asked about the Friends connection with my chapter titles – I have
totally lifted the idea from the TV show (which I love) and it’s in honour of Friends’ ten years on
TV, to be no more! (::cry::) xxxx Lady Jane xxxx

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Four: “The Really Busy One About Everyone’s Monday”

**Monday Morning**

Monday morning saw everyone feeling themselves again.

*Ginny’s Interesting Monday Morning*

Ginny would undoubtedly think she had the most interesting morning. After her meeting with the
Weekly’s Editor-in-Chief, Ida Wordsmith, she went straight to her boss’ office to fill him in, her
excitement spilling over and making him smile at her enthusiasm.

Their Editor (‘Call me Ida,’ she told Ginny) had received even more information over the weekend
(from whom she wouldn’t say) confirming what Ginny had been told by Hermione: Draco Malfoy had
indeed been released. Ginny knew she was on to something. She felt fear, dread and above all else
excitement, grip her, along with a tremendous determination to do her best and make the most of
this opportunity. Oh, the things she would write about that unspeakably horrible *ferret*!

*Ron’s Interesting Monday Morning*

Ron probably would have disagreed that Ginny had the most interesting morning as his Department
was currently working on the upcoming Quidditch World Cup and he would have argued hotly (as he
does) that *his* morning was the more interesting, by far, as it was all about Quidditch!

He smiled to himself as he thought of the previous evening – giving Harry “love” advice for
crying out loud! Between himself and Dean he thought they’d come up with some pretty impressive
ideas and then shook his head – it still seemed a little weird that Harry wanted Hermione –
although for a little while many years ago he thought he’d wanted her. He laughed out loud at the
thought of him and Hermione – they’d drive each other up the wall and then hex each other to hell!
Just the thought of Hermione bossing him around and organising him was enough to make him shudder.
Now, Luna… Ron leaned back in his chair, the Quidditch World Cup momentarily forgotten.
*Luna.* He closed his eyes, smiling, remembering…

*Luna’s Lovely Monday Morning*

When Luna woke that morning she simply lay there for some time, smiling as she thought her
thoughts. She was happy for Hermione and hoped it worked out for her with Harry – she knew what it
was like to be in love and filled with joy and wanted everyone to feel the same way.

She didn’t actually work as such, but she did help her father out frequently at The Quibbler.
However, today she was a free agent and she knew just what she’d do…

*Dean’s Dreamy Monday Morning*

Dean had been dreaming of Ginny and woke wishing she was there beside him. He smiled as he put
his arms behind his head, planning what he’d do for – and *to* - Ginny that night…

*Harry & Hermione’s Horny Monday Morning*

Harry and Hermione woke almost at the same time. Hermione got up and walking past the bathroom,
stopped at the next door – Harry’s room - and tapped lightly.

‘Harry?’ she called softly.

‘Morning,’ came his voice, a little hoarse from sleep. ‘Take the first shower, Hermione – I’m
not properly awake yet.’

‘Gladly!’ she told him as she turned to go back to the bathroom, trying not to take any notice
of her wretched imagination which was putting her in bed with Harry, waking up to his voice, rough
from sleep, murmuring her name, running her hand over the coarse growth on his face, loving the
feel of it…

She had a radio in the shower and turned it up quite loud to drown out her own, disturbing – be
honest with yourself Hermione! – *horny* thoughts! It was after all a work day and she
couldn’t possibly be thinking such things while she was supposed to be concentrating on her latest
assignment. Well, of course she *would,* but she *shouldn’t!*

Harry lay in bed, listening to the faint sound of the radio in the shower, very aware that just
the other side of that wall was a naked, wet, glistening Hermione, making for a rather
uncomfortable start to his day…

**Monday Lunchtime**

*Love at Lunchtime for Randy Ron and Lustful Luna*

Lunchtime found Ron still sitting as his desk, going over spectator arrival schedules for the
World Cup, absentmindedly eating a sandwich he’s quickly made that morning. He looked up as he
heard his office door close, wondering why someone would be coming to see him during lunch and
close the door, looking up to see, ‘Luna!’ he exclaimed, a smile splitting his face. He put down
both his sandwich and the parchment he’d been looking at and rose, walking around his desk to greet
her. Luna turned and drawing her wand put a locking charm on the door before turning back to Ron,
who swept her up in a huge hug.

‘What a wonderful surprise!’ he told her, just before he dropped his head to kiss her.

As they drew apart, Luna smiled wickedly at him. ‘I have another surprise for you,’ she told him
softly.

He gave her a questioning look as she stepped back slowly and opened her robes. Ron’s mouth
dropped open – he couldn’t believe his eyes! Luna didn’t have a stitch on under her dark blue
robes. Needless to say, Ron finished neither his sandwich nor read anymore of the schedule that
lunch hour…

*Harry Takes Hermione To Lunch*

Harry decided it was high time he went and saw Hermione at work and took her out to lunch. He
wasn’t sure what time she went to lunch, but he was pretty confident it wouldn’t be before midday
so to be safe, he arrived at the Ministry ten minutes before noon. After being waved through by
security (‘What d’you mean, “who’s that”? It’s ‘arry Potter you twerp! S’if we’d need to put ‘im
through security! Blimey!’), he caught one of the lifts up to Level Seven (‘Department of Magical
Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official
Gobstones Club, Ludicrous Patents Office and the General Research into Everything Department’) and
by asking as he went, found his way along an untidy corridor lined with posters of various
Quidditch teams until he reach a rather regal looking, dark wooden door with an impressive lion’s
head knocker. He lifted his hand and despite trying to bring the lion’s head down as gently as
possible, a loud booming noise reverberated around the corridor making Harry wish he’d just knocked
with his hand.

The door swung open noiselessly and he walked forward into a quiet dimness. It actually reminded
him of the library at Hogwarts – it was full of ancient, towering bookshelves stuffed with tomes
and was permeated with that smell which is peculiar to libraries. He continued past a desk, behind
which sat a wizened old man and behind whom was a large, dark fireplace. Occasional
inter-departmental memos shot out of the fireplace behind the old man to be caught by a much
younger man who had a small, unimportant looking desk placed beside the fireplace.

Harry wondered at Hermione working in such a sombre place, despite the fact that she loved books
and reading them. The old man finally looked up at him and simply nodded his head towards the other
end of the room. Harry noticed there was another, smaller door straight ahead that he thought might
lead to some offices and he headed for that. When he reached it, he noticed there was a piece of
parchment tacked to the door on which were written the words, “Welcome to the Fred & George”.
The only Fred and George Harry knew of were Ron’s twin brothers and he wondered if this sign in
some way referred to them. He tried the handle and the door opened easily, a sudden flood of light
causing him to squint and bring his hand up over his eyes to shade them. He closed the door behind
him and realised he could hear voices – and occasional laughter. Harry’s eyes became accustomed to
the light and he dropped his hand, looking around. It was a huge room with a massively arched
ceiling – all painted white. There were large wooden desks placed randomly throughout the room and
stacks of books everywhere. On desks, on the floor – on just about every available flat surface.
They were stacked very haphazardly, no doubt held in place by the absentminded flick of a wand. He
could see many faces turn towards him and then a shriek split the air from someone just to his
right.

‘It’s Harry Potter!’ screamed the shrieker.

After that, it was pandemonium. Harry stood helpless in a sea of excited people, all talking at
once until he noticed that someone was elbowing their way through the crowd. The two witches
directly in front of him suddenly moved apart and Hermione stood there, looking dishevelled and
exasperated. *And bloody gorgeous,* thought Harry.

She grabbed his arm, shaking her head and smiling at him, then pulling him behind her, through
the crowd. He could feel myriad hands touching him as they went and finally, Hermione pulled him
through a door that had a small plaque on it reading, “Hermione Granger, Assistant Researcher”. She
closed the door behind them and immediately silence descended.

Harry looked quickly around – there was a fireplace on his left, surrounded by bookshelves and
there were bookshelves on every other wall, except one which was actually a large window
overlooking a beautiful garden, bathed in sunshine and Harry wondered how Hermione had convinced
Magical Maintenance to give her such a breathtaking view. A large wooden desk sat in front of the
window and Hermione walked over and sat on the front edge of it, crossing her arms, still smiling
at him and shaking her head. Scattered on the surface of the desk were many pieces of parchment and
open books. Harry walked over and sat in one of the comfortable armchairs that faced the desk,
brushing his hair out of his eyes.

‘Phew! Never experienced anything like that before!’ he exclaimed.

“Harry, for heaven’s sake! How can you not remember who you are? How can you forget that you’re
known to every witch and wizard on the planet? You shouldn’t just walk in unannounced like that –
it’s guaranteed to create total pandemonium!’

Harry grinned at her. ‘All right, next time I’ll let them know I’m coming so it’ll be organised
pandemonium, how’s that?’

Hermione laughed. ‘I concede – it wouldn’t matter what you did, you’d still cause
pandemonium!’

‘I guess taking you out for lunch isn’t a good idea then? Unless we go to a Muggle
restaurant.’

‘And that’s exactly what we’ll do!’ Hermione told him. ‘I know an excellent Muggle café not far
from here.’

‘What time’s your normal lunch hour?’ asked Harry after they’d made a dash back through the
Department amidst more shrieks, gasps and pointing fingers and headed out.

‘Well, really, I take it when it fits in, but I usually go to lunch sometime between midday and
half past one,’ Hermione told him.

After a short walk, they settled at a table for two in the rear courtyard of a popular Muggle
eatery called “The Blue Duck”.

‘The Blue Duck?’ pondered Harry, scanning the menu. ‘Sounds like something Hagrid would be
interested in.’

Hermione smiled across the table at Harry, feeling as though she was floating on air. She
wouldn’t have imagined that Harry seeking her out to take her to lunch would make her feel so
special! She reached across the table and put her hand over his.

‘Harry, thanks for coming to see me today – and taking me to lunch. I’m really enjoying
this!’

He looked up from the menu, his green gaze serious as their eyes met. ‘Then I’ll be doing this
at least once a week from now on.’

Hermione felt flustered. She quickly pulled her hand back. ‘Oh, Harry! You don’t have to do that
– I just meant – well, that –’ O*h, shit, Hermione! What the hell are you babbling about? If the
man wants to take you to lunch once a week for Merlin’s sake let him!* She took a deep breath.
‘You know what? I’d love that!’

Harry smiled as he said, ‘Done. By the way, what’s with the parchment on the door that says,
“Welcome to the Fred & George”?’

Hermione chuckled. ‘That was me! I noticed when I first worked here that the initials of my
department – the General Research into Everything Department – form the acronym “GRED”. Now, that
reminded me of Fred and George sometimes referring to themselves as Gred and Forge and I told this
to my boss one day. She thought it was quite amusing and started calling our department the Gred
& Forge. It spread from there and when everyone found out the name came from Fred and George
Weasley – who are pretty well-known in their own right – it got changed back to Fred and George. So
the Fred & George it is!’

‘Do Fred and George know?’ inquired Harry.

‘Yes, actually, they do. After the first time they came to see me and noticed the parchment,
they said since the Department was sort of named after them they’d have to make regular visits. I’m
not sure who enjoys their visits more – the twins or the girls in the Department!’

After a very enjoyable lunch, Harry went straight home while Hermione went back to work. She
felt as though she was floating on air as she made her way back, only to be inundated on her return
by the witches she worked with who couldn’t get over how *gorgeous* Harry was in person and
wanted to know everything about him and what he was *really* like.

Priscilla, one of her best friends at work, helped Hermione escape into her office, conjuring
two cups of coffee, one for each of them. Hermione had told Priscilla that Harry was temporarily
living with her, although she’d never given her a hint of her true feelings about Harry, nor would
she to Priscilla who, although a wonderful friend, was an inveterate *gossip.* If you wanted
everyone in the Department to know something within a day, tell Priscilla!

As Hermione dropped into her chair behind her desk, a smile plastered on her face, Priscilla
plonked herself down in one of the armchairs in front of Hermione’s desk, flicking her long, dark
hair back over her shoulder, her blue eyes fixed on Hermione as she demanded, ‘Okay, Hermione,
spill it! Out with it! I know you’ve been friends with Harry Potter since forever – so, have you
shagged him yet?’

Hermione squealed. ‘Priscilla! Really! Hell’s bells!’

Priscilla remained unmoved and simply looked at Hermione, her head cocked, sipping her
coffee.

Hermione blushed. ‘No, of course not,’ she answered finally, reaching for her coffee, ‘he’s my
*friend* for goodness sake!’

Priscilla nodded wisely, simply saying, ‘Uh-huh. So you haven’t. *Yet.* ’

Hermione groaned. ‘Priscilla,’ she repeated patiently, ‘he’s my *friend!*’

Priscilla’s look was pure scepticism. ‘Only until you shag him.’

Hermione frowned at her friend, ‘Listen –‘

‘No,’ interrupted Priscilla, ‘*you* listen Hermione! Aside from the fact that the man
positively *oozes* über sex appeal-’ she shivered involuntarily at the memory of being close
to Harry in the crush outside earlier, ‘you live with him! There’s no way you won’t end up shagging
him. You want to, don’t you?’

Hermione sighed. At least it didn’t make her feel bad lying to Priscilla. ‘Priscilla, you are
just projecting! You and every other witch out there on the other side of my door would give their
wands to have a go at Harry and because I’ve known him so long and I’m a close friend and he’s
temporarily staying in my *spare room*, you can’t imagine me not taking advantage of a
situation that anyone of you would in a second!’

Priscilla frowned thoughtfully. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ she conceded. She glanced at Hermione, a
speculative gleam in her eye. ‘I’m sure I couldn’t live with him only a hop, skip and a jump down
the hallway from my bedroom and *not* try and take advantage of the situation,’ she
finished.

Hermione shook her head, smiling at her friend. ‘I know *you* would do your damndest to
take advantage of the situation, Priscilla, but that’s *you,* not me.’ *Perhaps you’re an
idiot, Hermione,* she told herself. *Maybe I should try Priscilla’s approach sometime and see
what happens. It’s very similar in a vulgar sort of way to what Ginny and Luna said to me. Yeah,
right! As if I’d find the courage and even if I did, Harry would run a mile, I’m sure!*

Priscilla shrugged lightly, picking up the two empty coffee cups but saying to Hermione before
she left, ‘So, if you’re not interested, could you ask me over for dinner sometime so I can meet
him?’

Rising from her chair, Hermione groaned, ‘Priscilla!’ causing her friend to back away, laughing,
‘All right! It was just a suggestion!’

She shuddered to think what the main topic of conversation would be in the Department tomorrow
morning. That Priscilla was really something!

**Monday Afternoon**

*Ginny & Dean’s Afternoon Meeting*

That afternoon, Dean booked a table at “their” restaurant – the one where he and Ginny had their
first dinner together - and bought a huge bunch of red roses for Ginny on the way to her office,
planning on surprising her by taking her out to dinner. He’d had to sit in her office for nearly
twenty minutes before she arrived back from another meeting with Ida Wordsmith. Ginny’s face lit up
when she saw him as she entered her office, giving a little gasp of surprise when she saw the roses
lying on her desk behind him.

‘Dean, they’re *gorgeous*! What’s the occasion?’

He smiled down at her, loving the feel of her arms entwined around his neck, her body pressed
against his. ‘Just that I love you,’ he told her before he kissed her deeply.

She sighed happily when they came up for air. ‘And I’ve booked a table at the Dragon’s Lair for
dinner tonight, my beautiful lady,’ he told her.

Ginny dropped her head to rest it on his chest so that he wouldn’t see the look of dismay on her
face. Her meeting with Ida had been to finalise arrangements to meet Malfoy in the Leaky Cauldron
at eleven thirty that night. She bit her lip, trying to think what she should do. There was no way
she could tell Dean she was meeting Draco Malfoy, he’d insist on coming with her and that would be
the end of her great opportunity.

‘Oh, sweetheart, I just promised Ida I’d work on this latest assignment she’s given me tonight’,
her voice sounding anguished – which was how she felt at having to lie to Dean, although
technically what she’d just said was true. ‘Can we make it another night?’

He kissed the tip of her nose as she looked up at him, her eyes full of concern.

‘Of course!’ he told her, smiling. ‘How about Friday?’

‘Perfect!’ she said, smiling once more, bringing his head down so she could kiss him again.

*Hermione’s Late Afternoon Inter-Departmental Memo*

An hour before she was due to leave work, Hermione received a memo from the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement up on Level Two. Inter-departmental memos to the “Fred & George” had
been so numerous and so distracting to the staff that they were now Flooed to the fireplace behind
the young assistant’s desk out near the main entrance and delivered by hand from there every hour
or so by that young man, Gaylord Pince, who was the elderly librarian’s grandson.

Hermione smiled her thanks at the young man as he handed her the memo before hurrying out of her
office, clutching the handful of memos he had yet to deliver. She opened it straight away and after
reading it, immediately Flooed Ginny at her office.

**Monday Night**

*Ginny’s Late Monday Night Interview*

Late that night, Ginny sat at the back of the Leaky Cauldron. There were only two other people
left in the pub and since they were a couple, they were far more interested in each other and
didn’t take any notice of a lone young woman. Ginny was writing notes to herself, her quill moving
quickly across the parchment when she heard the door open. Thinking it was probably just the couple
leaving, she glanced up casually, then froze. A man had walked in, his dark robes still moving from
the wind outside, his hood shadowing his face. She could sense the man was looking around – for
her. She knew he’d seen her, because he was striding towards her, his robes billowing softly around
him.

He stopped beside the table at which she sat. He didn’t sit, just stood there, looking down at
her. She could barely discern his features beneath his hood, yet she knew who it was and wondered
how he looked now. How would anyone look after spending years in Azkaban? It wasn’t as long as
Sirius had been imprisoned, then again, Sirius had been innocent and she was certain *this*
man was not.

Abruptly, he sat down opposite her, leaning forward, his arms on the table. The old barman, Tom,
came up silently with two Butterbeers, putting them down on the table without a word. Ginny smiled
her thanks at him then turned back to the hooded man.

‘Malfoy?’ she asked, her voice low.

‘Weasley?’ he replied in kind, his voice sounded a little hoarse, perhaps, she thought, from
lack of use. Ginny frowned, feeling the old, familiar anger from her schooldays rising within her.
She leaned forward a little, her voice tense.

‘Listen, Malfoy, I don’t know whether you really want to do this or perhaps you just need the
money?’ Ginny hated the sneer in her voice – so similar to that condescension she’d heard in his
voice almost daily during their years at Hogwarts. Despite all that, she couldn’t help adding,
‘Father and son in Azkaban can’t be good for the family’s reputation and no doubt a lot of that
famous Malfoy fortune went down the drain trying to buy you both out.’

She could feel, although not see, those pale, cold eyes staring out at her from beneath the
hood.

‘It’s none of your business *why* I’m doing this, just do your job and shut up and listen.’
His voice was bitingly cold.

‘No, *you* shut up and listen Malfoy! If you agree to this interview you become my business
for the duration. And for my own sake only, you can count on me doing my best on this job.’

A harsh, low laugh escaped him.

‘I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies,’ he said, sounding as though he couldn’t care
less.

Malfoy raised his glass and sipped slowly, obviously thinking over what she said. She found it
very disconcerting that while he could plainly see her, she couldn’t see his face which was still
hidden in the shadow of his hood; she was sure he’d put some sort of charm on it to prevent being
seen properly. She felt vulnerable, exposed somehow. She hated him for making her feel that
way.

Finally, he put his glass down.

‘All right, this is how it will be done. I will agree to this *interview* taking place. You
will meet me at eight o’clock next Friday night at the Dragon’s Lair for dinner, having made the
booking in your name. To all intents and purposes, we will just be another couple having dinner. I
will not pay for dinner. The interview will last as long as dinner, and no longer. And one last
thing. On the night, *Ginevra,* to complete the illusion, you will call me Draco.’

He rose and walked away, leaving Ginny feeling cold, a little afraid and oddly excited.

*Must be all this “cloak and dagger” stuff*, she thought, shivering as she prepared to
leave. She froze in the act of putting on her coat as she remembered that Dean had told her he’d
book a table at the Dragon’s Lair for that Friday. *Shit!* she thought. *I’ll have to see
him tomorrow and see if we can’t make our dinner date for Saturday night. She felt a little
concerned at having to put him off twice, but it couldn’t be helped – this interview could be the
launch pad she’d been hoping for.*

TO BE CONTINUED…



5. The One Where Harry & Dean Cook Dinner, Ginny Gets A Visitor
---------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note Well, there’s just no stopping Harry and Hermione, is there? I was going to wait a
few more days but they just wouldn’t let me, no matter how many times I tried to re-write this
chapter! I’m also not sure about the rating – sometimes the line between R and NC-17 seems very
fine but I think I’m still okay with the R rating.

About D/G: I know I made a comment about a D/G thing at the start of the previous chapter – I’m
sorry, but I was ahead of myself mentioning it at the beginning of the previous chapter, only
because my head was full of what was going to happen in THIS chapter! And still it’s not really a
“thing” I guess, just a “suggestion”.

Also, I have to apologise to any serious Draco/Ginny fans out there that may read this because
while I find the idea of the “bad boy loves good girl who loves bad boy and reforms him” syndrome
almost irresistible (note the use of the word “almost”), the actor who plays Draco in the movies is
probably a million times better looking and definitely far nicer than Draco-in-canon could ever
hope to be so I’m desperately trying to keep both Draco and Ginny reasonably close to their
canon-characters and ignore the temptation to have Draco reform.

One reviewer did comment on Ginny lying to Dean for the sake of her career and that meant the
relationship was probably doomed – well, she didn’t technically lie to him – unless omission can be
seen as lying but I have to say I’m still not sure which way it’s all going to go yet.

Before I uploaded I’d basically written up to the end of this chapter and now I’m going to wait
and see what develops as I write and what thoughts you wonderful reviewers pass on – because I may
be swayed! Now I’m going to shutup so you can read…

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Five: “The One Where Harry & Dean Cook Dinner, Ginny Gets A Visitor, Etc”

**Tuesday**

*Harry Cooks Dinner*

Harry had fallen into the habit of cooking dinner for himself and Hermione since he was at home
and had more time. At least, that’s what he told her as he didn’t have the heart to say to her that
there were two things she would probably never be any good at: flying and cooking. He’d sampled the
results of her cooking talents a number of times and while they were edible, they certainly weren’t
great!

Hermione for her part loved the luxury of arriving home from work and being able to sit in the
kitchen chatting to Harry while he prepared dinner. She’d also discovered that there were many
opportunities for watching him unnoticed while he worked.

This night, as usual, she was sitting on a stool up at the bench while Harry stood on the other
side opposite her, chopping a couple of onions. He was telling Hermione an amusing story about one
of his favourite students during his time at Hogwarts and she was leaning her chin on her hand, her
elbow resting on the bench, looking at Harry as he talked. Because he was watching what he was
doing, he didn’t see the look in her eyes as she gazed at him.

She could feel herself being lulled by the sound of his voice until she was no longer really
hearing the words, instead, she found herself thinking about how much she was looking forward to
Harry’s goodnight hug and kiss later. She loved the feeling of being in his arms, of being able to
wrap her arms around him… she was so busy enjoying her little daydream, imagining that if she
turned her head at just the right moment his lips would meet hers, instead of landing softly on her
cheek, and how it would feel if she opened her mouth to him and…

‘Hermione?’

Hermione, horrified, realised she was now staring directly into Harry’s green eyes which were
gazing intently back at her, taking in her expression...

*Shit! Had she given anything away? Surely not, not with just a* look*…*

Sitting up quickly and dropping her eyes, Hermione could feel the colour steal up her
cheeks.

‘Sorry, I was off with the fairies – just some, um, you know – a little - stuff at work,
really,’ she finished weakly, groaning inwardly. *Jesus Hermione! You idiot! Sitting there
drooling over him like some sixteen year old totally smitten nitwit!*

She heard Harry walk over to the stove and scrape the chopped onions into a pan, sizzling as
they hit the heated oil. He put the utensils in the sink and washed his hands, drying them on a
teatowel as he walked back to the bench.

‘Right! That’s done. Would you like a glass of red wine?’ *Dammit! Look at me Hermione! I want
to know I wasn’t imagining what I just saw in your eyes…*

Hermione nodded, unable to find her voice, staring at the benchtop because she couldn’t bring
herself to meet his eyes. *But if I don’t look at him he’s going to wonder – he’ll think
there’s* something *wrong…*

Harry decided enough was enough and walked back to remove the pan from the stove so the onions
wouldn’t burn, then he walked around the end of the bench to stand beside Hermione, putting his
hand on her shoulder.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked gently, feeling more certain now that he hadn’t imagined anything
because Hermione was obviously too embarrassed to look at him.

Hermione nodded again, her eyes not leaving the benchtop. *No, I’m not all right!* she
screamed silently to herself, *but there’s a chance I won’t make a total idiot of myself right
here and now if you would just get back on your side of the bench!*

But Harry wasn’t moving. Instead, his other hand came up under Hermione’s chin, lifting it
gently so that he could see into her eyes.

‘Please don’t lie to me,’ he told her softly.

Hermione closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at him because she *had* to lie to him.
She couldn’t separate all the different feelings swirling within her like a kaleidoscope caused by
Harry’s touch and nearness and concern and her own feelings of being silly enough to be caught
*gaping* at him. *What must he think?* A little white lie was a far better option than
telling him the truth, or so she thought. It was all too much. Two tears trickled slowly down her
cheeks and Harry, his hands now framing her face, wiped them away with his thumbs. Then he pulled
her up and drew her into his arms. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, feeling so safe and
comforted she couldn’t help but cry some more, feeling an unnamed tension drain from her as Harry
simply held her, his cheek resting on the top of her head.

*Dean Cooks Dinner*

Ginny gathered up the reports she was trying to cram before her interview with Malfoy, deciding
she’d take them home. At least she could get something to eat and sit comfortably in her own place
while she read. She headed to reception where there were a number of fireplaces to Floo home. At
the last minute, she decided to Floo to Dean’s place instead. She could explain about having to
“work” on Friday night and hopefully persuade him to change their reservation to Saturday
night.

As she stepped out of the fireplace into Dean’s kitchen, a wonderful smell reached her that
reminded her of the beautiful roasts her mother cooked.

Dean looked up from peeling potatoes and immediately dropped everything to relieve Ginny of her
rather heavy bag, after which he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Ginny sighed happily.

‘I’m *so* glad I decided to pop in here first before going home,’ she murmured.

‘So am I,’ he told her, claiming her lips once more.

Ginny pulled away and smilingly reminded him he had yet to finish the potatoes.

Dean laughed and walked back to the bench where he’d been working, asking Ginny what she’d like
to drink.

‘Is that a glass of red wine you have?’ she asked and when Dean nodded, she asked for the
same.

As she sipped the soft, mellow wine, Dean explained he was cooking the roast for his mother as
it was her birthday and that Ginny was more than welcome to stay. Normally, she would have accepted
such an invitation with alacrity as she really enjoyed the company of Dean’s parents, but tonight
was an exception.

‘Actually, honey, I have to say no for the same reason I can’t make it this Friday, either. This
latest assignment Ida’s given me is a real biggie. My bag,’ she waved her hand to indicate the
heavy bag she’d brought with her, ‘is full of reports I have to read by Friday night when the
interview is scheduled so I can’t afford to do anything else this week, unfortunately.’

Dean spoke before she could say anything further. ‘That’s okay, sweetheart. I can change it to
Saturday night if you still want to go. I take it you can’t tell me what this is all about just
yet?’

Ginny smiled at him gratefully. He really was the most wonderful man she’d ever met.

‘How I wish I could tell you – but it could be big and Ida’s panicking in case it leaks out
before we’ve had the chance to interview…this person.’

Dean had finished peeling and cutting the potatoes and pumpkin and tossed them into a roasting
pan which he slid it into the oven, after which he basted the meat.

Ginny gave an appreciative moan. ‘That smells *sooo* good! I’d better go before I weaken.’
She stood up and walked around to Dean, sliding her hands around his neck and kissing him,
deliberately pressing herself against him, loving the feel of him. Dean’s hand moved slowly up her
back to entangle itself in her long, gleaming, red hair, pushing insistently against her mouth with
his tongue. Ginny opened her mouth to him and Dean pulled her even closer with his other hand which
was clamped firmly around her waist. It was only the soft *whoosh* that indicated someone
arriving by Floo that made them draw apart, realising it was probably Dean’s parents.

After wishing his mum a happy birthday and explaining she would stay except for work, Ginny
Flooed home to an empty flat, some heated leftovers and lots of reading.

*Harry’s Still Cooking Dinner*

Harry waited till Hermione stopped crying then gently grasping her upper arms, pulled away,
asking softly, ‘What was that all about?’

Giving him a rather watery smile, Hermione shrugged and said, ‘I think work has got a little on
top of me lately, that’s all.’ She broke away to get a tissue, wiping her eyes and blowing her
nose. She sat down again as Harry went back to preparing dinner, filling a large pot of boiling
water with a couple of large handfuls of fresh spaghetti.

‘Can you tell me about it?’ he asked, coming to lean on the bench across from her, his green
gaze intense. He was watching for an echo of what he’d seen earlier in her eyes, but she would only
glance at him for a second or two before looking down at her hands as they fiddled with the tissues
she still held.

‘Well, probably not, but… well, without being specific, I found out something yesterday that
confirmed something I couldn’t believe earlier and all of which involves a very close friend of
mine and I’m rather worried about what might happen.’ Which, she thought, was true – thinking of
the memo she’d received at work yesterday and what she now knew Ginny was doing. She’d promised
Ginny she’d say nothing, however, until *after* the interview.

Harry’s eyebrows rose, a crooked smile forming as he gave his head a slight shake.

‘Well, I’ll take your word for it Hermione – but it sounds just like you, worrying about
someone!’

Hermione felt enormous relief wash through her at what she saw as Harry’s acceptance of her
explanation. So enormous, it enabled her to ignore that fact that Harry would have to be blind to
have missed the look in her eyes earlier, which of course he hadn’t and he knew damn well it had
nothing to do with her work. He mightn’t know why she got upset or her whether her explanation was
true or false - but he knew what he’d seen in her eyes and it was making his heart sing: it was
most definitely *not* the look you give to a *friend*.

The spaghetti took only minutes to cook and then they were sitting down, a plate of steaming,
fragrant food in front of each of them.

Harry lifted his glass in a toast, his voice deep and husky, sending shivers all over Hermione’s
body, ‘Here’s to you, Hermione, my best friend, the most wonderful woman and witch I’ve ever known
and ever will know.’

Hermione smiled as she blushed, then found her voice and lifted her own glass, tapping it gently
against Harry’s.

‘And here’s to the most amazing friend and wizard in my world.’

‘Tuck in while it’s hot,’ advised Harry, passing her a dish of freshly grated parmesan to spoon
over her spaghetti, accidentally-on-purpose touching her hand as he did so, noting the almost
inaudible quick intake of her breath and the slight widening of her eyes. He smiled. *Oh,
Hermione…*

They ate, laughing at each other’s attempts to eat spaghetti and still look dignified. When
they’d finished, Harry stood and without bothering to use his wand, waved his hand, causing dishes
and pots and pans to head for the sink and start cleaning themselves. Another, less expansive wave
saw the bottle of red wine rise from the table, along with their glasses and as Harry held out his
hand to Hermione to bring her to her feet and lead her to the loungeroom, the bottle and glasses
followed them, bobbing gently behind, coming to rest with barely a sound on the coffee table as
they sat down. Harry turned to face Hermione, his back to the fireplace (which he’d lit as they’d
walked in with a flick of his fingers). With a gesture, their glasses floated into their hands and
Harry said, ‘Another toast!’

Hermione took her glass and smiled at Harry, not knowing why she was feeling happier and more
relaxed than she had for weeks, and not caring, simply wallowing in it.

‘Another toast?’ she asked.

‘Something you said the other day – about how it doesn’t matter how well you might think you
know a person, they can still turn around and surprise you. Well, here’s to surprises.’

Their glasses tinkled softly as they touched. ‘To surprises,’ echoed Hermione, intrigued.

They slowly finished their wine, lazily discussing this and that. As he drained the last of the
wine from his glass, Harry stood and held his hand out to Hermione.

This was something Harry always did and she’d become used to it. Yet somehow, now – tonight -
that gesture made her heart beat faster, her breathing quicker. Perhaps it was the look in his
eyes…

She put her hand in his and as she stood up, she found she couldn’t take her eyes from his. He
gathered her into his arms for their ritual goodnight hug, but tonight it felt different…

As she wrapped her arms around him, she hugged him tighter than she ever had, even more aware of
him than she’d ever been. Wanting him more than she ever had.

Harry buried his face in her hair, loving the feel and the smell of it, steeling himself to
resist his natural impulse to run his hands over the beautiful, supple body in his arms, to fight
the almost overpowering urge to kiss her. He didn’t want to move too suddenly and frighten her.
Then as she brought her head up to look at him, her eyes shining, her lips slightly parted, he knew
he was entirely in her hands, that she would dictate the next move and he would go where she
led.

*Ginny’s Visitor*

Ginny woke with a start, wondering what it was that had caused her to stir. She’d moved to her
bedroom after eating earlier, taking some reports with her and had obviously fallen asleep in the
middle of reading. She pushed aside the myriad parchments and was about to throw back her duvet
when she heard the noise that must have woken her in the first place. Footsteps echoing along the
hallway. She froze, her heart pounding. Then she shook her head, feeling ridiculous. It would only
be Dean, probably coming to see her after dinner with his mum and dad. She threw back the covers
and stood up and because it was Dean, she didn’t bother with her dressing gown, walking to the
doorway in the soft, satin, silvery green night gown he’d given her last Christmas. The bodice was
made entirely of creamy lace, the straps were barely there and it whispered softly as she moved,
shimmering over her soft curves.

‘Dean?’ she called quietly as she reached her doorway, enabling her to see along the hallway and
to see the tall figure at the other end. The robed figure froze and so did Ginny’s heart and mind.
The only thought she was capable of was: *It’s not Dean*.

‘Ginevra.’ His voice was like an Arctic wind. It froze her blood. Her own voice sounded icy as
anger surged through her and she demanded, ‘What are *you* doing here? *Get out!
Now!’*

‘Not a particularly polite way to address your date.’

‘It’s not a *date*’, she almost spat, ‘it’s an *interview.* And it’s not until Friday
night. *Now get out!*’

She stood in the doorway to her room, braced by an arm against each side of the doorframe, her
long red hair in disarray, hanging around her shoulders. Her wand was on her bedside table. She was
calculating how quickly she could reach it when she realised he’d been slowly moving and was now
almost on top of her; she hadn’t noticed in the dark that he’d moved – he hadn’t made any noise. As
he came within reach, he raised his hands and pushed his hood back, his pale grey eyes boring
unblinkingly into hers.

She gasped. She’d expected, what? Ageing? Ugliness? The wear and tear of years in prison? He
showed none of that and it made her more afraid. Perhaps he’d learnt skills from Voldemort that
prevented the ravages of time and lifestyle showing on his countenance. Then he smiled. It was cold
and cruel. Like his father. His eyes raked her from head to foot and back again. She felt a surge
of pure hatred galvanise her into action as she raised her hands, clenching them into fists and
just as she was about to bring them down and strike him his hands snapped out and grabbed each of
her wrists in a vice like grip.

‘I had no intention of touching you, Ginevra. I will let you go if you tell me you will not
attempt to touch *me*.’

Incapable of speaking through her mingled rage and terror, she nodded, not knowing why she
believed him.

He immediately released her hands, dropping his own to his sides, standing there, waiting to see
if she was as good as her word. She stepped back and managed to gasp, ‘What the hell do you want,
Malfoy? How did you get in here?’

‘Perhaps I’ll tell you on Friday. During our date. *Sorry.* During our *interview.*’
His voice dripped with sarcasm and yet he seemed satisfied in some way. ‘At least you will look
worthy of being my…*interviewer.*’

She felt her cheeks burn as his eyes raked her body one more time before he turned and walked
away. She heard him Apparate a few seconds later, then realised she felt horribly weak in the legs.
She barely made it back to her bed, crawling in and curling up. It took her a long while to fall
asleep. And she left the bedside lamp burning…

*Etc…*

As she looked up at Harry, Hermione wondered what he was thinking, his gaze was so intense – and
electrifying. She felt as though he was waiting, waiting for her – to do what? She didn’t know, but
she *felt* – she felt as though fire was ripping through every part of her body that was in
contact with Harry’s and in that instant she was reduced to nothing except being aware of
*wanting*. Wanting him. Wanting his touch – his hands. Wanting his kiss… she whispered his
name as she slid her hand behind his head, drawing his lips closer to hers as she closed her eyes,
wondering if she was dreaming.

Harry felt her small, warm hand on the back of his neck, heard his name, whispered by the voice
of the woman he’d wanted so badly for so long it felt like forever, felt the pressure she exerted
to close the gap between their lips and for an instant wondered if this was the right thing to do –
then he felt her lips beneath his – warm and soft and pliant – he felt them part, felt the velvety
softness of her tongue – and nothing else mattered. He felt himself hardening – he could do nothing
about it – it was as if she was controlling him. While one arm remained clamped across her waist,
holding her against him as tightly as humanly possible without crushing her, the fingers of his
other hand entangled themselves in her hair, finding the back of her neck and staying there,
ensuring she could escape only when he let her.

The amazing feeling of her whole body pressed against the length of his – the exquisitely firm
softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, the feeling of her hard, flat stomach pushing
against the almost unbearable hardness of his erection.

Hermione instinctively moved her hips, causing a painfully blissful feeling for Harry; their
lips parted slightly, enough to enable them to breathe.

‘Harry?’ Hermione’s voice was a husky, questioning, whisper; her senses were reeling.

Harry couldn’t help himself – he dropped, small, quick, soft kisses all over her face – her
cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, her temple, her nose, her chin, each side of her mouth, all the
while murmuring her name, unable to believe he was really doing this, kissing Hermione, unable to
believe she was kissing him back. Then she moaned softly in response to his kisses, arching her
body against his and he felt he’d never be capable of coherent thought again.

Then, with a superhuman effort, he pulled back, bringing both his hands to her shoulders, his
forehead resting on hers.

‘Hermione, we need to talk, we have to talk, before…’

She placed her hands either side of his face, raising it to see his eyes as she ran her tongue
over her lips, ‘Harry, please, just kiss me again…please…’

Harry pulled himself up straight, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her, his
face once again buried in her hair. ‘Hermione, kissing you is all I want to do right now – well,
not *all,* *but*,’ his voice, roughened with desire and restraint, caused her to squirm
against the tightness of his embrace so that she was able to look up at him. He kept his head
level, his gaze straight ahead, knowing that if he met her gaze, felt her breath on his face, heard
her begging him to kiss her just once more, he’d be lost…

‘But?’ her voice was soft, and sounded unsure.

‘Just think about it for a second – we truly need to talk. At least, I think we do.’

Hermione sighed. ‘I guess you’re right.’

Harry couldn’t help but look down and smile at her as he said, ‘I don’t hear that very often,
now do I?’

Hermione gave a small laugh, feeling the incredible tension ease a little; he felt her relax in
his arms and unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. He knew one thing – he was down to the dregs
of his resistance; if Hermione asked him to kiss her once more, he’d be totally and utterly
incapable of saying no to her.

She stepped back, looking at him from beneath her lashes. In that second, she made a decision,
her thoughts becoming clear; it was simple: *To hell with talking!*

Harry tensed as Hermione’s eyes suddenly dropped, then watched, spellbound, as her hand reached
across the small distance between them, her fingers trailing over the bulge in his jeans.

‘Hermione…’ his voice hardly more than a deep-throated gasp. *Christ! What was she doing?!
Why?*

She brought her eyes up to his mouth, her fingers reaching under his t-shirt to close over the
top of his jeans, then she looked into his eyes.

‘Harry, you may be right and we *should* talk, but we could always do that tomorrow because
to be honest,’ *she ran her hand around the band of his jeans, her other hand joining it under
his t-shirt, he could feel her hands running up over his firm stomach, up over his chest,* ‘I’m
not really capable of thinking straight at the moment,’ *those maddening, soft hands – their
feather light touch – were on his back, she was pressed up against him once more*, ‘and thinking
is actually *not* what I want to do now, anymore than talking,’ *her hips slowly undulated
against him and he could feel his reason slipping away, bringing his hands up to frame her
face*, ‘because what I really want,’ *he felt hypnotised by her soft, seductive tone and her
eyes which held him transfixed, filled with desire and lust*, ‘is for you to take me to bed and
make love to me. Now. *Please*.’

Unable to speak, his answer was to kiss her, thrusting his tongue into her willing mouth. With a
sudden movement, he pulled away and bent to pick her up, carrying her to her room, his eyes not
leaving hers. He had to have her, or go stark, staring mad. When they reached her room he released
her and she stood up, entwining her arms around his neck as his hands roamed along the graceful
curves of her back, then down, past the smallness of her waist, down, pulling her hips into his and
groaning at the sensations this created.

‘Are you sure?’ he whispered against her lips, forcing himself to give her the power to pull
back or go forward, knowing it was the right thing to do

Hermione, her lips still almost touching his, answered with her own question: ‘Harry, do you
want me?’

‘Can you feel that?’ he asked her, his voice a deep, hoarse, whisper as he pushed his painfully
hard erection into her. He didn’t wait for her answer; he knew she could feel it. ‘That’s what you
do to me – what you’ve done to me for longer than I can remember. I’ve never wanted anyone as much
as I want you, Hermione. And I want you so *badly…’*

‘Then it sounds as though you want me at least half as much as I want you…’ and she pushed his
arms off her, backing away…

‘Hermione!’ Harry’s voice sounded as though he was in agony, his outstretched arms begging her
to return to them.

Still wearing her work clothes, Hermione took a couple of steps backwards, a soft, seductive
smile playing about her mouth. Holding Harry’s eyes, she slowly pulled her deep-cream coloured silk
blouse out of her skirt, undoing the buttons, lastly undoing the cuffs and sliding it off, letting
it drop to the floor. She took a step backwards over the cream silk puddle on the floor so that it
was in front of her, kicking off her shoes to lie on top of it. She was wearing a deep caramel
coloured lacy bra that plunged to reveal an irresistible cleavage. Harry’s eyes dropped to take in
the long imagined view of Hermione in a bra and he felt as though he was going to explode. He may
have just grown harder, although he didn’t know how that could be possible.

When she reached around the back to undo her skirt he thought his knees would give way – that
simple movement caused her breasts, even held within the confines of her bra, to do eternally
watchable things. When her skirt dropped, with Hermione giving it a small kick so that it joined
her blouse, he was sure he’d travelled to paradise. She had on a pair of French knickers that
matched her bra and as his eyes slid down he saw that she had on a pair of those stay-up stockings.
They had lacy tops the same colour as her bra and knickers ensemble and the creamy flesh between
those lacy tops and those lacy knickers led his eyes to that small triangle which meant only one
thing to him right now…ecstasy…

‘Dear God in heaven! Hermione!’ He brought his eyes back to hers to find them filled and shining
with *want* and *need – for him!*

‘I want you Harry. I want you in every way you could imagine. I want your hands all over me –
your mouth, God how I love your mouth! And I want…’ her eyes dropped to the impossibly hard bulge
in his jeans. He followed her gaze and groaned, his head dropping back for an instant before he
looked at her again, not wanting to take his eyes off her.

Her hand came forward, palm up and open. ‘Come to bed with me Harry…’

He brought his own arm forward and stumbled a little, but he took her outstretched hand and she
pulled him towards her…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note I don’t really have to describe what happens next, do I? (insert evil laughter of
author here) Was that a “yes”?

Perhaps I’d better get writing…



6. The Second Rather Short One Which Is Still About Tuesday
-----------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note Just a few words: Despite the little cliffie at the end of the last chapter –
well, let me just say, before you read on, (1) Forgive me, (2) Be nice and (3) I promise I’ll make
it up to you.

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Six: “The Second Rather Short One Which Is Still About Tuesday”

**Tuesday Night**

Her hand came forward, palm up and open. ‘Come to bed with me Harry…’

He brought his own arm forward and stumbled a little, but he took her outstretched hand and she
pulled him towards her…

‘Harry? Harry!’

‘Hermione?’

Harry opened his eyes feeling completely disorientated, finding himself half lying on the
lounge. Hermione was sitting beside him – with her clothes on! But, weren’t they just in her
bedroom? She was taking him to bed, he was finally going to…he groaned. Loudly. *Shit! I was
dreaming!*

‘Harry? What’s wrong?’

He realised the way he was looking at her was probably a little weird. He pushed himself up,
straightening his glasses.

‘I was having this dream…’ he managed, and damn it, he couldn’t help himself, he groaned
again.

‘Dream? Harry-‘ Hermione’s voice was full of concern.

Shaking his head, a crooked smile on his face, he reassured her it was a perfectly normal dream,
not one of his old nightmares. *Normal dream?* *Holy shit! It had been amazing – and so
bloody real! In fact, definitely the best dream this head had ever held!*

*‘*We both fell asleep – can you believe it? I remember you pouring the last of that lovely
red into our glasses and you were telling me something - I can’t remember what – then – nothing!
Probably due to wiping out that whole bottle between us. And I thought I’d never drink too much
again after those bloody Pina Coladas!’ Hermione was shaking her head.

Harry, his elbows on his knees, was cradling his head in his hands. *Holy mother of Merlin!
The dream had seemed so real he was almost tempted to ask Hermione what colour her bra and knickers
were…*

Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Are you all right, Harry?’

‘Oh yes, just still waking up, I think,’ he told her. *Why is it you had to choose THAT moment
to wake me? Extreme cruelty to a really randy wizard is what that was! Then again, if she hadn’t
woken him up then, what would he have ended up doing? Better not to think about that…*

Hermione stood up, urging him to do the same with a hand under his arm. He followed suit, glad
that he’d had a few minutes to “calm down” so that at least when he hugged her – for real, this
time - she wouldn’t come up against what he was sure had been the biggest erection in Harry
History.

He still felt a little unsteady and wrapped his arms around Hermione to help with his balance.
This goodnight kiss-and-hug thing had been so wonderful to start with but had moved from being a
“warm and fuzzy” ritual to being a form of nightly torture for Harry. Hermione, who had always been
an enthusiastic hugger from way back, was no longer a young girl throwing her arms around the neck
of her best friend. This was a *woman* hugging a *man*, a man that loved her and wanted
her, so when she wrapped her arms around him he could feel every part of her pressed against him
and it felt so damn *good* he wanted to keep her there, just like that, holding her…but then
she’d look up at him, waiting for him to drop a kiss on her cheek and so he’d do that, savouring
the softness of her skin, always closing his eyes, absorbing the feeling of her in his arms, his
lips against her skin and her delicious perfume.

Lost in reverie, he realised Hermione was speaking to him, moving within his arms. He opened his
eyes and looked down at her.

‘Harry! You’re falling asleep again! Come on, you need to get to bed now.’

‘Sorry, I just can’t seem to…’ *Get rid of the picture of you standing in front of me, nearly
naked, holding out your hand and asking me to come to bed with you!* He’d closed his eyes again,
moaning softly.

‘Harry!’ Hermione sounded a little exasperated as his eyes flew open again.

‘Right! To bed!’ He was definitely having trouble getting that dream out of his head. And
holding Hermione, hugging her – he felt as though he was starting all over again…

Then he felt Hermione’s hand on the back of his neck, pulling him towards her… *The feeling of
déjà vu was intense. Christ! Am I asleep or awake?!*

He felt her lips softly graze his cheek and he realised she’d kissed him because he hadn’t
kissed her.

She moved out of his arms and took his hand, pulling him gently behind her, walking him to his
room and telling him to go to bed and get back to sleep. As he stripped off and fell into bed he
hoped he’d pick up where he’d left off in that damn dream because he really wanted to see what
Hermione would look like *without* that gorgeous underwear…

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

As she pulled Harry’s door closed, Hermione let out a long breath, leaning against the wall.
*Bloody hell! Falling asleep on the lounge – in Harry’s arms! Great way to help keep your
composure Hermione!*

*She’d woken up to find herself tucked up against Harry, under his arm, both her arms around
him, her head resting on his chest. She’d come to slowly, opening her eyes and realising she was
looking along the length of Harry’s body; he had one leg stretched out on the lounge, the other
bent, his foot on the floor. She was between Harry and the back of the lounge. She’d sat up very
gingerly, not wanting to wake him just yet, not until she had a chance to extricate herself from
this – then she saw it. Oh, fuck. She’d closed her eyes. She knew it was more usual than not for
men – especially younger ones – to have erections when they were asleep but – It’s all right
Hermione, it’s just that you’ve never seen Harry like this before. Not that you haven’t wondered of
course. She opened one eye – oh, that was big, all right! She opened both eyes. What the hell – how
often did you get a chance to check out the man you’d dearly love to shag without him knowing? She
glanced quickly up at Harry’s face, not wanting to be caught. He was still definitely asleep. She
took her eyes back to that bulge in his jeans. Well, I must say Harry I’m impressed. A small smile
played about her lips. How does it feel, I wonder? It looks so hard… She’d brought her hand up,
hovering – but no, that wouldn’t be right. Tempting, but not right.*

Hermione sighed as she pushed herself off the wall beside Harry’s door, shaking her head to try
and clear it. *Just go to bed,* she told herself, *get some sleep and try and put Harry out
of your mind for now.* Walking into her room, she took off her blouse and skirt, draping them
over the small lounge chair in her room…thinking about Harry. Sitting on the chair, she took off
the stay-up stockings she favoured…still thinking about Harry. She walked to the cupboard and took
out a short, silky nightgown that she slipped on over her caramel-coloured bra and matching French
knickers and settled into bed…thinking of nothing else but Harry…

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N

Sorry this has taken longer than usual to upload – I have had the most majorly busy week and
haven’t been able to get any decent amount of time at my beloved pc! But I’m madly trying to make
up for it! Also, I’ve posted the next chapter at the same time as this one so go, read it now!



7. The One That's Mainly About Ginny Talking To Hermione
--------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note Hoping to keep on the good side of my patient, tormented readers, I wouldn’t have
dared to only upload one really short little chapter so here’s the next one!

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Seven: “The One That’s Mainly About Ginny Talking to Hermione”

**Wednesday**

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading when Priscilla walked into her office, Ginny
Weasley hot on her heels. Hermione could see Ginny was glaring at Priscilla, but smiled as she
looked at Hermione, rolling her eyes.

‘Hermione, Ginny’s just popped in for a visit and it’s nearly lunchtime, so why don’t the three
of us go to The Burning Broomstick for lunch?’ suggested Priscilla brightly.

Hermione could see Ginny shaking her head in exasperation as she stood behind Priscilla and
smiled.

‘Sorry Priscilla, but I really need to talk to Ginny alone about some research I’ve been doing
for her,’ Hermione said apologetically. She’d arranged this meeting with Ginny that morning.

Priscilla looked crestfallen and not a little put out. She loved having lunch with Ginny – she
always had the juiciest tidbits of gossip.

Ginny, giving Hermione an exasperated look, touched Priscilla gently on the arm to get her
attention, saying, ‘How about we go to lunch tomorrow Priscilla, to make up for it?’

Priscilla immediately brightened and when Hermione agreed that yes, she could also make it,
Priscilla happily left them, closing the door behind her. The permanent Silencing Charm on
Hermione’s office door took effect the second it clicked closed and Ginny dropped into one of the
arm chairs in front of Hermione’s desk, shaking her head, a rueful smile on her face.

‘That Priscilla – she’s an indefatigable gossip! As soon as I walked in she positively
*sprinted* over to me and latched on.’

Hermione laughed. ‘So true! But she has a good heart and you are such a softy, Ginny, you didn’t
have to ask Priscilla to lunch tomorrow! Just make sure you don’t tell her anything you wouldn’t
want spread throughout the Department within twenty four hours! Now, tell me, I’ve been dying of
curiosity, what happened with Malfoy on Monday night?’

Ginny sat up straighter, nodding.

‘Right, but first, let me tell you something. He popped in for a visit last night.’

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. ‘*What?!’* she cried.

Ginny told her what had happened the previous night.

‘How the hell did he get in?’ asked Hermione a few minutes later.

Ginny shrugged. ‘He said he’d tell me – or might tell me – on Friday night.’

‘Do you know what you’re going to ask him, talk to him about, on Friday night?’ inquired
Hermione.

Ginny nodded. ‘Oh, yes! But let me tell you about Monday night first. You know of course how our
Editor, Ida, arranged for me to meet Malfoy in the Leaky Cauldron late that night,’ Hermione
nodded, ‘well, he kept his hood on – I couldn’t see his face, I’m sure he’d used a Concealing Charm
– anyway, he said that he will only do an interview over dinner on Friday night and that I was to
book the table and we would basically pretend to be a couple. He even told me that I had to call
him Draco!’

Hermione looked horrified for her friend.

‘You have to have dinner in public with Draco Malfoy? Bloody hell, Ginny, what will Dean
say?’

‘Don’t worry about that. After dinner I’ll be going over to Dean’s to explain it all to him.
There’s no way I’d want him to find out from anyone but me to make sure he gets the truth. We’re
actually having dinner on Saturday night ourselves.’

‘I guess,’ said Hermione, ‘that it’s probably a good thing you’ll be in public with him. That
memo I Flooed you about had me worried, I must say. A late night meeting in a pub – a little
scary.’

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe how efficient the Law Enforcement Department can be at
times! Then again, maybe whoever was giving Ida information about Malfoy was also telling someone
from Law Enforcement – perhaps not even knowing they were Law Enforcement. I must say when you
Flooed me and asked me what the hell was I doing meeting Malfoy in the Leaky Cauldron that night
you could’ve knocked me down with a feather! Also, I’ve been wondering, who was it that sent you
the memo?’

Hermione smiled. ‘Neville Longbottom, of course. He knew better than to send it to Ron,
naturally.’

Ginny groaned. ‘Oh, hell! Imagine if Ron got wind of this? Actually, I don’t want to think about
that!’

Hermione laughed at the comical expression on Ginny’s face, then continued. ‘Okay, tell me, has
Ida given you any more information about Malfoy?’

Ginny shook her head. ‘I rather think she’s sitting back and waiting to see how much initiative
I’m going to show. And whether I’m prepared to use my “contacts in the Ministry” as she so
delicately called you and Ron. Actually, I didn’t think of Neville – and I should have!’

‘Well, Neville and I have talked and he’s told me this: Malfoy did give them information that
has led to them arresting another four Death Eaters. Malfoy told them he simply wanted to get out
of Azkaban and since he’d turned traitor on those Death Eaters, they could be sure he wouldn’t be
going back to his old circle of “friends” or his old way of life.’

‘The ones still left will probably go after him, anyway,’ put in Ginny.

Hermione nodded. ‘With his parents both dead and their property confiscated, he really has
nowhere to go. Law Enforcement have put him up in a rather awful flat not far from the Leaky
Cauldron. But even they don’t expect him to stay alive terribly long, considering what he did and
how vengeful Death Eaters are.’

‘So he *does* need the money we’re paying him for the interview,’ Ginny mused.

‘Absolutely,’ replied Hermione. ‘You can be sure he’s *hating* living where he is. You know
what he’s like.’

Ginny nodded, a bitter smile on her lips. ‘Getting his just desserts.’

‘What goes around, comes around, Ginny.’

The smile left her face as she remembered her sneering tone of voice when asking Malfoy if he
was doing this because he needed the money. *I won’t lower myself to that level again,* she
promised herself. *I’m doing no less than Malfoy used to.* She shivered, hating the fact that
she’d spoken like that, ashamed that it had felt good at the time.

Ginny sat back in her chair, saying in a much lighter voice, ‘Forget Malfoy for the moment! Tell
me about you and Harry. How’s it going?’

Hermione gave a heartfelt groan, making Ginny laugh.

She told her how Harry had looked after her on the Sunday after their girls’ night.

‘You’re lucky! I had to look after myself!’ laughed Ginny.

‘It was nice,’ she said, ‘and the soup was *delicious!* He’s a much better cook than I am.
Then, he came and took me out to lunch on Monday which was lovely and he said he’s going to do that
once a week from now on.’

Ginny raised an eyebrow as she spoke. ‘Really? Now why would he do that?’

Hermione looked puzzled. ‘Why not?’

Ginny shook her head, smiling. How could Hermione not see that as a sign that Harry wanted to
see her more, wanted to spend time with her – wanted to please her? Because that’s exactly what it
implied to her!

‘Just continue,’ she told Hermione, still smiling.

‘Well, last night was a little strange. Harry cooked dinner – he usually does, now – it was
delicious, his own spaghetti recipe – and we had a bottle of red wine.’

‘What’s so strange? You said Harry usually cooks every night didn’t you?’

‘Well, he cooks dinner nearly every night, now, but we don’t drink a bottle of red wine every
night, which is just as well, considering…’ Hermione’s voice drifted off as she fell into her own
memory of last night.

‘You’re making me ask, aren’t you? Considering *what*?’

Giving a little start, Hermione refocused on Ginny. ‘Sorry, just off with the fairies…’

‘So I could see,’ said Ginny then when Hermione suddenly sat up perfectly straight, a look of
horror on her face, causing Ginny to cry out, ‘What is it? Hermione, what’s wrong?’

Hermione fell back into her chair. ‘Oh, shit.’

Ginny clenched her teeth. ‘For pity’s sake, *what?!’*

‘Fairies…’ murmured Hermione.

Ginny raised her voice. ‘Hermione!’

Hermione looked at her friend, her eyes blank. Ginny stood up and walked around to sit on the
edge of Hermione’s desk, turning the chair Hermione occupied so that they were facing each
other.

‘Hermione, I don’t want to have to slap you, but if you don’t blink and close your mouth right
now, I’m going to do just that. For your own good.’

Hermione closed her mouth, blinked a few times and groaned, her head dropping forward.

‘Out with it,’ ordered Ginny.

So Hermione explained about last night. How she’d been sitting at the bench, *drooling*
over Harry as he prepared dinner, having Harry *see* her drooling over him, telling him she
was off with the fairies (‘Which is what made me remember, when I said the same thing to you,’ she
told Ginny). Then saying her silly expression was because of work and because of a problem a friend
had that she was worried about – Ginny guessing she’d been talking about her – and how Harry had
hugged her and she’d cried and then everything had seemed fine and they’d ended up falling asleep
on the lounge.

‘Sounds innocent enough. Why the horrified look?’ asked Ginny.

‘When I think back, there’s no way he could’ve missed the expression on my face. I was kidding
myself. I may as well have written “I fancy you madly” on my forehead. He was just being nice when
he accepted my explanation.’

Ginny shook her head in exasperation. ‘Hermione, why the hell don’t you just *tell* him?
Whatever comes out of it, it’d have to be better than continuing like this! Your imagination is
going haywire and besides, surely he wouldn’t’ve curled up on the lounge and gone to sleep with you
if he felt uncomfortable with you in any way for any reason!’

Hermione thought about sleeping on the lounge with Harry, blushing, groaning at the memory of
waking up and checking out Harry’s “bulge”.

‘What now?’ cried Ginny and so Hermione told her, knowing Ginny would never betray her
confidence.

‘Woh! Well, that’s normal for a man. He was probably having a wonderfully erotic dream. Maybe
about *you!’* she said, smiling wickedly.

‘Actually, he did say he was having a dream when I woke him up…’

‘So, what rating would you give him? Small? Medium? Large?’ asked Ginny slyly, watching
Hermione.

‘Ginny!’ she squealed, then she blushed again, and smiled, looking down.

‘I’d say that was a “Large”!’ exclaimed Ginny, laughing at Hermione’s discomfiture.

Hermione suddenly looked miserable as she said, ‘Ginny, it’s driving me crazy but I just don’t
know what to do! You can’t seriously expect me to sit Harry down out of the blue and just tell him
I love him and would he please take me to bed?! No one does that!’

‘More’s the pity,’ murmured Ginny under her breath. ‘Leave it with me,’ she said out loud. ‘I’ll
put my thinking cap on and get back to you.’ But she already knew exactly what she was going to
do.

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

Ron looked up from his desk, disappointed that his visitor wasn’t Luna, but happy to see his
little sister. She’d told him to get himself up, they were going to lunch, just the two of them.
Since he hadn’t had lunch yet, Ron happily conceded although he was a little puzzled when Ginny
took him to a Muggle café rather than a wizard pub.

Sipping their coffee while waiting for their meals, Ginny explained she didn’t want to risk any
interruptions which is why she’d chosen a Muggle café where it would be highly unlikely they’d come
across someone they knew. She then asked him if Harry had told him anything unusual, or special,
the previous Saturday night when they’d all gone to the Wanderers’ Club, especially anything to do
with Hermione. Ginny knew immediately by the expression on Ron’s face that she’d hit “paydirt”.

‘So he did. Tell me,’ she said firmly.

‘Well, I don’t know, Ginny. Should I do that? I mean, Harry didn’t say so, but usually these are
things your mates tell you in confidence.’

‘I know, and usually I wouldn’t ask. But there’s something I have to tell you and it’s very
important you don’t let on you know to anyone, but especially to Harry.’

Ron cocked his head, giving her his full attention.

Ginny kept it simple. She told him that on that same Saturday night Hermione had admitted that
she “had strong feelings” for Harry but didn’t think she stood a chance.

Ron chuckled. ‘Pair of prats. So what do we do?’

‘I think they just need a nudge – at least I hope that’s all they need. I swear sometimes you
wouldn’t know they’re both actually quite smart – especially Hermione! All right, here’s what I
think we should do…’

That night at Dean’s place, as she lay on the lounge with him, her head in his lap, listening to
music, Ginny smiled to herself, feeling very satisfied with her life at the moment. If she did a
good enough job on the interview with Malfoy she was hoping it could mean a promotion, so work was
going well. Her philandering brother had finally seemed to be settled down with wonderful woman who
truly loved him. It looked as though two of her best friends would *finally* get together and
to top it all off, she shifted her gaze to Dean’s face to find him looking down at her, his brown
eyes shining. She smiled lovingly at him, lifting her hand to gently caress his cheek. *To top it
all off, I have the love of a completely wonderful man. What more could a girl want?*

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N

The next chapter, which I’ve nearly finished, is Chapter Eight and is called “The One That’s A
Little Bit About Thursday But Mainly About Friday”. It’s shaping up to be a nice, long, juicy
chapter! I’m having a total ball with this story (and I still don’t know what’s going to happen
with Draco and Ginny – I can’t make up my mind!). Anyway, I hope to upload Chapter Eight in the
next few days, fingers crossed!

Thank you, thank you all who take the time to review – I LOVE reading your reviews so much it’s
crazy!



8. The One Where Hermione Gets An Invitation, Harry Goes To Hog
---------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note A thousand apologies for taking so long to upload this Chapter but it’s a little
longer and I’ve been reading, revising and checking as often as I can (and it’s been VERY busy
around here the last few days!). It’s also got a different title to the one I mentioned previously
but hey, author’s prerogative (and I think this title’s better, anyhow- hope you agree!) J

I also hope you enjoy this Chapter and please feel free to review if only for the reason that it
totally makes my day (and thank you very much if you do!) J

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Eight: “The One Where Hermione Gets An Invitation, Harry Goes To Hogwarts And Everyone
Goes To The Dragon’s Lair”

**Thursday**

The next day, Hermione arrived back from her lunch with Ginny and Priscilla to find Hedwig
sitting on top of one of the bookcases in her office, her head under her wing, having a little
nap.

Speaking quietly so as not to startle her, Hermione called her name. Hedwig stirred and flexing
her wings, dropped down to Hermione’s desk, holding out her leg. Hermione removed the small roll of
parchment which was from Harry, of course, and read, “Dear Hermione, I’m leaving for Hogwarts
before you get home tonight as Dumbledore has asked to see me. I specially want to take you out for
dinner tomorrow night – so please say yes. Being hopeful, I’ve booked us a table at the Dragon’s
Lair for half past seven just in case and I should be home about six o’clock to get ready. Please
send a “yes” back with Hedwig. Love, Harry.”

Hermione gazed at Harry’s familiar handwriting, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig as she did so.
*Well, if that isn’t one for the books! Dinner at the Dragon’s Lair? “Love, Harry”? She wasn’t
sure how, but she was positive Ginny must have had something to do with this! She didn’t know
whether to laugh, cry or cringe!*

Hedwig hooted softly and Hermione chuckled. ‘All right, all right! You want my answer so you can
get going, don’t you?’

She leant over and picking up one of the small pieces of parchment she kept for short notes
wrote, “Dear Harry, YES. Love, Hermione.” She smiled as she attached to it Hedwig’s leg, watching
as she flew into the fireplace to return to Harry.

**Friday**

Hermione woke Friday morning with the same feeling of excited anticipation she experienced on
Christmas mornings at home and she had a huge smile on her face. She leapt out of bed and made her
way to the bathroom, humming. As she studied her reflection in the mirror, she felt ridiculously
happy. ‘Quite the chipper, chirpy little thing this morning, aren’t we?’ quipped the mirror.
Hermione laughed. *I feel as though I could explode with happiness!* she thought to
herself.

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

Ginny woke that same morning filled with a mixture of trepidation and a peculiar sort of
excitement. As she got ready for work she kept telling herself that the “interview” with Malfoy –
Draco, rather - would go as planned and that she, even though she wasn’t a really experienced
interviewer, would have the upper hand. *It’s definitely a little weird, but I better think of
him as Draco all day so that I don’t automatically call him “Malfoy” tonight – it’s Draco.
Draco.* She shivered. Even his name seemed to wield some sort of strange power. To which she was
totally immune, of course.

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

Harry woke that morning taking a second to realise he was back in his old teacher’s quarters at
Hogwarts. He’d had a wonderful time dining in the Great Hall once more and received, to his very
great surprise and huge embarrassment, a standing ovation from the students. Even from some of the
Slytherins! He and the Headmaster had retired to the latter’s office after dinner and it was then
that Harry found out why it was Dumbledore had asked him to come to Hogwarts. After hearing him
out, Harry assured the Professor that he was perfectly capable of dealing with the situation and
Dumbledore told him he’d never doubted that, he just wanted to make sure Harry was prepared and
informed. They’d spent some time chatting about “old times” and Harry had retired with a wonderful
feeling of contentment and peace. Life had, eventually, become wonderful. It had taken him some
time to forgive the old Headmaster’s procrastination in telling him all he knew but he had come to
understand over the years why he had done it. *And I suppose now that Voldemort’s gone and it’s
all behind me, it’s easier to be more lenient with the old devil,* he mused.

Harry stretched then smiled to himself as he put his hands behind his head. He felt good. And
happy. *And admit it, Potter – just a tiny bit smug. Because he was almost one hundred percent
sure that Hermione didn’t just see him as Harry-my-best-friend. After recovering from the trauma of
“That Dream” (although it wasn’t the dream that was traumatic, rather the fact it had been a dream
and not real!) he’d recalled what it was that had made that particular night different from all the
other nights he’d cooked dinner for the two of them. It had been the look on Hermione’s face. And
her reaction to him seeing it. Actually, if she hadn’t reacted the way she did, he’d probably have
accepted whatever explanation she gave him. But she’d reacted as though she’d been caught out –
that Harry was never supposed to see that look in her eyes. Why? Because it was for* him! *And
while he didn’t know everything about such things, he knew you didn’t look at someone who was
your* friend *like that.*

*And then his best mate, good old clumsy Ron, had come to see him Thursday morning, ostensibly
to see if he wanted to go to the Wanderers’ Club again that weekend, but it had become obvious
fairly quickly that his real motive was to let Harry know that he should “make a move” on Hermione;
that he’d been thinking about it and unless Harry took the initiative, things could just drift on
and go nowhere. Then he’d suggested that perhaps Harry should take her somewhere special for
dinner? He knew an excellent restaurant if he was interested.*

Harry suspected Ron had been “prompted” but he wasn’t sure by whom. Still, it didn’t matter. He
told Ron that he was right, and he’d do just that. In fact, he’d ask Hermione out to dinner the
very next night. Ron beamed. Harry didn’t suspect a thing! Wait till he told Ginny how smoothly
he’d managed this, especially when she’d been so concerned and so certain he’d muff it!

In the meantime, he’d received Dumbledore’s owl asking him to come to Hogwarts and had then sent
Hedwig off to Hermione’s office, waiting nervously for her to return. When she did, the very short,
but oh-so-sweet-to-read note she brought him made him feel almost light-headed.

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

Hermione found herself humming again that evening as she went through her wardrobe, looking for
the “perfect” dress. The Dragon’s Lair was a rather exclusive wizard restaurant, but in an
unobtrusive sort of way. *Understated. And that’s the sort of dress I need,* thought Hermione.
*Black? No, no… Blue? Hmm… No, not blue. And definitely not red! Ah yes!* She pulled out a
dress she’d only worn once before, surveying it with a critical eye. It seemed to meet all the
criteria. After a minute of serious contemplation she smiled triumphantly. *Yes, this was the
dress!*

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

Ginny was far too nervous to hum. She was even too nervous to feel excited about going to the
Dragon’s Lair, which was her favourite restaurant. *For heaven’s sake Ginevra,* she told
herself, *pull yourself together! It’s not as though you haven’t been on plenty of dates – shit,
this is* NOT *a date, what am I thinking? For Merlin’s sake, this is Draco-bloody-Malfoy! I’m
being* paid *to do this because it’s a work assignment. So why in hell am I so nervous? He
unnerves me. That’s what it is. He’s an unnerving human being. All that matters is that I get
answers out of him – as many of them as I can. Then I’ll never see him again. And he’ll probably be
dead before Christmas because of what he’s done to his former “friends” and that’ll be the end of
that. She shivered; what a horrible fate.* Going through her wardrobe, she picked out a deep
forest green dress that she knew looked sensational on her. It would help her confidence and for
some reason, she felt as though she needed all the confidence she could muster.

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

Once again using a Portkey supplied by Dumbledore, Harry arrived back at the flat he and
Hermione shared a little after six o’clock, calling out to Hermione as he headed for his room to
begin getting ready.

‘Hermione! I’m home!’

‘I’m just getting dressed,’ Hermione called back from her bedroom.

About twenty minutes later, going over her reflection in the full length mirror on the wall
beside her wardrobe with a critical eye, Hermione felt quite pleased. Her dress had a fitted satin
underlay that was a deep cinnamon colour with a sheer chiffon overlay of a lighter shade with gold
flecks throughout it. It was sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline, showing just the right amount
of cleavage. It wasn’t too short, or too long – stopping just above her knees. She’d charmed her
hair into a soft chignon at the back of her head, held in place with a beautiful gold comb, soft,
curling tendrils drifting around her neck and temples. Spraying herself with her favourite perfume,
she went to her bed, picking up the matching chiffon shawl and her pale gold evening purse, which
matched her shoes, and headed out of her room.

As she passed the bathroom, she could hear Harry moving around inside and smiled, beginning to
feel just a touch of nervousness. On reaching the kitchen, she put her purse and shawl on the table
and decided she needed a glass of wine to drown the butterflies that were causing havoc in her
stomach. There was an opened bottle of white wine in the fridge and she poured herself a glass,
standing at the kitchen bench to drink it. Even sitting down seemed beyond her at the moment.
*Why the hell am I so nervous all of a sudden?* she wondered as she took a large mouthful of
the cold wine. *You know why, you coward. Just admit it. Dinner with Harry. Oh, but it’s not just
that. The promise of… something. I haven’t even seen him since we fell asleep on the lounge the
other night, but somehow our relationship - the sense of our friendship - seems to have shifted a
little – although I’m not sure why. Or maybe it’s just me, more than likely. But I don’t know. I
guess I don’t understand anything right now. I’m just waiting. Anticipating. Hoping. Hoping for
Harry.* She closed her eyes and smiled. *I feel… reckless. Well, not ridiculously so, but just
a little reckless. A good sort of reckless.*

Harry stopped in the kitchen doorway, arrested by the sight of Hermione standing there with her
eyes closed, a secret sort of smile on her face. Then he took in the rest of her – or what he could
see above the bench and he swallowed hard. He was going to have to really work at it not to spend
most of the night just *looking* at her, *staring* at her. She looked – ‘Perfect!’ Then
realised he’d spoken aloud as Hermione’s eyes flew open. ‘Thank you, kind sir,’ she said as she
smiled at him, a little disconcerted to find Harry gazing at her with an intensity she’d never seen
before. ‘Actually, you look just about perfect yourself, Mr Potter,’ she told him lightly, eyeing
him appreciatively. He wore a black lounge suit with a very pale green shirt and dark green tie; he
carried his robes over his arm and she could see that they were lined with a green the same colour
as his tie … and his eyes. He’d never been adventurous in his choice of clothing, but she wouldn’t
have him any other way. Besides he looked totally, drop dead *sexy. He always did.*

Taking another sip of her wine, Hermione’s smile faded as Harry dropped his robes over the back
of one of the kitchen chairs and turned to approach her. He still had that disturbingly intense
look in his eyes as he came around the end of the bench; he leaned over to take her glass, putting
it down then gathering both her hands in his. The butterflies in her stomach had managed to avoid
drowning, the inconsiderate little buggers, and had suddenly acquired the ability to emit some form
of electricity that seemed to travel instantly to every nerve in her body while the smile Harry
gave her made her heart race at a frightening pace. ‘You look truly beautiful, Hermione.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered; her whole body seemed to be tingling and she wasn’t even sure that
she was actually breathing.

Harry’s voice dropped, becoming even deeper and a little hoarse; Hermione was afraid her legs
would give way.

‘There’s something I want to ask you Hermione and I want you to be truly honest. So,’ Harry took
a deep, steadying breath, ‘do you see me *only* as a friend, Hermione? For now and for
always?’

*Oh, shit!* She was unable to tear her eyes from his. She felt hypnotised. *He’s waiting
for an answer,* she thought, *I have to tell him* something*!* But she knew she
couldn’t lie to him and not being capable of speaking at that moment, she shook her head,
ever-so-slightly, unable to believe this was happening.

‘Thank God!’ he exclaimed quietly as relief washed through him. Hermione felt stunned at his
words and knew that was probably just how she looked. Squeezing her hands gently as though to
reassure her, Harry said, ‘I’m sure we can arrive a little early at the restaurant and have a
pre-dinner drink. I think we might need it.’

Putting his arm around her shoulders and Summoning his robes and Hermione’s purse and shawl,
Harry looked down at her with a smile as he Apparated them both to the Arrival Room at the Dragon’s
Lair.

As they approached reception, the grey haired maitre d’ smiled profusely, recognising Harry
instantly, glancing with appreciation at Hermione.

‘Mr Potter, such an honour, sir!’ he said warmly.

‘Sounds like Dobby,’ Harry whispered to Hermione. Hermione smiled up at him, feeling a little of
the tension leave her, although not for long. *Had she imagined what Harry just asked her? No,
she hadn’t. But it seemed so…surreal! At least he’d said “thank God” and that meant he was glad she
didn’t just see him as a friend, didn’t it? Her head felt as though it contained a whirlpool,
coherent thought lost in the currents. Harry was right: they needed a pre-dinner drink. She’d put
thinking on hold. Actually, she didn’t have a choice – I don’t think I could think even if I wanted
to!* she told herself wryly.

Harry smiled back, assuring Mr Madomo - as he’d introduced himself to them - that a friend had
highly recommended the restaurant and they were looking forward to the evening. After being
relieved of his robes by a young wizard who appeared at the snap of Mr Madomo’s fingers, Harry
asked that they be able to have a drink before going to their table as they were a little early.
The maitre d’ himself guided them to the Dragon’s Nest, the restaurant’s dimly lit, intimate bar
and, leaving them seated in a small, but comfortably padded booth, assuring them a waiter would be
with them as soon as possible.

Alone with Harry once more, Hermione became intensely aware of him seated so close beside her.
She fussed over folding her shawl and putting it on the seat beside her, placing her purse on top,
delaying the moment when she’d have to look at him. Harry watched her, smiling, thinking it was a
wonder she couldn’t hear his heart pounding. *Thank Merlin that when that question had popped
into his head he’d followed his impulse and actually asked Hermione outright about whether she
looked on him as only a friend. It had felt like an eternity before she gave that small shake of
her head; that simple action had turned his world around. He felt as though he could face anything
and win.* (Which, in fact, he probably could.).

As Harry placed his left arm along the back of the seat and his fingers came to rest on
Hermione’s shoulder, she felt every muscle in her body tense. She knew she couldn’t put the moment
off any longer so she turned and looked up at Harry, uncertainty and hope both in her eyes.

‘What would you like to drink this evening?’ came a charming, smooth voice, startling
Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes, then looked back to Hermione.

‘Would you like some champagne?’ he asked her.

Hermione nodded, smiling, not trusting herself to speak, not really caring what she drank.

‘Champagne, it is, please’ he told the waiter who nodded and silently glided away.

Hermione’s fingers were trying to tie themselves in knots in her lap and she was watching them
with what appeared to be total fascination.

‘Hermione,’ said Harry softly, ‘look at me.’

Taking a deep breath, Hermione found she could only raise her eyes as high as Harry’s mouth
which wasn’t a bad thing. It was a *very* nice mouth… Bringing his free hand up to Hermione’s
chin, Harry gently tilted her head so that their eyes met.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he whispered.

‘Harry! Hermione! Fancy meeting you two here!’ came an excited female voice from across the
room.

Hermione watched as Harry’s eyes closed, a frown creasing his forehead as he quietly growled,
‘What the hell is it now!’

Harry’s hand dropped and they both turned to see Ron and Luna walking towards them with their
arms around each other, smiling broadly.

As they reached their table, Ron’s step faltered when he realised that Hermione looked a little
like she did the year she’d been Petrified and Harry was only just short of glowering at him,
despite the small – very small – smile on his face.

‘We’re here to celebrate our five-month anniversary,’ exclaimed Luna happily. ‘What a wonderful
coincidence meeting you here!’

‘Wonderful,’ echoed Harry, looking at Ron meaningfully.

‘And,’ continued Luna in a breathless voice,’ can you believe it? We ran into Dean speaking to
Mr Madomo – he’s making special arrangements for himself and Ginny tomorrow night and he gave him
what I’m positive was a jeweller’s ring box. If you ask me, I think he’s going to propose to
Ginny!’

Harry and Hermione seemed strangely unaffected by this momentous piece of news and Ron, to his
credit, was realising that interrupting Harry and Hermione had probably not been his smartest move.
Actually, recommending the Dragon’s Lair to Harry probably hadn’t been a smart move
either...especially when he’d already booked a table for himself and Luna the same night. He
definitely wouldn’t tell Ginny about this part. He decided that it was undoubtedly best if he and
Luna gave Harry and Hermione a wide berth tonight.

‘Yes, well, I suppose you want to be alone, just as we do, right sweetheart?’ he said to
Luna.

Luna was about to suggest they should all just have a drink together but something in Ron’s eyes
stopped her and she smiled at him. ‘Of course!’ She turned to look at Harry and Hermione, giving
them a little wave. ‘See you later!’ she called softly, Ron steering her out of the bar having
decided to follow the wiser course of enjoying their pre-dinner drinks at their table.

As they walked away, Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then laughed quietly.

Harry shook his head. ‘I’m almost afraid to start another conversation with you in case it
brings someone else along to interrupt us!’

‘Your champagne, sir,’ came the waiter’s smooth tones.

He showed no reaction when both Harry and Hermione laughed, simply filling their glasses with a
courteous smile before leaving.

‘A toast,’ said Harry, as they lifted their glasses. As their glasses touched, Harry said, ‘To
surprises,’ and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, remembering the night they’d first made
this toast.

Managing to whisper the words of the toast before sipping the ice cold liquid, Hermione tried to
fight off the embarrassment she felt welling up at the memory of that night, dropping her eyes.

‘Thinking of the night we first made that toast?’ Harry asked her quietly.

Hermione nodded, remembering how Harry had caught her *gaping* at him.

‘That was a good night,’ he said.

Hermione gave a little groan. ‘Harry, it’s a little *embarrassing* for my part, and-’ she
braved a quick glance at him and saw him smiling at her, a definite *twinkle* in those green
eyes and realised he was teasing her. She gave him a mock glare.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t help myself! But I have to tell you that seeing that look in your
eyes that night has already become one of my favourite memories, even though I haven’t been totally
certain how much feeling was behind it – all I felt sure of was that it meant you didn’t just see
me as simply a friend.’

‘Well, in that case, given a hundred years or so, I may get over my feeling of embarrassment,’
sighed Hermione.

‘Good,’ Harry murmured, his free hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb gently caressing her
cheek. ‘So now we’re friends still, but perhaps so much more. No longer afraid then, Hermione?’

‘Well, just a little,’ she admitted. ‘It just seems so – strange – and awkward – I don’t know
how to be anyone else with you besides just Hermione-your-best-friend. But I know I want to be. And
you?’

‘Well, perhaps because I’ve spent so long thinking about you as more than a friend – feeling for
you the way I do – imagining, well, just imagining, and dreaming about you – I guess it feels more
like a natural progression to me. Something I’ve wanted for so long and now it’s within my reach.
My only fear is that I might not reach it.’

‘I think you will,’ she whispered, her hand coming up to rest on his shoulder.

‘Hermione, I really want to kiss you so desperately right now…’ said Harry, putting his glass
down so that he would have both hands free to frame her face.

‘Please do,’ she whispered, putting her glass beside Harry’s, then sliding her hands around his
neck, her fingers finding their way into his hair. Somehow this felt so right and seemed so
natural; she was already forgetting any feelings of strangeness at the idea of being more than
friends with Harry. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment before the distance
between their mouths slowly became nothing.

As their lips touched, Harry’s hand moved swiftly to the back of Hermione’s neck, wanting to
keep her there forever so that he would never have to stop feeling the way he did right now with
her soft, sweet lips beneath his. Hermione knew she’d *never* felt this way before – that no
man had *ever* made her feel the way Harry did right now. Harry was aware of incredible
sensations filling him as he tentatively pushed against Hermione’s lips with his tongue and she
opened her mouth for him, his tongue exploring her sweet warmth. Finally, they reluctantly drew
apart, Hermione’s voice quiet and low, ‘Oh, Harry that was – indescribable…’

*Just like the size of my damn erection!* he groaned to himself, thinking how bloody unfair
it was that a man’s reaction was so *visible!*

Taking her hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to drop kisses on the back of each of
them, he told her, ‘More times than I care to count I’ve tried to imagine what this would be like –
kissing you - but I never came close to the reality.’

Gazing into his eyes, she asked, ‘So what do we do now? I don’t know that I’m going to feel
hungry, not really. Not for food, anyway,’ she finished wickedly, running her tongue over her lips,
feeling sure she could taste him as she did so.

‘Ah, Cheeky Hermione has returned to taunt me, has she? Well, I’d love nothing more than to
whisk her away *but* there is something I need to tell you about and it’s to do with why
Dumbledore asked me to go to Hogwarts, so we need to stay a little while longer and I think we’d
better eat *something*, especially if we’re going to finish this champagne.’ Harry gave her a
crooked smile. ‘And it would actually be really helpful if you would stop looking at me like
*that.*’

‘Like *what*?’ Hermione asked innocently, not realising her eyes were full of the long
suppressed desire and love and just plain *lust* she felt for Harry.

‘Like you are, right now. Believe me, it’s extremely – let’s say *distracting* - and I need
to stand up and walk to our table without embarrassing myself,’ he said quietly, arching an eyebrow
at her.

‘Oh my God!’ cried Hermione, her eyes widening in realisation, her hand coming up to her mouth,
the look in her eyes becoming one of slight shock and mortification.

‘Well, it’s not *that* unusual-’ began Harry.

‘Oh no, it’s just that it reminds me – I saw - I mean, the other night – when you were asleep –
you – I was – oh, shit!’ Hermione finished with a groan.

Harry pounced. ‘What? Whenever you swear, Hermione, which isn’t often, I’ve always felt that
whatever you were thinking at the time would be extremely interesting.’

Hermione was shaking her head, her hands fluttering, as she murmured, ‘No, no, no! It’s nothing,
really. Really.’

‘Liar, liar, pants on fire,’ chanted Harry, the childish accusation springing to his tongue as
he smiled at her. ‘Now, tell me, or else,’ he finished in an extremely determined tone.

Hermione stared at him for a second, then laughed, shaking her head once more. ‘Oh no, I don’t
think so! One embarrassing moment is enough, thank you!’

Harry half closed his eyes, looking at her, thinking back…

‘You said it reminds you of the other night, when I was asleep,’ it wasn’t a question; ‘and you
saw *what?* Now, let me think, you woke up first - how long was it before you woke me up?’

Hermione started playing tie-your-fingers-in-knots again as she shrugged. ‘Not long.’

‘But long enough to see - *what* - ?’

Hermione’s voice sounded anguished. ‘Harry, I didn’t mean to say anything – I mean it’s nothing
– well it’s not nothing, but it’s not anything – oh shit!’ *For Merlin’s sake, Hermione! You’re
pathetic! It’s not as though you’re a prude or anything – why can’t you just tell him you “checked
him out”? After all, he sat here not two minutes ago and basically told you he couldn’t get up and
leave because he was so aroused. So why can’t you be just as honest? Because despite everything,
you can’t help but feel that it’s a little unseemly for a woman to admit being so turned on by a
man let alone actually TELL him so.*

‘It’s all right, Hermione, I can guess, helped along by your rather revealing reaction! Now, I
remember that night I’d been dreaming – about *you,* incidentally – and that when you woke me
up I had a raging hard-on’ – and then stopped because he had to laugh at the expression on
Hermione’s face. He’d discovered over the years that his slightly unusual upbringing, while denying
him many learning experiences also failed, by default, to teach him the intrinsically prudish and
warped view of human sexuality held by his wretched cousin, Dudley and his equally wretched aunt
and uncle. *Thank God!*

‘You were dreaming about *me*? That was for *me*?’ Despite her amazement, Hermione
found she couldn’t help a rather smug smile making its appearance. That *bulge* had been for
her…

‘Best dream I’ve ever had,’ he told her. ‘Mind you, I have no doubt the reality will far surpass
anything my imagination has created.’

Hermione stopped breathing, closing her eyes. *Now she was thinking about – about – well,
nothing in particular, but everything to do with getting naked and making love with Harry. Thank
Merlin she didn’t have to worry about “raging hard-ons”!*

‘Okay, we’re even now,’ she managed to say in a not too shaky voice as she opened her eyes,
drawing a deep breath. ‘I think we’d better get to our table.’

‘While we can,’ said Harry as he stood, holding out his hand to her. Smiling at him, Hermione
took it, loving it when he pulled her close, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. ‘I
believe we have enough material here for a very long dinner conversation,’ he commented as they
left the bar.

The layout of the Dragon’s Lair was such that it afforded it’s clientele as much privacy as
possible in a restaurant and of course, Harry, being who he was, had been given the “best table in
the house” as the saying goes. Nevertheless, they did have to pass other tables on the way and it
was Harry who spotted Ginny and Malfoy first – mainly because he was looking for them.

‘There, to your left,’ he whispered into Hermione’s ear, his warm breath giving her shivers.

‘What?’ she asked, turning her head as unobtrusively as possible and catching sight of Ginny
sitting at a table for two with Draco Malfoy, seemingly deep in conversation. She gasped, looking
at Harry with a horrified expression.

‘I didn’t know they were coming here!’ she exclaimed, without thinking.

‘I did,’ said Harry.

Hermione then shot him a very puzzled look but he just gave her a slight shake of his head,
mouthing “later” at her.

Their waiter led them to a beautifully appointed table on a large, raised dais, overlooking the
Thames but screened from the rest of the restaurant by a work of art called the “Dragon Wall”: it
was a bronze “wall” but it was actually made up of a two dimensional sculptured rendering of one of
each of the ten known species of dragons, their waiter informed them. Their table was round, the
damask linen beautifully white and the silver service magnificent, outshone only by the crystal
stemware. Everything carried the restaurant’s logo of the Chinese Fireball Dragon.

The waiter seated Hermione, then Harry, handing them each a featherlight replica of the “Dragon
Wall” upon which glistened the menu; the waiter informed them that if they touched the dragon’s egg
symbol in the lower right hand corner the menu would display the next page. To return to a previous
page, they simply need to press the dragon’s egg symbol in the lower left hand corner. The waiter
pointed to a small figurine of a Chinese Fireball Dragon on the table and told them they simply
needed to place a hand over it and he would then know to return to take their order. Before
leaving, he once again refilled their glasses.

Hermione sighed and smiled, reaching across the table to take Harry’s hand. ‘This is amazing and
wonderful and perfect,’ she told him.

‘Like you,’ he replied, turning his hand over to grasp hers.

‘And you!’ she shot back with a soft laugh.

Keeping hold of her hand, Harry stood up, drawing her up with him.

‘Come here, I want to kiss you properly, not sitting cramped in a booth,’ pulling her against
him with one arm holding her tightly around the waist, the other settling softly around her neck
with his thumb under the side of her jaw, keeping her face tilted up to his. Hermione, one arm
wrapped around Harry’s neck, the other clutching the lapel of his jacket as if to hold herself up
because knew she couldn’t stand alone. Hermione felt as though she was about to experience terminal
*meltdown.*

With their lips just touching and their breaths mingling, Harry whispered, ‘I love you,’ before
covering her lips with his. Hermione moaned softly into his mouth, trying to press herself even
closer to him, instinctively pressing her hips into him as she became aware of that wonderfully
masculine hardness growing against her stomach.

As they drew apart, slightly breathless, their eyes locked and Hermione’s breath caught in her
throat at the look in Harry’s eyes: an intoxicating mix of love and lust.

‘Are you sure we have to stay?’ she asked, although she knew the answer; Harry would never shirk
anything he saw as his duty, especially since it was Dumbledore who had asked him. *Damn
it.*

Reluctantly letting go of her, Harry began explaining what Dumbledore had told him as they took
their seats.

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

Ginny wanted to make sure she arrived at the restaurant first and so, after Apparating, she
walked out of the Arrival Room at a quarter to eight, heading for reception, glad to see Mr Madomo
was there. She went to the Dragon’s Lair on a reasonably regular basis, mainly thanks to her job,
and was liked and respected by the elderly maitre d’.

‘Ah, Miss Weasley! So good to see you again!’

‘And always good to see you, too, Mr Madomo. You’ll notice I’ve booked a table for two-’

Mr Madomo then did an unprecedented thing. He interrupted Ginny, apologising profusely for doing
so, but, he explained, a rather mysterious gentleman had arrived not ten minutes earlier, saying he
was a guest of hers and requesting that he be able to wait in one of the private lounges. The
gentleman had not given his name and it was only because he said he knew Ginny that he’d been
allowed to stay until it could be either confirmed or not.

Ginny felt a wave of irritation sweep through her. *Damn him! What the hell was he doing
getting here so early? Probably couldn’t stand being in the hovel he’s forced to live in any longer
than necessary.*

‘He’s actually someone I’m interviewing. I didn’t expect him to arrive so early, in fact I came
early myself so that I would be here before him. I’m so sorry, Mr Madomo. He wasn’t rude, I
hope?’

‘Oh no, not at all! Extremely polite. Very cultivated gentleman. Seems strangely
familiar...’

‘Is the gentleman having a drink?’ inquired Ginny, ignoring the obvious attempt to draw Malfoy’s
name out of her; she smiled inwardly at the thought of Malfoy being described as “cultivated”.
*Cultivated, AND prejudiced AND boorish AND a snob more like it!* thought Ginny.

‘Yes. He ordered a bottle of champagne and said he would appreciate it if you would join him in
the lounge before going to your table.’

‘Of course I will and thank you for looking after my guest so well, Mr Madomo.’

‘My pleasure, as always, Miss Weasley,’ he replied, guiding her to the lounge where Malfoy
waited for her.

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

‘So is Ginny in danger?’ asked Hermione, feeling extremely worried.

‘Not really. Dumbledore and I both think that the informant was throwing out a red herring when
he said some Death Eaters would try to attack and kill Malfoy tonight, here. It’s not very
feasible, really, just scare tactics, I think. They’ll wait until he’s alone somewhere – that’s
more their style. I’d already booked our table and when Dumbledore told me Ginny was bringing
Malfoy here it simply became a matter of me having to keep my eyes and ears open until they
leave.’

‘Neville told me they don’t expect Malfoy to survive the wrath of the remaining Death Eaters,’
remarked Hermione.

‘No great loss,’ answered Harry, ‘but I still don’t like murder, whatever the reason.’

‘Oh, *shit!*’ Hermione’s eyes widened with fright.

Harry half groaned, half laughed. ‘Hermione, you are *not* to do that unless you’re
prepared to tell me exactly what it is that’s going through your head to cause it!’

‘I just had a horrible thought – what if Ron sees Ginny with Malfoy?’

Harry stared at her. ‘Oh, shit! I’d rather face a roomful of Death Eaters!’

‘And just as well Dean’s been and gone before Ginny arrived!’

Harry shook his head, not wanting to think of what could have been, when his eye was caught by
the dragon figurine on the table and he quickly placed his hand over it to summon their waiter.

‘We haven’t even looked at the menu yet,’ Hermione protested.

‘It’s not the menu I’m worried about. Good service – here he comes already!’ Their waiter was
hurrying forward in a very dignified way, giving a little bow when he reached their table.

‘You are ready to order?’ he inquired politely.

‘Well, actually, what I’d really like is a word with Mr Madomo as soon as possible if I
could.’

As though this was a very ordinary request, the waiter nodded and left, with Mr Madomo arriving
at their table within three minutes.

Harry stood, thanking him for being so prompt and then proceeded to state his requests which Mr
Madomo said would not be a problem for him at all. Harry shook his hand warmly, smiling as he
thanked him.

Before he sat down again, he moved his chair around so that he was next to Hermione. ‘You’re too
far away when I’m over there,’ he told her as he put his arm across the back of her chair, leaning
forward and dropping his head so that he could kiss her just behind the ear, then not being able to
stop, trailing soft, deliciously hot little kisses all down her neck to her collarbone, then
claiming her lips once more. Hermione felt as though she was on fire and almost started pleading
with Harry to take her home – to take her to bed – but stopped herself in time. *Later. Once we
know Ginny’s safe. Then it’ll just be us.* Placing her hands on each side of Harry’s face, she
repeated the words he’d whispered to her earlier, ‘I love you,’ before softly pressing her lips to
his, then running the tip of her tongue across his lips and gently sucking on his lower lip,
forcing a low growl from Harry. Then she placed her slightly open mouth over Harry’s, her tongue
gently demanding and gaining entrance to his warm mouth; she tasted the champagne they’d been
drinking and simultaneously one of her hands, seemingly of its own accord, dropped to his lap to do
what she’d wanted to do that other night, feeling the incredible hardness of his arousal. *I
can’t believe I’m doing this! But oh God he feels amazing!* She wasn’t able to stop herself from
moaning softly into his mouth.

Harry pulled back, breathing deeply. ‘Holy Mother of Merlin Hermione! I think we need to keep it
down otherwise fifty Death Eaters could storm in here and even if I noticed, I wouldn’t bloody
care!’ He was looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and awe.

Hermione, her heart pounding, nodded, sitting back and putting her hands demurely in her lap.
She gave Harry a rather shaky smile, said, ‘You’re right. We’ll have to wait. Why don’t we order?
That’ll give us something else to think about besides…’

‘Besides what we’re not even going to *talk* about right now for the sake of my sanity.’
Harry shifted in his chair, trying in vain to get comfortable which to his chagrin Hermione seemed
to find amusing.

Hermione smiled as she began reading her menu. *I can hardly believe myself!* she thought.
*Being free to flirt with Harry now we both know how the other feels is extremely intoxicating. I
can’t believe how much I’m enjoying this! Or how much I’m looking forward to getting home…*

As Harry read his menu, he couldn’t help but wonder if this rather provocative side of Hermione
would always be there or if it was just a mixture of champagne, revelations and atmosphere. *I’ve
known Hermione-my-friend for more than half my life,* he mused, *I recently made the
acquaintance of Hermione-the-cheeky and tonight I’ve met Hermione-the-provocative. I wonder how
many more Hermiones there are?* He smiled to himself. *Can’t wait to find out…*

After perusing their menus, they ordered, then once more began discussing the situation with
Ginny and Malfoy and the threat of the Death Eaters. Their meals arrived and they began eating,
enjoying the delicious food and finding themselves hungry after all.

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

‘Should I call you Draco now, or just when there are other people around?’ Ginny’s voice was
cool and businesslike. She’d waited until Mr Madomo had closed the door behind her before saying
anything and was glad she’d spoken first because once her eyes met his, she felt as though she’d
been robbed of speech. He was sitting on a comfortable looking Chesterfield style of lounge, with
one arm lying along the back, his other hand occupied by a champagne flute. His long legs were
stretched out, crossed elegantly at the ankles and he looked totally at home, as though he was once
again Lord of the Manor. He was wearing a classic black dinner suit but also had on black, silk
robes. *If only he was as good as looked,* thought Ginny wistfully, *because he looks bloody
good*. *But he’ll never change…* Her next thought frightened her: *What a real shame.*
So she firmly repeated to herself: *Interview. Work. That’s all.*

She noticed his eyes narrow slightly and his whole posture tighten as he took in her appearance,
the self-satisfied, superior smirk fading from his face. Ginny knew she looked good and was
grateful. The knee-length, deep green satin dress fitted her like a glove; it was strapless and
showed off her soft, pale complexion to perfection. She’d used a curling Charm on her hair and
soft, red waves hung around her shoulders, emerald pins gleaming at the sides of her head. A strand
of small, matched pearls adorned her throat, complementing the pearl studs in her ears.

‘Well?’ she asked, highlighting the fact that he remained speechless while she was not.

He rose to his feet with a smooth grace, recovering with frightening speed, placing his glass on
a small table and closing the distance between them with a few steps, taking her hand in his and
bowing slightly. Then he raised her hand to his lips and she felt surprise that his lips were soft
and warm, not cool and dry as she’d have expected them to be.

‘Ginevra, you look stunning,’ he told her in low, melodious tones. ‘I am honoured that you are
dining with me tonight.’

Ginny closed her eyes, telling herself that his was *Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The Ferret. The
Death Eater. The man who had tried to buy his way out of Azkaban. Who had to resort to turning in
his so called friends to get out of prison.*

‘As you should be,’ she retorted softly, at the same time thinking to herself: *Considering
you’re an ex-prisoner and that you are an ex-prisoner because you ratted on people who were
supposed to be your friends. And you have absolutely no right to even one iota of sex appeal. None
at all.*

Malfoy looked at her as though he knew what was going through her mind although she knew that
wasn’t possible. Nevertheless, his smile was full of irony as he offered her a glass of champagne
which she accepted, glad of having her hands occupied.

He invited her to sit down but she declined, saying she preferred to be seated at their table,
reminding him in a coolly courteous voice that this was, after all, an *interview* and as she
had limited time - at his insistence - she wished to utilise it fully.

He was equally courteous as he acquiesced, opening the door for her, then walking beside her and
unsettling her further when he placed his hand placed on the small of her back as they made their
way to reception.

Once seated, Ginny removed a tiny quill from her purse and a small square of parchment. Malfoy
looked at them with a raised eyebrow and Ginny explained it was the latest Quick Quotes Quill –
although not the sort that embellished both question and answer as Rita Skeeter’s had – and that
the parchment was also bewitched to hold everything written on it, a simple charm causing it to
replay everything in the order it had been recorded. It had given Ginny an icy moment of recall
when she’d first come across Pretzel’s Prolific Parchment as it brought to mind Tom Riddle’s diary;
she’d written her full name across the parchment only to have it disappear in the same manner as
her diary entries all those years ago. Still, it was a wonderfully useful thing and she’d gotten
used to it.

Malfoy gave a very slight shrug once she’d explained, appearing totally unimpressed.

‘Will it record the fact that I think you look quite beautiful tonight? You’ve obviously been
able to work your way out of the poverty in which you were raised.’ She felt ice form deep inside
herself as she saw an almost feral hunger reveal itself in Malfoy’s eyes for just a second before
they once again showed nothing but bored appreciation. She recalled Hermione saying that it was
probably a good thing she’d be in public with him and at that moment, she couldn’t have agreed with
anything more. She found herself horrified by the knowledge that she felt drawn to him, despite
being repelled by him.

Ignoring his comment, she set the quill and parchment on the side of their table, out of the
way, and started speaking softly, ‘Interview with Draco Malfoy by Ginny Weasley.’

Malfoy lifted his glass in a silent toast to her. ‘Let the questions begin,’ he said.

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

One of the requests Harry had made of Mr Madomo was that he be informed when both Ginny and
Malfoy and Ron and Luna left the restaurant. He was hoping it wouldn’t be too late although he
didn’t think there was any danger of his becoming sleepy tonight. Harry’s other request had been
that everything possible be done to prevent Ron and Luna and Ginny and Malfoy seeing each other,
and to Mr Madomo’s credit, he’d accepted both of Harry’s requests without question due, in no small
part, to the fact that it was *Harry Potter* that was asking. And he’d carried out both
seemingly without effort.

Once he and Hermione finished their meals, they’d begun telling each other their stories of when
and how they became aware of the their attraction to the other – of the many, secret thoughts
they’d had about the other; it was a riveting conversation for them as these conversations always
are for the ones involved. They revelled and delighted in hearing and revealing – telling all,
finding out and knowing. It all became eminently bearable in retrospect now that they
*knew.*

After finishing their champagne, they ordered coffee and dessert and while they drank the
coffee, their desserts remained untouched as they continued to talk, totally wrapped up in each
other.

When their waiter appeared and politely informed them that, ‘Mr Madomo asked me to let you know
that all your friends have left and that each couple remained unaware of the other’s attendance
tonight.’ As he picked up their untouched desserts, a look of concern crossed his face. ‘Was there
something wrong with the food, sir, ma’am?’

Harry waved his hand dismissively, smiling, ‘Of course not, we were just too busy talking and
forgot about it.’

After the waiter cleared their table and left, Harry and Hermione looked at each other and
smiled.

‘Ron remains safely unaware of Ginny seeing Malfoy,’ said Hermione, ‘and Ginny’s safe.’

‘And home alone,’ said Harry.

‘Actually, she told me she was intending to go straight back to Dean’s…Oh, shit!’ cried
Hermione.

*‘Hermione!’*

‘Oh, Harry – I’m sorry! It’s just that you saying Ginny was home alone reminded me of something
she told me. She said Malfoy had “visited” her last Tuesday night – uninvited of course. The thing
is – how the hell did he get past Ginny’s Protector Charms and if he did it then, he could do it
tonight!’

Harry looked relieved. ‘It’s all right, you don’t have to worry,’ he told her. ‘Malfoy isn’t so
clever, he used a trick either his father or Voldemort would’ve taught him – it was a trick Death
Eaters often used to Apparate uninvited into people’s homes. I’ve already strengthened Ginny’s
Protector Charm so she won’t get anymore uninvited visitors.’

Hermione let out a sigh of relief as Harry stood up, holding out his hand to her.

‘Shall we go?’ he asked, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes fixed on hers.

With a smile, she stood and placed her hand in his by way of answer. Gathering up her purse and
shawl with her free hand, Hermione became aware that those butterflies were in motion again, this
time causing her legs to feel decidedly weak and wobbly.

As they walked together into the Departure Room after thanking Mr Madomo and promising they’d
return in the near future, they didn’t see the indulgent look he gave them. *They seem so perfect
for each other,* he thought to himself, a pleased smile on his face. *They surely belong
together.*

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N

As you may have noticed, I don’t like to rush things TOO much! But I promise, even if the next
Chapter doesn’t end up being called: “Chapter Nine: The One Where Ginny Wakes Up Dean & Harry
and Hermione Make It Home…At Last” it’ll still have the same content…at last!

xxxx Lady Jane xxxx J



9. The One Where Ginny Wakes Up Dean & Harry And Hermione Do It
---------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note Ahh! At last!!

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Nine: “The One Where Ginny Wakes Up Dean & Harry And Hermione Do It…At Last”

**Friday Night (Late!)**

Dean woke when he heard the characteristic sound of someone Apparating, flying out of bed
because his first thought was that there was something wrong. The only people who were able to
Apparate into his flat at any time were his parents and Ginny, although “any time” didn’t usually
include the middle of the night.

Swinging through the doorway into the loungeroom, his hand still gripping the doorjamb, Dean
froze when he saw Ginny standing in the middle of the room; she was smiling to herself as she
looked at Dean in his pair of old trackpants – his usual form of pyjamas – and because they were
old, they were loose and sat low on his hips. He wore no top and she eyed him appreciatively – his
smooth, dark skin, his very well toned body (he worked out with his Quidditch charges) – and knew
that any effect Draco Malfoy may have on her could never come close to the way Dean made her feel
both physically and emotionally. He loved her and she loved him and they *knew* each other in
the best way.

He took at the way she was dressed – the way she was *looking* at him - and found himself
smiling hugely in relief; it was clear she was not hurt in the least and she certainly didn’t look
as though there was anything wrong. *Actually,* he thought, *the last time she arrived at
this time of night – or rather, morning! – she came solely for the purpose of…* Ginny’s voice
broke into his thoughts, ‘Hope you don’t mind me dropping in so late, but I’ve just finished that
rather tiresome interview I’ve been telling you about and all I could think of was you-’

Before she could finish, Dean had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, crushing his
lips against her.

*I guess this means he doesn’t mind*, thought Ginny to herself; although she’d known he
wouldn’t, it was nice to be so wonderfully reassured…

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

When they were once again surrounded by the familiar trappings of Hermione’s loungeroom, Harry
immediately turned, bent down and unexpectedly swept Hermione up in his arms, causing her to catch
her breath as her arms whipped around his neck so that she wouldn’t fall.

As feelings he’d never before experienced crashed into one another demanding attention, Harry
walked purposefully out of the loungeroom, down the hallway and into the kitchen, his gaze
alternating between Hermione’s beautiful, stunned dark-honey glare and where he was going. As he
gently placed her upon her feet once they reached the kitchen, he couldn’t resist allowing his
hands to lightly trace the shapely outline of her body from her lower back, up along her sides,
dipping in over her small waist and then up, quickly digressing to her upper back, his hands
curling around her shoulders and drawing her close... ‘I sort of feel that this is where it all
finally started to happen…’ was his offered explanation for his actions. Hermione gazed up at him
and then smiled. ‘I guess it did,’ she murmured.

Having discarded her shawl and purse and Harry his robes on their arrival in the loungeroom,
Hermione’s hands were free to release their stranglehold on his neck coming to rest on his
shoulders as she looked up at him, wondering how it was that so many incredible feelings could be
contained in one body without it exploding.

Harry’s hands left her shoulders and moved down to her elbows, gently gripping and lifting them
up so that Hermione realised he wanted her arms to remain around his neck. She happily obliged and
their eyes locked as Harry’s hands moved back down her arms, down along her sides to wrap around
her waist, pulling her to him and she knew this was what he wanted – every inch of her pressed up
against him. Actually, she had to admit that she didn’t really mind it either…

‘Harry, you feel wonderful,’ she whispered, a small movement rippling through her body,
emphasising her words.

‘And so do you,’ said Harry, his voice thick with desire, dropping his head so that their lips
were a whisper apart, ‘you feel like heaven, Hermione,’ and then they were kissing, slowly and
sensually, their tongues slowly exploring the other’s, delighting in the sensations they were
creating for each other.

Slowly the pace of their kissing increased, a certain desperation overtaking them as their
mutual desire rose to a point where they could barely stand.

‘Hermione,’ he rasped, ‘we need to go to bed.’ She murmured assent against his lips but just
continued kissing him.

‘We have to go to bed,’ he tried again. He thought he understood what she said in answer.

‘Apparate?’ he repeated, ‘Are you crazy, love? I don’t have enough concentration for a
*Lumos!* Trying to Apparate in this state would be fatal!’

Hermione pulled back and smiled at him, the look in her eyes making him want to *run* to
the bedroom. ‘Then I guess we have to walk,' she said.

Harry didn’t take his eyes off hers as he smiled and nodded, taking her hand as he turned to
walk out of the kitchen.

Hermione hung back, pulling Harry up short; Hermione was simply looking at him, her eyes
luminously beautiful.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘I’m just savouring this moment – what I see in your eyes when you look at me – how I feel – how
*you* make me feel – the totally delicious anticipation for what we’re going to do.’

He stepped back to her, framing her face with his hands, dropping a soft kiss on her willing
lips.

‘I could say the same,’ he told her, ‘but I also want to *show* you.’ And with that, he
bent and picked her up once more, carrying her back to his room.

‘I could get used to this mode of transport, Mr Potter,’ Hermione giggled.

‘I’ll carry you to bed anytime, Miss Granger,’ he assured her.

Just inside the door, Hermione told Harry to put her down which he did, although she kept her
arms around his neck, gently backing him up against the wall beside the door and leaning into him
as she kissed him. Harry moved his hands down over her wonderful curves to what he decided was the
most gorgeous little bum *ever*, pulling Hermione hard against him, unable to stop himself
from groaning.

Then Hermione was pushing at his arms, stepping back. He felt as though part of him had been
ripped away.

‘Hermione…’ he rasped, his eyes begging her to come back, his hands reaching for her.

She stepped back again, her eyes still holding his as she gave him a slow, seductive smile.

*What’s she doing? She’s killing me!* Harry thought, glad of the support he had leaning
against the wall. Then he noticed she was kicking off her shoes as she reached behind herself with
both arms and he heard the small sound made by a zipper being pulled down. Hermione’s hands then
came up the front to her shoulders and she slowly pulled her dress down, revealing a lacy bra the
colour of chocolate, then matching panties as the dress dropped to the floor around her feet; the
lace topped stay-up stockings were the final straw – déjà vu struck him so strongly he closed his
eyes, a look of agony on his face. *Christ! Am I dreaming again? Please let it be real… I
couldn’t take it a second time…*

‘Hermione,’ his voice a hoarse whisper, ‘I’m not dreaming, am I? Please tell me I’m not
dreaming…’ he pleaded.

Then he felt her soft hands on each side of his face and he slowly opened his eyes to see her
looking at him as she told him, her own voice a little husky, ‘Well if you are Harry, we’re having
exactly the same dream at exactly the same time.’ Then her hands slid down to push his jacket off
his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Her eyes didn’t leave his as she loosened his tie and
pulled it off before lifting his hands one at a time to unbutton his cuffs, then tugging at his
shirt to release it from his pants and when it was unbuttoned it too, was dropped to the floor.
Harry tried to kiss her again but she ducked her head, slowly running her hands up his arms to his
shoulders then trailing them slowly down over his chest, taking her time to explore every inch with
her fingers. Harry let his head drop back, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the pleasure
evoked by Hermione’s touch. However, when those teasing fingers reached his belt and he felt her
undoing it, his eyes snapped open as his head shot forward.

‘You’re overdressed,’ she told him with a wicked smile and before he knew it she’d undone his
pants as well and he was stepping out of them, kicking off his shoes and bending over to pull off
his socks.

Hermione eyed his black briefs, murmuring ‘oooh, *very* nice’ under her breath although
Harry wasn’t sure whether she was referring to his briefs or his erection and really didn’t care.
Reaching out with both arms, he pulled Hermione to him, one hand remaining around her waist, the
other entangling itself in her hair which was slowly unravelling. He kissed her hard, barely able
to restrain himself from throwing her on the bed and taking her without any consideration except
for his own maddening need. Then she was struggling in his arms, turning around and leaning forward
slightly, asking him to undo her bra. He quickly unhooked it and Hermione pulled it off, dropping
it to the floor. Then, instead of turning around to face him again, she leant back against him,
reaching behind to place her hands on his thighs and tilting her head to one side so that she could
look up at him. Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, Harry proceeded to plant soft, lingering
kisses all down the side of her neck, his eyes closing as he took in her wonderful scent and the
softness of her skin, loving the small sounds of delight she was making.

Then he opened his eyes and looked down, unable to stop the sharp intake of breath caused by the
sight of Hermione’s bare breasts topped with soft-pink, erect nipples, crying out for attention. As
his hands left her shoulders and ran down over the hardened points she arched her back, making more
of those delicious little noises. He then ran his hands down over her taut, flat stomach, down to
where he could feel her hips, running his hands in to the centre, fingering her belly button then
slowly, down…

Hermione was afraid her knees were going to buckle as Harry’s hands reached the band of her
panties, one of them sliding under it, his fingers gently exploring what lay beneath the soft brown
curls. When he reached his goal Hermione moaned and felt her legs begin to give way. Harry’s free
arm went across her stomach to hold her up as he pushed off from the wall, supporting her as he
walked them the short distance to the bed, Hermione turning and collapsing gratefully onto the
edge. Harry knelt in front of her and she leant forward, taking his glasses off, placing them
carefully on the bedside table. Harry then slowly removed her stockings, gently pulling her to her
feet long enough for him to slip her panties off. As she sat on the edge of the bed once more,
Harry gently coaxed her to lie down, lifting her right leg and hooking it over his shoulder; her
other leg curling around behind him. He paused for a moment, overwhelmed by the sight of Hermione
lying wantonly naked on his bed, waiting for him to make love to her. *At last.* With a slight
twist of his head he was able to press his lips against the soft skin of her inner thigh just above
her knee, continuing oh-so-slowly until he could feel those tight curls against his cheek and then
he turned his head.

Hermione, sensitive to every tiny touch and movement, felt his breath as he turned his head and
her whole body tensed in anticipation, her hands tightly clenched at her sides, pulling at the
covers. When she felt the first touch of his firm, wet tongue dipping into her warm crevice his
name was wrenched from her lips in a deeply passionate cry; she’d never experienced anything like
this before. When his tongue found her incredibly sensitive nub and he gently began to suck on it,
sliding two fingers into her tight, wet, warmth she immediately felt the build up of tension in
what seemed like every fibre of her being; she was sure it took no time at all before she was
engulfed in the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced, her whole body arching as she called
out Harry’s name over and over again.

When he felt her body relax and become still, Harry stood up and lifted her legs, placing them
on the bed; then he removed his briefs and lay down beside her, cradling her against him as he
kissed the top of her head.

When her breathing was back to normal she opened her eyes and smiled at him, noting he looked
rather pleased with himself and thinking he had every right to.

‘Harry, I can’t even begin-’

‘Then don’t,’ he told her with a smile as he pulled himself up, resting on his elbow, his free
hand pushing stray strands of hair away from her face. His finger traced the delicate line of her
cheek down to her mouth, dropping his head to kiss her, softly at first, gently pushing with his
tongue until she opened her mouth to him, his free hand moving down to caress her breast, rolling
the sensitive nipple between his fingers. When he replaced his fingers with his mouth, Hermione
once again began to make more of those gorgeously gratifying little sounds. Moving to give her
other nipple equal attention and feeling her beginning to writhe seductively beside him, Harry knew
he wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer.

Lifting his head, his voice rough with intense desire, he started, ‘Hermione, I need – I want -’
but got no further because Hermione turned onto her side to face him, hooking one of her legs
around his back, then rolling back and pulling him on top of her. As soon as she was on her back,
she drew her other leg up and around him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she told him, ‘I
want you inside me, Harry, *now!’*

He needed no further encouragement, covering her mouth with his as he plunged into her. Their
mouths parted as he needed more air, increasing his pace. Hermione revelled in watching him, in
knowing *she* was the one bringing him to the same ecstasy he’d given her and when he reached
it, he in turn cried out her name; she heard him through the waves of her second orgasm washing
over her, leaving more ecstasy in its wake.

Harry’s arms didn’t have the strength to support him so they both rolled onto their sides, just
looking at each other as their breathing gradually returned to normal. Then he spoke quietly,
simply saying, ‘I love you.’ Hermione felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes; she lifted her
hand to caress his face as she told him that she loved him too. Then they drifted into asleep,
their arms and legs entangled, the shadow of their smiles remaining on their faces.

**Saturday (Early!)**

Harry was having a wonderful dream. He thought that it might, in fact, be almost better than
that *other* dream. He was lying in bed naked, the covers thrown off because it was a warm
morning. Was it morning? Yes, it was light. As is normal for most men, he woke every morning with
an erection only this particular morning it was different. This particular morning he could swear
something warm, wet and velvety was running up the length of his erection, swirling tantalisingly
around the head, then sliding back down – doing this over and over; the sensation was something he
didn’t have words for but he felt as though he could lie here like this forever. He heard someone
moan – then realised it was himself – and he could have sworn he felt a soft moistness enclose the
head of his penis at the same time as that velvet warmth was still wrapping itself around and
around…

Then it all stopped and he moaned again – this time for the loss of that heavenly sensation,
moving restlessly.

He felt warm breath against his ear – whispered words – a low, seductive voice – what was it
saying?

‘Morning, Harry…time to wake up, I *need* you… No? Can’t wake up? Hmm, well, never mind,
I’m sure after this you’ll be able to open your eyes…’ *No, no!* he thought, *don’t ever
want to wake up – don’t ever want this to end…*

Then he felt fingers, lots of them – they came to rest on his shoulders before drifting down
over his chest, nails scraping lightly over his nipples eliciting another moan, then continuing
down over his stomach, then one lot of fingers went firmly around his now throbbingly hard
erection, the others going further – surrounding his balls with their gentle warmth.

Harry’s eyes flew open and at the same time he heard a short, soft chuckle of triumph and the
first thing he saw was Hermione’s face; her eyes watching him intently, a smile tugging at the
corners of her mouth and it all came back to him as he looked at her, kneeling beside him, as naked
as he was. He sat up quickly, putting his hands around Hermione’s upper arms and drawing her down
beside him, pulling her close and kissing her.

‘Good morning,’ he said with a smile as they drew apart.

‘I have a feeling it’s going to get better than good…’ murmured Hermione her hand running down
the length of his back coming to rest on, ‘the sexiest arse in two worlds, Mr Potter,’ she told
him.

Harry returned the favour, causing Hermione to give a little squeal which made him laugh. ‘I
think there’s a serious challenger here for that particular title, Miss Granger,’ he told her,
burying his face in the crook of her neck.

‘Harry…’

Harry stopped nuzzling her neck just long enough to say ‘Yes?’

‘Nothing. I just love being able to say your name and hear you answer because it means you’re
here with me. Harry. I love your name. I love that I can say it while you’re kissing me and I love
that you’re kissing me.’ Hermione’s fingers were slowly threading their way through his hair. ‘I
love your hair.’ Harry raised his head and looked at her and her hands came round to rest on each
side of his face as she gazed into his eyes. ‘I love your eyes, too – they’re so amazing.’

Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Hermione really loved him – all of him. He
thought of last night, then he thought of how he’d woken up this morning and he knew that all he
needed to complete his life was lying in his arms. He felt her hand move slowly into the small
space between them, her fingers wrapping themselves around his erection which was becoming more
insistent about getting some attention by the second. Then he realised the look in Hermione’s eyes
was the same look he’d seen in her eyes last night when she was taking off her dress and with that
memory, the look in her eyes, what she was saying and the things she was doing with her hands, she
was driving him crazy.

‘Is there anything else you love about me?’ his voice a hoarse whisper.

’Oh, yes, Harry, my list is just about endless.’

‘I’ll listen,’ he told her. ‘I like this list.’

‘Later. On one condition,’ she told him, her eyes dropping to his mouth.

‘Anything,’ Harry said immediately.

‘Kiss me, please.’

Rolling over so that he was above her, Hermione brought both her arms up around his neck
simultaneously wrapping her legs around Harry.

Harry groaned as he felt his whole length slide into her tight warmth. *God she felt
unbelievable!*

Hermione watched Harry’s face, the strength of what she felt seeing him above her, feeling him
inside her, rendering her speechless.

Harry opened his eyes and realised there was something he wanted. He wanted to see Hermione on
top of him – he wanted to watch her as she came. He told her this as he rolled onto his back,
pulling Hermione with him, his hands on her waist, keeping himself inside her. As she settled on
top of him he reached out his hand and whispered, ‘Accio glasses.’

‘I want to see this clearly,’ he told her as he put them on.

He settled his hands on her hips, needing her to keep still; he was so aroused, she wouldn’t
have to do much and it’d be over. She smiled down at him, understanding. Then she leaned forward,
reaching out with her arms to once again run her hands down Harry’s chest, continuing down the
length of his body to where they were joined. When her hands kept going, moving up her own body
until both hands were cupping her breasts, Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Hermione looked
into Harry’s eyes as her hands languidly caressed her own breasts, occasionally pinching the
nipples between her fingers; her lips were slightly parted, her eyes glowing with desire *for
him. Sweet Mother of Merlin,* he thought, *why did we wait so long – why didn’t we realise
sooner?*

He let one hand drift from her hip down to that wonderful little triangle of curls, his eyes not
leaving her face. As his thumb slowly rotated over that excruciatingly sensitive little nub he was
rewarded with soft moans, the murmuring of his name and the sight of Hermione, her hands now
resting on his legs behind her so that she was stretched back, her head thrown back with her hair
falling down behind her and her breasts pushed up. When she started to move rhythmically up and
down on him he didn’t stop her this time, although he barely managed to keep a tight rein on
himself; he was determined to watch her come before he’d allow himself to do the same. He knew he’d
succeeded when Hermione stiffened, her back arching, her fingers digging into his legs as she cried
out. Just seeing her like that was enough to push him over the edge and his hands clamped around
her waist as he drove even deeper into her, feeling the ecstasy of release overtake him.

When he opened his eyes, his breathing still uneven, it was to see Hermione smiling down at him,
her eyes half closed, looking totally satiated. Interlocking the fingers of both their hands, he
pulled her down so that he could kiss her, loving the feel of her breasts on his chest, even
now.

‘Hermione…’

‘Harry…’

They both laughed, Hermione sitting up again.

‘Come down here with me,’ he told her, so she lifted her leg over and stretched out beside him,
her head resting in the crook of his shoulder.

With his free hand he cupped her chin, tilting her head slightly so he could see her eyes. His
thumb rubbed gently across her lips as he spoke, ‘There are so many things I want to tell you I
have no idea where to start.’

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ she told him with a sigh. ‘Why did it take us so long to get
around to this?’

‘That thought has already passed through my head and I don’t know. But I’m so glad we finally
did!’

Hermione remembered something then. ‘Did Ginny ever come and see you, by the way, or say
anything about me, or us, to you?’

‘Nooo, but Ron did.’

‘Ron? *Our Ron?* Matchmaking?’ Hermione’s voice was incredulous.

‘I had the feeling he was put up to it though. I mean, it’s not really his style. And he’s about
as subtle as an elephant in a flower patch.’

Hermione laughed. ‘So true! Do you know, you’re right – he was put up to it – by Ginny! She knew
how I felt about you and she said she was going to do something.’

‘And Ron knew how I felt about *you.*’ Harry chuckled. ‘When do you think we should tell
them that their matchmaking efforts were successful?’

‘Hmmm… Well, Ginny and Dean are going out for dinner tonight – what if we ask them and Ron and
Luna to lunch tomorrow?’

‘Sounds fine.’ Harry drew her up so he could kiss her. ‘And the fact that I probably won’t be
able to keep my hands off you will be sure to give it away.’

‘Do you think?’ laughed Hermione. ‘And you won’t be the only one having trouble keeping your
hands to yourself, let me tell you.’

‘Feel free to put your hands all over me anytime you want, Miss Granger.’

Hermione found she had to kiss him before she answered him. ‘You may regret saying that, Mr
Potter.’

‘Never!’ he retorted, kissing her back.

Hermione became aware of something rather hard pressing against her leg and she looked at him,
her eyes wide. ‘Harry!’ There was a tiny tinge of awe in her voice which he didn’t miss.

He raised his eyebrows at her, grinning crookedly. ‘Your fault,’ he stated.

‘Oh really? So does that mean it’s up to me to do something about it?’

‘Sounds about fair, actually.’

Hermione kissed him again. ‘Not until I’ve had a shower,’ she said firmly.

Harry’s eyes closed as he murmured, ‘Hermione in the shower...’

She dug him in the ribs, causing his eyes to fly open as he exclaimed, ‘Hermione! What?!’

‘What about me in the shower?’ she asked.

He grinned at her with what could only be called lasciviousness!

‘Well, I guess I can admit it now,’ he said. ‘You see, I used to lie here in agony every morning
that you had a shower before I did. It was always the same – you’d turn the radio on and I could
just hear it. And the sound of the water splashing – I couldn’t help myself – I’d lie here and
think of you, just the other side of the wall, naked, soapy, wet…’

‘And that was agony?’

‘No, but the bloody enormous hard-on it gave me was!’

Hermione laughed. ‘Ha! Serves you right!’

‘What?’ cried Harry, a stunned expression on his face.

‘It’s only fair you suffered because you tortured me nearly every bloody morning!’

‘I did? How?’

‘That bloody towel. How could you *do* that to me?’

‘Towel?’

‘After your shower – you’d come into the kitchen in that bloody towel. It drove me crazy!’

‘Really?’ Harry couldn’t help but look a little smug.

‘By the way, I always wondered – did you have anything on underneath it?’

‘Let’s go have that shower, then head to the kitchen for some breakfast and I’ll wear that
bloody towel and you can find out for yourself. What do you say?’

‘I say let’s go.’

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note Ooooh that was FUN and a little hot… Hope you liked it! (A really subtle hint to
leave a review - pretty please!! I LOVE reviews!)



10. The One Where Harry Cooks Sunday Dinner, Pre-Dinner Shagging
----------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note: Almost as much fun to write as Chapter Nine - hope you enjoy!

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Ten: “The One Where Harry Cooks Sunday Dinner, Pre-Dinner Shagging Is On The Menu And
Ginny & Dean Make An Announcement”

**Sunday**

Hermione put the finishing touches to the dining table then hurried back to the kitchen to see
how Harry was going with the food. He was standing at the stove, stirring the contents of a large
pot. Hermione walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, giving a little wiggle
as she pressed herself against him.

Harry nearly dropped the spoon into the pot, groaning. ‘Hermione, you can’t do that when I’m
cooking!’

‘I knew it,’ said Hermione, glee in her voice, ‘I told you that you’d regret saying I could put
my hands all over you anytime I want.’ She had a definite “see-I-was-right” note in her voice and a
matching look on her face which Harry saw when he turned in the circle of her arms, putting his
around her.

Harry shook his head, laughing. ‘I don’t regret it,’ he told her, kissing her lightly on the tip
of her nose. ‘Don’t ever stop groping me, all right?’

‘I won’t if you won’t,’ she retorted, smiling

‘I guarantee I won’t,’ he told her, one of his hands moving up to gently squeeze her breast
through her top as his mouth covered hers, his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. Hermione
opened her mouth to him with a soft moan. They were so engrossed in each other they didn’t hear the
sound of someone Apparating into the loungeroom, or the sound of them heading for the kitchen where
they knew their hosts would be, preparing dinner.

‘Woo-hoo! Get a load of this!’ came Ginny’s voice from the kitchen doorway. Dean was right
behind her and let out a rather piercing wolf whistle.

Harry and Hermione quickly draw apart, looking rather startled as they turned to Ginny and
Dean.

‘So, when did you two decide you were made for each other?’ asked Ginny as she studied them with
a very knowing look.

Harry recovered his composure and taking Hermione’s hand, raised it to his lips, turning it over
and softly kissing the palm of her hand. ‘Oh, I knew a long time ago she was the one for me; just
took me a while to get around to telling her.’

Hermione looked as though she was glowing as she gazed at Harry, her eyes full of love.

‘Okay, okay, enough of your mushy story. We have one of our own.’

Harry and Hermione turned simultaneously to look at Ginny, their gazes both questioning.

In answer, Ginny held out her left hand, smiling up at Dean beside her. ‘Dean proposed last
night over dinner.’

Hermione let out a high pitched cry and dived for Ginny’s hand while Harry and Dean smiled at
each other over the heads of their ladies. Closing the distance between them with a few steps,
Harry shook Dean’s hand warmly as he said, ‘I take it she said “yes” - congratulations mate.’

‘And to you also it seems,’ Dean replied, winking at Harry.

Hermione and Ginny were hugging and laughing, pulling apart when Dean and Harry tapped their
shoulders; Ginny was then engulfed in a huge Harry hug while Dean was treated to one of Hermione’s
very enthusiastic and almost dangerously suffocating hugs.

Harry rescued a grateful Dean who laughingly told Hermione her hugs should be listed as
potential health hazards.

Harry dutifully admired Ginny’s ring since such things were, for the most part, far more
exciting to women than men, moving on to get their guests a drink. Ginny, Dean and Hermione then
settled themselves on stools at the bench with glasses of wine while Harry checked the contents of
various pots and saucepans. Hermione smiled to herself. Was it really such a short time ago she’d
sat here looking at Harry, the expression on her face that night probably not very different to the
one on her face right now. Harry turned and caught the look, his eyes darkening with a matching
desire. Their little exchange was interrupted by Ginny sniffing appreciatively and commenting,
‘Harry, do you know Dean is a much better cook than I am and I’m not actually too bad but you seem
to have a real knack for it.’

‘Hey!’ complained Dean, giving her a hurt look.

Ginny leant over to her right and stroked his cheek, winking at him. ‘You’re still my number one
chef sweetheart,’ she told him.

‘Just as well,’ he told her sternly. Then laughed and bent forward to kiss her lightly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, catching Harry’s eye and sharing a smile. Then he watched as
Hermione’s eyes slowly dropped from his, moving down the length of his body and on reaching his
feet, she tilted her head back a little so he could easily see the expression in her eyes as they
travelled slowly back up to once again meet his; then she made a small movement with her glass
indicating a toast and winked at him. Harry’s eyebrows rose at the memory of that other time she’d
done this, then his eyes narrowed as he tried to signal her with a look that this was *not*
the place and time to do that when it did to him what Hermione could do so easily to him – make him
bloody hard! *Shit!* he thought to himself as he turned slightly so that the Hermione-induced
bulge wouldn’t be noticeable to their guests. He looked over at Hermione, groaning inwardly. *Why
the hell did she have to wear that top tonight?* he thought to himself although he knew the
answer to that. That afternoon, she’d tried a few different things on, asking his opinion of each
outfit. When she’d walked into the kitchen wearing a white top made of some silky looking stretchy
material that left her shoulders bare the look on his face was all Hermione needed. Becoming aware
that Hermione was watching him with amusement, Harry gave her a half-serious glare as he cleared
his throat; he needed a change of focus desperately and turned his gaze to Ginny and Dean, asking,
‘So where are Ron and Luna? Any idea? I mean, we changed this from lunch to dinner for them.’ Out
of the corner of his eye, he could see a positively wicked smile on Hermione’s face as she watched
him, but for the sake of his dignity and composure he had no choice but to ignore it.

‘Nope,’ answered Ginny, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Probably having a pre-dinner shag knowing
those two.’

‘Ginny!’ cried Harry and Hermione together.

She looked at them innocently. ‘What?’

Dean poked her gently in the side. ‘And we didn’t?’

Ginny looked at Dean as though shocked.

‘Don’t give me that,’ he told her, laughing. ‘Little Miss Innocent you aint!’

Ginny returned the poke in the ribs. ‘Dean Thomas, you take that back!’

Dean just laughed harder.

Harry and Hermione were laughing so much they once again missed the sound of someone
arriving.

‘What’s so bloody funny?’ came Ron’s voice from the doorway, Luna by his side looking equally
bemused.

Their total ignorance only served to make the others laugh even harder and it was a few minutes
before two more glasses of wine were poured and Ron and Luna had joined the others at the bench
watching Harry, having been filled in by Ginny on the cause of their mirth, their ensuing refusal
to confirm or deny the “pre-dinner shag” comment only convincing everyone it was so.

‘All right, all right, pre-dinner shagging aside, let’s move on to more important things like –
Ginny and Dean’s wedding!’ stated Luna happily.

‘We haven’t even thought about a date yet,’ Ginny told her.

‘You should,’ Luna told her in an uncharacteristically efficient manner. ‘You can’t have it
clash with other events and it takes a lot of work to organise a wedding. You need to give
yourselves plenty of time so you don’t have to rush and then maybe suffer disappointment and
stress. It’s a bit like a magazine deadline.’

Ginny looked at Luna with a new respect, then at Dean. ‘She has a point,’ she told him and he
nodded as he said, ‘So when is a good time?’

‘Well,’ said Luna, straightening on her stool, ‘do you want it to be this year or next? Does it
matter to you what month or season? Do you want intimate or the whole hog? ‘

Ginny and Dean had a rather glazed look by the time she finished. ‘We haven’t really had time to
think about it yet,’ Dean told her, but you’ve given us enough food for thought to last us for a
month!’

‘So it won’t be in July, at any rate,’ said Luna with a smile.

Ginny groaned. ‘Maybe we’ll just stay engaged indefinitely,’ she said.

Dean shrugged. ‘Whatever you want, honey,’ he told her a twinkle in his eye.

Giving Hermione a rather sly wink on the side, Ginny asked Dean whether it would make any
difference if she was to say that all shagging was now off until after the wedding to at least make
an appearance of upholding old traditions?

The look on Dean’s face was enough to send everyone into gales of laughter including Ginny.

Dean leaned forward and in a voice only audible to Ginny said, ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’

Ginny turned her head and kissed him. ‘Do you think I’d last any longer than you?’ she asked
with a smile, which turned into a rich chuckle at the look of relief on his face.

Then Ginny gave Dean a wicked look as she sat back and raised her glass. ‘A toast,’ she said,
drawing everyone’s attention. It was hard containing her laughter but she managed to do so long
enough to say, ‘To our newest shaggers, Harry and Hermione, pre-dinner and otherwise,’ before she
was unable to do anything but laugh.

Ron looked completely stunned, his glass still suspended in the air for the toast. Luna smiled,
not looking too surprised. Harry and Hermione groaned in unison.

‘Ron! You of all people should’ve known!’ Ginny scolded him. ‘After all, you were in on the
ground floor of matchmaking.’

Ron looked very sheepish. ‘Well, yes, but – when? How? Did we manage to-’ pulling himself up
short.

Then it all came out and after Ron got over his embarrassment at being so transparent, he
toasted his friends’ togetherness.

Harry, to Hermione’s great amusement, was still avoiding catching her eye; she knew he was
feeling a little…*uncomfortable.* For Harry’s part, it didn’t help that he could *feel*
her eyes on him and just thinking about her thinking about what he *knew* she was thinking
about was driving him crazy. And she knew it. As he came to the bench with a bottle of wine to top
up everyone’s glasses, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, ‘If you don’t cease and desist from
this form of torture right now I will not be responsible for my actions.’

She smiled sweetly at him and turning her head whispered in his ear, ‘Since *we* didn’t
have a “pre-dinner shag” I have to say I’m not responsible for mine either.’

‘What’s all this whispering about then?’ inquired Dean having seen their exchange.

‘Absolutely nothing of course,’ said Hermione quickly, Harry nodding behind her.

Dean muttered something that sounded like, ‘Yeah, *sure!*’ before returning his attention
to Ginny.

The kitchen was filled with chatter, the gentle chinking of glasses and the sounds of stirring,
the oven door being opened and a myriad other noises until Harry announced all was nearly ready;
the roast simply had to “rest” for twenty minutes before carving and they should all move to the
loungeroom. As he and Hermione managed to herd their friends into the loungeroom, Harry grabbed her
hand and drew her towards his room calling to Ron, who was entering the loungeroom last behind
Luna, saying that they’d only be ten minutes, they needed to get something. Taking her into his
room, Harry locked the door, turning to lean on it and pulling Hermione into his arms and kissing
her deeply.

Drawing back she looked up at him, surprise evident in her eyes as she realised his
intentions.


‘Harry, we can’t possibly!’ she whispered fiercely.


He gave a low laugh. ‘You don’t have to whisper and of course we can.’

Hermione knew Harry had a permanent Silencing Charm in place around his room but nevertheless
couldn’t believe he was seriously considering making love while their friends were sitting in their
loungeroom waiting for dinner!

Harry’s face became serious, his voice gruff as he told her, ‘I meant it when I said I wouldn’t
be responsible for my actions. You obviously don’t fully appreciate the effect you have on me,
Hermione.’ Then he kissed her again, bringing one hand up to curl around the back of her neck,
thrusting his tongue into her mouth and using the hand he’d wrapped around her waist to pull her as
close as he possibly could. But he felt the desperate need to *push* so he spun them around,
grinding his aching erection against Hermione, pressing her into the door. Hermione turned her head
sideways to escape his lips, gasping.

‘Harry, you have just as much of a devastating effect on me but you’re mad! We can’t make love
*now!’*

‘Who said anything about making love,’ murmured Harry as he grasped her hands and pulled them
behind her, holding them there with one hand as he dropped his head to trail soft, wet kisses on
the soft exposed skin of her bare shoulder, working his way up until he reached that sensitive spot
behind her ear, then down across her cheek to her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth once
more. His free hand roamed from her waist up to her breast, gently kneading it, feeling for the
nipple and carefully pinching it when he found it. She felt her heart rate increase rapidly and
even though she was physically smaller than and definitely not as strong as Harry, she felt as
though she held some unnamed power over him; it was an intoxicating feeling and only increased her
lust for him.

Finally, Harry lifted his head, his voice a hoarse whisper as he told her, ‘We don’t have to
make love, there is also just plain …’ he hesitated, then, his voice sinking so low Hermione was
sure she could feel her body vibrating from it, he continued in a whisper, ‘…fucking. I need you
*now,* so badly, I can’t wait…’

Hermione drew her breath in sharply as she looked into his eyes, her tiny nod letting him know
she understood. She felt the same, although she hadn’t been able to put it in words, just knowing
that her need and desire was so strong, she desperately wanted the relief of release – from the
only man who could give it to her, the only man she wanted it from.

Without another word, she pulled her arms free and reaching for the bottom or her tight stretch
top pulled it up and over her head, reaching behind herself to quickly undo her bra; then she
unzipped her jeans and pushed them down, taking her panties with them, kicking them off, along with
her shoes, to stand there naked, her look almost challenging Harry to be as wanton. Not bothering
with any complicated undressing manoeuvres, Harry simply waved his hand, muttering under his breath
and he too, was naked. Her eyes were drawn down to his straining erection, his to her breasts which
he swiftly cupped with his hands, his thumbs rubbing provocatively cross her stiff nipples. As he
raised his eyes to hers, she saw in them such intense lust it caused her to moan softly, putting
her arms around his neck and pressing against him, pulling his head down so that their lips met
again; being able to arouse someone to this level held its own eroticism.

Harry bent down to pick her up, cupping his hands strongly around Hermione’s backside, she
immediately wrapping her legs around his hips as he lifted her; Hermione felt an insanely desperate
need to have him inside her.

‘*Now* Harry! *Please!* I want you inside me *now!*’ Hermione’s fierce, husky
whisper drove any thought of making it to the bed from Harry’s mind. He lifted her a little higher
so that she was able to sink down over his rock hard erection. Hermione could only groan at the
sensations she was experiencing, her head thrown back. Harry didn’t know how the hell he was going
to remain standing as he felt himself surrounded by Hermione’s tight, wet depths and a deep growl
was torn from his depths.

Hermione brought her head forward to look at Harry through half-closed eyes, thinking how
incredibly sexy he looked at that moment, tilting her hips forward to create the friction she
craved against her swollen nub and that stimulating contact, together with the pent up desire of
the last few hours, produced those longed for waves of ecstasy, Harry’s name escaping her lips over
and over, aware that he too was experiencing his own orgasm as she felt the heat of his release,
her name coming to his lips in feverishly whispered bursts in time with his movements.

They gazed at each other as they slowly came back to normality, the look in Harry’s eyes
becoming gentle and loving again; he was aware that he felt grateful to this gorgeous creature and
a little awed by her willingness for what they’d just done. As her legs slid down his so that she
was only just supporting her own weight, mainly being held up by Harry leaning on her and keeping
her upright against the door, he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her lingeringly on the
mouth, pulling away only slightly to say, ‘I love you more than life itself Hermione.’

‘So you know how I feel, then,’ she told him, pulling him back for another kiss.

Harry signed. ‘I think our ten minutes are up; we better get back or they’ll be talking about
us,’ he said.

‘I have a feeling they probably already are anyway,’ said Hermione with a smile.

As Harry and Hermione walked into the loungeroom together, Harry carrying a small, blue box, all
talking ceased and four heads turned in their direction, indulgent smiles on all their faces.

‘Took two of you to unearth that, did it?’ said Ron, trying to look as though he wasn’t speaking
tongue-in-cheek.

‘Of course,’ said Harry smoothly, placing the box on the coffee table. ‘Dinner first,’ he
continued, ‘you lot go and sit down and I’ll be back before you know it.’

Hermione led them to the dining table, seating Ron and Luna with their backs to the window, Dean
and Ginny opposite them, herself at one end of the table while Harry would be sitting at the
opposite end to her. The five of them sat and chatted for about ten minutes then looked up as they
heard footsteps.

Harry walked into the room followed by six dinner plates, laden with food, a very full gravy
boat and a baking dish of Yorkshire pudding. Luna clapped her hands together in delight; Ginny,
despite having witnessed Harry’s abilities before, never ceased to be amazed and simply said,
‘Wow!’

Dean and Ron exchanged rueful glances; Harry didn’t even have to think about doing this but for
most wizards it would be quite a feat as normally any objects – or people, for that matter – that
were being levitated were always in front of, or at least in the line of sight, of the wizard doing
the levitating. Hermione simply enjoyed the sight of Harry, in tight blue jeans and fitted shirt,
walking towards her. *Surely,* she groaned to herself, *I won’t always feel* this
*bloody randy* always! *God help me!* Harry caught her eye, his eyes widening in mild
surprise at what her expression told him. She simply shrugged helplessly and smiled at him,
suddenly thinking of Priscilla, her friend at work – she’d be uncontrollably impressed decided
Hermione. *After she said “I told you so!” that was, thought* Hermione with a smile.

As their plates landed gently in front of each of them, Harry went to his chair but instead of
sitting, picked up his glass for a toast.

‘To my friends and past comrades-in-arms,’ he looked around at all of them, his eyes settling on
Hermione as he said, ‘and to the most important person in my life: past, present and future.’

As they all raised their glasses, Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears, but was determined not
to cry so she smiled at everyone, her gaze coming back to Harry as she sipped her wine.

Ron broke the solemn mood with, ‘All right you lot, two, four, six, eight, tuck in, don’t
wait!’

Luna and Ginny groaned in unison, everyone else laughing. Ron waggled his eyebrows at all of
them, popping food into his mouth and grinning.

After they finished, Harry simply waved his hand and cleared the table, feeling comfortable
enough in front of his closest friends to do such a thing as he knew they would see it for what it
was – something he could do – and not as “showing off”.

‘Harry,’ said Ginny wistfully, ‘don’t tell me you’ve cleaned the damn kitchen up from here as
well.’

Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t mind spending the time cooking, but I hate cleaning up afterwards
so…’

‘Oh, if only you could teach us how to do that!’ said Ginny, shaking her head.

‘Well, it’s not too hard, Ginny,’ he started, but when she held up her hand to ward off his
explanation he laughed. ‘You’ll just have to invite us over to dinner, won’t you?’ he joked.

‘We’ll be doing that, don’t worry!’ Dean told him. ‘In fact, I think before the wedding we
should perhaps have some sort of pseudo-engagement party and get everyone together, especially now
that you’re here in London as well, Harry. All the old Gryffindors – and others, of course,’ he
finished, looking apologetically across at Luna.

‘*Pseudo*-engagement?’ asked Ginny archly.

Dean rolled his eyes before looking down at her beside him. ‘You know what I mean my sweet!
We’ll have our friends and family over and our excuse will be that it’s to celebrate our engagement
which will guarantee their attendance and we *will* be celebrating our engagement, but also
our friends and family!’

Ginny sighed, a woeful expression on her face. ‘I’m stuck with a wonderful, brilliant, clever,
gorgeous, loving, sexy, *perfect* man who can cook almost as well as Harry Potter. Woe is
me.’

When everyone finished laughing and Dean stopped tickling Ginny in retaliation for her “cook
almost as well as Harry Potter” remark, Harry asked if anyone was interested in dessert.

‘Depends on what it is,’ said Luna.

‘Whatever it is, count me in,’ Ron told him.

‘Just apple pie and ice cream,’ said Harry.

Everyone ended up having some, enjoying the simple dessert immensely.

‘Coffee on the lounge!’ announced Hermione, walking back in from the kitchen carrying a pot of
freshly brewed coffee. As everyone settled themselves on the lounges, Hermione poured them each a
cup, then went to sit with Harry.

Ginny had told Dean about her two meetings with Malfoy and although he was annoyed that she
hadn’t trusted him, he agreed that he wouldn’t have let her meet him alone so understood *why*
she hadn’t told him until afterwards. Nevertheless, he’d extracted a promise from her that she
would always tell him such things in the future only after he’d promised he would trust her
judgement in such things.

While Hermione had been making the coffee, Harry had been telling them that he’d been there that
night to protect Ginny, something which pleased Dean no end.

‘And I felt like such a prat for recommending the Dragon’s Lair when I was taking Luna that
night when in fact I did a good thing!’ said Ron, before continuing while glaring at Ginny,
‘Although if I’d known you were there that night with ferret-face Harry would’ve had to protect
*him,* not *you!*’

Ginny rolled her eyes, but smiled at her brother as she said, ‘I had no idea *any* of you
were there! I can’t believe I didn’t see at least one of you!’

Harry then explained the arrangements he’d made knowing Ron couldn’t know Ginny was there with
Malfoy (for obvious reasons) and that he really didn’t want his own night there with Hermione
ruined by running into Malfoy because the sight of Malfoy was enough to turn his stomach. Luna
commented that she thought it was rather hilarious they’d all been there on the same night and not
seen each other except for that short interlude in the bar when they’d arrived to find Harry and
Hermione there.

After a second cup of coffee, everyone was beginning to feel tired and as they were all getting
ready to leave, Ron suddenly asked, ‘What’s in the box?’ pointing at the small, blue box Harry had
carried in earlier.

‘An excuse,’ said Luna, sharing a smug smile with Ginny.

Hermione had the grace to look a little embarrassed while Harry simply smiled and said, ‘Have a
look.’

Ron picked up the box and removed the lid, pulling out something white, soft, satiny and lacy
with ribbons and bows on it.

Ginny, Luna and Hermione knew immediately what it was and Hermione asked Harry who it belonged
to.

‘Originally, my mum,’ he told her, ‘but I got it from Remus. He caught it at my parents’ wedding
and he’s had it all these years. He gave it to me last Christmas. Said he thought I might like
it.’

Luna was busy explaining to Ron, who’d never been to a wedding, what a wedding garter was, while
Harry was telling Ginny that if she liked she could borrow it – if she was doing the traditional
“something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue”.

Ginny was highly delighted and extremely touched, throwing her arms around Harry and hugging
him.

‘You keep it here until I need it – I couldn’t bear if anything happened to it,’ Ginny told him
as she placed it back into the box which was lined with tissue paper.

Once everyone had left, Harry pulled Hermione to him and hugged her, then kissed her on the
cheek.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of all those nights they’d followed this little
ritual.

‘What I love the most,’ he told her, ‘is that now I can do this,’ and he covered her mouth with
his, Hermione melting into him.

When the kiss ended, Hermione told him, ‘And what I love the most is when I say “goodnight,
let’s go to bed” – we end up in the same one!’

Harry laughed, leaving one arm around her as they turned and walked towards his room, turning
his head to bury it in her hair; he loved the smell of her hair.

‘We’ll have to redecorate my bedroom for us,’ Hermione told him. ‘It’s much bigger and far nicer
than yours.’

‘I’ll do it tomorrow,’ he murmured into her hair.

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

Not too far away, Dean and Ginny were also getting ready to go to bed. Dean had turned out the
light and moved to their bedroom window, intending to draw the curtains, his gaze wandered randomly
over the park that was situated next to their block of flats. He froze when he saw the figure of a
man sitting on one of the park benches and despite the fact that the man was wearing wizard robes
with the hood up, he would swear he was looking at the window in which he stood. He quickly drew
the curtains, feeling tendrils of fear curl around his heart.

‘What’s wrong love?’ asked Ginny.

‘Just someone sitting on the bench down there. Gave me the creeps for a second. It’s a bit
late.’

He slid into bed next to Ginny, putting his arms protectively around her.

Tomorrow he was going to talk to Harry. He’d swear on Ginny’s life that was Draco Malfoy he’d
just seen on that park bench two floors below.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note: I’m not sure whether to keep going with this – I *do* have a definite
storyline in mind. Would it be too long do you think? Should I just wrap it up in the next chapter?
All (friendly!) suggestions welcome. (Despite what you might think from the last paragraph above,
it’s not Ginny or Dean that’s in apparent danger…this IS a H/Hr story after all)

Also, with Christmas Day only five sleeps away I won’t be updating before then and perhaps not
until the New Year – sorry, but I’ll be too busy socialising and partying with family and friends –
although I’m sure I’ll find time to pop into Portkey and do a little reading…

I hope you all have a very Happy Christmas!

xxxx Lady Jane xxxx



11. The One About The Worst Day Of Harry's Life
-----------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

For a change, not a lot to say! Just read, enjoy and review!

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Eleven: “The One About The Worst Day of Harry’s Life”

**Monday**

Hermione stood up from the table, brushing toast crumbs from her lap as she smiled at Harry, who
had also stood up and was moving towards her.

‘I wish you’d take today off work – even just this morning – and help me do up the bedroom.’
Harry put his arms around her waist, drawing her to him.

‘Help you *play* up in the bedroom, more likely!’ laughed Hermione, curling her arms around
his neck.

‘Well, we could play up *then* do up, what d’you say?’

‘I can’t!’ Hermione pretended to pout. ‘I have two appointments before lunch so I say you
surprise me with what you do to our bedroom, make sure you come and have lunch with me and since I
don’t want to be late, you need to kiss me goodbye right now so I can go before I change my mind
and accept your extremely tempting offer.’

Harry willingly dropped his head to kiss her, loving the feel of her soft lips beneath his,
pulling her tightly against him. As they moved apart, Hermione whispered, ‘I love you!’ and blew
him a kiss just before she Disapparated.

After seeing Hermione off to work, Harry set about redecorating the bedroom so that it would be
“their” bedroom. They’d discussed it over breakfast that morning so Harry knew what NOT to do,
otherwise Hermione was happy to leave it to him, although he was sure if he didn’t get something
quite right she’d change it! He was just about finished and was trying different colours on the
walls to see which one suited the best when he heard someone knocking on the front door. Walking
down the hall, he could hear Dean impatiently calling his name.

‘Morning, mate,’ said Harry as he opened the door, wondering why Dean was in such a hurry.

‘Morning, Harry. Listen, I need to talk to you about something. Do you have a minute?’

‘Sure,’ said Harry. ‘Come in. Would you like some tea?’

Dean shook his head, ‘No thanks,’ walking in, heading for the loungeroom. Dean took a seat as
Harry sat opposite him on the other lounge, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees as he
studied him. ‘So what’s up? You look a little tense mate.’

Dean nodded. ‘I am. Last night, when Ginny and I got back to my place, I was closing the
curtains in the bedroom – you can see down into the park from the bedroom – and I saw someone
sitting on the park bench. Don’t ask me how or why, but I’m positive it was Draco Malfoy.’

‘What the hell would Malfoy be doing hanging around your place?’ said Harry, frowning.

Dean shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea, but if I see him there again he’s gonna think that ferret trick he
copped at school was a picnic compared to what I’ll do to him.’

‘Is Ginny at work? What does she think?’

‘Yeah, she’s at work. I actually went with her this morning and made her promise not to leave
the office without letting me know first; she looked at me like she thinks I’m nuts. I haven’t told
her anything yet and she’s a bit pissed off. I told her I wanted to see you first.’

Harry stood up. ‘I think we should go and see Neville. I don’t like the idea of Malfoy hanging
around Ginny. Neville might have some ideas about what to do.’

‘Is it just Ginny he’s hanging around d’you think?’ asked Dean as he also stood.

‘Well, after that night-’ Harry paused.

‘What night? At the Leaky Cauldron or at the restaurant?’

‘Noooo,’ said Harry slowly, looking thoughtfully at Dean.

Dean’s whole demeanour altered; Harry could see his body tense as his hands curled into fists at
his side.

‘What other night was there?’ he asked, his voice low.

*Shit!* thought Harry, *Ginny hasn’t told him and now I’ve let the cat out of the bag!
Bloody hell, Ginny’ll kill me, Dean’ll kill Malfoy –*

His thoughts were interrupted by Dean demanding to know what night Harry was talking about.

Harry sighed. ‘Listen mate, I’m really sorry about this. Ginny must have her reasons for not
saying anything to you and because she hasn’t, I don’t feel as though it’s my place to tell you.
You’ll have to ask her yourself. Listen, let’s just get over to the Ministry and see Neville. We
need to follow up on this I think.’

Dean nodded tersely in silent agreement before they both Disapparated to the Ministry
entrance.

Luckily, Neville was in his office when they arrived and he was able to see them. Neville, of
course, knew of Ginny’s meetings with Malfoy, but like Dean, he was unaware that Malfoy had
Apparated uninvited into Ginny’s flat late one night; Harry and Hermione were the only ones she’d
told.

Dean had just finished telling Neville about seeing the person he was sure was Malfoy the night
before when Ginny appeared in the doorway, escorted by one of the junior Law Enforcement wizards
who then left, his job done.

‘What the hell are you doing here? You were supposed to let me know before you left your
office!’ Dean yelled angrily as he jumped to his feet, heading for Ginny, every protective instinct
he had on full alert.

As he reached her and put his hands on her shoulders, he realised her expression was abnormal –
she looked as though she was in shock. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked her, his anger quickly
replaced with concern.

Ginny collapsed against him, visibly shaken.

This brought both Harry and Neville to their feet, Harry quickly walking towards them, stopping
when Ginny lifted her head to look at him, her eyes wide and frightened. When she whispered, ‘Oh,
Harry…’ he felt a ghastly coldness descend over him.

‘What is it?’ he asked, his voice full of dread.

Still staring at him, Ginny simply said, ‘Hermione’s gone.’

‘Gone? What do you mean gone?’ Harry repeated, his blood turning to ice. ‘Gone where?’

‘We don’t know. You remember Priscilla?’ Harry nodded. ‘She Flooed me at work a short while ago
- she was in a real state. Apparently, the two wizards who were Hermione’s nine thirty appointment
arrived on time and went into Hermione’s office – it all seemed normal. Then Priscilla told me that
by half past ten she thought it was a bit strange they hadn’t left and Hermione had another
appointment at a quarter to eleven so she went and knocked on Hermione’s door. There was no answer
so she knocked a few more times and when there still wasn’t any answer, she opened the door and
Hermione’s office was empty. She and the two wizards just weren’t there. And they didn’t leave –
they would’ve been seen, you know how busy and crowded that department is. She’s positive there’s
no way Hermione would just leave without telling someone and I agree. Also, those other two wizards
wouldn’t be able to Apparate out of the Ministry without help. She thinks – well, she thinks that
maybe – perhaps…they’ve kidnapped Hermione.’

‘NOOOO!’ Harry roared, and ripping through every Protector Charm in the Ministry, Apparated into
Hermione’s office. He looked around swiftly, noting that it all seemed perfectly normal – nothing
was disturbed or out of place. The door to her office was open and Priscilla was standing there,
gaping at Harry.

‘Priscilla! Where is she?’

He could see she’d been crying as she shook her head. ‘I don’t know! *I don’t know!’* she
cried, her voice full of anguish.

Without taking time to answer her, he Apparated back to Neville’s office and strode over to
Ginny who was being held in a comforting hug by Dean. Harry pulled on her arm, his voice heavy with
dread, his expression wild. ‘She’s not in her office,’ he repeated needlessly. ‘What’s happened?’
His question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, nevertheless Ginny straightened as she looked
at Harry and said quietly, ‘We don’t know Harry, just that she’s gone.’

Harry was frozen to the spot, staring at Ginny. He didn’t feel as though he could function – he
couldn’t think any more than he could move at the moment; his world had just been ripped apart with
those two words spoken by Ginny: “She’s gone”. In the next instant he felt fury explode within him
- fury at whoever had done this and fury because he hadn’t been able to protect the woman he loved.
He had no idea that he was radiating the anger and fury he was feeling, together with an aura of
power, such that everyone else in the room took an involuntary step away from him. One look at
Harry’s face and Neville felt sorry for the fools who had done this. But he was a Law Enforcement
officer and so he stepped forward to do his job.

‘Harry, we’ll find her,’ he said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. ‘Ginny, did you
only speak to Priscilla?’

Ginny nodded. ‘Yes – she was the one who Flooed me.’

‘And she’s still at work?’ this to Harry, who took a moment to realise he was being spoken to
before he looked at Neville and nodded.

‘Right,’ said Neville, deciding the best thing would be for Harry to do something, anything –
any action being preferable to simply waiting, ‘Harry and I will go see her and we’ll have everyone
else questioned that was in Hermione’s office and department this morning.’ He held up his hand to
Harry, knowing he would simply Apparate again, ‘We’ll walk over this time. It’s probably going to
take a couple of officers a few days to sort out the damage you’ve done to the Protector Charms,
Harry. No more, please.’

Harry nodded and strode out the door ahead of Neville, his face rigid with anger and fear, the
mixed aura of fury and power still lingering, although somewhat diminished as Harry’s thoughts
changed focus.

‘Wait here,’ Neville said to Dean and Ginny as he followed Harry out.

Dean took Ginny over and sat her down in one of the armchairs in front of Neville’s desk,
kneeling in front of her and taking her hands as he spoke softly to her.

‘I’m sorry I yelled at you sweetheart. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was on about this
morning either, I was wrong.’

Ginny smiled wanly at him. ‘It’s okay.’

He then told her about seeing someone the previous evening, someone he believed was Malfoy,
following with what had passed between himself and Harry that morning. Ginny’s face went even
whiter when Dean finished by saying he now knew there was *another* time she’d been in contact
with Malfoy that she hadn’t yet told him about.

Ginny dropped her eyes, unable to meet his, her shoulders slumped.

‘It’s my turn to be sorry,’ she said quietly, then proceeded to tell him what had happened the
night Malfoy had appeared in her flat uninvited.

‘He really didn’t *do* anything – I still don’t understand why he came. He was just –
insulting, really.’ She shivered in memory of the night.

Dean felt a flat, frozen fury sweep through him. ‘If I get my hands on him, I’ll kill him. How
*dare* he come near you! He’s a vile human being. I don’t care any longer whether it’s work or
not Ginny – don’t ever speak to him again, I beg you.’

‘There’s no need for me to ever see or speak to him again.’ Ginny put her arms around Dean’s
neck and leant forward to kiss him. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you; I thought it would be better
if you didn’t know about it. I guess it was because I didn’t trust you to handle it. I’m so, so
sorry!’

‘You can trust with me anything, you know that,’ he whispered; then he kissed her back.

Ginny sat back and sighed as Dean got up and perched on the edge of Neville’s desk. She looked
up at him, frowning. ‘You don’t think Malfoy’s got anything to do with Hermione’s disappearance, do
you?’ she asked.

Dean shrugged. ‘Nothing would surprise me where Malfoy is concerned,’ he said. ‘I hope he has –
because he’ll end up back in Azkaban for it and good riddance.’

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Priscilla couldn’t tell them much more than Ginny had. The two wizards who’d come to see
Hermione were, she told them, just ordinary looking wizards, middle-aged, respectable and polite,
although not particularly likeable; they were the old style of wizard, the type who looked down
their noses at people they believed inferior to themselves which was nearly everyone. Neville was
sure the names they had given were false. Harry took in what Priscilla told them without saying a
word, then headed straight into Hermione’s office, Neville close on his heels.

Walking up to her desk, Harry suddenly thought of something and checked the special wand drawer
Hermione had on her side of the desk. As he pulled the slim drawer out, revealing her wand lying on
the blue lining, he felt as though an icy hand took hold of his heart and squeezed. No wand, no
magic. No magic, no defence. Harry dropped into Hermione’s chair, his elbows on the desk, his head
resting on his hands. He looked the picture of utter despair and as Neville walked up beside him,
he too saw the wand nestled in the drawer and came to the same realisation as Harry: Hermione was
defenceless. He lifted his hand to Harry’s shoulder in a gesture of sympathy and comfort although
it gave none to the distraught man who barely felt it.

It was while he was sitting there, staring down at the surface of the desk, that Harry saw it,
the small piece of parchment on which Hermione had doodled, probably that very morning. He snatched
it up and turned to Neville, holding it up so that he could read it. In Hermione’s small, neat
script, he saw, “9.30 Kidde, Knapp. Assgn: Dth Etrs - Malfoys? History.”

‘It may mean something Harry, or it may not. But we’ll be bringing Malfoy in for questioning,
you can be certain of that. If he’s had anything whatsoever to do with this, he’ll back in Azkaban
faster than Ron can eat his breakfast.’

Harry felt as though his head was going to burst. *Death Eaters. Malfoy. Accursed, foul bloody
Malfoy. If he harms so much as a single hair on her head I’ll kill him,* he thought savagely,
w*rong or right, I’ll kill him! Azkaban is too good for him!*

They returned to Neville’s office from where he despatched officers to go over Hermione’s office
with the proverbial fine toothcomb and also to find Draco Malfoy and bring him to the Ministry. He
sent another officer to Hermione’s department to finish questioning everyone who had seen the two
wizards that morning in the hope of turning up another piece of information, however small. Dean
said he’d take Ginny home and come back to help Harry.

Harry for his part was pacing. He couldn’t sit still. He felt devastated – there was nothing he
could do right now and it was killing him. *Hermione! Wherever you are, please be safe,
PLEASE!* He felt tears of anger and frustration and sheer terror prickling at the back of his
eyes but held them back. *She has to be all right,* he told himself*, she has to be. I can’t
live without her. She has to be all right…* he repeated it over and over as though the simple
act of repetition might be enough to make it true.

He didn’t realise that time had even passed until Dean walked in and Harry looked across at him,
surprised. ‘Where’s Ginny?’ he asked.


‘I’ve taken her to my place,’ Dean told him. Luna’s there with her and Ron’s-’

‘Right here,’ said Ron, striding into the office. He waved at Neville who was busy speaking to
another officer, giving him instructions. Ron walked straight up to Harry and grasped his upper
arms.

‘We’ll find her, mate. She’ll be all right,’ he told Harry firmly, his words echoing Harry’s
thoughts.

Harry could only nod, grateful for the presence of his best friend.

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Luna carried the two mugs of hot tea into the small loungeroom of Dean’s flat and handed one to
Ginny who was sitting in her favourite armchair, Luna then settling herself in the other
lounge.

‘Any idea why anyone would want to kidnap Hermione?’ she asked Ginny.

Ginny shook her head. ‘None. Besides, I would’ve thought anyone with any sense whatsoever would
know better than to get on the wrong side of Harry.’

‘Or maybe someone’s set out to deliberately upset Harry. Maybe they know what would happen to
someone who was stupid enough to do something like this.’

Ginny nodded. ‘Anything is possible.’

They sat and chatted quietly and when they finished their tea, Luna got up, gathering both mugs
to take them out to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make us a sandwich, it’s past lunchtime,’ she said, Ginny
nodding absentmindedly at her as she walked out.

When Luna had left, Ginny found herself staring into the empty fireplace, willing Dean’s face to
appear with some news when she heard a soft tapping noise. She looked around, unable to pinpoint
where it was coming from until she glanced at the window and saw someone on a broom, hovering,
wearing hooded wizard robes. She felt her heart rate skyrocket and was about to call out to Luna
when the figure pushed the hood back and she saw it was Draco Malfoy. She was jerked to her feet by
surprise and fear. Malfoy crooked his finger in the universal “come here” gesture but Ginny found
herself unable to decide whether she should scream for Luna or see what Malfoy wanted. In the end,
despite Dean’s words of warning that morning echoing in her mind, her innate curiosity coupled with
desperation won out and she pulled her wand from her pocket, holding it up in front of her as she
approached the window; she had to find out whether he knew anything, anything at all that would
help them find Hermione.

Pushing up the window just enough to speak to him, her wand trained on him, she said, ‘Are you
here about Hermione?’

He gazed at her intently for a second before nodding. ‘I don’t know where she is, but I know who
took her and I’m almost certain I know why.’

‘You’re involved.’ Ginny’s voice was flat and accusatory.

Malfoy shook his head. ‘Let me in, I can’t stay here at the window talking.’

‘You expect me to trust you?’ Ginny couldn’t help the sneer that crept into her voice.

Once again he shook his head. ‘Not to trust me, but at least to believe me.’

Ginny glared at him. ‘Neither is entirely possible.’

‘Then I’m wasting my time,’ and he started to move off.

‘Malfoy, wait!’ Ginny felt desperate; if he could tell her anything, anything at all, she wanted
to hear it.

‘Yes, Ginevra?’

Ginny felt unnerved by the way he spoke her name and the unblinking stare he directed at her as
he spoke.

‘I can’t let you in, Luna’s here with me. But I want to hear what you have to say.’

One side of Malfoy’s mouth lifted in a deprecating smile. ‘Of course you do. I’ll meet you at
the bedroom window – it’s not so exposed to the street.’ He turned and left, moving slowly on his
broom, heading around the side of the building leaving Ginny wondering how he knew where the
bedroom window was until she recalled what Dean had told her earlier. She shuddered at the thought
of Malfoy sitting there in the dark, watching…

She then dashed to the kitchen, telling Luna, who was busy slicing a tomato for their
sandwiches, that she was going to get changed out of her work clothes and wouldn’t be long. She
then headed for the bedroom, closing the door behind her and locking it before running to the
window and, pulling it up and leaning on the window sill to talk to Malfoy, her wand pointed at
him.

‘What do you know, then?’ she asked him.

He shook his head. ‘I come in first. There’s no one in the park at the moment, but someone could
turn up. I don’t want to be seen.’

Ginny hesitated.

Malfoy looked her straight in the eye. ‘For what it’s worth,’ he said, ‘I swear to you I had
nothing to do with this, but I can help you get her back. It’s in my own interests to do so and
that’s why I’m here.’

‘In your own best interests? Well, that’s the one believable thing.’ She pushed the window all
the way up. ‘All right, come in, but you stay right next to the window and you don’t move. And
don’t get your wand out.’ Then she backed away from the window as he ducked his head and glided in,
keeping her wand on him the whole time.

As he straightened up, holding his broom beside him, he looked at her intently again. Ginny
found his gaze rather disturbing but made sure she didn’t show it.

‘Well?’ she said impatiently, ‘Start talking!’

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Harry looked at the clock on the wall. Two o’clock. Dean and Ron were engrossed in reading the
reports that were arriving regularly from various officers that were on the case. They handed one
to Neville, seated behind his desk, who read it out loud, looking at Harry as he finished.

‘What do you mean they can’t find Malfoy?’ yelled Harry. ‘Why the hell not?’

‘Harry, hard as it is, please try and stay relatively calm. We haven’t found Malfoy *yet,*
but we will.’ Neville rubbed his forehead, feeling a horrible exhaustion creep over him. It had
been the worst day of his career and really, they were no closer to finding Hermione now than they
had been that morning. No power on earth would get him to admit that to Harry, however.

Harry brought his fists down on Neville’s desk in sheer frustration, making the other three men
jump, then straightened up and said through clenched teeth, ‘I’m going to look for him,’ and before
anyone could utter a single syllable, he was gone. *Shit,* thought Neville, *he’s going to
totally destroy every bloody Protector Charm in the Ministry if he keeps doing that!*

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Harry didn’t know where to start. He’d Apparated home and stood there, clutching his head in
frustration, trying to think. Neville had already told him that Malfoy had moved out of the
original flat he’d been in when he first came out of Azkaban; the money from the interview for
Witch Weekly enabling him to do that. They knew he was still in London, but as they’d heard no word
through their usual sources, Neville suspected Malfoy had moved into a Muggle area to maintain
anonymity – and avoid detection no doubt, although he didn’t think it wouldn’t have been easy for
him to place himself amongst those he hated so much. As he tried to decide what he should do next,
Harry heard a *crack!* and looked up to see Ginny standing before him. He stared at her,
dreading what she might say, yet impatient to hear it.

She ran to him, grabbing his arm as she said breathlessly, ‘Harry, you have to come with me now
– to Dean’s flat – there’s someone there who has some information that could lead us to
Hermione.’

Without a word, Harry put his arm around Ginny and Apparated them both to Dean’s flat.

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When they arrived in Dean’s loungeroom, Ginny almost ran out of the room, calling to Harry to
follow her. Harry needed no prompting, striding after Ginny as she flew up the hallway towards the
bedroom. As he entered the room behind her he froze, stunned to see Draco Malfoy leaning back
against the window, his arms crossed, Luna standing halfway across the room at the end of the bed,
her wand out, pointed at his chest.

‘Malfoy!’ yelled Harry, whipping out his wand and pointing it at him. At the sight of the Harry,
real fear rose in Malfoy’s eyes. He straightened up, his arms dropping to his sides.

‘Ginny,’ said Harry, not taking his eyes off Malfoy, his voice low, containing an unnamed
threat, ‘what in the name of hell is he doing here?’

Malfoy held up his hands to show that he was wandless while trying not to show he was afraid.
‘I’m here because I think I’m being framed,’ he said, managing to keep his voice cool and
controlled.

‘Just tell me what you know concerning Hermione and talk fast,’ ordered Harry, moving closer to
Malfoy, an undercurrent of anger and hatred ringing in his voice, ‘because if I don’t like it,
you’re dead.’

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note: Chapter Twelve has been typed up, just revising, editing, revising,
editing…..



12. The One Where Malfoy Talks
------------------------------

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Twelve: “The One Where Malfoy Talks“

**Still Monday**

Neville walked back into his office; he’d been to see his boss to bring him up to date with the
current situation concerning Hermione’s disappearance and the search for her. As he did so, Harry
appeared in the middle of the room with a *crack!*

‘Sweet mother of Merlin, Harry! Will you bloody well cut that out?’ groaned Neville.

Harry spun to face him, ignoring his protest. ‘I’ve got Malfoy. And he may be able to lead us to
Hermione.’ He walked over to Neville and grabbed his arm, then without warning, Apparated them both
back to Dean’s bedroom where Ginny and Luna remained guarding Malfoy.

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Neville, barely able to grasp what Harry had said to him, now found himself in a bedroom with
Ginny, Luna and – *Bloody hell! That’s Draco Malfoy! What’s he doing here? And what are they
doing? Are they guarding him for crying out loud?!*

‘What the-’

Harry was still holding Neville’s arm and as Neville began to speak, Harry pulled him closer to
Malfoy who was still standing by the window. Neville pulled his arm from Harry’s grasp and frowned
at him.

‘Listen, Harry, that was uncalled for-’

Harry interrupted him, his voice hard and impatient.

‘Sorry, but I just want Hermione found as quickly as possible. Those two wizards in her office
this morning were Death Eaters, according to Malfoy here. I want you to listen to him – see if you
believe him.’

‘Do *you* believe him?’ Neville asked.

‘I think so - I’m not totally certain,’ replied Harry. ‘A dose of Veritaserum wouldn’t go
astray.’

With Harry there, Ginny and Luna lowered their wands, sitting on the edge of the bed. Neville
and Harry remained standing, Harry’s wand pointed unwaveringly at Malfoy.

‘Start talking,’ ordered Harry.

Casting a slightly bored glance at them all, Malfoy began to repeat his story once more for
Neville’s benefit. As he spoke, Harry stood stock still, watching him, his wand not moving. Despite
everything he’d ever known about Malfoy, he found himself believing it may be possible that his
story was true, as did Neville when he’d heard it.

‘Well?’ drawled Malfoy, ‘What now?’

‘Give me your wand,’ said Neville to Malfoy. ‘You’ll get it back when all this is over.’

‘What? Leave myself defenceless?’

Neville ignored him as he turned to talk to the others.

‘All right, this is what’s going to happen: Harry and I will take Malfoy and go back to my
office. Luna and Ginny, I’d like you both to stay here for now so that we know where we can contact
you quickly. Once we’ve sorted out the details of what we’re going to do, we’ll Floo you.’ Ginny
and Luna both frowned at this announcement as Neville turned back to Malfoy.

‘You will give me your wand,’ he repeated, ‘and your broom, because I don’t really trust you;
however, you’ll have to trust me when I tell you that we will make sure you’re safe, for Hermione’s
sake. If what you say is true, we need you to find her.’

He walked towards Malfoy as he finished, holding out his hand. He stood, his hand out, waiting
patiently while Malfoy glared, then frowned at him. Reluctantly, he slowly removed his wand from
his robes and handed it over, together with his broom. Neville placed the wand inside his own robes
and taking the broom, turned and headed for the door, asking everyone to follow him down to the
loungeroom, commenting to the girls as they walked through the door ahead of him, ‘Enough of
Harry’s cavalier style of Apparating. He’s like a loose bloody cannon and he’s done more damage
than one!’

‘What d’you mean?’ asked Ginny.

As they walked down the hall, Neville replied, ‘He’s been Apparating in and out of my office and
Hermione’s office at the Ministry. I’ve got three wizards working on repairing the bloody Protector
Charms because of it.’

Ginny gave a low whistle. ‘I didn’t think it was possible to Apparate in or out or even around
the Ministry!’

‘It’s not,’ said Neville grimly, ‘unless you’re Harry Potter.’

Ginny smiled. ‘He can go where no wizard has gone before, eh?’

Neville frowned; they were walking into the loungeroom. ‘It’s not funny, Ginny.’

Ginny suppressed her smile. ‘Oh, no, of course not. But we’ve always known Harry’s power was way
above the norm, since before he defeated Voldemort.’

Neville shuddered at hearing the name, still getting used to people – some, not all – saying it
now that he was gone.

‘Yeah, well, he should stick to defeating Dark Lords and leave my Protector Charms alone.’

Ginny looked up at him and saw he had a small smile on his face as he moved away to speak to
everyone again.

‘All right, Harry, you and I will go with Malfoy, now-’

Ginny put her hand up by way of apology as she interrupted him.

‘Neville, Luna and I can’t just sit *here* and wait.’ Luna was nodding in agreement. ‘At
least please let us wait in your office. I’m sure we’ll be able to help in some way as well.’

Neville glanced at Harry, who gave a slight nod.

‘OK, we’ll all go. But-’ he looked at Harry as he spoke, ‘we’re Apparating to the
*entrance* of the Ministry as we’re supposed to.’ Harry nodded in acquiescence.

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When they made it back to Neville’s office, the first thing he did was order Malfoy to sit in
one of the armchairs, using a spell to bind him there; his upper body was free, but he was unable
to get out of the chair. Harry was leaning on the wall beside him, his wand still in his hand.
While Dean was sitting in Neville’s chair behind his desk glaring at Malfoy, Ron was staring in
amazement at him, perched on an upturned wastepaper basket that was making peculiar hiccoughing
noises in protest at being upside down. The girls settled themselves in the remaining armchair,
Luna sitting in it, Ginny perched on the large, padded arm, her arm draped across the back. Neville
thought his office had never been so crowded as he sat himself on the front corner of his desk,
turning his head slightly to look at Dean and Ron.

‘You two haven’t yet heard Malfoy’s story. However, I’ve decided I’d like to hear it with the
added benefit of Veritaserum, just to be sure.’ As he spoke, he reached over to a small white
cabinet on the wall beside his desk, murmuring an anti-lock charm. The door of the cabinet clicked
open as he did so and he reached inside for a small glass bottle of clear liquid.

Malfoy looked stricken as Neville turned towards him with the bottle. ‘That’s not necessary!
I’ve told you the truth!’

‘Then you have nothing to be afraid of, do you?’ replied Neville as he bent over the magically
bound man.

‘*Please! No!*’ Only Neville heard Malfoy’s tortured whisper which he chose to ignore.

‘Do you take it voluntarily or do I have to get my wand out?’

Malfoy dropped his head for a moment, then looked up at Neville. His features tightened, his
gaze cold, he said quietly, ‘I’ll take it, but you may find out some things some of you would be
better off not knowing.’

Neville shrugged. He didn’t care two hoots about this man, he simply wanted to find Hermione, as
he knew everyone in this room did. Malfoy was only co-operating to save his own skin as it was so
Neville didn’t feel he deserved any special consideration. *Once a self-serving bastard, always a
self-serving bastard,* he thought bitterly as he placed three drops of the Veritaserum in
Malfoy’s open mouth.

Malfoy let his head drop back, his eyes closing, feeling the effects of the potion taking
effect. *Just let me get through this without saying her name,* was his last voluntary
thought.

‘Malfoy, can you hear me?’ asked Neville.

Malfoy lifted his heard slowly, eyes still shut.

‘Yes.’ His voice sounded almost mechanical. His eyes slowly opened, looking unfocused.

Neville leaned over and put the glass bottle back in its cabinet, closing the door with a soft
“click”.

He turned back, settling himself on the desk corner, crossing his arms as he once again spoke to
Malfoy.

‘What is your current address?’

‘13b Penny Farthing Lane.’

Neville nodded; he’d been right - Muggle London.

‘Malfoy, what are the names of these wizards you claim are Death Eaters and where did you first
meet them?’

In the expressionless voice characteristic of someone under the influence of Veritaserum, Malfoy
replied, ‘Mulcher and Jugson. Last Tuesday evening they were in the Leaky Cauldron when I arrived.
They basically pounced on me when I sat down.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘They demanded to know where I’d been because they’d been waiting so long and they knew I had
dinner at the pub every evening at the same time. I told them I’d been to see my girlfriend. Then
they told me they knew what I’d done to get out of Azkaban and I asked them who they were. I’d
never met them, but I recognised their names; my father had spoken of them. It was Jugson and
Mulcher. So I knew they were Death Eaters. They told me I’d pay for what I’d done, the people I’d
betrayed. They said I’d be going back to Azkaban, that I’d die there if my father didn’t kill me
first.’

‘What did you say to that?’ asked Neville. There was not a sound to be heard in the room, the
attention of every person present was centred on what Malfoy was saying.

‘I told him since I didn’t plan on doing anything wrong there was no way I’d end up back in
Azkaban.’

‘What was their response to that?’

‘They said I didn’t actually have to do anything wrong, as long as it appeared as though I had.
They said with my background and reputation I wouldn’t stand a chance, that no one would believe
me, they’d make sure of that. They said it over and over, who the hell would believe me? Because
sure as hell Harry Potter wouldn’t, nor would any of his friends.’

‘Why do you think they were telling you this?’

‘They were completely confident and absolutely sure of themselves. They said so. They were
taunting me, gloating; they said it was the sweetest revenge, to see someone who had betrayed one
of them rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life. They said just because the Dark Lord was gone
didn’t mean the remaining Death Eaters didn’t look out for each other.’

‘What did you plan on doing about this?’

‘Nothing, until something concrete happened. I thought I would deal with it then.’

Neville shifted a little, becoming a little uncomfortable perched on his desk as he was. Still,
no one else in the room spoke, their eyes not leaving the still figure in the armchair.

‘How did you know when something concrete had happened?’

‘I went into the Leaky Cauldron for lunch today. There were a lot of Ministry employees there as
there usually is. The only thing they were all talking about was Granger’s disappearance. I managed
to overhear enough to know that two wizards had gone in to see her and that they and Granger had
all vanished. I knew it must’ve been Jugson and Mulcher. I also heard my name mentioned – nothing
definite, they were just wondering - but my name was being associated with it. That’s when I knew
what they were planning.’

‘Why didn’t anyone recognise you?’

‘I always wear my robes with the concealment charm on them. Just in case.’

‘And what did you do after that?’

‘I realised that what they’d basically done was make sure Potter was involved because he’s
capable of anything for the sake of his friends and that he’d be after me, and me alone. I’m not
sure exactly what else they planned, but I know that much. What they’d done was set Potter on me,
because they knew he’d do the job for them without even realising it. I knew I didn’t stand a
chance against him; I knew neither he nor any of his friends would believe me. I was desperate. I
couldn’t go to the Ministry or the magazine’s offices for obvious reasons. I thought my only chance
was to explain everything I knew to someone who might listen.’

‘You’d be recognised at both the Ministry and the offices of Witch Weekly,’ said Neville, more
to himself than anything. ‘So, why did you think Ginny Weasley would listen to you?’ Neville paused
for a second, then added, ‘And how did you know where she lived?’ No harm in trying to find out how
Malfoy knew where Dean lived enabling him to sit on park benches late at night, watching
windows…

Neville thought perhaps a tremor may have passed through Malfoy’s body, but he wasn’t sure.

The flat, toneless voice continued.

‘She was the only person I’d spoken to; I thought there was a chance she would listen to me. I
knew she was going out with Thomas and it was simply a matter of asking one of his mates at the
Wanderers’ Club where he lived and they told me. People are very trusting.’

*So simple.* Neville glanced at Dean then at Ginny but both of them were still looking at
Malfoy.

‘What is it you propose we do to find Hermione?’

‘I know Jugson and Mulcher come into the Leaky Cauldron every Tuesday night. Knowing this, you
could arrange to capture them, question them and find out where they’re keeping Granger.’

Neville nodded, then looked around at each of the others. ‘That’s what we’re going to do,
everyone. We will set up an operation and tomorrow night we’ll bring these two into custody, give
them Veritaserum and get Hermione back.’ Turning back to Malfoy, he asked him, ‘Do you think either
of these men would in any way harm Hermione?’

‘I don’t know.’

Neville leaned closer to Malfoy. ‘One last thing, Malfoy, I’m just curious; who’s the girlfriend
you’d been to see?’

This time Neville was sure: Malfoy visibly shuddered. Then he spoke, as he had to.

‘She’s not my girlfriend; I simply said that to cover myself.’

‘So who did you see that night? Did you tell Jugson and Mulcher?’

‘Yes, I told them. They know her. I said it was Ginevra Weasley.’

There was a collective gasp from around the room. Dean’s eyes snapped to Ginny who was gaping at
Malfoy. Neville held up his hand to stave off anything being said.

‘So they think that Ginny is your girlfriend?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you use Ginny’s name?’

‘Because I love her. Because she should be my girlfriend.’

Pandemonium ensued.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note: Not my longest chapter (sorry guys!) but this was the perfect closing point for
this one. I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that the next chapter is just about ready and it’s more
than twice as long as this one…

xxxx Lady Jane xxxx J



13. The One In Which The Trap Is Sprung
---------------------------------------

Author’s Note: To each and every one of you that has taken the time to review: THANK YOU, THANK
YOU, THANK YOU!!!!!! Give yourselves a pat on the back! Those of you who are also authors will know
totally what I mean when I say reviews make all the difference in the world. Okay, back to the
important thing – the story! I have gone over and over and over this – I really wanted to try and
make it “just right” – I hope you enjoy it everyone! xxxxoooo

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Thirteen: “The One In Which The Trap Is Sprung“

**Still Monday (Again)**

*Previously, on Day by Day…*

*‘So they think that Ginny is your girlfriend?’*

*‘Yes.’*

*‘Why did you use Ginny’s name?’*

*‘Because I love her and I wish she was my girlfriend.’*

*Pandemonium ensued.*

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

The room was almost immediately full of the sound of people yelling, cursing and calling out to
each other. Malfoy’s still figure was momentarily ignored as was Harry, who far from contributing
to the chaos, simply stood there as though he’d heard nothing. His thoughts were entirely focused
on Hermione. *Tomorrow night. How in the name of Merlin am I going to get through tonight and
tomorrow?* He could feel a massive twist of pain that spread throughout his entire body.
*Hermione!* He turned and glared at Malfoy. *He was indirectly responsible for this – they
wouldn’t have taken Hermione if they weren’t trying to get revenge on Malfoy.* The pain
continued. It was the pain of loss – the pain caused by something vital missing. *Hermione!*
He closed his eyes, his head dropping back against the wall, oblivious for the moment to all that
was going on around him.

When Malfoy had finished speaking, there had been a mere second of complete and utter silence.
Then the words sank in. Anyone listening would’ve heard Dean’s voice first; he gave a long drawn
out yell of, ‘NOOOOOO!’ as he stood, pushing Ron out of his way, sending him sprawling, as he ran
around the end of Neville’s desk with the intention of getting to Malfoy and strangling him. Ron
however, whose voice you would’ve heard next as he yelled, ‘You filthy bastard Malfoy!’ was back on
his feet and right behind Dean. Luna screamed and jumped up as soon as she heard Ron call out,
knowing he’d attack Malfoy if he could while she wanted to prevent him doing anything he may regret
later. Ginny was stunned; she was still gaping at Malfoy as Dean got closer to his immobilised
target, his hands outstretched. Just as it sank in what Dean was doing, she saw Harry’s head come
up and his eyes open as he looked around and with frighteningly fast reflexes brought his wand
around and bellowed *‘PROTEGO!*’

Dean virtually bounced backwards into Ron and both of them were sent sprawling, knocking Neville
down again as they fell; he’d only just gotten up after being knocked over by the combined passage
of Dean and Ron as they went after Malfoy. Neville scrambled quickly to his feet, yelling,
‘*QUIET! NOW*!’

The noise level subsided. Neville was standing up, panting, glaring at everyone.

‘You’ll keep quiet and you’ll sit down or you will all leave!’

Dean and Ron, picking themselves up while glaring rebelliously at Harry and murderously at
Malfoy, turned to Neville, both starting to speak.

‘No!’ said Neville firmly, holding up in his hand, ‘Harry did the right thing. *Now sit
down!’*

Luna was now holding Ron’s arm, leading him around the desk to sit down. She sat in Neville’s
chair while Ron once again sat on the hiccoughing upturned wastepaper bin. Dean immediately went to
Ginny, pulling her up into a hug; she still looked shocked by both what had been said and what had
happened. He then coaxed her into the seat Luna had vacated, while he sat on the padded arm,
holding Ginny around the shoulders, pressing her gently against his side. Harry had remained where
he was; his face showed both exhaustion and anger. Neville remained standing as he addressed
them.

‘I’ve finished questioning Malfoy. He’ll be taken down to one of the Ministry’s cells for the
night.’

Dean’s voice was a growl. ‘I want to know more about this – what are his intentions where
Ginny’s concerned?’

Neville looked at Dean. ‘I’m sorry mate, but I can’t ask him any more personal questions like
that – they’re not relevant to the current case so it’s against regulations. He’s given all the
answers we require. If you want to ask him about anything else, you’re free to do so tomorrow.’

Dean stood up, Ginny holding his arm, trying to draw him back down.

‘To hell with the regulations! He won’t tell us anything tomorrow, you know that!’

Ron was also on his feet, furious. ‘When the hell has Malfoy ever respected any regulations,
Neville? He doesn’t deserve our consideration!’

Neville hesitated; these were, after all, his friends. But he knew it was more than his career
was worth. Even Malfoy would be able to lay charges against him if he continued questioning him
now.

Dean knew from the expression on Neville’s face that he’d lost. He slumped back onto the arm of
the chair.

Ron made a noise of disgust as he glared again at Malfoy.

Harry pushed himself away from the wall. ‘What do we do now, Neville?’ he asked, his voice
almost as toneless as Malfoy’s had been.

Within fifteen minutes, Malfoy had been removed to a cell, a very large pot of tea was brought
in to the office and Neville called in his two senior officers to discuss what they would be doing
the following night.

Harry listened as plans were discussed, discarded, rehashed, discarded again – until finally
they settled on a course of action. He was the only one unaffected by the final choice, due mainly
to the fact that he was emotionally on hold.

Dean, on the other hand, was furious, as was Ron, but Ginny remained resolute and she had Luna
supporting her. Neville was concerned about his friends, but even more so about Hermione right
now.

‘Why the hell does it have to be Ginny who goes in with him?’ Dean was standing, his fists
clenched at his sides.

Ginny sighed as she repeated for what seemed like the umpteenth time, ‘Honey, this is for
Hermione. It has to be done. I’ll be fine.’

Ron, too, was on his feet. ‘I agree with Dean. Why does it have to be Ginny?’

Neville, feeling more exhausted than he could ever remember, managed to speak patiently to
them.

‘Jugson and Mulcher believe Ginny is Malfoy’s girlfriend. We need the situation to appear as
genuine as possible. Malfoy coming into the Leaky Cauldron with his girlfriend for a drink or
dinner is inconspicuous. Malfoy knows the spells commonly used by Death Eaters to protect
themselves so we need him there to counteract those. As soon as he’s done that, we can get hold of
them.’

‘He’ll have his wand. Who knows what he’ll do!’ said Dean through clenched teeth.

‘He’ll do as he’s told. He knows if he puts a toe out of line he’ll end up back in Azkaban.’

‘Neville’s right,’ said Ginny. ‘Just think: this time tomorrow night it should all be over;
Hermione will be home.’

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

Neville fell into his chair, numb with exhaustion. Everyone had gone. Even Harry, who had
refused all offers of company. Merlin alone knew how *he* was going to get through the night.
Neville forced himself to pick up the latest report which had actually arrived some time ago but
they’d been too deep into discussions about tomorrow night for him to bother with it. As his eyes
skimmed the parchment he straightened in his chair. Then he stood and almost ran to the entrance so
that he could Apparate to Harry’s.

Harry had Apparated home, standing on the spot where he’d arrived for a long time before he
eventually turned and went to the lounge, sitting down. He didn’t bother with lights, simply
sitting there in the dark. Waiting. It was as though he was in limbo where there was nothing; no
feelings, no thoughts, no time. *No Hermione!* Just waiting. It was the only thing left to
him. He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard a knock on the door. He didn’t think
he’d bother answering it. Then in the next second he was on his feet - it might be about Hermione.
When he opened the door, Neville walked straight in and closed the door behind him, turning on the
hall light as he did so. He handed the parchment he was carrying to Harry without saying a word,
watching his face as he read it.

Harry slowly raised his head to look at Neville. The report was from a field agent who said the
latest word on the street was that Harry Potter’s friend Hermione Granger had been kidnapped by
Draco Malfoy who had not long been released from Azkaban prison. He was doing it to get revenge on
Potter for putting his father and himself in Azkaban. The agent had managed to trace the source of
this information to two wizards whom no one seemed to really know much about.

‘They know this information will make it’s way to the Ministry.’

Neville nodded. ‘They’re counting on it.’ *What the fools didn’t count on,* he thought
grimly, *was making one of the most powerful wizards ever known angrier than hell. Utter
fools.*

‘Tomorrow night seems so far away,’ said Harry, his voice hollow.

Putting his arm across his friend’s shoulders, Neville walked with him into the loungeroom,
sitting with him on the lounge. He spent the night waiting with him.

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

In a cell far beneath Neville’s office in the Ministry, Draco Malfoy lay on a bed, a single,
worn blanket covering him. He wasn’t asleep yet. The effects of the Veritaserum had worn off and he
was reliving his interrogation. *Damn fucking Longbottom and his curiosity to all kinds of hell!
One stupid, irrelevant question and he’d done it. He’d said her name. He’d said he wanted her. He’d
kept his feelings for her to himself for so long now he felt exposed and vulnerable without the
protection of that secrecy.* His eyes closed.

*He knew it would never have been possible, that he couldn’t ever have seriously considered
any sort of relationship with her. Yet ever since that year she’d been possessed by the Dark Lord
through Tom Riddle’s diary he’d been fascinated with her. Imagine having the Dark Lord in your
mind! The fascination had become obsession and with obsession had come desire. But he’d told no
one. She was anathema. She was the enemy. But he wanted her still. He felt cursed by his feelings
for her, but he was powerless to control them.* A look of pain passed over his face. *The
thought of her with Thomas – with any other man – made him feel murderous! Yet he could do nothing.
He recalled how, when he found out she was working at Witch Weekly, he rang and said he had
information about a former follower of Voldemort being released from Azkaban. He’d eventually been
able to speak to the Editor and it was to her that he’d put his request, well, ultimatum really. An
interview with Ginny Weasley or nothing. He couldn’t believe his luck when he heard back that he
was to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron. When he’d walked in that night he’d spotted her immediately.
It had only been for a short time, but it had been so good to be so close to her. He’d found out
the next day that she was seeing Dean Thomas. He’d gone back to the pub for breakfast and the two
witches at the next table were discussing articles in the Witch Weekly, one of them by Ginny
Weasley about the Wigtown Wanderers which elicited a comment from one of the witches that Ginny was
a lucky – the gorgeous Healer for the Wanderers, Dean Thomas, was her boyfriend! That same day he’d
gone to the Wanderers’ Club and found out where Thomas lived. He wasn’t sure why he subsequently
went to Thomas’ place, perhaps a need to see the man who was lucky enough to have her. He hadn’t
expected to see Ginny arriving home with him that night as he sat on that bench in the park next to
the block of flats. He had felt as though a knife was being twisted inside him at the sight of them
with their arms around each other. But then he’d had the night with her at the Dragon’s Lair.
Fitting name! When she’d walked in he’d thanked the Dark Lord he was sitting down. She’d looked
breathtaking in that green dress. Nor would he forget her first words to him that night: “Should I
call you Draco now, or just when there are other people around?” It was the first time she’d ever
said “Draco” to him and it had sounded wonderful. He drifted into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of a
beautiful redhead in a green dress, saying his name, over and over…*

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

**Tuesday Morning**

Neville woke to find himself sprawled on Harry’s lounge; Harry was nowhere to be seen. Dragging
himself out to the kitchen, feeling as though he hadn’t slept, Neville found him making tea.

‘Harry?’ Neville wondered if he’d gotten any sleep. Probably not.

Harry slowly lifted his head. *He looks haunted,* thought Neville.

‘Tonight,’ he said quietly to his friend, ‘you’ll have her back tonight.’

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

Ginny woke, wondering why she felt so dreary until she remembered. She sat up quickly only to
find Dean sitting on the end of the bed, looking at her, love and concern for her in his gaze.

‘You could still back out – Malfoy could go in alone.’ His voice betrayed his fury and hatred
towards Malfoy.

Ginny sighed, then shook her head. ‘I want to do this. For Hermione. Besides, Malfoy has to be
watched.’

Dean groaned. ‘But why *you*?!’ He moved up the bed to lie beside her, pulling her into his
arms, his lips pressed to her forehead.

Ginny wasn’t sure what he was asking; was it why did she have to be the one to go or was it why
did she have to be the one that Malfoy had fallen in love with? Maybe he meant both.

Ginny pulled her head back so that she could see his face, smiling lovingly at him.

‘I love you. I’m going to marry you. Tonight we’re helping our friends. Tonight, it’ll all be
over.’

Then she kissed him and everything else fled his mind.

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

Ginny made a quick trip to her office that morning and managed to get in to see Ida Wordsmith,
the Editor.

She told her that she had a follow up on her interview with Malfoy and she may possibly have an
even bigger story in relation to Hermione Granger’s kidnapping. Ginny had no intentions of writing
anything that Harry or Hermione didn’t approve of but Ida wasn’t to know that. Ginny just wanted to
ensure she got the day off and pleading the need for research for a promising story was basically
guaranteed to do just that. The story of Hermione’s kidnapping – close friend of Harry Potter (some
were even saying girlfriend!) – had become widespread and big news.

Dean had also rescheduled his work for that day so that he was free. He had no intentions of
letting Ginny out of his sight once she got back from seeing her Editor.

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

Ron called in briefly at his office, delegating anything needing to be done that day, picking up
Luna from her flat on his way home afterwards. Ron said little, but Luna knew he was extremely
upset and worried. ‘It’ll be over tonight, sweetheart,’ she told him gently.

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

Harry and Neville arrived back at Neville’s office before anyone else. Ron and Luna arrived
shortly afterwards and Ginny and Dean five minutes after that. Aside from the usual morning
greetings, no one said anything. The sympathy felt for Harry by his friends was almost palpable but
this seemed to make him uncomfortable rather than giving him any solace.

The two wizards that were running the operation with Neville, Wayne Hasluck and David
Sunningfield, put their heads around the door.

‘Hey, boss! We’re off to the Leaky Cauldron to speak to Tom and the rest of the staff about the
set up for tonight. We should be back within the hour.’

Neville nodded, introducing them to his friends. ‘We call them Lucky and Sunny,’ he told
everyone. The two agents then asked Neville when he wanted Malfoy brought up from his cell. At the
mention of Malfoy’s name, the tension in the room rose sharply. Without looking at any of the
others, Neville told them that since they didn’t need to be at the Leaky Cauldron until six
o’clock, he could stay there until five that afternoon. They nodded and left.

More to break the silence than anything, Ron asked, ‘So, what happens now Nev? Anything we can
do today?’

Neville shook his head. ‘Not really. I’d like you all to be back here about four this afternoon
just to run through everything again.’

Neville had tried to convince Harry to stay at his office but he declined, saying he wanted to
go and see Dumbledore. It would help distract him, he said, and perhaps the day might pass more
quickly. Neville knew Harry didn’t believe that anymore than he did, but he didn’t argue.

**Tuesday Afternoon**

Neville had gone over everything with them again; they all had a part to play, however small. At
five o’clock, Lucky and Sunny arrived with Malfoy held between them. An ordinary chair had been
brought in and placed on the far wall opposite Neville’s desk and Malfoy was directed to sit on
that. He looked at no one as he was led in, then sat down. He crossed his arms, leaning his head on
the wall behind him, his eyes closed. Ron and Dean both had to fight an impulse to simply get up
and go and hit him, again and again. Ginny looked at him for a moment, wondering how it was that
such a man could have such feelings for anyone, let alone her, a slight shiver travelling through
her. *He is a strange man,* she thought.

Neville stood up and looked around at them all, one by one, then simply said, ‘Let’s go.’

**Tuesday Night**

A low hum of conversation filled the air in the Leaky Cauldron as Ron and Luna entered, finding
themselves a table not too far from the main entrance. Within a few minutes one of the young
wizards Tom employed to help out at mealtimes came over to them and took their order.

Ron knew he was supposed to look as though he was just out with his girlfriend, having a meal,
having a good time, but he felt so tense it was difficult to relax. Luna reached across the table
to take his hand, waiting to speak until he was looking directly at her.

‘Ronald, just try and relax; talk to me, tell me about how the arrangements are going for the
World Cup.’

Ron gave her a small smile. ‘Good subject choice,’ he told her.

Ten minutes later, Dean walked in with Lucky and Sunny; the three men were laughing and talking
to each other. Directly behind them was a couple, the woman an attractive redhead wearing a
charcoal grey skirt and jacket ensemble, the man in hooded wizard robes. The three men walked over
to take two vacant stools at the bar, the one known as Lucky remaining standing; they each ordered
a drink, their conversation flowing. The couple continued in the other direction, finding a table
against the back wall. No one took any notice of them, although the tall, black man at the bar was
endeavouring to be inconspicuous about his frequent glances at them; his deep brown eyes held an
intensity of emotion not put there by the conversation with his companions.

Malfoy held Ginny’s chair for her, seating himself beside her, putting his left arm across the
back of her chair; he wanted his wand arm free, just in case. The same young wizard who had served
Ron and Luna came and took their order also. When he left, Malfoy pushed his hood back, smiling
grimly at Ginny.

‘So now you know.’

Ginny didn’t need to ask what he was talking about but she wasn’t entirely sure whether she
wanted to discuss this or not.

‘Now I know,’ she repeated, not able to think of any better reply.

‘Let me tell you a little more, after all, we’ve got nothing else to do for a while, have we?
Jugson and Mulcher don’t usually come in until about six thirty or seven.’

Ginny looked at him sharply; that wasn’t something he’d mentioned before. This could mean she’d
be here for an *hour* with him! Then she shrugged, hating the soft chuckle from Malfoy, hating
the curiosity curling through her mind.

‘Hogwarts,’ said Malfoy. ‘Not my favourite place. Harry Potter. Not my favourite person. Ginny
Weasley, a pure blood who should’ve known better, but had a crush on Potter anyway. You also had
the Dark Lord’s diary – you were lucky enough-’

‘*Shut up!’* hissed Ginny, hating the memory of that time.

‘Overwhelming, was it? I can only try to imagine what it would be like – having the Dark Lord
inside your-’

‘*I said shut up Malfoy!’*

Malfoy shrugged, disappointed she didn’t want to discuss her possession by the Dark Lord,
continuing with, ‘Bloody Potter, that was an invaluable artefact he destroyed,’ referring to
Harry’s destruction of Riddle’s diary, ‘If it was intact, well, things would be very different.’
Ginny was glaring at him but he didn’t seem to notice as he continued, ‘It really got under my skin
that not only did Dumbledore dote on bloody Potter, letting him get away with the most outrageous
things, things that would’ve had any other pupil expelled, but most of the teachers thought he was
the ants’ pants too. Except Snape, the only one who saw him for what he was, although he proved to
be a traitor himself in the end. And then of course there was the fact that nearly every girl in
three houses of that accursed school had the hots for Harry bloody Potter. Still don’t know why.
The idiot half-blood with bad hair and glasses. But you, you Ginevra…’ he paused, Ginny, shaken by
the venom in his tone as he spoke of Harry, had realised something.

‘You’re jealous of him, aren’t you? You might’ve been a pure blood, but that’s all you had. You
even had to have your father buy your way onto the Quidditch team. And imagine having Snape as the
only teacher who liked you? Even if he is on my side, he’s still a creepy git and *that’s* the
teacher that thought a lot of you!’ Ginny laughed, shaking her head at the same time.

‘I resented Potter, certainly, but jealous? I think not.’

*Liar!* thought Ginny.

His grey eyes darkened as he looked at her, ‘It’s Thomas I’m jealous of.’

Ginny looked down at her hands in her lap. *Shit!* she thought, *It doesn’t get any
weirder than this! Draco Malfoy wanting her? It didn’t bear thinking about! She thought of Dean;
he’d been so tense all day. She knew he loathed the thought – the sight! - of her sitting with
Malfoy the way she was at that moment. Hated the thought of anyone thinking she might be Malfoy’s
girlfriend.*

She crossed her arms as she looked up at him. ‘Why bother talking about this, Malfoy? There’s no
point whatsoever – I hope to never see you again after tonight.’ She glanced over at Dean, but he
was talking to the agent sitting next to him.

‘That’s why, Ginevra. I doubt that I will see you again and now that you know how I feel, I find
myself compelled to try to make you understand.’

‘I have no desire to understand anything about you, Malfoy.’

Malfoy gently touched her crossed arms, saying, ‘Relax, please. We won’t look the part if you’re
sitting there looking furious.’ Ginny obediently dropped her arms, knowing he was right. She
glanced over at Dean again; he was still talking.

‘Please, just for tonight, because it’s the last time I’ll see you, because it’s part of the
act, please call me by my first name.’ His voice had dropped so low Ginny could hardly hear him,
leaning forward to catch his words. She raised her eyes to his, seeing an unaccustomed pleading in
them. She looked away as she sat up straight and simply nodded without meeting his gaze, not
wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could unsettle her as he’d just done with
that look in his eyes, that plea in his voice.

‘Why don’t you ever call me “Ginny”?’ she asked, wanting – needing - to change the subject.

‘Because your name, your full name, is beautiful. I loathe that wretched contraction of your
name used by everyone else.’

‘I like it,’ Ginny said defiantly, her eyes flashing, finding herself relieved that there was
something she could be angry about it.

Malfoy smiled. ‘You are so lovely, even when you’re angry,’ he told her, leaning forward
slightly so that his cheek came into feather light contact with her hair as he inhaled the soft
scent of her.

She jerked back reflexively and glared at him. *What the hell is he playing at?!* she
thought furiously.

He opened his eyes; they were inches from hers.

‘I’m just playing my part,’ he said smoothly, ‘the attentive boyfriend, you know.’

She placed a hand on his chest, her fingers splayed, and pushed gently, smiling at him, although
her words didn’t match her expression. She could pretend under pressure.

‘You try anything like that again and I’ll hex you into next week, Malfoy,’ she said, sweetly
sarcastic.

He cocked one eyebrow, still smiling. ‘You could probably do that, too. And it’s not “Malfoy”,
remember, it’s-’

‘*Draco.’* While her voice was heavy with sarcasm, her expression was warm and smiling.

‘This pretending is fun,’ he replied, lifting a finger to touch her hair.

‘Hands off, *Draco.*’

He dropped his hand with regret; her hair was so *soft!*

He sighed. ‘Is it so utterly impossible for you to consider at least being friends with me?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Are you mad?’ she gasped.

‘Only about you.’

She frowned at him, then glanced sideways towards the bar. There was a group of four witches
standing just behind Dean, Sunny and Lucky and she couldn’t see Dean. Her gaze moved round to Ron
and Luna who seemed engrossed in their own conversation.

As her gaze returned to Malfoy, he turned back to her – he’d been looking over at the entrance.
The annoyed look in her eyes gave way to surprise when she saw what was in *his* eyes: a look
of desperate hunger and longing. Two things then happened simultaneously: his hand wrapped itself
around the nape of her neck and she felt his lips on hers. He pulled back briefly, his lips
brushing hers as he whispered, ‘Don’t struggle, Jugson and Mulcher just walked in,’ and then his
lips claimed hers once more. She was stunned. *Mother of Merlin,* she thought, *I must be
dreaming – no, wait, it’s a nightmare! And please don’t let Dean see this!* She struggled
desperately against the overwhelming desire to push him away, knowing there was a possibility they
were being watched by the very two men they were trying to trap.

Her lips were thankfully freed as she heard an oily voice saying good evening to Malfoy and she
opened her eyes to see two cloaked wizards standing next to their table.

‘Draco?’ she asked quietly, gazing at him in what she hoped was a proper girlfriend-like
manner.

‘Never mind, my sweet,’ he said, dropping his hand from her neck. ‘Why don’t you go and powder
your nose? I need a couple of minutes with my friends here.’

‘Of course, darling,’ she replied sweetly as, clutching her small handbag, she stood up, blowing
him a kiss. She smiled at the two Death Eaters and walked slowly towards the back hallway where the
ladies’ room was situated. All three men watched her for a moment, Malfoy feeling empty and
exultant at the same time: *that was it, he’d never be alone with her again. But he’d kissed her!
A memory to carry with him always and treasure.*

The two men sat down, both smirking as they looked at Malfoy across the table.

‘Very nice girlfriend Malfoy. Does she know about the latest bit of interesting gossip that’s
getting around? That you’re the one who kidnapped Potter’s Mudblood girlfriend,’ said one of them,
a smug expression on his face.

Malfoy glared at them. ‘So I’ve heard.’ His grip tightened around his wand, returned to him that
evening; when Ginny had stood up, he’d slipped his hand into his wand pocket and withdrawn it,
holding it in his lap, out of sight. He was ready.

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

Neville and Harry had Apparated to a room in the Leaky Cauldron set aside for them by Tom. There
were two chairs in the centre of the room and Neville placed a small glass bottle on a nearby table
before he and Harry took up their observation points on the landing above the main part of the pub.
Harry watched numbly as Ron and Luna took their seats, then as Dean and the two agents filed in
with Ginny and Malfoy right behind them. He knew that there were more than half a dozen other
agents already in place below. Neville gently elbowed him at one point and he glanced around at the
people below, a frown creasing his brow when his gaze fell on Malfoy kissing Ginny. He looked
across at Dean and realised he wouldn’t be able to see due to a group of witches standing in his
line of vision. *A bloody good thing he can’t see,* thought Harry, *he’d be at his throat in
a second and blow the whole set up to pieces!* ‘I believe Malfoy’s taking advantage of the
situation,’ he said to Neville quietly.

‘The man’s a total creep – always was, always will be!’ came the muttered reply.

As he stood and watched the two Death Eaters approach Malfoy, he felt the pain that had become
part of him since he first knew Hermione was gone twist itself into a feeling of enormous tension.
He and Neville straightened at the same time, their wands already in their hands as they swiftly
and quietly ran down the stairs. The waiting, mercifully, was nearly over.

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

Ginny stopped as soon as she was out of sight and turned, pulling out her wand, ready to do
whatever was necessary. At that moment she heard Malfoy roar a spell she hadn’t heard before
followed a split second later by a collective shout of “STUPEFY!” from Neville and his force. She
immediately started to walk back the way she’d come but was stopped by a young wizard with very
curly black hair who seemed to appear out of nowhere, grabbing her arm. Neville hadn’t told her
he’d put Ben in place to look after her, but he’d done so at Dean’s request.

‘Wait, Miss Weasley! Those two will have some sort of protection and some of those spells could
literally bounce off them!’ he told her, his voice low and urgent.

‘I thought Malfoy was going to get through those? And what about everyone else out there?’ she
asked.

‘He may only be partially successful. And everyone’ll get down pretty damn fast once the spells
start flying around,’ he said grimly, ‘plus two of our men out there are assigned to protecting
them.’

The she heard what was unmistakably Harry’s voice as it reverberated throughout the building,
the power contained in it sending a shiver up her spine. She pulled her arm free, running to the
end of the hall she was in, the young wizard right behind her. They both came to a halt at the
sight before them in the main part of the pub; Harry was standing in an area cleared of tables and
chairs – they’d all been thrown towards the walls – facing the two Death Eaters, his wand held
high. Most of the witches and wizards that had been present had either run to other areas or were
hiding behind upturned tables – she couldn’t see Ron and Luna or Malfoy anywhere. The witches and
wizards from Law Enforcement were scattered around the room, their wands at the ready – she could
see Dean on the opposite side of the room to her.

Her gaze was drawn back to Harry who seemed to be emanating a *sense* of light – he looked
as though he was glowing. Jugson and Mulcher, she realised, hadn’t moved – they were being held
captive by the force of whatever spell Harry had cast. Then it dawned on her that while everyone
present had their wands pointing at the Death Eaters, their faces were turned towards Harry, a look
of awe on each and every one of them.

Harry’s voice fell into a deathly silence, sounding dark and ominous. ‘You will tell me where
she is.’ His words seemed to bounce off the walls and reverberate around the room, strangely
echoing.

Only the eyes of the two men seemed to be alive and they were maddened with fear and pain. Ginny
didn’t know which of them it was that spoke, she heard only a feeble voice giving the address she
knew to be that of the flat Malfoy had originally been living in. *That would’ve been another
circumstantial nail in his coffin,* she thought. Suddenly, the room was filled with a blast of
black and red light; she heard no spell spoken, but the two Death Eaters suddenly dropped to the
floor, screaming and when the light was gone, so was Harry, leaving the two men lying on the floor,
twitching spasmodically.

‘GINNY!’

She looked up to see Dean moving as quickly as he could through the debris towards her. She
started towards him, falling into his arms a few seconds later.

‘Thank God you’re all right,’ he murmured into her hair, his arms wound tightly around her.

‘And *you!*’ Her arms tightened reflexively around him. ‘You didn’t get hurt?’

They pulled back just enough to look at each other. Dean shook his head. ‘It was over so
quickly! Malfoy did some damage to whatever spells they were using for protection but not enough
for the Stunning Spells to have any real effect. Then Harry-’ he shook his head as though he still
couldn’t believe what he’d seen, ‘Harry was just awesome! And frightening. He seemed to fly down
those stairs and when he landed, all the tables and chairs were just *thrown* back out of the
way! He yelled some spell I’ve never heard before and Jugson and Mulcher were both just frozen on
the spot!’ He shuddered, ‘I’m sure they were in pain too, but it wasn’t the Cruciatus Curse Harry
used.’ He looked at Ginny, ‘God help them if they’ve done *anything* to Hermione. There’s not
a wizard alive that would be able to stop Harry doing whatever he wanted to those two. Not even
Dumbledore.’

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

Neville came over to them after speaking to the rest of the Law Enforcement officers, one of
whom they saw escorting Malfoy upstairs who looked as though he was in pain. He glanced towards
them, singling out Ginny and giving her a deprecating half smile, mouthing “goodbye” as he was led
away. The rest of them were walking around, waving their wands and putting things back in order.
People were drifting back into the pub, stunned looks on their faces, whispering to each other as
they dodged tables and chairs that were righting themselves then drifting to their usual spots and
glasses and bottles putting themselves back together. Ron and Luna had obviously slipped out the
front door as they now came back in, followed by a group that they’d taken out with them, speaking
to them during the fight and calming them down, explaining what was happening. They detached
themselves from the group and joined Neville, Dean and Ginny.

‘You all right, you lot?’ Neville asked, looking around at them all.

Everyone nodded, all of them still with a stunned look on their faces.

‘Are they still alive?’ asked Ron, pointing to the two figures now lying still on the floor, the
agents Lucky and Sunny bent over them.

Neville called them over and they reported that they appeared to be alive, but only just. ‘Take
them upstairs,’ ordered Neville. ‘We’ll transport them to St Mungo’s later. I want them around
until we know for sure Hermione’s safe.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Time to go. I promised Harry he
could have five minutes before I arrived. Lucky, Sunny, you both come with me.’ He turned back to
his four friends. ‘Wait here, I’ll be back as soon as I can to let you know about Hermione.’ They
all nodded, nervous tension growing within all of them at the prospect of waiting yet again, of not
knowing if she was all right. Neville, Lucky and Sunny disappeared with a loud *crack* then
they all turned as one to find a table and wait.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note: Was it good? Did you enjoy it? Oh, I hope so!!

Chapter Fourteen is ready too – I’m actually working on Chapter Fifteen! – but I need to do a
little of that thing I have to do: revising/checking. I promise you won’t have to wait more than a
week for the update! xxxxoooo



14. The One About Hermione’s Monday Morning…And Afternoon AND Tu
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Author’s Note: Come with me – back to Monday morning… Hermione’s arrived at work (Harry’s at
home doing up their bedroom)…and she has a 9.30am appointment with two wizards…

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Fourteen: “The One About Hermione’s Monday Morning…And Afternoon AND Tuesday Morning,
Afternoon And Night!“

**Hermione’s Monday Morning**

Hermione walked to her office with a smile on her face, wondering what Harry would do to their
bedroom, thinking about “christening” it that night. *Too bad I’ve got two appointments this
morning,* she thought, *otherwise I could be home, with Harry…* As she walked past
Priscilla’s desk, Priscilla asked her where she got off looking so damn chirpy and downright
*happy* on a Monday morning.

Hermione laughed, stopping and sitting on the corner of her friend’s desk beside a precariously
balanced stack of books. ‘I’ll let you in on a little secret, Priscilla, you were *right!*’
With that, she stood up and swung into her office, humming to herself. This guaranteed that
Priscilla would immediately follow her in, demanding to know what she’d been right about, just as
Hermione knew she would.

Hermione sat down behind her desk, putting her wand in its special drawer. Priscilla plonked
herself down in one of the armchairs facing Hermione and crossed her arms.

‘Not leaving till you give it up!’ she announced, smiling grimly at Hermione.

Hermione put her elbows on her desk, resting her chin on her hands, her eyes sparkling as she
smiled smugly at her colleague and friend. ‘I took that hop, skip and jump down the hallway.’

Priscilla sat up, her eyes widening, her hands clutching the arms of the chair, pushing herself
forwards.

‘You don’t mean – I mean, did you – you didn’t! Did you?’

‘If, Miss Laycock, you are referring to whether one of my best friends is now *much more*
than my best friend, you would be correct.’

Priscilla’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh sweet Merlin! Harry! I *was* right! Oh, Hermione, you
are *sooooooo* lucky – he is dropdead gorgeous!’

Hermione nodded as she sat back in her chair, looking sternly at her friend. ‘And if you are
truly the friend I know you to be, you will keep this to yourself until further notice!’ She knew
she’d taken a risk telling Priscilla, but she was aware that Priscilla *could* keep things to
herself despite her reputation, if she chose to.

Priscilla groaned. ‘Hermione! You’re killing me! The hottest piece of gossip *ever* and you
want me to keep my lips zipped? I’m in pain here!’

Hermione’s demeanour became serious. ‘I mean it Priscilla. I know how you love to gossip – you
*live* to gossip! – but I know you can do this, for me. For Harry.’

Priscilla slumped back in the chair, then smiled ruefully at Hermione. ‘Of course I can. I am
actually the repository of a number of secrets I’ve never revealed, believe it or not!’

‘I know and I’m impressed!’ said Hermione as she picked up the parchment that listed her
schedule for the day and looked at her watch. ‘Only fifteen minutes before Mr Kidde and Mr Knapp
arrive.’

She smiled as she realised what she’d read. *Kidde and Knapp?* *They must get a lot of
ribbing about that,* she thought.

Priscilla stood up to leave. ‘You *must* have lunch with me today – if I can’t talk to
anyone else about this brilliant piece of gossip, at least let me talk to you!’ she begged.

Hermione shook her head, smiling. ‘Afraid I can’t! Harry’s taking me to lunch.’

Priscilla groaned. ‘Afternoon tea, then! And I’m not taking no for an answer!’

‘All right!’ laughed Hermione, ‘Now shoo!’

The two wizards arrived punctually, both dressed in rather elaborate robes in a style that had
been in favour many years ago. The receptionist showed them straight into Hermione’s office,
closing the door after them.

As they sat down on the other side of her desk Hermione, as she often did during an interview,
wrote snippets on a piece of parchment she always had handy; she usually wrote key words that would
mean something to her and jog her memory later.

‘So, gentlemen, what is the exact nature of this assignment?’ she asked, writing “9.30 Kidde,
Knapp.’

‘We’re interested in the connection between the Malfoy family and the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters.
The history of this connection.’ They had counted themselves as very clever coming up with this
idea.

Hermione wrote, “Assgn: Dth Etrs - Malfoys? History.”

She noticed the two men looking at each other, then the wizard on the left, the shorter and
stouter of the two, leaned forward a little. ‘Actually, Miss Granger, it’s more a case of *us*
being on an assignment here.’

‘Mr Knapp?’ inquired Hermione, continuing when he nodded, ‘what do you mean?’

The other wizard, a tall, thin, emaciated looking man who must be Mr Kidde, then stood up and
pointed his wand at her. She frowned, feeling confused and the first stirrings of fright. When he
was joined by his partner and she found herself staring at the points of two wands, she felt real
fear, dropping her quill.

She stood up, trying to keep her voice steady as she said, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘What we’re doing, Miss Granger, is taking you away from here. And you will co-operate because
if we don’t Floo our partner – with whom we believe you are acquainted, Draco Malfoy, and who is in
Miss Weasley’s office as we speak - that we have you, safe and sound, he is going to harm her. If
you come with us, she will be released, unharmed.’

Hermione felt disgust and anger rising within her. ‘What the hell is going on? What are you
talking about?’ she demanded, then added, ‘And what are your real names?’

“Kidde” smirked at her. ‘None of your business Mudblood and we don’t have time for this.’ He
glanced at his watch, then looked at her, evil satisfaction in his eyes. ‘We have only five minutes
before the deadline is up. If we don’t tell our comrade we have you, well, we’re not sure what he
has in store for her but I doubt it’s pleasant.’

‘You’re lying!’ yelled Hermione, for the first time cursing the silencing charm that lay
permanently over her office.

“Knapp” shrugged, a cold smile on his face. ‘Then let’s sit here for, say, ten minutes, then go
and visit your friend. Or what’s left of her.’

Hermione’s thoughts churned, she felt sick; she couldn’t think clearly. They could be lying,
they *must* be lying – but…what if they weren’t? She wouldn’t take the risk and she was sure
they knew it, were counting on it in fact. She stood, trying to surreptitiously open her wand
drawer but the two men came around each side of her desk so swiftly she was unable to retrieve it
before they took her arms, “Kidde” saying, ‘You speak the charm to get us through the Protectors on
your office. We know you can do so in an emergency. We’ll go first to your home and we’ll take it
from there.’

Cursing to herself that she didn’t have more time to perhaps leave some sort of a clue, she did
as they asked thinking grimly how pissed off Neville would be at further damage to the Ministry’s
Protector Charms. They had no sooner Apparated into her loungeroom than they Disapparated, arriving
in a rather gloomy and dingy room. Hermione looked around but was only able to take in the fact
that there was a lounge, a single arm chair and a small table by a blackened fireplace and that the
curtains drawn on the window before one of her assailants pointed his wand at her, saying,
‘Petrificus Totalus!’

The one who called himself Knapp then levitated her onto the lounge and covered her with a
ragged old blanket.

‘We’ll be back soon,’ he told her. ‘You won’t be harmed if all goes to plan.’ Both men then
Disapparated, leaving Hermione feeling infuriatingly helpless and sick with fear.

**Monday Night**

By the time Kidde and Knapp (she had no other names for them) returned that evening, Hermione
was exhausted despite the fact that she hadn’t been able to move. She’d lain there with nothing but
her thoughts and fear for company and it hadn’t taken her long to realise that all hell would break
loose when it was discovered that she’d “vanished”. Thinking of Harry’s pain alone caused an ache
inside her. Still, she was sure he’d somehow find her. And Ginny – if it hadn’t been an empty
threat about Malfoy hurting her, had he done as her captors had said and let her go?

They released her from the spell so that she could walk around and stretch, go to the bathroom
and eat the rather pathetic, limp sandwiches they’d brought back for her with a bottle of pumpkin
juice. Limp or not, it was the first food she’d had since breakfast and she ate it all.

The two wizards, sitting side by side on the lounge, watched her eat while they drank a couple
of glasses of firewhiskey each, talking in low voices. They told her things were going well so
far.

Hermione glared at them. ‘Is Ginny all right? And why the hell would Malfoy want to kidnap
*me*?’

Knapp laughed. ‘Yes, I believe your friend is fine.’ He sounded as though it was the last thing
he cared about. ‘And Mr Malfoy doesn’t tell us any more than we need to know; we just do as we’re
told.’

Hermione thought that was a bit strange, these two men didn’t seem subservient, but said nothing
else. When she’d drained the last drop of pumpkin juice they told her to lay on the lounge and pull
the blanket over herself and to get comfortable after which they performed the binding spell on
her, the same one Neville had used on Malfoy in his office (you can’t sleep under the effects of
the Petrificus Totalus spell).

**Tuesday Morning**

Hermione woke before dawn hoping her captors wouldn’t be so affected by the firewhiskey they’d
drunk that they’d sleep in too late. Thankfully, it was less than an hour later, just as it was
getting light that they appeared. The released her once they’d made breakfast which consisted of
hot tea and plain buttered toast.

Hermione wasn’t allowed to do anymore than sit up on the lounge until she’d eaten her breakfast
after which she was escorted to the bathroom once more by Knapp.

When she returned to the lounge, she asked them whether Malfoy was going to come to see her at
all and they both laughed harshly.

‘Not a chance, Mudblood!’ sneered Kidde. ‘He wouldn’t soil himself by being in the same room
with you! He’s above that.’ If she could’ve, she would’ve sneered. *How typical of Malfoy!*
she thought.

**Tuesday Afternoon**

By mid afternoon, Hermione was finding it harder to remain in anyway composed. She was, in fact,
becoming quite frantic. *Harry must be going crazy!* she thought, feeling sick. *And Ginny
and Dean – and Ron and – everyone!* Tears that she wasn’t able to wipe away slid down her face.
She wanted to yell and scream and *hit* something – or someone! *Malfoy! The unforgivable,
slimy, horrible BASTARD! She hung on to the thought that Harry would find her.* And then the
same word came back – the one word that had echoed through her head since this had first happened:
“Why?” *Why kidnap me? Why? She was sure her captors knew despite their denials.*

By the time the two wizards came back Hermione felt emotionally spent but was, nevertheless,
grateful for the sandwiches they brought her, although this time they were rather stale and dry.
*I should ask them where they get their sandwiches and make sure I steer clear of the place,*
she thought wryly as she ate.

The two men this time were almost gleeful. The spoke to her about rumours being successfully
spread and that they could *smell* success! They grinned sadistically at her, taunting her
with the fact it was thanks to Malfoy that it may not be long before she’d be free. ‘You should be
grateful to him!’ they said sarcastically.

‘You’re really going to let me go?’ she queried sceptically, ignoring their sneers and
insults.

‘If you’re wondering about why we would do that when you could recognise us, never fear
Mudblood. We’ll simply use “Obliviate”. They can’t say we really harmed you and we will have
returned you.’ Both of them were sneering at her now.

Hermione shuddered inside; she’d seen the results of that spell. She wondered if any progress
had been made on reversing the effects of that spell remembering Gilderoy Lockhart.

**Tuesday Night**

Kidde and Knapp had left her still sitting on the lounge, telling her they’d be bringing back
some left overs from the Leaky Cauldron for her later for dinner. *Big improvement on the lousy
sandwiches,* she thought, *even cold, the food from the Leaky Cauldron would be
better.*

However, it wasn’t long before Hermione found despair settling over her. She’d spent so much
time trying to think of a way she could escape yet she knew it was useless. Unless one of her
captors made a serious mistake when she was unbound and she was able to grab one of their wands,
she was powerless and there’s nothing more infuriating or depressing. She couldn’t even call out
and hope someone outside might hear her as of course they had put a silencing charm on the place.
She was also held a tiny, niggling fear for Ginny although they’d said they thought she was fine
she couldn’t be certain until she saw her for herself. She still had faith that Harry would find
her, somehow

She let her eyes close, wondering how much longer this was going to go on for when she heard a
loud crack.

Harry had Apparated into a dark, dinghy loungeroom in which everything seemed to have been
painted or covered in shades of grey. Although it was still light outside, the curtains were drawn
and there were no lights to push back the gloom. He muttered, ‘Lumos,’ giving himself enough light
to see around the room. He could see a fireplace on the far wall, full of ashes and on the tattered
old lounge in front of it he saw her.

‘*HERMIONE!*

‘Harry? *HARRY!*’ *It was him!* Hermione was trying in vain to turn around to see him,
but she couldn’t move.

Within seconds he was across the room, kneeling in front of her, crying “Finite!’ and she was
free. His eyes flickered quickly over her face, filling with relief when she smiled weakly at him,
whispering his name.

Harry pulled her to him and she fell to her knees in front of him, throwing her arms around his
neck, tears once more sliding down her face. ‘Harry, I knew you’d come, I just knew you would! I
knew you’d find me!’

He was nearly crushing her his arms were wrapped so tightly around her, his face buried in her
hair; she could hear him moaning, saying her name over and over She could feel his heart pounding,
knowing hers was doing no less. She didn’t know that he was thinking of that moment years ago, in
the Department of Mysteries, when he thought she might be dead until Neville had said he’d found a
pulse. The relief he felt now was tenfold. This ordeal had been much longer and even more agonising
than that.

Finally, he lifted his head to look at her, his eyes devouring the sight of her face.

‘Are you all right my love?’ he asked her, his voice shaky. ‘They didn’t hurt you? They
didn’t…touch… you?’ She buried her face against his chest, feeling overwhelmed by relief and joy at
seeing him.

He heard a muffled, ‘No,’ as she spoke against his chest, shaking her head a little at the same
time. She turned her head, ‘I’m a little stiff from being kept bound but otherwise I’m fine,’ she
told him, a slight shudder running through her body. He fought back the tears that had, unbidden,
sprung to his eyes, a product of relief and happiness.

She looked up at him, bringing her hands round to frame his face, her thumbs gently caressing
his cheeks. ‘I knew you’d find me. The whole time I was lying here, I was waiting for you, I knew
you’d come for me.’ She gave him a small smile as the tears that had filled her eyes while she
spoke spilled over, running slowly down her face. Harry leaned forward and kissed them away with
small, soft, lingering kisses. Hermione closed here eyes, revelling in the feel of Harry’s lips on
her face.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ she told him.

‘Not as good as it is to see you,’ he replied, smiling for the first time.

‘Is Ginny all right? Malfoy didn’t hurt her?’

Harry looked a little confused. ‘Ginny’s fine, sweetheart. Why would Malfoy hurt her?’

Hermione shook her head. ‘Let’s talk about it all later. I just want you to hold me now.’

Hermione could feel him shaking and pushed herself back up on the lounge, pulling at Harry’s arm
so that he would sit beside her. He joined her on the lounge and then pulled her onto his lap, one
arm around her waist, his right hand brushing her hair back from her face as he gazed into her
eyes. She saw the pain in his and whispered, ‘Oh, Harry, what you must’ve been through! Did you
think they’d hurt me?’

He nodded, unable to speak, his eyes locked on hers. ‘If they’d done anything, *anything*
to you I’d have k-’

Hermione put her fingers softly on his lips. ‘Shhh, you don’t have to worry, I’m all right - I’m
fine. Especially now you’re here.’

Harry’s hand slipped quickly behind her neck and she felt his mouth on hers, kissing her
fiercely as though he wanted to reassure himself that she was indeed all right and that he was
really holding her once more. As they drew apart, smiling at each other, they were startled by the
sound of Neville and his two agents arriving.

‘Here comes the cavalry!’ joked Harry, making Hermione laugh.

Neville ran to the back of the lounge, looking down at them.

Harry looked up, still smiling. ‘She’s fine!’ he announced.

Enormous relief washed over Neville’s face as Sunny and Lucky came up each side of him.

In answer to Hermione’s questioning look, Neville introduced them. ‘Part of a rather large
“cavalry”!’ he told her, smiling.

Hermione smiled at them, thanking them.

‘Our pleasure, Miss Granger.’

Hermione groaned. ‘Call me “Hermione” *please*!’

Harry looked at Hermione. ‘You all right to go home now?’ he asked.

Hermione nodded vigorously. ‘Oh yes! Yes please!

‘Go,’ said Neville, ‘We could all do with a good night’s sleep and we’ll catch up tomorrow.
Ginny and Dean and Ron and Luna are all back at the Leaky Cauldron waiting for news so I’ll let
them know you’re fine and we’ll all see each other tomorrow. We’ll Floo or owl you first.’

Less than an hour later Ron, Luna, Ginny and Dean had all departed, satisfied that Hermione was
all right as was Harry now that he had her back and that they would all see each other tomorrow.
Neville sighed. He still had to get the two Death Eaters - now officially prisoners - and Malfoy,
who was still in custody - back to the Ministry and then start on the mountain of paper work that
would be generated by today’s events. The curly haired wizard who’d looked after Ginny walked up
beside his boss and grinned. ‘Thinking about the paper work, boss?’ Neville looked at him and
laughed. ‘Yeah, can’t wait to start it Ben! Wanna help?’ To Neville’s surprise, the young wizard
nodded, although officially he didn’t have to.

Neville laughed. ‘You’ll be sorry, but I’ll be glad,’ he said, smiling, knowing the company and
help would make a difference.

At least Hermione was all right because that meant a lot less paperwork. *You had to be
grateful for small mercies at times like this as well as the big ones,* he thought wryly.

TO BE CONTINUED….

Author’s Note: At last Hermione’s home safe and sound with Harry! I know other than that not a
real lot happened in this Chapter but the next Chapter has Harry & Hermione’s “christening” of
the new bedroom and you should hear what Ron asks Luna, what Ginny tells Dean and what happens when
Ginny accidentally runs into someone she didn’t expect to see in Neville’s office… xxxxoooo



15. The One Where Ron Asks Luna Something, Malfoy Asks Ginny Som
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Author’s Note: I’m going to be VERY interested in your reviews for this chapter, especially the
part set in Neville’s office…

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Fifteen: “The One Where Ron Asks Luna Something, Malfoy Asks Ginny Something And Harry
& Hermione DO Something“

**Tuesday Night**

Neville, with Ben’s help, managed to get a respectable amount of the necessary paperwork done,
both of them going home shortly after midnight. Jugson and Mulcher had been taken to St Mungo’s and
Neville had received a report that they’d suffered no permanent damage which, as far as he was
concerned, meant it wouldn’t be long before they could be charged, tried and sent to Azkaban.
Malfoy had declined treatment saying he’d only fallen and bruised his arm as he’d dived sideways
out of the way of one of the Stunning Spells that had bounced off Jugson. He’d gone back to
Neville’s office with him where he’d had his broom returned and was released, with a warning from
Neville to “stay local”.

‘I’ll need you back here tomorrow to get a full statement from you for the records, Malfoy. Is
ten a.m. all right for you?’ Neville asked him

Malfoy had nodded and left.

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

Luna had gone back to Ron’s flat with him, neither of them wanting to be alone that night. As
they lay in bed, talking over the events of that night, Ron suddenly pushed himself up onto his
elbow and looked down at Luna whose features were just discernable in the last of the moonlight
streaming through the window.

Ron smoothed the hair from her forehead with his free hand and bent down to kiss her very gently
on the lips. ‘This is so good, Luna – having you here, talking with you.’ He swallowed nervously.
‘You know, it’s only been a few months, but I’ve never felt like this about any girl before, not
ever. And well, I’ve been thinking and I just wanted to say, I mean, I wanted to ask – that is,
would-you-consider-moving-in-with-me?’ he finished in a nervous rush. He could see her eyes widen
as she stared up at him, speechless.

‘Luna! Please! I’m dying here – yes or no?’

A slow smile spread over her face. ‘I will definitely consider it, Ronald.’

Ron made a strangled noise, unable to speak, utter consternation on his face.

She laughed softly at his expression. ‘Oh, Ron, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t tease, should I? Of
course I’ll move in with you!’ Luna reached up with both arms and pulled him down to kiss him.
Lifting his head, Ron smiled at her. ‘You’re an evil tease sometimes – but I love you!’

‘Good,’ said Luna, ‘because I love you too.’

Ron stared at her. ‘You do?’

‘Oh yes!’

‘Wow!’

‘Ronald?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Kiss me again.’

He did exactly as he was told. And then some.

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

Dean and Ginny were also in bed together at Dean’s flat, talking. Dean was propped up against
the bed head, some pillows supporting him as he held Ginny who was lying with her back against him.
Dean had both his arms wrapped around her waist, Ginny’s hands resting on top of his. His head was
turned slightly so that his cheek rested on the top of her head.

‘Thank God Hermione’s all right, which means Harry’s now all right,’ said Dean.

Ginny sighed. ‘And that it’s all over.’

‘What did you and Malfoy talk about while you were waiting?’ he asked suddenly.

Ginny tensed and Dean felt it; she’d had a feeling he’d ask her this.

‘Not much,’ she said, ‘I can’t remember a lot of it because I felt so tense, waiting.’

‘Ginny, if he talked about his feelings for you, it’s okay, you can tell me.’ He felt her slowly
relax.

‘I didn’t think you’d want to know,’ she told him. She turned her head so that her cheek was
resting on his bare chest.

‘I’d rather know than not.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Well, he said things like he hates it when people call me “Ginny”
instead of “Ginevra” – he always calls me that. He said he’s-’ she hesitated, unsure whether she
should tell him in such detail.

‘He’s what?’ queried Dean.

*To hell with it! If I can’t tell him about this then there goes the trust in our
relationship!* ‘Well, that he’s jealous of you.’

‘Of course he is!’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘You’re smart, funny, beautiful, sexy and
you’re mine, not his!’

Ginny held up a hand, laughing. ‘Stop! My head won’t fit through the doorway!’

‘It’s all true,’ he said, and kissed the top of her head again. ‘What else did he say?’

‘He really resented Harry at school – thinks he got away with things all the time. He wanted me
to call him “Draco” and-’ *he kissed me.* *Mother of Merlin, do I tell him?* She closed
her eyes, unsure. *I have to. At least Malfoy’s gone for good now so nothing will come of it.*
She opened her eyes, looking down at her hands resting on Dean’s.

‘He caught me completely off guard just as those two Death Eaters came in. I’d been looking over
at you but there were some people in the way and I couldn’t see you. He said it was part of the
act.’

‘What was part of the act?’

She closed her eyes again. ‘He kissed me.’

She felt Dean’s whole body tense immediately, his arms tightening around her, heard his sharp
indrawn breath. Aside from his own personal revulsion and anger at Malfoy’s actions, he realised
what a disaster it could’ve been if he had seen him kissing Ginny; he knew he wouldn’t have been
able to stop from launching himself across the room to try and kill him which would’ve brought the
whole operation to an end and then where would Hermione be? He also realised what it must have
taken Ginny to tell him this. Then he was moving, twisting his body and turning her round so that
they were facing each other, one hand remaining on her shoulder, the other cupping her face.

‘Ginny, the fact that you trust me enough to tell me that makes me happier than you can
imagine.’

The awful look of uncertainty tinged with fear that had been in her eyes was replaced with
relief, followed by joy. Putting her hand around the back of his neck, she gently pulled his head
down so that she could kiss him, whispering, ‘You have no idea how much I love you,’ just before
their lips met.

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

On arriving home, Harry simply stood, holding Hermione tightly. ‘Home, safe and sound,’ he
murmured. He felt whole again. He felt capable of living and of happiness again. Hermione, her arms
wrapped around his waist, smiled as she said, ‘With you.’

Looking down at her, he said, ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Have a very long, hot shower!’ She smiled at the speculative gleam growing in his eyes.

‘Alone!’ she added, laughing, ‘While you cook something really delicious for me – I’m starving!
They fed me, but only the bare minimum.’

‘It’ll be my pleasure, lovely lady,’ he said, kissing her softly. ‘I’ll just escort you all the
way up the hall to the bedroom first so you can congratulate me on my decorating efforts.’

Their arms around each other, they walked to the bedroom, Harry putting his hands over her eyes
just before they got there, guiding her gently the last few feet.

‘Ready,’ he said, ‘surprise!’

As Harry’s hands left her eyes, Hermione looked around, taking in the beautiful new duvet on the
bed, the myriad pillows and cushions on top, the new bedside lamps and curtains on the window, the
window seat with new cushions and everything in varying shades of cinnamon, golden brown, chocolate
brown and latte. She looked up, ‘Even a new light! And the colours are perfect! Harry, this is
wonderful! You have hidden talents, I must say.’ He didn’t tell her he chose the colours based on
the dark honey shade of her eyes which he loved.

Then he came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist, kissing her on the side of her
neck, relishing the feel of her. ‘I’ll show you more of my hidden talents later,’ he murmured
against her soft, warm skin. She turned in his arms to face him, her arms sliding around his neck.
‘I look forward to that,’ she whispered against his lips, then kissed him. As their lips parted,
Harry said, ‘You better run along and have your shower before I ravish you and I’ll go and see what
I can come up with for dinner at such short notice. I’m rather hungry too, now.’

Hermione gave him an appraising look. ‘What have you eaten since – well, yesterday morning?’ she
asked him.

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Actually, nothing, now I come to think of it.’

Sadness filled Hermione’s eyes as she looked at him. ‘Oh, Harry – I had to try not to think of
what you were going through because it was just too awful – there was no way I could let you know I
was all right; I felt so powerless!’

He brought his hand up to curl around the side of her neck, his thumb rubbing gently across her
cheek.

‘I don’t ever want to go through anything like that again,’ he said quietly. ‘I couldn’t bear it
if anything happened to you. This has all been far worse than the night Sirius died when I thought
you were dead too.’

She pressed closer against him, bringing her hand up to cover his, squeezing it gently. ‘I feel
the same Harry – I can’t bear to even contemplate what I would do if anything happened to you.’

‘Nothing’s going to happen to me, not anymore,’ he told her before kissing her again.

Then Hermione smiled and said, ‘And I promise not to go and get myself kidnapped again!’

Harry laughed. *God, it feels so good to feel happy!* he thought exultantly. *It’s so
good to laugh – EVERYTHING is good again, now that she’s here with me!* ‘I’ll hold you to that,’
he replied, ‘now scoot – into the shower with you! The kitchen calls!’

Twenty minutes later Hermione walked into the kitchen feeling much better, her hair damp from
her shower; she’d put on her favourite “Saturday tracks” and slippers. Harry wolf-whistled when he
saw her. Hermione laughed at him as she took a stool at the bench. ‘Oh, yes, right! I look just
stunning!’

Perfectly serious, Harry said, ‘You do to me, Hermione.’ *Especially tonight, the night you’re
back with me.*

Resting her chin on her hand, she just smiled at him. ‘That’s why I love you!’ she told him.

‘Is that all? As I recall, we never did get back to that endless list of yours of the reasons
why you love me,’ he said, looking up from the pan of chicken and vegetables he was stir
frying.

‘Oh, I’d forgotten about that! Hmmm, let me see…well, you can cook really well, there’s another
one. You have a very sexy arse – actually, a very sexy everything. You’re an unbelievably good
kisser-’

Harry laughed. ‘Enough already! I’m so wonderful I’m embarrassed!’ Hermione joined in his
laughter.

‘So, what are we having to eat?’ she asked him once their laughter had died down.

‘Just a stir fry. Chicken, vegetables, rice.’

‘Sounds and smells delicious!’ she told him.

Once they’d eaten and Harry had cleaned up they curled up on the lounge in front of the
fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate each, Hermione tucked into Harry’s side with her feet under
her, his arm around her. Harry filled her in on what had happened during the last two days,
Hermione finding it hard to accept that Malfoy had actually *helped* to find her (for crying
out loud!) when she’d been so convinced by the two Death Eaters that he was behind it and she’d
accepted that without question. On the other hand, she answered with a forceful, ‘I knew it!’ when
Harry told her they’d lied about Malfoy threatening Ginny so that she’d co-operate. ‘I knew they
were probably lying but I just couldn’t take the risk!’ she told him. He nodded. ‘They would’ve
been counting on that.’

When he told her about Malfoy’s feelings for Ginny, revealed under the effects of the
Veritaserum, Hermione sat up and stared at him, speechless for a moment. Harry couldn’t help it, he
had to laugh at the expression on her face. ‘You’re not joking, are you?’ she asked, aghast. Harry
shook his head. ‘Nope. And he even *kissed* her tonight in the pub.’ Hermione was
*gaping.* ‘My God! What did Dean do?’ Harry explained how he’d been able to see Ginny and
Malfoy from his observation point while Dean couldn’t. ‘Thank God,’ he said, ‘because I’m sure he
would’ve been across the room in seconds to throttle Malfoy and that would’ve blown everything!
Malfoy did it just as Jugson and Mulcher walked in, you see. Probably deliberate on his part.’

Hermione settled herself back down again, sighing. ‘I can’t wait to see everyone tomorrow and
thank them. And Neville stayed here with you last night?’

‘Yep. He actually brought a report over to show me that confirmed Jugson and Mulcher were
spreading the rumours about Malfoy being behind the whole thing and ended up staying. It did make a
difference. I hadn’t wanted anyone here – and I didn’t want to go somewhere else – but when Neville
turned up, I did feel slightly better. Not alone.’

Hermione yawned and snuggled in further to Harry. ‘Tell me about what happened in the pub - when
you caught them,’ she said sleepily. He spoke softly, telling her what they’d planned and how it
had come off. Within minutes he realised she was asleep and smiled tenderly down at her. He felt
almost overwhelmed by the fact that she felt so safe and secure with him, even so soon after her
ordeal, she was able to fall asleep simply because she was with him and he was holding her. He
carefully stood up, picking her up and carrying her down to their bedroom. As he walked into the
room all the cushions except their pillows flew softly to the window seat and settled there then
the covers drew back as he bent over to lay her down and then removed her slippers. He knelt beside
the bed and pulled the covers over her, kissing her on the forehead. Quickly undressing, he got
into bed beside her moving right up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. Even in her sleep she
snuggled into him and he kissed her again, this time on the top of her head, whispering, ‘I love
you,’ before he joined her in contented, dreamless sleep.

**Monday Morning**

Neville heard someone say, ‘Good morning,’ and looked up to see Malfoy walking into his
office.

‘Reporting at ten o’clock as requested,’ he said coldly.

Neville nodded. ‘Take a seat,’ he told him curtly, opening a drawer on his desk and removing a
thick roll of parchment and a Quick Quotes Quill.

Malfoy stared at it, noting that it was identical to the one Ginny had used the night she’d
interviewed him at the Dragon’s Lair. *Reminders of her everywhere,* he thought bitterly.
*Being in this room again is bad enough.*

Neville set up a fresh sheet of parchment and the quill and stated Malfoy’s name, the date and
the reason for the statement. Malfoy spoke quickly and concisely; he’d obviously thought about what
he was going to say and it made the whole exercise a lot less uncomfortable and drawn out than it
could otherwise have been.

Half an hour later saw him signing the bottom of the last of four sheets of parchment.

Neville stood up, rolling up the parchment and asking him to wait there as he needed to go and
pick up photos of Jugson and Mulcher that had been taken that morning at St Mungos as he would need
to officially identify them for the record. Malfoy nodded and sat back, steepling his fingers under
his chin, closing his eyes. He hadn’t slept much the previous night – the events of that night
preying on his mind as well as the fact that he had to make choices and decisions concerning his
future. As always, despite trying as hard as he might, his thoughts would eventually end up on
*her* and-

‘Malfoy?’

His head snapped around. *Shit! What was* she *doing here?* He was on his feet in a
second, a cool smile touching his lips, masking the turmoil within.

Ginny stood in the doorway stunned. She’d come to see Neville to find out what she could put in
an article about the whole kidnapping scandal according to his Department’s regulations. She was
also going to speak to Harry and Hermione too, of course, before handing it in and the last person
she’d expected to see here, now – or anywhere, anytime for that matter – was standing in front of
her, smiling.

‘Ginevra,’ he said, his voice low as he nodded at her.

She looked at him levelly. ‘Are you waiting to see Neville?’

‘I’ve already seen him actually, to give him my statement. He’s just gone chasing some
photographs of Jugson and Mulcher that I apparently have to officially identify.’

She stood, uncertain as to what she should do. Malfoy gestured to the second armchair,
indicating she should sit down. Ginny hesitated; Malfoy noticed and said with the lightest touch of
sarcasm in his voice, ‘Never fear, Ginevra, I’ve no intention of touching you. And I don’t
bite.’

*No, you kiss instead of biting!* she thought, resisting the temptation to say it to him
aloud.

Feeling annoyed that she’d shown any weakness in front of him, she took a seat, followed by
Malfoy.

He once again steepled his fingers beneath his chin and closed his eyes. *He’d become obsessed
with her years ago, wanting her for what felt like forever and yet he’d only had his imagination
for all those years in Azkaban. Yet now that he’d actually been with her, talked with her – kissed
her! – he had the reality of her to deal with. The reality was she didn’t love him and never would.
Oh, she might be curious and even flattered – having a man confess to a room full of people that he
loves you is pretty intoxicating even if you would never even consider being* friends *with
said man. But perhaps he could play on that curiosity, that feminine vanity for one more chance at
adding to his memories before he left.*

Ginny took a surreptitious look sideways at him and when she noticed his eyes were closed she
turned her head a little so that she could study him.

The number of times she’d been in contact with him recently had lessened the impact of his
haughty demeanour and she’d come to know him as just a man, after all. A man, ironically, who said
that he loved her.

*It must be the fact that I know he loves me. For some reason, even if you don’t love that
person back, it makes you look at them differently, perceive them in a different light. Unable to
ignore them or dismiss them. Shit, what am I thinking? To hell with him!* But her thoughts
continued nonetheless: *He’s not really good looking,* *he has very sharp, fine features.
His eyes are cold. Grey is a cold colour. Even his hair is a cool colour. But his lips were
warm…*

She suddenly found herself looking into those cold grey eyes. Only they weren’t cold, they were
full of anguish and longing and –

‘Ginny?’

She jumped, tearing her gaze from Malfoy’s, turning to see Neville walking in, looking at her
quizzically. ‘What are you doing here?’ He shot a sideways glance at Malfoy who was now staring
blankly ahead, his hands resting on the arms of the chair.

‘I, uh, came to see you about my article – you didn’t, I mean didn’t you get my memo? I saw Ben
- I just got here and-’ waving her hand vaguely in Malfoy’s direction; she looked as flustered as
she sounded.

‘Boss?’

Neville looked up. Ben had popped his dark, curly head around the door, looking in
uncertainly.

‘What is it Ben?’

‘Well, that – prisoner – person – you’ve been waiting on has arrived and they need you down
there to, um, well they need you.’

‘It’s all right Ben, I’ll come now.’ He looked at Ginny, addressing her alone. ‘You’ll be all
right?’

She nodded, giving Neville a small smile.

Neville walked out, glancing back at her. He didn’t want to leave her alone with Malfoy like
this but the fact that she was in his office and quite capable of defending herself was the only
reason he did so; he wouldn’t be long, either.

As Neville left, Ginny looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. She didn’t dare look at
him again. *What the hell are you doing sitting here?* she asked herself viciously. *You
should get up! Leave! You thought you’d never see him again! You DON’T want to see him again, ever!
Why don’t I just get up and walk out, come back later to see Neville?* She curled her hands into
fists, her nails digging into her palms. *Is he suffering while he sits there? Does he really
love me? Are you so vain that you like the idea of a man loving you, Ginny, wanting you, even
someone like Malfoy – is it an ego-boosting thing? She felt shame and guilt. What if that’s what it
is? But everything he’s ever done has been bad or wrong or selfish! He’s never displayed any
kindness or goodness that I’ve ever seen! Why would the love of such a man feed my vanity? If
that’s what it is…* She felt miserable; she didn’t understand herself, or her motives. She was
horrified at some of the thoughts she was having, appalled that she didn’t seem to have the
strength to get up and leave.

‘Have you reached a verdict yet? You look as though you’re torn between deciding whether I’m
guilty or not guilty.’ His voice was soft and sad.

How *could he know that?* She lifted her head, but didn’t look at him, choosing to look
straight ahead. *Maybe if she said the words out loud it would help*.

‘You’ve never once in your life done anything for anyone but yourself. You’ve done things I
don’t even want to begin to imagine for the side of evil and that is totally abhorrent to me. I
doubt that you truly love me or anyone other than yourself.’ She turned to look at him then, her
eyes full of condemnation. *Every word I’ve said is true! I have to remember that!*

His gaze was solemn. ‘I won’t deny any of that Ginevra. I’d be foolish to. Nor am I going to try
and excuse myself. There are no excuses. But you’re wrong about one thing. I do truly love you. I
know I do – because I know that I want you to be happy above everything else. I’m leaving London
because I love you. I don’t want to disturb your life or your happiness so I’m leaving. Tomorrow.
You really won’t have to ever see me again.’ His voice was level, with sadness in the underlying
tone. She looked at his hands which were clenched tightly on the arms of the chair, his knuckles
white. He spoke again, his voice so low she could only just make out his words. ‘I’m having lunch
at the Dragon’s Lair at one thirty today. I would be – glad – if you would join me, if you’re free,
as a farewell gesture.’

Ginny found herself feeling panic – she had to get away from him! She stood up and without
looking at him, her voice shaking badly, said, ‘I’ve got to go,’ and fled the room, running past an
astounded Neville on her way out.

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

Hermione woke slowly to the realisation that she was home – with Harry; she smiled. Then she
opened her eyes slowly; he was lying on his stomach now, facing her, his arm thrown across her as
she lay looking at him. She reached over and tenderly ran her fingers through his hair, bringing
her hand back to rest on the side of his face. She could feel the roughness there and remembered
other mornings when she’d imagined waking up in bed with Harry, doing exactly what she was doing
now, loving the coarse feel of the night’s growth on his face, knowing his voice would sound a
little husky from sleep if he were to say her name right now. She lightly trailed her fingers down
his neck, over his back and down to *that gorgeous arse of yours, Harry!* Harry murmured in
his sleep, rolling towards her - she moved to make room for him as he rolled onto his back, then
moved up against his side, her head on his shoulder. She put her hand on his chest, fingers spread,
loving the feel of the firm muscles. *He* *has just the right amount of hair on his chest
too*, she thought, her fingers playing with it. She smiled to herself as her hand moved down
over his flat, firm stomach and then came into contact with a very prominent erection, causing
Harry to stir in his sleep. Moving gently so as not to disturb him just yet, she slipped out of bed
and divested herself of her clothes before quickly slipping back in. She leaned forward and kissed
him on the cheek, then once again trailed her fingers down his body, wrapping them around his
erection, slowly moving her hand gently up and down.

She smiled as this got an immediate reaction – Harry rolled onto his side towards her, his arm
going around her, his hand running down the soft curve of her back, following through to the length
of her leg. Eyes closed, Hermione’s head arched back from the sensations caused by the path of
Harry’s hand – *such a little thing, yet it can do this to me because it’s* him*!* she
thought, revelling in it, feeling that wonderful need and desire blossoming in her lower
stomach.

As she opened her eyes, her head coming forward, she gave a little gasp; Harry’s startling green
eyes were looking at her, filled with such love and lust she shivered. He smiled seductively at her
as he said with that oh-so-sexy, husky morning voice, ‘Morning beautiful lady.’

Hermione could only manage to smile back; speech currently wasn’t an option. *I’m going to
melt,* she groaned to herself, *I feel positively as though I am going to just turn into a
puddle of goo – I don’t think he will ever realise just what he does to me!*

As Harry’s hand travelled back up her leg, over her hip and into the dip of her waist, Hermione
rolled onto her back. *I want him NOW!* she thought desperately, *I am so ready for him!*
Harry propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand still on her waist as he looked down at her.
Hermione stretched both her arms above her head, her eyes imploring him to just take her,
*now!* He saw what was in her eyes, but he wanted to truly relish this experience; he’d spent
two days trying to ignore the fact that he might never have this again and now that he did, he was
going to enjoy it for as long as possible. *Which probably won’t be too long after all,* he
thought, as Hermione arched her back and his attention was totally captured by the sight of her
breasts, her nipples achingly hard, a groan escaping him from deep down in his chest as he dropped
his head to take one of those deliciously hard points into his mouth, his hand moving to the other,
firstly kneading her whole breast before taking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger,
rolling it and squeezing gently.

Hermione felt a desperate need to have him inside her – she wanted that hard length sliding into
her and the thought of that together with what Harry was doing to her nearly pushed her over the
edge. Then when his hand left her breast and travelled tantalisingly down over her stomach, lower,
moving into her moist curls to find that swollen little – ‘*Harry!’* she cried out as wave
after wave of ecstasy moved violently through her body causing her back to arch, her head flung
back. Then she slowly collapsed, lying there as a beautiful languor stole over her. She looked up
at Harry, still resting on his elbow looking down at her, his other hand now spread out on the flat
plane of her lower stomach. Smiling languidly, she reached up to caress his face. He turned his
face so that he could kiss the palm of her hand. She felt tears well up in her eyes from the
strength of the emotions coursing through her. ‘Harry, you can’t imagine how much I love you.’

‘Maybe almost as much as I love you,’ he told her, dropping his head to kiss her softly at
first, then it became a little more passionate and then he felt Hermione open her mouth for him and
he was lost in that kiss, groaning through it softly. He could feel Hermione urging him to move so
that he was on top of her and he did so, feeling her legs wrap themselves around his waist as he
sank into her, a long, low moan forced from him by the sensations coursing through his body.

She had her arms wrapped around him too and he could feel her warm breath on his ear as she
whispered to him. He heard her words swirling through his consciousness unable to fully concentrate
on them, he was too overwhelmed by the feel of her all around him, of being inside her; *Harry –
faster – you feel incredible – please, Harry!* And then ecstasy took hold of him, his back
arched as her name was ripped from his lips in the throes of his orgasm. Hermione watched
exultantly – she’d never get enough of this! She loved knowing she could bring him to this. Harry
slowly collapsed on top of her, barely able to hold himself off her. She pushed gently so that they
both rolled onto their sides; Harry didn’t speak for a minute until he regained his breath although
he lay there looking at her smiling.

She gently touched his face. ‘I know I’ve already said it today, but I love you Harry.’

He brought one of her hands up to his lips, kissing her fingers one by one. ‘I will never get
sick of hearing you say that Hermione, never!’ He turned her hand over and kissed her palm
lingeringly then smiled mischievously at her.

‘So, are you going to desert me, leave me all alone and go to work? Or, stay home and…’ he
paused.

‘And *what?’* she asked, smiling knowingly.

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling. ‘And do whatever takes your fancy!’

Hermione laughed, ‘*You* take my fancy, Harry!’

‘Then you can do whatever you like with me, and he smiled suggestively, waggling his eyebrows at
her.

‘Oh, I will, believe me, I intend to…’ but she didn’t finish because he was kissing her
again.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note: Ah! So good to have Harry and Hermione home again! Now, about that damned Malfoy
– what a hide asking Ginny to lunch!! Should she go? Or not? Hmmmmm…

As I said, I can’t wait to see your reviews about this chapter! Thank you all again to all those
who take the time to review - you make my heart sing people! xxxxoooo



16. The One Where Everyone Ends Up At The Dragon's Lair...Again
---------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note: Before I say anything else, I have to say this: Great galloping hippogriffs!! Do
you know I logged on the other day and there it was, that incredible number in brackets after the
word “Reviews” – **400**!! WOW!! And thank you, one and all!! Rightio, back to the story…

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Sixteen: “The One Where Everyone Ends Up At The Dragon’s Lair…Again!“

**Monday Morning In Neville’s Office**

Neville had owled everyone early Monday morning and they had all gathered in his office by
eleven thirty. Harry and Hermione had arrived last and Hermione found herself hugged again and
again; Neville buried her in the biggest bear hug of all time, just holding her and saying nothing,
then Ron picked her up and swung her around making her squeal after which Dean demanded one of her
life-threatening hugs and finally, Luna and Ginny fussed over her after hugging her and crying at
the same time. Neville went and stood with Harry behind his desk and they both smiled as they
watched.

Neville clapped Harry on the shoulder, ‘You look a lot happier this morning, Harry.’

Harry laughed, ‘You’d better believe it!’

Neville had been watching Ginny closely and was still wondering what the hell had happened
earlier when she’d come flying out of his office. He’d stormed in, demanding Malfoy tell him what
he’d said or done to her.

Malfoy had shrugged. ‘I told her that tomorrow I’m leaving London for good.’

Neville made a noise of disgust. *I’d like to get that Veritaserum out again. As if that would
make Ginny run from him – she’d be dancing for joy!* It only took a few minutes to complete the
formalities in relation to Malfoy’s identification of the two Death Eaters’ photographs and he was
gone. Neville decided Ginny must’ve been keeping a lookout for Malfoy’s departure because he hadn’t
been gone five minutes when she reappeared in his office. She refused to tell him anything more
than she just couldn’t stand being in the room with Malfoy any longer. Then, making it obvious the
subject was closed, she asked him whether there was anything that should be left out of her article
that might affect the Department and they sat down to chat about that until their friends began
arriving.

And so here they all were…

‘All right everyone, what are we going to do now?’ asked Ron, raising his voice to be heard.

‘Have lunch together!’ cried Luna.

‘Where?’ asked Dean.

‘I know,’ said Ron, ‘the Dragon’s Lair!’

No one noticed the fleeting look of horror on Ginny’s face before her smile was back in
place.

**Monday Lunchtime At The Lair**

Everyone was enthusiastic about Ron’s idea and midday saw them in the Arrival Room at the
Dragon’s Lair, Mr Madomo beaming at them all as he escorted them to the bar for a drink while their
table was readied.

Harry pulled Mr Madomo aside and had a quick word with him before joining Hermione. Champagne
was served all round by way of celebration and Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance remembering
the last time they’d been here.

‘Oy! You two! No public snogging allowed!’ Ron called out when he spotted Harry and Hermione
kissing. They were good naturedly cheered and jeered at by their friends, laughing along with
them.

By the time their table was ready, they’d finished their champagne but more appeared at their
table without anyone asking.

Ron stood, holding a full glass, waiting until everyone was looking at him.

‘Luna and I would just like to let you all know that we are now officially living together!’

He bent down and kissed Luna as their friends raised their glasses to them.

‘Hey, Ron,’ called Harry, ‘you know this means you’ll have to learn how to make your bed and put
your washing IN the clothes basket, not ON it!’

‘Guess I won’t be seeing you down at the Wanderers’ much any more,’ taunted Dean.

And so it continued. Their mood was collectively happy and celebratory – each and every one of
them thoroughly enjoying themselves without reservation. There was only one exception: Ginny.

She was in an agony of indecision. Fate had cruelly placed her between a rock and a hard place:
she could easily carry out either of the two choices facing her. *Don’t see Malfoy: stay with
everyone, leave with everyone. Do see Malfoy: easy to be the last to leave and then go and find
him. He wouldn’t be here until* *one thirty**. Why the hell am I even considering
it?*

Dean noticed that under her smiling, laughing enjoyment lay a certain tension. *I’ll get to
the bottom of that later, when we’re alone,* he thought.

When they’d finished their meal, Mr Madomo came back to the table and announced that it was “on
the house” as their way of congratulating them on the safe return of Hermione, then he leaned over
and spoke quietly to Harry, listening to something Harry had to say in reply before leaving them
with a smile and a bow.

Neville was the first to leave, needing to get back to work more urgently than the rest of them,
Ron following not long after although Luna was able to stay. Harry and Hermione, who hadn’t had
eyes for anyone but each other most of the time, left together, their arms around each other, Luna
whispering to Ginny and Dean with a knowing smile that it was obvious they were planning on making
up for lost time.

Dean groaned. ‘Lucky buggers,’ he commented, looking lustfully down at Ginny. ‘I have to go back
to work!’

Ginny smiled up at him, ‘Never mind – we have tonight. Come to my place for dinner straight from
work and I’ll have something special ready for you.’

‘And what will we be eating?’ he replied cheekily.

They all laughed, then Dean kissed Ginny goodbye. ‘Enjoy your coffee girls! See you tonight
Ginny!’

As Luna drained her cup, she said to Ginny she wanted to get home and start work on cooking a
special dinner that night, being the first dinner they’d be having as an
“officially-living-together” couple. They both stood up and hugged each other. ‘Congratulations,’
Ginny told her warmly, ‘I think my brother’s very lucky to have you, Luna!’

As they walked towards the Departure Room, Ginny said she needed to go to the ladies’ room
before she left so Luna gave her a wave and walked on. Ginny turned around and went back to the
ladies’ room. She stood in front of the mirror, touching up her makeup which was a little difficult
as her hands were shaking.

*Shit! What am I thinking? What am I doing?* She stared into the mirror. Her reflection
showed a wide-eyed, scared looking young woman. *This is ridiculous! I’m leaving!*

She walked out, turning left to head for the Departure Room when she heard a voice behind her.
*His* voice.

‘Ginevra.’

She froze.

He came up behind her, stopping just short of making any kind of contact with her. ‘Have one
drink with me?’

*Must be fate,* she thought bitterly. ‘All right, Draco, I’ll have one drink with you.’

As she turned he rested his hand lightly on the small of her back to guide her to his table.

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

**Monday Afternoon at Harry & Hermione’s**

When they arrived home, their arms still around each other, Harry swung Hermione round, holding
her tightly against him with both arms around her waist. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair,
her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck, her other hand resting on his chest. They smiled
at each other, feeling more sharply aware of one another since suffering the shock of having to
consider, if only for a short time, that they may never see each other again.

‘How would you like,’ said Harry, kissing her, ‘to go and see Professor Dumbledore,’ he kissed
her again, ‘and have dinner with him this evening?’ Hermione couldn’t answer immediately due to the
fact that Harry was busy kissing her. Again.

When finally he released her lips, she gave a soft laugh. ‘Are you sure you want to go out
tonight?’ she asked him, giving her hips a teasing little movement to show she was fully aware of
the effect their kissing was having on him. Harry groaned. ‘Well…’

Hermione’s arms went slowly around his neck; she pressed herself tightly against him and pulling
his head down, whispered against his lips, ‘We could always go tomorrow night. I can think of a lot
of things I’d rather do right here tonight…with you.’

As Harry crushed his mouth to hers, he had not one more thought that night about anything else
except Hermione.

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

**Monday Night – Behind Closed Doors**

**Ron & Luna’s Door**

Ron sat back and patted his stomach, which was really *very* full. Luna smiled at him from
across the table.

‘So, Ronald, you enjoyed that?’

Ron stood up and then helped Luna up from her chair, pulling her to him, his arms around her
waist.

‘It was wonderful, sweetheart. I think you’re already in my mum’s league which is saying
something!’

Putting her arms around his neck, Luna smiled dreamily up at him. ‘High praise indeed! Now, how
about we clean up so we can get to bed?’

Ron dropped his head, kissing her softly at first, then more urgently. ‘Why don’t we go to bed
now and clean up later?’ he murmured.

Luna, pressing herself against him, said, ‘Just this once.’

Ron smiled and kissed her again, whispering, ‘No wonder I love you.’

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

**Ginny’s Door**

Dean pushed his empty plate aside and leaning on the table, his chin resting on his hand, he
smiled at Ginny.

‘That was wonderful sweetheart – thank you. I think that’s the best you’ve ever done!’

‘It was one of your recipes, that’s why!’ Ginny laughed.

‘Come on, let’s clean up and then we’ll have a coffee.’

A short while later, as they settled on the lounge, Dean with his arm around her shoulders and
Ginny with her feet tucked up under her, leaving their coffees on the small end table to cool a
little, he decided it was time to ask her what had been bothering her at lunchtime.

‘You know at lunchtime today, you seemed a little tense. Anything wrong?’ he asked, allowing
only a little concern into his voice.

Ginny sighed. No keeping anything from Dean. ‘Malfoy.’

Dean closed his eyes, trying to fight back the fury he could feel rising within him. *Fucking
Malfoy!*

Keeping his voice as neutral as he could, he said, ‘Malfoy what?’

‘I ran into him this morning, in Neville’s office. He was there giving his statement. Neville
had stepped out for a minute and Malfoy goaded me into sitting down – I mean, I felt as though I’d
be acting like an idiot if I *didn’t* sit down. He told me he’s leaving London tomorrow, for
good.’

‘Thank God for that!’ exclaimed Dean, heartfelt relief in his voice.

‘Then I ran into him at the restaurant today, after everyone had left, when I was coming out of
the powder room.’

Dean unconsciously held his breath. ‘And?’

‘I had a drink with him. He asked me to. To say goodbye.’

Dean stood up, his breathing ragged. ‘Christ, Ginny, what the hell did you do that for?’

‘I don’t know. I feel sorry for him I think.’

*‘What?’*

Ginny shrugged, close to tears. ‘I don’t know! He just seemed so – I don’t know! I guess after
he helped us find Hermione - I don’t understand it myself! I hate him, I loathe him – you have no
idea how much, but…’ her voice trailed off as she put her hands over her face, tears trickling
between her fingers.

‘But you feel sorry for him. How in the name of all that’s holy can you feel sorry for Draco
Malfoy, Ginny?’ Dean sounded bewildered.

She shook her head, a muffled, ‘I don’t know,’ coming from behind her hands.

Dean sat down again and gathered her into his arms; he could feel her shaking as she cried.

‘Don’t waste your pity or compassion on him, Ginny. He deserves nothing from you. Or from any of
us.’

Wiping her face with her hands, Ginny nodded as she looked up at him. ‘I know. And tomorrow
he’ll be gone, for good. I won’t have to so much as even think about him again.’

Dean framed her small, pale face with is hands, kissing the remainder of her tears away.

‘None of us will. Tomorrow can’t come too soon.’

Ginny threw her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately before saying, ‘I love you so
much, Dean. I don’t know what I’d do without you!’

‘You won’t ever have to find out my love because I’ll always be right here.’ And he kissed her
back.

They never did get around to drinking their coffee.

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

**Tuesday Morning – Back To Work Everyone!**

Hermione woke slowly, enjoying the wonderful after effects of the previous night’s lovemaking.
She could hear Harry in the kitchen – he was humming! – and smiled as she stretched. She knew she’d
have to go back to work today, but she knew too that they would forgive her if she was a
*little* late. *They’ll never know what a speedy recovery I’ve had, mainly thanks to
Harry,* she thought merrily. *Except, perhaps, Priscilla! I wonder if she’s managed to keep
quiet about us? I’ll have to take her to lunch if she has!*

Slipping on a short, cream satin gown that had a tie around the waist, Hermione made her way to
the kitchen, not worrying about slippers as it was quite a warm morning.

She was stopped in her tracks in the doorway by a sight she hadn’t seen for a little while:
Harry, hair still wet from a shower, wearing that bloody towel around his waist as he stood at the
stove cooking some scrambled eggs.

Hermione gasped and Harry turned at the sound giving her what could only be described as a
*cheeky* smile. Leaning on the door frame and crossing her arms, she shook her head in
exasperation as she said, ‘Harry, I *really* have to go to work today!’

He shrugged, looking at her innocently. ‘I’m not stopping you love!’

Making a sound that almost sounded like a growl, Hermione straightened, her hands going to her
hips.

‘You have that bloody towel on Harry!’

‘The towel? You want me to take it off?’

Hermione groaned. ‘Harry! You’re not being *fair!*’

Harry tilted his head at her, indicating she should join him.

Sighing theatrically, she dropped her hands from her hips and walked over to him. He gathered
her to him with one arm, still stirring scrambled eggs with the other and Hermione wrapped her arms
around his waist, dropping her head to her shoulder.

‘I wish I could stay home today,’ she lamented.

‘Why don’t you?’ asked Harry.

‘Well, I’ll have to go in for a short while, there’s sure to be a bit of mess with my
appointments alone.’

‘Why don’t you go and have your shower, then come and have some breakfast, go to work and I’ll
come and get you at lunchtime. How does that sound?’

Hermione smiled up at him. ‘Perfect,’ she announced, a devilish gleam in her eye.

Harry noticed and looked at her quizzically. She started moving away from him then suddenly
grabbed the towel and pulled – running towards the bathroom with it flying behind her, Harry’s yell
of surprise ringing in her ears. He did, of course, get his revenge, although it was a very wet and
soapy affair followed by a breakfast that had been kept warm only by virtue of magic.

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

Old Mr Pince heard the loud booming noise made by the lion’s head knocker then looked up as the
dark wooden door swung open. His wrinkled face was wreathed in a huge smile when Hermione walked
in. He stood up and shuffled around his desk towards her. His grandson, Gaylord, also left his
unimportant desk beside the fireplace and almost ran to greet her; a couple of inter-department
memos flying out of the fireplace behind him, zooming around the room as though they, too, were
celebrating her safe return.

‘Miss Granger! It’s wonderful to see you!’ Old Mr Pince took her hands in his, squeezing them
warmly. ‘I was so relieved when I heard you were all right!’

‘Thank you, Mr Pince, and believe me, I’m glad to see you too – and you, Gaylord!’ She turned to
the young man who was hovering beside his grandfather, shaking his hand. ‘I heard Harry Potter
himself rescued you!’ he exclaimed, his voice full of awe, his young eyes filled with a shining
hero-worship.

‘He did indeed! With a little help from his friends, I might add,’ Hermione told him. ‘He’s
coming to see me at lunch time today, too, so you can say hello.’ Gaylord looked as though the
power of speech would probably leave him at the sight of Harry. Hermione made a mental note for her
and Harry to stop and have a word with him on their way out.

As she put her hand on the door to her department, she smiled at the familiar parchment
announcing, “Welcome to the Fred & George”. *Well, here goes!* she thought as she turned
the handle and walked through.

Twenty minutes later Hermione collapsed into her chair as Priscilla closed the door before
taking a seat in one of the armchairs facing Hermione.

‘Talk about running the gauntlet!’ exclaimed Hermione. ‘That was almost as much of an ordeal as
the whole kidnapping thing!’ She’d been bombarded, as she knew she’d be, the second she walked in
the door. So many questions, a lot of smiles, many hugs and even a few tears later, she managed to
make it across the room to her office.

Priscilla was perched on the edge of the armchair, positively *jiggling* with
excitement.

‘Oh Hermione, you have no idea how horrible it was!’

Hermione, smiling, raised her eyebrows at her friend.

‘Oh, no! I know you *do* but I mean – well – oh, bloody hell! You *know* what I mean!’
she finished, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

Hermione couldn’t help it, she laughed. ‘Of course I do! I’m sorry, it just sounded funny – “I
had no idea how horrible it was?”’ Hermione laughed some more.

Priscilla was almost wringing her hands. ‘Hermione, *please* can we have lunch today? I am
just *dying* to hear about it! *Please?’*

Before she could answer, there was a knock on her door and Gaylord came in with a memo for her,
smiling shyly at the two women before leaving.

It was from Neville. He said Ginny had contacted him about having lunch that day, asking if he’d
contact Harry and Hermione to join them as it was to do with the article in the Weekly about
Hermione’s kidnapping. Harry said as long as Hermione agreed he’d certainly meet them for lunch –
but only at the Dragon’s Lair and if he paid for it.

Hermione smiled. *Good, old generous Harry!* she thought. She looked up at Priscilla, still
perched uncomfortably on the edge of her chair, waiting expectantly. Hermione looked at her,
realising no one had said a word to her about Harry being her boyfriend. ‘Priscilla, you didn’t
tell anyone did you? I just realised. About Harry and me, I mean.’

Priscilla shook her head. ‘Not a word,’ she said proudly.

‘Well, since you can obviously keep a secret if you try – how would you like to keep a few
more?’

Priscilla frowned slightly, tilting her head to one side. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ said Hermione, her eyes twinkling, ‘would you like to have lunch with Harry, Ginny, me
and a friend of ours, Neville Longbottom?’

Priscilla looked as though she might faint. Her mouth formed a small “o” and stayed like that as
she stared at Hermione.

‘Is that a yes or a no?’ Hermione asked kindly.

Priscilla nodded vigorously, then suddenly smiled.

‘Wow! Wait till I tell my mum I had lunch with Harry Potter!’ She stood up slowly, looking a
little dazed. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked. Hermione started writing an answer to Neville.

‘The Dragon’s Lair,’ she replied, not looking up. ‘We have guaranteed privacy there.’

Priscilla sat down again. ‘The Dragon’s Lair? I’ve heard about that place.’ She looked down at
her neat blue skirt and white blouse. ‘Do I look all right?’ she asked, giving Hermione a worried
look.

Hermione looked up and nodded. ‘You look fine! It’s only lunch, not dinner. Just a sec-’ she
finished her memo to Neville then said, ‘Would you mind running this out to Gaylord for me? It’s
for Neville, letting him know we’re coming.’

Priscilla stood once more, taking the folded memo from Hermione. She stopped and turned in the
doorway, saying, ‘I forgot to tell you how glad I am you’re all right and it’s so good to see
you!’

‘Thanks Priscilla, it’s good to see you too,’ replied Hermione warmly.

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

At that same moment, Ginny was in her boss’ office discussing the article about Hermione. Bill
was grinning happily at her. ‘Talk about Johnny-on-the-spot! An eyewitness account! It’ll sell like
nobody’s business!’

Bill had personally spoken to the Editor-in-Chief as he wanted Ginny to continue working under
him, with a promotion to first assistant sport editor, a rise in pay and also that she be available
for “special assignments”. Such as Hermione’s kidnapping. Ginny was more than happy to concur. She
liked Bill, she was getting more money, still being in sports meant she’d be able to see Dean “for
work purposes” but whenever some interesting possibility came up, she knew they would at least
think of her. It was upward movement for her career without losing her current “perks”.

‘I’ll have to wait and see Bill, about how much can actually go into the article. I’m having
lunch with Harry and Hermione and Neville, the-’

‘I know who Neville is, Ginny, sweetheart, never fear! He’s closely associated with you, Ron,
Harry and Hermione not to mention his position in the good ol’ Department of Magical Law
Enforcement! Okay, I want you to take it to the edge, okay? I want every morsel you can possibly
squeeze in showing up in this article. Okay?’

Ginny nodded, smiling. ‘*Okay!* I know what you mean, Bill. Don’t worry.’ Ginny, however,
knew that her friends would come first; she would lose her promotion before she’d print things they
didn’t want made public.

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

Neville had said in his memo that that he’d be at the restaurant at one o’clock and he was,
Ginny arriving before he’d even left the Arrival Room. Anxious to greet Harry and Hermione
personally, Mr Madomo (‘I’m sure that man *lives* here for Merlin’s sake!’ Ginny said to
Neville in a laughing undertone) asked them to please take a seat on a comfortable lounge in the
Arrival Room, supplying them with a glass of vintage champagne while they waited. It was only a
matter of ten minutes before Harry arrived to be delightedly fawned over by Mr Madomo. Then not
five minutes later Hermione and Priscilla arrived and while Harry was busy hugging and kissing
Hermione as though it was a week since he’d seen her, not three hours, Ginny was left to introduce
Priscilla to Neville.

Neville looked at the petite, young woman with the long dark hair - which she wore loose with a
side swept fringe - and the smiling blue eyes and felt something deep down inside just
*shift.* *Move.* He smiled at her, knowing this day would be a day to remember.
Priscilla, for her part, couldn’t remember ever meeting a man who seemed so *nice* and had
this effect on her. (Well, not since Harry, anyway…) *Not to mention those wonderful grey-green
eyes that were looking at her with such…approval!*

Their mutual interest in each other didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but they gave no sign,
not wanting to intrude on the delicate beginning. Neville unwittingly helped Priscilla get over the
fact that she was sitting at the same table as Harry Potter – sitting *next* to him for
Merlin’s sweet mother’s sake!! – by taking all her attention for himself. Harry was on her right,
Neville on her left. Hermione was on Harry’s other side and Ginny was between Neville and Hermione.
Priscilla felt exhilarated and dumbfounded at the same time. The weird thing was, these famous
people – especially Harry – just seemed like *ordinary and normal* people! *Oh, wait until I
tell my mum! She won’t believe me!*

Neville tapped his empty water glass with his knife, the soft pinging sound gaining everyone’s
attention.

‘All right, now that we’ve ordered,’ he said as he looked at them all, ‘it’s down to
business!’

And that’s what they did. Ginny got out her Quick Quotes Quill and some clean parchment and the
next half an hour was spent talking and listening and debating while they ate.

They sat back afterwards all looking very relieved, except Priscilla who looked a little stunned
at having heard the whole story of Hermione’s ordeal. Mr Madomo himself arrived with a tray of
coffee cups containing a wonderful brewed coffee with a touch of magical *something.*

Priscilla sighed happily, draining her coffee cup. ‘I just can’t believe this, I’ve had the
*best* day, eaten the *best* food in the *best* company – and met’, she looked at
Neville from under her eyelashes, ‘the *best* people!’ *Including a gorgeous and very
appealing man who seemed such a wonderful combination of authority and knowledge and power on top
of his niceness!* she added to herself. Neville couldn’t help but smile back at her. ‘I know
just how you feel!’ he told her.

Shortly afterwards, Ginny made her excuses and left – Bill, her boss, she said, was waiting for
a draft and she hadn’t committed to exactly what was going to be in the article so she really
needed to talk to him now that she knew her boundaries.

Neville groaned as he looked at Hermione and Harry looking at each other *meaningfully,*
fingers entwined.

‘You two are *pathetic,* I must say! Go home, for Merlin’s sake!’

Priscilla found herself laughing, unable to believe she was sitting here watching Harry Potter
being all mushy with his girlfriend and being teased about it!

‘Priscilla,’ said Neville, ‘you wouldn’t believe that a few short weeks ago these two would’ve
died before they’d even dream of admitting they might, maybe, perhaps *like* each other *in
that way* and look at them now!’

Priscilla laughed. ‘I know! That day Hermione went to lunch with Harry she was just so
*full* of him when she got back it was ridiculous and yet, when I suggested that she might
actually want to…well-’

‘Shag him!’ interjected Hermione, laughing. ‘As I remember it, you said if I wasn’t already
shagging him, I would be soon!’

Harry looked askance at Priscilla as did Neville. She did have the grace to blush but also
retaliated with, ‘Hermione! That was girl talk! Who’s gossiping now?’

‘Touché!’ cried Hermione, still laughing.

Neville couldn’t help but smile at Priscilla’s rather pretty discomfort, a slight blush on her
cheeks.

‘Good on you for standing up for yourself Priscilla,’ he told her quietly, then raising his
voice a little, he suggested, ‘How about we leave them to it, Priscilla?’ I’ll take you back to
work and we can leave these two lovebirds to themselves.’

Hermione suddenly snapped her fingers as she remembered something. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot! We were
going to have a quick visit with Gaylord – but then things changed and we met here - would you
please tell him we’re sorry and we’ll see him tomorrow?’

Priscilla nodded as she stood up, Neville holding her chair for her. ‘Of course!’ She turned to
look up at Neville, smiling. ‘Don’t let me forget, will you?’

Neville smiled back. ‘I won’t. All right, bye you two – see you soon!’

‘Bye! See you tomorrow Hermione!’

They both gave a quick wave and as they turned and walked off, Harry and Hermione watching as
Neville put a tentative hand on Priscilla’s waist until Priscilla smiled up at him and moved
imperceptibly closer when it went from tentative to definite.

Hermione and Harry turned and smiled at each other. ‘I think Neville is very taken with my
Priscilla,’ Hermione commented. ‘And Priscilla seems pretty taken with Neville,’ said Harry.
‘Amazing, isn’t it? One day you go to lunch, a casual lunch, no expectations and see what can
happen?’

‘Actually, I’m more interested in what’s going to happen when *we* get home,’ said Hermione
seductively, leaning closer to Harry. Harry leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Well, we’d better get
home so we can find out,’ he told her, his voice equally seductive.

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

**Tuesday Night – Behind Closed Doors**

**Neville’s Door**

As he Apparated home, Neville walked from his small loungeroom towards his bedroom, loosening
his tie, smiling at the memory of that afternoon. *Priscilla.* Unusual name. Old name. Unusual
girl. NOT old. He’d found out she was nearly two years younger than he, that she idolised Hermione,
worshipped Harry, lived with her mother (her father, a Muggle, had been killed in a car accident
only two years previously) and loved reading almost as much as Hermione, only “information” being
higher on her list of priorities. *Information meaning gossip, that is,* thought Neville,
smiling*. But she wasn’t in the least bit nasty, just naturally very curious and seemed
fascinated by people.* He’d asked why he’d never seen her at Hogwarts and she said her dad had
been rather scared by the whole “magical thing” and she’d only gone to Hogwarts for the last two
years of her schooling. Apparently, her mum hadn’t told her dad she was a witch until after
Priscilla was born and odd little things had started happening around their daughter over the
years.

When they’d arrived back at the main entrance to the Ministry, he’d asked her to dinner the
following Friday and Priscilla had quickly accepted. Neville smiled to himself again. *Friday
seemed so far away.*

**Priscilla’s Door**

The smile on Priscilla’s face that had been put there by Neville’s dinner invitation didn’t
leave for the rest of the day. She arrived home very excited and happy, telling her mum all about
her lunch at the Dragon’s Lair – and who she’d gone with. Her mum had been extremely impressed and
eager to hear more first hand accounts of Harry Potter (Priscilla had much of the first time Harry
had come to see Hermione) and by the time the two women had finished talking, they’d had dinner,
washed up and Priscilla was yawning. As she climbed into bed a little later, she thought how slowly
the days would seem to pass until Friday but the anticipation was delicious!

**Ginny’s Door**

Ginny had a light, solitary dinner before writing some more of the article she was doing on
Hermione. Dean had gone with the Wanderers to their hometown in Scotland, not something he usually
did, but their Scottish Healer had just gotten married and was away on his honeymoon so Dean agreed
to stand in for him this one time. He hated leaving Ginny, but she’d assured him she was fine, that
she’d be busy with writing her article and she could turn to any of her friends or her brother if
she needed anything.

She was sitting at her kitchen table, parchment spread out with a Quick Quotes Quill busily
writing away as Ginny dictated when she heard someone knocking, causing her to jump. She walked
quickly to her front door, leaning on it so as to be heard more easily and asked who it was.

‘It’s me. Draco.’

Ginny sagged against the door; she was leaning on it for support now. When she spoke, her words
and her voice were both vicious. ‘Go away! I don’t want to see you now or ever Malfoy!’

‘I am going Ginevra. I’m catching a Portkey in twenty minutes to – well, it doesn’t matter
where, but it’s a long way from here. You never will see me again. I promise.’

Ginny groaned. ‘Then what the hell are you doing here?’

‘I was close by and I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye one last time, without seeing you
one last time, before going.’ *Into self-imposed exile,* he thought bitterly.

*Shit!* ‘All right, so now you’ve said goodbye – again! So *go!’* *Please go!*
she thought desperately to herself. *Leave me alone!*

‘Ginny?’ His voice was tentative.

‘I thought you hated that name,’ she said acidly.

‘But you don’t,’ he replied.

She spun around and opened the door a few inches, looking daggers at him. ‘Look, just please go!
Leave me the hell alone!’

At that moment, she heard the sound of the front entrance door opening, she could hear voices as
they walked across to the stairs…

*Perfect! Probably my neighbours coming home – just what I need, for them to see Draco bloody
Malfoy at my door!*

They had both frozen at the sound of the voices, Malfoy turning to look towards the stairs.

Ginny grabbed his arm and hissed, ‘Come inside until they’re gone! I don’t want them to see you
here!’

Ginny closed the door quietly behind him and they stood there, looking at each other. Ginny
stood with her fists clenched by her side, glaring up at him with fury-filled eyes. Malfoy, dressed
in black silk robes, stood with hands by his sides, looking at her with a deep, poignant sadness in
his eyes.

As if seeing in slow motion, Ginny saw his hands for a second before she felt them come to rest
on each side of her face; they weren’t cold or even cool, but soft and warm as they gently framed
her face.

Utter confusion pushed the fury from her gaze as she watched his face coming closer to hers as
he leant down, touching his lips briefly to hers. The light kiss seemed to inflame him though and a
soft moan escaped him before he crushed his lips to hers, one hand snaking around her waist,
pulling her hard against him, her softness moulding itself to him, his other hand wrapping around
the nape of her neck, his fingers tangled in the soft curls of her hair.

Her hands, fluttering in empty air, clutched at his forearms but she didn’t pull away, lost as
she was in the strangeness of the kiss, aware that his tongue was pressing against her lips,
feeling as though she was falling into some strange dream as she opened her mouth to him and a wave
of new and never before felt sensations assailed her. He lifted his mouth from hers just long
enough to whisper passionately, his voice hoarse, ‘Hold me - please Ginevra! Put your arms around
me, just once…’ She found her hands meeting behind his neck, felt his hands running down the curve
of her back to her waist, then back up in rhythmic movements as he continued to kiss her deeply.
Then he stepped back from her, his eyes blazing, breathing heavily, his voice rasping as he spoke,
‘Ginevra, I’ll never forget you.’ He took her hands, his eyes hardened with pain, but still sad,
his voice softer as he repeated his words, ‘I’ll never forget you.’ And he was gone, slipping out
the door, closing it behind him. Ginny collapsed against the back of it, sliding to the floor,
dazed, hugging her knees as she reached the floor. She sat there for a long time before she
realised there was something in her hand. He’d put it there. Lifting her hand, she opened it,
staring at the tiny, exquisitely wrought glass rose that was nestled in her palm.

TO BE CONTINUED….

Author’s Note: Oh dear. Anyone rooting for Draco & Ginny….awfully sorry! (Don’t hate me!)
Now, I’m thinking the next chapter will be the last BUT never fear – I’ve been thinking about this
for a little while and what I’m going to do is write a sequel – “Four Weddings & A Funeral”
(another movie directed by Mike Newell who, as you no doubt know, is directing GoF).

Aside from the fact that there will be four weddings and a funeral in this fic, there will be no
other similarities, the fic won’t be based on the actual happenings in the movie.

Last chapter won’t be too long coming although I’m back at work now (damn the need for money!)
so I’ll just have to give up sleeping! (LOL!!) Thanks again you wonderful, wonderful readers and
reviewers!! xxxx Janie xxxx



17. Chapter Seventeen:  The Last One - Part 1
---------------------------------------------

Author’s Note: *squeak squeak* - the sound made as the author rubs the steam off the screen so
you can read (that Harry and Hermione are at it again!) all the while thinking: OMG!!!! I have
NEVER taken this long to update – I am sorrier than you can ever believe – but bloody RL in the
form of my new job has pulverised my free time…it’s not that I don’t want to and that I’m not
TRYING to write…::sigh::

I know I was considering giving up sleep, but unfortunately, my attempts were dismal
failures…I’d come to and find my nose on the keyboard with 236 pages filled with ‘h’s’ or ‘j’s’ …
::sigh:: I also didn’t want to sacrifice quality for the sake of updating.

Also, since the Friends influence has been there all the way with chapter titles, I decided I
could do nothing less than end as it did – with a Part 1 and a Part 2! So, here it is and I want to
take this chance to thank all you lovely people so much for your patience and your reviews and I
hope very much that you all enjoy…

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Seventeen: “The Last One – Part 1”

**Waking Up On Wednesday**

**Ginny**

Ginny tossed and turned most of the night, her dreams haunted by unwanted and unwelcome images.
*Draco Malfoy. Damn him to every hell imaginable! Damn her own chaotic thoughts and feelings! And
curse her inability to fathom WHY she couldn’t get him out of her head!* As the first fingers of
dawn light crept into her room, Ginny rolled onto her back and rubbed her tired eyes with the heels
of her hands. She then put her arms along her sides and lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying
to think…

When all was said and done, she knew what she had to do: dismiss him, put him out of her mind
completely, just as he was out of her life now. She knew she didn’t love him – she didn’t know what
the hell it was she felt for him – and she did love Dean. And Dean didn’t deserve anything less
than her whole self. And that’s what he’d get. She would erase Malfoy and all thoughts of him.
She’d almost finished the article about Hermione’s kidnapping and she wouldn’t be doing another
story that involved him so wouldn’t to need to worry about coming across him in writing either.

She got out of bed, her new determination fuelling her good intentions both of which fed her
buoyant mood. *Enough. It was over. Done with. Finished. No more. It was the end and good
riddance!*

With a smile on her face, she got ready for work, making a mental note to Floo Dean in Scotland
when she got to work and find out whether he’d be home in time for dinner that night.

**Hermione & Harry**

Harry opened his eyes slowly, gradually becoming aware of the various delicious aspects of the
soft, warm body that was cuddled up to his. He was lying on his side, Hermione too, with her back
against his chest. He had his arms around her, his face buried in her hair. They were both naked
and he loved nothing more than the feel of her against him. ‘I love you,’ he whispered, even though
she was asleep. Still, she stirred, her sleepy, languid movements and soft murmurings awakening
other parts of Harry. She slowly stretched and turned so that she was now on her back and Harry
found his arm come into contact with two of his top ten bits of Hermione as she smiled, then opened
her eyes sleepily. ‘Morning,’ she said as she stretched so that her whole body was taut, her arms
above her head, hands clasped. Harry was looking at her through half closed eyes, desire already
making huge inroads into his morning languor.

‘Hermione…’ his voice was husky and rough with sleep and Hermione felt each syllable as a ripple
of desire throughout her still not fully-awake body.

‘Harry…’ her own tone held a low, seductive note that struck a chord in Harry; he wondered if he
would ever be able to take for granted having this incredible creature in his life, loving him,
wanting him…he knew at that moment that what he’d discussed on his last visit with his old mentor,
Dumbledore, was the right course. Nothing less would satisfy him. Tonight, they would be dining
with Dumbledore.

At this point in time, however, he decided the only thing that really mattered was making love
to Hermione. So he did.

**Neville**

Neville woke that morning feeling on top of the world. *Priscilla.* He couldn’t wait to see
her again. He also decided that it was actually possible to *float* without invoking the
Wingardium Leviosa because that’s precisely the manner in which he got to work he was sure. If his
feet touched the ground at any point, he wasn’t aware of it.

It was Wednesday. Only two more days until Friday. And Friday was dinner-with-Priscilla night.
He’d already booked their table at the Dragon’s Lair although Priscilla didn’t know that’s where
they were going. He’d owled her and arranged to pick her up from her home so that he could meet her
mother and hopefully put to rest any fears she might have of some dreadful man who wanted to ravish
her daughter. Well, of course he wanted to ravish her, but like any true gentleman, he’d wait until
she gave him permission. Then he’d ravish her. With relish... *Hmmm…Friday. Seemed so far away. I
wonder if she’s free for lunch today? We could go to the Blue Duck – Harry said it was very nice…I
could maybe just ask her…I’ll get to work early …*

**Ron**

Ron woke up with a smile on his face. He was lying on his back, one arm behind his head, the
other curled around Luna, still sleeping, lying on her side, her head nestled in that spot on his
shoulder just made for her, her arm flung across his chest. He gently kissed the top of her head,
loving the scent and the feel of her soft, fine hair. Luna began to stir and Ron waited patiently,
watching her until she opened her eyes. She tipped her head back to look up at him and smiled at
seeing him watching her.

‘Morning my lovely Luna,’ he murmured.

The hand resting on his chest slid down beneath the covers.

‘Mmmmm…morning my randy Ron,’ she replied, smiling at the expression on Ron’s face as her hand
wrapped around his hard length.

‘I do have to go to work today,’ he managed, most of his attention lost to the sensations being
created by that small, warm hand doing wonderful things to him.

‘Of course you do honey,’ she replied softly. ‘But not right this minute…’

Ron groaned, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbow, his hand gliding across her
body, finding a delicious firm breast to play with. ‘Definitely not right this minute,’ he agreed
as he dropped his head to kiss her.

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

**Work on Wednesday**

**Neville**

The first thing Neville attended to that morning when he arrived at work – sorry, *floated*
to work – was composing a memo which was quickly sent on it’s way to Miss Priscilla Laycock,
Assistant Researcher’s Assistant, General Research into Everything Department, Level Seven. As soon
as the memo zoomed out the door towards the lifts, Neville’s stomach seized the opportunity to
suddenly clench itself into a hideous ball of nervousness. *Would she think he was being pushy?
Or too forward? Maybe too eager? What if she said no? What if she didn’t answer at all…?*

Before he could contemplate further horrors, a memo flew gracefully into his office and
spiralled to a neat landing on his desk in front of him. He stared at it. He knew it couldn’t be a
reply from Priscilla as she wouldn’t have even received his invitation yet. But the timing
*was* a little unnerving, nevertheless. He unfolded the memo and all thoughts of Priscilla
were temporarily pushed aside. It was from the Head of his Department, Amelia Bones. She wanted to
see him. Now.

An hour later, Neville walked back into his own office and flung himself into his chair, running
his fingers through his hair, a frown creasing his forehead. *Bloody great. Bloody Malfoys.
Bloody hell.*

**Hermione**

The old, wizened man looked up as Hermione and Harry stopped before his desk, a beaming smile
splitting his face. ‘Miss Granger and … *Mr Potter* …’ his voice dropped an octave (a long way
for a man of his years) as he spoke Harry’s name. Harry, feeling a little abashed at the awe in the
old man’s eyes smiled and nodded self-consciously, holding out his hand. Mr Pince slowly put out
his own hand and shook Harry’s, his grip surprisingly firm. Hermione, in the meantime, noticed Mr
Pince’s grandson, Gaylord, sitting at his small desk beside the fireplace, his eyes the size of
Hedwig’s as he stared at Harry.

‘Gaylord! Come here, I have someone who wants to meet you,’ she called out to him.

Without taking his eyes off Harry, the young man rose nervously to his feet and walked slowly to
stand beside his grandfather.

Holding his hand out to him, Harry said, ‘Glad to meet you, Gaylord. Hermione’s talked about you
– all good things, I can assure you!’

Gaylord simply nodded, unable to speak, although he did manage a smile.

‘You’re related to our librarian at Hogwarts, I believe?’ Harry asked him.

Once again, the young man could only nod, his grandfather answering for him. ‘Irma’s my sister,’
he told them. ‘She mentioned your last visit to see the Headmaster – she and I owl each other
regularly.’ He turned a wide smile to Hermione. ‘She certainly remembers *you* Miss
Granger!’

‘For all the right reasons, I hope!’ exclaimed Hermione, laughing.

‘Mostly,’ said Mr Pince with a wink.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, wondering how much they had in fact managed to get away
with when it came to the Hogwarts librarian.

After a few more pleasantries, they said goodbye, the younger Pince getting out a rather
strangled sounding ‘Cheerio,’ as they waved and left, making their way to Hermione’s office through
the waving, smiling sea of admirers although, to Harry’s great relief, no one rushed him this
time.

‘Either they’re getting used to me,’ said Harry, watching Hermione walk across the room towards
her desk as he closed the door behind him, cutting off all noise, ‘or they’re terrified of you!’
She turned as she reached her desk, leaning back on her hands which she rested on the front edge of
her desk, smiling at Harry.

‘Oh, definitely terrified of me, wouldn’t you say?’ she laughed.

Harry stopped after taking only a few steps towards her. He’d assiduously avoided thinking about
it but now he was here in her office, the thoughts came rushing in, out of control. It was the
first time he’d been in Hermione’s office since she’d been kidnapped and he stood, frozen, reliving
mostly the horrendous feelings from that time – picturing her here, talking to those – *vile*
excuses for wizards – before they –

‘Harry?’ Hermione’s concerned voice broke into his waking nightmare as she walked back to him -
he could feel her hand on his arm as he shook his head slightly, looking down at her, his
expression grim. His voice was rough as he spoke, ‘Sorry, it’s the first time I’ve been here since
– well, I was just thinking about -’

‘Don’t,’ said Hermione softly. She put her arms around his neck, his arms automatically circling
her waist and pulling her against him. ‘It’s over – finished. And I’m *fine.*’ Harry pressed
his lips tenderly to her forehead before speaking. ‘I know, I know. I just have to remember that it
*is* over, that you *are* safe.’ He kissed her then, his thoughts wandering momentarily
to their dinner appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening. *After tonight she’ll be
completely safe,* he thought fiercely, *and I’ll be able to protect her every hour of every
day for the rest of our lives!* The strength of his feelings seemed to find an outlet in his
passion for Hermione who responded immediately to the increasing intensity of Harry’s kiss, her
lips parting for him – she wanted the sensual, velvety touch of his tongue in her mouth, found
herself instinctively pressing her hips against him. Harry’s hand moved down to her lower back,
pressing her even more firmly against him so that she could feel the hardness that was his response
to her, causing her to moan softly into his mouth, her arms tightening around his neck. Harry
lifted his head slightly, his breathing rapid and uneven. ‘Holy Mother of Merlin Hermione – I want
you so badly – *right now –* but -’

Hermione placed soft kisses on each corner of his mouth, then on his chin and along his jaw,
speaking between kisses. ‘But what? - I want – you, too – so just – come – over here-’ and she was
pulling him gently, walking backwards until she felt the edge of her desk against the back of her
thighs. Harry started kissing her back, quickly leaving her mouth to trail hot, delicious kisses
across her cheek to her ear then down the side of her neck, his fingers frantically undoing the top
couple of buttons on her blouse so that he could push it aside enough to expose her shoulder and
continue kissing her, then retracing his trail to find she’d thrown her head back, instinctively
exposing her neck; he buried his face against the soft skin there, murmuring her name as he did so.
Then somehow the last button was undone, her blouse pulled out of her skirt and flung to the floor,
his hands hungrily running over the smooth, soft skin beneath, finding the clasp on the back of her
bra, releasing it, tossing it to join the blouse, his voice deep in his chest as he groaned with
the pleasure coursing through him at the sight and feel of her breasts, his desire feeding hers.
Then she undid her skirt, letting it drop to the floor. ‘Harry,’ she said softly, bringing him to
awareness of the world outside her body and his desire; he brought his head up to look at her, his
glazed expression questioning her mutely. She brought her hands up to frame his face, the face she
loved, then kissed him with every ounce of love and passion she felt for him, pulling back slowly
and keeping her eyes on his as she manoeuvred herself to a sitting position on her desk, kicking
off her shoes then lowering her body slowly until she was lying down, the contents of her desk
surface pushed aside. She held his gaze as she slid her panties off, then propped herself up on her
elbows and smiled seductively at him, her legs wrapping themselves around his hips. ‘The ball’s in
your court,’ she told him.

‘You never cease to amaze me my love,’ rasped Harry, smiling, undoing his jeans and pushing them
down, along with his briefs, Hermione’s eyes automatically drawn to the very prominent evidence of
Harry’s desire for her, a smug smile curving her lips. Leaning forward and wrapping his arms around
her so that he could pull her against him, her legs still firmly wrapped around him he murmured
against her ear, ‘What’s that smile for?’

‘Because *this* is just for me!’ she said as she kissed him, at the same time, with her
arms around his neck, pulling herself forward and with Harry’s help, raising herself enough to be
able to slowly lower herself onto him, a soft, shuddering moan escaping her as his hard length
filled her, her legs tightening around him. Harry could barely keep himself in check, trying to
focus on looking at Hermione to keep from ending this too soon but the sight of not only her
breasts with their taut nipples inches from his face but of Hermione with her head slightly back,
her eyes closed, her lips parted and her hair cascading down her back saying his name in a soft,
throaty voice, really was just too much, he was, after, still a man…

Hermione could sense Harry rushing towards his release and yet the thought of him losing control
like that seemed to fuel her own race towards ecstasy and when she felt his mouth enfold one of her
nipples the fire that raced through her sent her over the edge and she gave herself up to the waves
of immeasurable pleasure that flowed through her.

Harry, his mouth deliciously full of Hermione, felt her reach her orgasm just as his own began;
he crushed her against him crying out her name.

The unavoidable but rather pleasant post-sex weakness made Harry’s knees tremble and Hermione
slumped against him as he gently sat her back on the desk, leaning against it himself. When their
breathing had slowed enough to enable them to speak, Harry did so first, resting his forehead on
hers, their eyes meeting, Harry seeing them mirror the love and wonder he was feeling. ‘You can’t
begin to imagine how much I love you,’ he whispered.

‘I think we’ve had this discussion before,’ said Hermione with a small smile, ‘and I think we
agreed that I probably do – because I love you just as much as you love me.’

‘Says you,’ retorted Harry.

‘Says me!’ she threw back as she sat up and stretched, her arms above her head. ‘Now, we should
make ourselves respectable before -’

*Knock, knock.*

‘Someone knocks on the door,’ finished Harry, laughing.

Hermione slid off the edge of the desk but before she could bend to retrieve her clothes Harry
waved his hand and she found herself fully clothed with her desk once more tidy and orderly. She
smiled at Harry and blew him a kiss. Harry pulled up his jeans and did them up before running both
his hands through his unruly black mop, grinning engagingly at Hermione as she stepped forward and
wrapped her arms around his waist. She stretched up and kissed him. ‘I love you, Harry.’

‘And I love *you* Hermione,’ he replied, his hands framing her face as he dropped his head
and kissed her quickly one more time.

**Neville Again**

Wayne Hasluck and his partner, David Sunningfield, better known to their fellow workers as Lucky
and Sunny, were laughing at a joke they’d just been told by a pretty young witch who’d only started
work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement the previous week. Undercover witches and wizards
out in the field used various methods of sending in the information they gathered and it was her
job to sort through the numerous parchments and messages and ensure they were sent to the correct
person within the Department. Each message or parchment was magically marked to indicate either
which person it was to go to or which case it concerned so that the Sorting Witch or Wizard needn’t
read the contents which would be a serious breach of security and would also make their job a
rather dangerous one if they were privy to so much information. The previous wizard who had done
this had been in training to become a field wizard and on completion of his course had immediately
been put to work, his old desk job quickly filled – to the great delight of Sunny and Lucky – by
this lovely, bright young witch.

Neville spotted his two underlings across the room, each perched on a corner of the large desk
behind which their new Sorting Witch sat and couldn’t help but smile. *Good old Robson had been
very efficient but certainly nowhere near as attractive as this new witch – what was her name? Oh
yes! Lila Caplo. Pretty name for a pretty witch!* He called out to them as he approached, asking
them to accompany him to the dungeons. He waved in greeting at the lovely Sorting Witch who smiled
prettily in return, watching the three wizards as they walked off to the lifts.

Wayne Hasluck was the shortest of the trio, Neville the tallest and David only slightly shorter
than his boss.

They flanked Neville as they walked down the stone corridor on each side of which were thick,
black iron doors with grills in them to enable the inmates to be spoken to without opening the
doors.

Neville had filled them in on the current situation on their way down and the countenances of
all three were now quite serious and concerned. They stopped before one of the iron doors on which
hung a removable brass plaque with the number “13” on it. The Chief Guarding Wizard had accompanied
them, but kept back as Neville spoke through the grill.

‘You! Jugson! Come here, I want to talk to you.’ Neville’s voice echoed throughout the dungeon
cell. A pale, rather wretched looking face appeared at the grill.

‘What do you want?’ growled the inmate.

‘I want you to tell me what you know about Lucius Malfoy.’

There was a peculiar silence as Jugson stared unblinkingly at Neville through the grill.

‘Well?’ prompted Neville, becoming impatient.

‘What about him?’ ground out Jugson.

‘Anything. Tell me anything you’ve heard – rumours – it doesn’t matter.’

Why should I? There’s nothing you can threaten me with!’

Neville closed his eyes briefly. He hated this part of his job.

‘No?’ he said harshly. ‘What about a return visit to that ward in St Mungo’s that your friend is
still in?’

Jugson’s only response was a widening of his eyes and a look of horror slowly filling them.

‘You can’t do that!’ he whispered.

Neville simply stared at him.

‘You can’t do that!’ Jugson repeated, shaking his head although his eyes never left
Neville’s.

Still Neville refrained from answering, continuing to stare.

Sunny and Lucky, out of sight of the distressed inmate and standing on each side of their boss,
exchanged a look of mutual admiration for Neville.

‘Look, I don’t really know anything for sure,’ said Jugson next in defeat, his voice coarse with
fear. ‘I’ve only heard rumours.’

‘They’ll do,’ said Neville.

Jugson looked around as though there might be some unseen person that could overhear him. There
wasn’t, of course.

‘Well, the word was out that he was going to be sprung – from Azkaban – after his filthy traitor
of a son ratted on some of them. We heard he was completely furious with his son – that he wants to
see him destroyed for what he did. They reckon he’s even turned against his wife because she
doesn’t want her son hurt. Mind you, she’s not denying what their son did, but she’s a mother, you
know…’

Sunny and Lucky looked quickly at their boss – they knew the pain he lived with every day
because of what had been done to his parents, that he’d never really known his mother’s love, not
that he remembered at any rate. The thought that even Draco Malfoy had a mother who loved him and
wanted to protect him…well, you sort of felt he didn’t really deserve it.

‘Well, that’s all really – just that he was going to get out and he was going to get
revenge.’

Neville looked hard at Jugson. ‘Good. That’s just the sort of thing we need to know.’

Jugson looked a little relieved but didn’t take his eyes of Neville.

‘As soon as Mulcher is released from St Mungo’s you’ll both be charged and tried.’

‘How long?’ whined Jugson, sounding as though he’d asked this question many, many times without
a real answer which was the case.

Neville shrugged. ‘Who cares?’ he said, feeling inexplicably vicious for a moment. The memory of
his parents’ suffering could do that to him at times.

The three men returned to Neville’s office, sitting down to discuss their next moves. There were
a number of memos sitting on his desk but one jumped out at him as he sat down with Sunny and Lucky
taking a seat on the other side of his desk, aware of his distraction with his mail and staying
silent. It was a rolled parchment which bore a blue wax seal with the initials “PL” impressed into
it. *Funny,* thought Neville, *if she marries me, her initials won’t change…* He shook
his head, grinning at his own foolish thoughts and with a slightly embarrassed glance at his
companions broke the seal and opened the parchment. He couldn’t help the small cry of triumph that
escaped him as he realised that *yes,* she’d have lunch with him! Suddenly, Lucius Malfoy
seemed strangely insignificant.

**Hermione Again**

As Priscilla entered her office, Hermione managed to look reasonably composed although having
Harry’s rather intense gaze fixed on her really wasn’t helping. There was obviously
*atmosphere* in the room and Priscilla looked curiously from Hermione to Harry but mentally
shrugged and decided to stay out of it. Besides, she had her own *atmosphere* to deal with …
lunch with that wonderful, sweet, gorgeous, sexy Neville Longbottom…she smiled and Hermione
couldn’t help but giggle.

‘What?’ said Priscilla.

‘What are *you* thinking about that’s giving you such a – *bemused* expression?’
queried Hermione.

Casting a quick sideways glance at Harry, who was standing bedside Hermione and still looking at
her with a satisfied smile on his face, Priscilla decided it was safe to “tell”.

‘Well…’ she began, ‘I’m going to lunch with Neville today.’

Hermione couldn’t help herself – she clapped her hands in delight.

‘And we’re having dinner on Friday night, too!’ she added without thinking, feeling too happy to
care if she sounded silly.

Hermione clapped again. She felt so happy for Neville – and Priscilla, too; they’d all picked up
on the positive interaction between them on the day they’d all had lunch at the Dragon’s Lair
restaurant.

‘Now there’s an idea,’ said Harry, ‘we should go to lunch too.’

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, although she was smiling. ‘Harry, I haven’t done one bit of
work yet today -’ they didn’t notice Priscilla’s eyebrows disappearing into her fringe at that
remark – ‘and I really should.’

Harry shrugged. ‘No harm in trying,’ he said good-naturedly.

Hermione laughed and hooked her arm through his. ‘Come on, my number one, favourite distraction,
I’ll see you out.’

As they started for the door, Harry looked at Priscilla and smiled. ‘Say hi to Neville for me.’
Priscilla nodded as she said, ‘I will!’ and watched them walk off. She shook her head in amazement.
It seemed only a short time ago that Hermione had sat here in this office and denied point blank
having any feelings for Harry whatsoever and now look at them! She laughed quietly to herself as
she went to Hermione’s desk to retrieve some books that needed to be returned to Mr Pince.

As she turned back towards the door, four large books in her arms, she gave a cry of surprise,
nearly dropping her burden.

‘Neville!’

Neville strode quickly over to her and relieved her of the books, smiling in apology. ‘Sorry,
Priscilla. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

Feeling rather flustered by this unexpected visit, Priscilla found she didn’t know what to do
with her hands after they were freed of their load, so she just clasped them together in front of
her although they seemed to find it necessary to twist and turn about each other and she just
*knew* her face was flushed.

‘That’s all right,’ she said a little breathlessly, daring a look at him from under her dark
lashes.

Neville thought she looked quite adorable and wished he had the nerve to tell her so.

‘I, uh, had to come down – well, for something else – and I just thought I’d pop in and see you
– and I thought maybe if you weren’t too busy – I mean, if Hermione doesn’t mind – would you be
able to leave a little early for lunch and we could have some tea or coffee first?’

‘Hermione doesn’t mind one little bit,’ said Hermione from the doorway.

This time it was Neville’s turn to nearly drop the books as he looked up in surprise while
Priscilla actually jumped a little.

Feeling inexplicably as though they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t, neither could
find their tongues and Hermione walked towards them, laughing. She pulled the books out of
Neville’s hands and put them back on the desk before putting a hand on each of their backs and
giving them a gentle shove forwards. ‘Go!’ she commanded. ‘Take as long as you like. I’m feeling
quite, um - generous – today!’

With mumbled thanks they left, leaving Hermione looking after them with a rather misty
expression on her face.

**Lunchtime at the Blue Duck**

The waitress placed their meals before them, Priscilla and Neville both thanking her.

‘Could we have some more tea, please?’ asked Neville.

‘Be right back,’ she told them.

‘Oy! Fancy meeting you two here!’

Neville and Priscilla looked up to see Ron striding towards them, Luna behind him, their hands
tightly clasped. Harry and Hermione could’ve told them a thing or two about Ron’s sometimes less
than brilliant timing…

Coming to a halt beside them, Ron started looking around for some spare chairs but Luna had
already caught Priscilla’s eye and seen the slightly distressed look that flashed there.

‘Ron, honey, I think I’d really rather have pizza today. I’m sure Neville and Priscilla can get
along without us, can’t you?’ She smiled at them and tugged gently on Ron’s arm. ‘Why don’t we head
over to the Pizza Parlour for lunch?’

Ron turned to Luna, about to disagree with her, but on seeing her expression changed his
mind.

‘Oh, yeah, sure, of course! Pizza it is! You two enjoy your lunch!’

‘We will! See you later!’ Neville and Priscilla both smiled and waved at their friends then
laughed in relief as they looked back at each other.

‘That was close!’ said Neville; neither of them wanted to share their first date with
anyone.

‘We can thank Luna for our escape,’ said Priscilla. ‘Although Ron seemed to catch on pretty
quickly.’

‘I think he actually listens to Luna, that’s why!’

They chatted as they ate and as they neared the end of their meal, talk seemed to turn
inevitably to work to which they would soon be returning.

Neville had been considering something all morning and decided he’d risk it.

‘Listen, Priscilla, I want to tell you something, but it *is* confidential, extremely
so…’

Priscilla reached across the small table and placed her hand on Neville’s arm.

‘You don’t have to tell me anything, especially if it’s -’

Neville shook his head as he interrupted her. ‘No, it’s all right. It’s for two very good
reasons: Hermione and Harry.’ *And probably Ginny and Dean and too,* he thought to
himself.

**Dinner Time At Hogwarts**

Professor Dumbledore held up his brandy balloon, watching the dark golden liquid swirling lazily
inside the glass, reflecting the light from the fire before which he was sitting, along with Harry
and Hermione who had declined the Headmaster’s offer of brandy but had accepted a cup of coffee
each.

‘I have some rather disturbing news, I’m afraid,’ said the old wizard regretfully.

They’d been discussing various goings on at the school and this turn in the conversation caught
Harry and Hermione by surprise. They both looked attentively at their old Headmaster, waiting.

Taking a sip of his brandy and placing the glass on a small table beside him, Dumbledore placed
his elbows on the arms of his chair, steepling his fingers on his chin which was buried beneath his
long, grey beard.

‘Apparently, some Death Eaters have engineered a break out of Azkaban.’

Harry was immediately alert, snapping to an upright position in his armchair.

‘Who?’ he asked tersely.

‘Lucius.’

Harry sprang to his feet, looking rather wild. ‘Is it done?’ he asked Dumbledore.

Hermione frowned. *What was Harry talking about?*

Dumbledore seemed to understand perfectly. ‘Yes,’ he replied, although Hermione noticed a small
frown form on his face as he looked at Harry – a frown she would have sworn implied
disapproval.

Harry seemed to relax a little. ‘Good,’ was all he said, then he frowned as he asked, ‘Why?’

Hermione was having trouble following this rather shorthand-like conversation.

‘What are you talking about?’ she interjected.

Harry said quickly, looking at Hermione, ‘Why Lucius has been broken out -’ he turned back to
Dumbledore, ‘because of Draco?’

Dumbledore nodded.

‘Neville knows?’

‘Oh yes. He and Amelia are trying to decide.’

‘The hell with him,’ said Harry.

The professor looked openly disapproving now.

‘Now, Harry, that’s no way to talk. He has helped despite his past.’

Harry sat down again, his hands on his knees. ‘I know. I just feel it serves him right.’

Hermione was totally exasperated. ‘Excuse *me*!’ she said forcefully. ‘Would someone mind
explaining to me enough so that I have *some*idea what you’re talking about?!’

The professor smiled apologetically at her, clasping his hands in front of him.

‘So sorry, my dear. It’s just that, as you know, Draco Malfoy has basically gone into hiding in
order to avoid the retribution of the few Death Eaters still at large. You know too, of course,
that he gave Law Enforcement some rather detailed information about most of those Death Eaters,
knowledge passed on to him by his father whilst in Azkaban. Well, it seems that his father now
feels it’s his place to bring his own form of justice to his traitorous son – his words,
apparently. The fact that he’s escaped from Azkaban does not bode well for his son and Neville,
along with Amelia Bones, have to decide how much protection they’re prepared to bestow upon the
younger Malfoy - whether or not they should, perhaps, bring him back to London to guard him even
better. Harry feels he’s undeserving of our help, perhaps understandably. But nevertheless, he did
do the right thing that one time in passing on that information, whatever his reasons for doing so.
I’ll be owling Amelia in the morning with my views. She, too, feels uncharacteristically indecisive
on this matter. The Malfoys have fostered hatred amongst many of their peers and I think she too is
fighting her natural instinct to just let them destroy each other.’

Dumbledore sat back and closed his eyes as though contemplating his rather long explanation.

Hermione sat dumbfounded. Lucius Malfoy? Out of Azkaban? Hell bent on killing his own son?

She looked at Harry who was staring into the fire.

‘Harry?’ Harry turned to look at her.

‘Do you really think Lucius Malfoy should be allowed to get away with killing his own son?’

Harry shook his head slowly. ‘Not really, tempting though it is.’ He gave her a lopsided
smile.

‘It was just good to be able, for a minute, to think about them cancelling each other out. I
think Neville will end up seeing that too. Somehow they’ll do their best to protect Malfoy and
perhaps catch his father and put him back in Azkaban where he belongs.’

They looked over at the professor and Harry chuckled. ‘I think he’s fallen asleep,’ he told
Hermione. ‘He used to do this a lot when I was working here and we had dinner together or a drink
after dinner on some occasions. I think we should we go and leave him be.’

Hermione nodded in agreement and rose to her feet. As she walked past the professor she bent
down and gently kissed the top of his head. She didn’t see the smile that curved the corners of his
mouth as they left.

TO BE CONTINUED….



18. The Last One - Part 2
-------------------------

Author’s Note: Well, here it is, finally, happily and sadly – the last chapter! Thank you – each
and every one of you! – for reviewing, because otherwise there’d be no story!

DAY BY DAY

By Lady Jane

Chapter Eighteen: “The Last One – Part 2”

**Still Wednesday**

Priscilla looked a little confused because, well, she *was* confused. Neville had just told
her that Lucius Malfoy had escaped from Azkaban and was believed to be going after his son and that
he wanted revenge for his son’s betrayal.

‘How is that a problem for Harry and Hermione?’ she asked. ‘I’d say it’s Draco Malfoy’s
problem!’

Neville nodded, a half smile on his face. ‘Definitely Draco’s problem initially – although we’ll
probably end up bringing him back to London as it’ll be easier to guard him here. But don’t forget,
Harry was V-V-Voldemort’s nemesis.’ He *still* had trouble saying that damn name. He swallowed
before he continued, ‘And Harry’s biggest weak spot – if you want to call her that – is Hermione.
And if Lucius hasn’t heard yet, he will soon know that Jugson and Mulcher are being held pending
trial for kidnapping Hermione. We’re almost certain that after dealing with Draco, Lucius will turn
to getting revenge any way he can on Harry. I imagine in his eyes Harry did something even worse
than his own son – he destroyed the Dark Lord. If we don’t catch him, I’d bet my life he’ll go
after Harry *but -* because he knows how powerful Harry is - he’ll do it second hand, using
Hermione. And perhaps others close to Harry.’

Priscilla felt a stab of fear. ‘*You’re* a long time friend of Harry’s. You’ve fought
against the Malfoys - you work for Law Enforcement – *you* could be a target too,
Neville!’

Neville shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about me. I have less to worry about, I think, than say Ron and
Luna – the Weasleys as a whole as a matter of fact. They’re basically Harry’s family.’

Despite the rather awful reason for it, Neville couldn’t help but feel warmed by the concern and
fear in Priscilla’s beautiful blue eyes – because it was for *him!*

Shortly afterwards, Neville paid for their lunch and he and Priscilla set off to walk back to
the Ministry. Sensing that Neville was just a little unsure, Priscilla took the initiative and
slipped her hand in his, looking up at him as she did so and smiling when he looked back, his eyes
widening in happy surprise before returning her smile and giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

As they neared the entrance to the Ministry, Priscilla asked, ‘Are you going to tell Harry and
Hermione? And Ron? What about Ginny?’

Neville stopped dead in his tracks, catching Priscilla unawares. Although he’d considered Ginny
and Dean being upset at Malfoy’s possible reappearance in London, Priscilla’s questions had only
just made him realise that Draco’s father would inevitably somehow find out that his son was –
what? *In love?* *More like obsessed. With none other than Ginny Weasley. Shit.
Ginny.*

‘Priscilla, I think I need to speak with my boss again. Let’s go.’

Priscilla almost had to run to keep up with Neville as he started off again as they were still
holding hands.

A short while later, as she entered Hermione’s office – the door was open – Priscilla felt a
little nervous. It wasn’t every day, after all, that you got to tell your immediate superior –
who’d already been kidnapped once – that she might be up for the position of villain’s target once
again.

Hermione looked up from the parchment she was reading and smiled at Priscilla.

‘How was coffee and lunch?’ she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

‘Well, *tea* and lunch, really. It was great,’ said Priscilla. She looked down at her feet,
wondering how on earth she was going to say this.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Hermione.

Priscilla looked up. ‘Um, I have something I have to tell you – and - I need to shut the
door.’

Hermione nodded, feeling concerned and a little worried.

Priscilla shut the door and then took a seat in one of the armchairs facing Hermione across her
desk.

‘Tell away, I’m all ears,’ Hermione told her.

Priscilla cleared her throat. ‘This feels a little strange, Hermione – but, well, Neville said
he’ll probably try and talk to you himself later today, but he’s told me something and he’s asked
me to pass it on to you. He would’ve told you himself but he’s got to see his boss rather urgently.
I – uh – well, I get the distinct impression that he’s pretty worried about Harry’s reaction to
this.’

‘To what?’

‘Well, apparently Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban and he’s -’

At hearing Priscilla’s words, Hermione felt relief flow through her as she fell back in her
chair.

‘He’s after revenge on Draco! We know!’

‘You know? How?’ Priscilla was incredulous.

‘We had dinner with Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts last night – he told us. Mind you, I’m not
sure exactly how he knew – but he’s always known things, somehow, for as long as I can remember.
Harry wasn’t impressed, but he never is with anything that includes the Malfoys.’

‘Not impressed?’ repeated Priscilla. ‘But isn’t he worried about the threat?’

‘What? The threat to Draco?’ queried Hermione, sitting forward once more and frowning.
‘Hardly!’

‘No, not to Draco – about what he’ll do once he’s done whatever he’s planning to do to Draco!
Neville’s afraid he’ll come after Harry – but not directly because, well Harry would basically
pulverise him.’ She went on to explain what Neville had told her and Priscilla knew from the
dawning comprehension in Hermione’s eyes that this wasn’t something she or Harry had
considered.

Priscilla felt terrible to be the bearer of bad news. ‘Hermione, there’s always the chance that
they’ll catch Lucius before he even gets to Draco – I mean they *are* looking for him.’

Hermione nodded mechanically. She was thinking of Harry’s reaction that morning just from
walking into her office and recalling her kidnapping – she didn’t want to think about his reaction
when he found out this piece of news.

‘I might leave a little earlier today – I think I should like to be the one who tells Harry
about this.’

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

Not too long afterwards, Hermione Apparated into the loungeroom and called out to Harry, hearing
his surprised, ‘Hermione?’ in reply from the direction of the kitchen. When Hermione appeared in
the kitchen doorway, she couldn’t help but smile; Harry was standing at the bench preparing some
fresh vegetables for dinner. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind,
pressing her cheek against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

‘Mmmmmm you feel good,’ she sighed.

Harry dropped the knife he’d been using and turned in the circle of Hermione’s arms.

‘You feel even better,’ he said, putting his arms around her and pulling her closer to him and
dropping his head to kiss her.

‘So, how come you’re home early? Not that I mind, of course,’ he said, grinning at her with a
gleam in his eye.

‘Well, actually, it’s not exactly for a – a – *happy* – reason…’ Hermione dropped her
eyes.

Harry brought his hands up to frame her face, tilting her head so that she had to look at him.
He was frowning. ‘What is it?’

So she told him. Harry’s hands dropped to her shoulders and she could feel his grip tighten as
she talked.

‘…so Neville’s concerned that Lucius will want to try and get back at you for getting rid of
Voldemort but he knows, of course, that he’s no match for you and so he’ll try and do it through
your…friends.’

‘Through *you*!’ he said harshly. Hermione winced as Harry’s fingers bit into her soft
skin.

‘Harry – you’re hurting me -’

Harry immediately let go and wrapped his arms around her again, burying his face in her hair.
She could feel his heart thumping wildly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, ‘I never want to hurt
you.’

‘I know,’ she told him. ‘But Harry -’ she turned her head to the side and up, and found her lips
brushing against the side of Harry’s neck which would normally be a welcome distraction. Not this
time, however. ‘Not just *me*! What about all the Weasleys? They’re as good as your family –
everyone knows that.’

Harry lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were blazing and as she became aware of some
incredible aura of power emanating from him she felt – *something* - spiral quickly through
her from head to foot, leaving her breathless. Then she realised it was a feeling of awe that had
passed through her. She thought perhaps *this* was why Ginny and Dean and the others had
spoken of Harry with such awe after the events in the Leaky Cauldron the night they’d captured the
Death Eaters.

‘If *anyone* so much as touches a hair on your head or makes any attempt to hurt anyone I
know because of me -’ Harry’s voice was diamond hard and his low, harsh tones drove through
Hermione leaving fear in their wake – fear for anyone foolish enough to go up against this man.

‘Harry – it’s still just conjecture – and they may catch Lucius -’

‘I want to help them,’ he said flatly.

Hermione was startled when the doorbell rang just as Harry finishing speaking.

‘It could be Neville – Priscilla did say he was going to try and talk to us today,’ she told
him.

Hermione followed Harry to the front door which on being opened revealed a rather dishevelled
looking Neville running an impatient hand through his hair, obviously not for the first time given
the messy state of his hair. Harry stepped quickly aside as Neville practically bolted down the
hallway, heading for the kitchen.

Harry looked at Hermione, raising his eyebrows. Hermione shrugged and after closing the door,
they both followed in Neville’s footsteps back to the kitchen.

Hermione perched on her favourite stool watching Neville as he paced up and down beside the
bench. Harry walked past Neville and leant back against the sink, his arms folded across his
chest.

‘Neville – for Merlin’s sake will you sit down!’ cried Harry.

Neville stopped and looked at him, running his hand through his hair again. He looked around and
walked over to the bench to sit on the stool beside Hermione.

‘Like a drink mate?’ asked Harry.

Neville nodded and Harry pulled a bottle of red wine from the nearby rack, using magic to open
it then to summon three glasses, filling each and passing them around.

As they each took a sip of the mellow liquid, Neville seemed to quieten and gave Harry and
Hermione a half smile. ‘Sorry, but it’s been a hell of a day,’ he said apologetically.

Hermione laid a hand on his arm. ‘That’s okay Neville – we know about hellish days.’

Neville chuckled. ‘Yeah, you do. Okay, the latest.’ He looked from Hermione to Harry. ‘Priscilla
told you...?’

Hermione nodded. ‘And I told Harry. We were just talking about it, actually.’

‘Any luck with catching him yet?’ asked Harry.

Neville shook his head. ‘It’s becoming obvious this has all been well planned ahead of time.
After I spoke to my boss today we decided Draco would be better off under guard here in London
initially, and then we should find a really secure place for him.’

Harry and Hermione both nodded. ‘Knew that’d be the outcome,’ said Harry quietly.

‘There’s been a hitch, however.’

‘What hitch?’ asked Harry and Hermione together.

Neville looked from one to the other. ‘We’re not sure whether Draco’s bolted or whether Lucius
got to him. But he’s gone. And we can’t find any trace of him or his movements or whereabouts.’

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

Neville’s next stop was Ginny’s office. She was preparing to leave when Neville arrived and he
asked if he could accompany her home. ‘I’m actually going back to Dean’s tonight – he’s due to
arrive home in a couple of hours.’

Neville smiled quickly at her. ‘Don’t worry – I won’t keep you long – I’ll be long gone before
Dean gets home!’

Ginny gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. ‘Am I that obvious?’ she asked.

Neville grinned at her. ‘Only to someone who knows a little what it’s like.’

Ginny put her hands on her hips. ‘What are you taking about Neville Longbottom?’ she
demanded.

‘Come on, I’ll tell you as we go,’ replied Neville. ‘We Flooing or Apparating?’

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

As they Apparated into Dean’s loungeroom, Ginny’s arm through Neville’s so that he wouldn’t end
up waiting outside the front door (only Ginny and Dean’s parents were able to Apparate into his
home), Ginny turned and hugged Neville. ‘I’m so happy for you Neville! And Priscilla, too, of
course - I hope it works out for the two of you.’

Putting a brotherly arm across her shoulders, Neville steered her towards the kitchen. ‘Come on,
I could do with a nice hot cuppa while I tell you the rest of my news which unfortunately isn’t
quite as happy.’

Ten minutes later they were once again in the loungeroom, sitting comfortably on the sofa
sipping tea.

Neville gave Ginny the rundown on Lucius’ escape and plans for revenge on Draco together with
Neville’s now widely accepted belief that the older Malfoy would also seek revenge on Harry for
Voldemort’s demise by attacking his loved ones. ‘Which includes you and your family, Ginny, seeing
as you lot basically *are* Harry’s family.’

Ginny nodded. ‘I thought we’d finished with the damned Malfoys when Draco left,’ she said
bitterly.

Neville sighed. ‘There’s more,’ he said.

Ginny looked at him sharply. ‘More what?’

‘We intended bringing Draco back to London to guard him – hoping to achieve two things: guard
Draco and lure Lucius to London. We have much better resources in London for both guarding one and
capturing the other than we do where Draco is currently staying. But Draco’s disappeared. The Hit
Wizards sent to retrieve him reported back this afternoon. We don’t know whether he’s bolted after
finding out his father’s after him or whether Lucius has already managed to get to him.’

Ginny suddenly felt ice cold. ‘So you’re telling me that if Lucius hasn’t found him, Draco could
be anywhere?’

‘Anywhere,’ repeated Neville. He sighed. ‘Ginny, I thought of something else this afternoon. I
have no doubt whatsoever that at some point in time Lucius Malfoy will find out about Draco’s
feelings for you. Which means that if Draco has bolted before Lucius got to him -’

‘Lucius might see me as a good way to draw Draco out.’

Their eyes met; fear and anger at war in hers, weariness and fear side by side in his.

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

Ginny was waiting on the sofa for Dean to arrive; dinner was ready and she’d showered and
changed into a long dress with softly flowing sleeves which was a deep, soft cream colour. The
softly draping neckline revealed an enticing cleavage and Ginny had loosely pinned her auburn locks
up exposing her slender neck. When Dean appeared, Ginny felt her heart jump to her throat and she
ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, crying out his name.

Dean dropped his bag immediately and wrapped his arms around his fiancée, burying his face
against her neck, kissing the soft skin there over and over.

As they leant back and looked at each other, they couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Oh Dean! It feels as
though you’ve been away forever!’

Squeezing her against him, Dean lifted her off the floor and swung around in a full circle.
Ginny squealed in surprise and delight, holding on tightly around Dean’s neck. ‘The best thing
about going away is coming home!’ Dean told her, as he gently set her on her feet once more. Then
he kissed her and Ginny could feel herself melting into him, moaning very softly. Dean’s grip
tightened even more, one hand gripping the back of Ginny’s neck as he firmly pushed his tongue into
her willing mouth, Ginny pressing her hips against him. It was Dean’s turn to groan as he returned
the pressure that felt so good against his quickly growing erection.

‘Bed…now…’ pleaded Dean, between kisses.

‘Yes…please…’

‘Sorry…forgot about dinner…’

‘To hell with dinner…’

Neither of them would ever know that they’d been observed that night in the loungeroom. The now
rather gaunt, tall, blonde observer flew from the scene, a dreadful pain ripping through his body,
a worse one tearing at his heart.

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

The next morning Ginny woke with a smile on her face. She ran her hands lightly down her naked
body before stretching; she felt wonderful – and incredibly happy. Despite Neville’s revelations
the previous night, she’d decided she’d say nothing to Dean until today. She wanted his “welcome
home” to be untainted by anything like that. Now that he was back home with her, she felt safe and
protected somehow. She would explain everything to him later today. She rolled onto her side. Dean
was also on his side, still asleep, his back to her and so she snuggled up to him, enjoying the
masculine hardness of his body against her own softness, throwing her arm around his waist and
resting her cheek on his back, a happy and contented smile on her face.

**Thursday**

Neville looked up from his desk as David “Sunny” Sunningfield virtually ran into his office,
stopping at his desk.

‘You’re not gonna believe who’s here!’ he panted.

‘Who?’ asked Neville automatically.

Then suddenly there was a commotion at the door of his office and Sunny’s partner, Wayne “Lucky”
Hasluck, appeared, holding onto someone who was struggling to pull his arm free for although Lucky
was quite a bit shorter than the man he was holding on to, he was nevertheless a very strong
man.

Neville shot to his feet. ‘Malfoy!’ he yelled in surprise.

‘Tell this idiot to let go of me!’ Malfoy yelled back.

Neville nodded at Lucky who glared at Malfoy, giving him a slight push into Neville’s office as
he let go of him. Malfoy shot him a vicious look as he rubbed his freed arm.

Neville saw to it that Malfoy was seated opposite him, Sunny standing behind him, his arms
crossed, Lucky standing at the door, also with his arms crossed. They were both giving Malfoy dirty
looks.

Neville looked across at Malfoy. ‘What happened?’

‘I heard about my father. I left. Simple as that,’ growled Malfoy.

‘Why did you come here?’

‘I assumed you would be sending someone to bring me back anyway although I didn’t think they’d
arrive before my father so I decided to make my own way here.’

‘What do you know about your father’s whereabouts?’

‘Nothing anymore. I knew he was on his way to where I was – that’s all.’

‘We did send someone to get you. We weren’t sure if you’d left of your own accord or whether
your father had gotten there before us. Now that you’re here I can tell you that you have two
choices.’

‘Which are?’ asked Malfoy coldly.

‘Go fend for yourself or go and stay at Hogwarts. It’s the only place you’d be safe.’

‘Hogwarts?’

‘What did you imagine would happen?’ asked Neville.

Malfoy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, really. I just never thought of Hogwarts.’ He turned his head
slightly to stare out the window which today showed a lovely, sun drenched garden vista. *He felt
exhausted; fleeing his new home, making the huge mistake of checking on Ginevra and seeing her
greeting that cursed Thomas like that. The rough treatment he’d received on arriving here at the
Ministry and now – banished to Hogwarts! Hogwarts meant Dumbledore. Hogwarts meant … misery. But it
also meant survival. Hogwarts it would be.*

‘So, Hogwarts it is,’ he said coolly as he turned back to look at Neville.

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

**Thursday Night At Harry & Hermione’s Place**

‘Okay Neville – we’re all here. Fire away,’ said Ron who was sitting on the floor, leaning back
against the end of the sofa, Luna sitting between his legs, her arms resting on his knees.

Neville was standing in front of the fire place, his elbow on the mantel piece. Priscilla sat
nearby on the arm of the sofa. Harry and Hermione occupied that same sofa, Harry with his arm
around Hermione. The other sofa was taken by Ginny and Dean.

Neville looked around at the grim faces of his friends and ran his fingers through his hair; it
was still sticking up from the last time he’d done just that.

‘His hair’s starting to look like yours,’ Hermione couldn’t resist whispering to Harry who gave
her a small smile in acknowledgement.

‘I just wanted to fill you all in on what’s happened today and suggest some, um, precautions you
should all take. This morning, Draco Malfoy turned up in my office,’ there was a collective gasp at
his words but Neville continued without acknowledging them, ‘and has now been relocated to the only
safe place my boss and I could come up with: Hogwarts. We’ve heard today that Lucius Malfoy has
taken refuge somewhere in the north of England and for the time being may simply stay there,
although he’s no doubt collecting his own intelligence and resources. It’s only a matter of time
before we hear from him again. In the meantime, Amelia Bones and I believe that you should all take
precautions as Lucius Malfoy could well consider each and every one of you as a potential target or
victim. Ron, Ginny, I’d also like you to speak to your parents and the rest of your family. They
all need to be told what’s happening, they should be warned and told why. Any questions?’

Silence.

Neville looked around, surprised. ‘No questions?’

Everyone looked around at each other, shrugging.

‘Neville, said Harry, standing up, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, ‘there’s
nothing really to ask, I guess. Malfoy’s at Hogwarts – I feel sorry for Dumbledore for having to
put up with the ferret yet again! – but he’ll be safe there, as you say. The Ministry is on alert
as far as Lucius goes and I suppose we feel relatively confident they’ll know if he makes a move
and since we’re all aware there’s danger, we will be careful. There’s also a good chance Lucius
will be caught and thrown back in Azkaban before anything can happen, anyway. There’s not much else
we can do, really.’

Neville nodded. ‘True, I suppose. But I can’t stress too much how careful you must all be! Don’t
trust anyone – especially people you don’t know. None of you should go somewhere without telling
someone about it – someone should know where you are all the time.’

Dean stood up then and held his hand out to Ginny, helping her to her feet when she took it.

‘Neville, thank you – I can guarantee we’ll all look out for each other. Now, for something a
little more lighthearted and fun!’ Dean smiled down at Ginny beside him, then glanced around the
room. ‘Ginny and I have finally decided we’ll be having an engagement party in three weeks time.
We’ve been in touch with her parents and so three weeks from this Saturday you’re all invited to
the Burrow.’

Everyone clapped spontaneously, coming to their feet to crowd around Ginny and Dean. Moving to
stand beside Neville, Harry said quietly, ‘Something in the future to look forward to instead of
fear.’

Neville looked a little grim and Harry’s puzzlement showed on his face. ‘I’m afraid it must be
the job,’ said Neville quietly, ‘but my first thought was that everyone Lucius Malfoy wants to get
his hands on will be in the same place at the same time in a few weeks time.’

Harry shot Neville a look filled with regret and respect. Respect for his quickness of mind,
regret because what he said was very unfortunately true but he didn’t have the heart to put a
dampener on his friends’ happiness at this moment.

‘Still,’ said Neville, forcing a slightly cheerful note into his voice, ‘we may well catch him
in that time and we won’t have to worry.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ replied Harry fervently, ‘let’s hope so!’

**The Burrow**

**Friday Night (Three Weeks Later)**

There was only word for it, thought Molly Weasley: Unadulterated chaos. Well, that was two words
really. She smiled then because she didn’t really mind the chaos. It had been quite a while since
she’d had everyone home and it was wonderful - chaotic, yes, but wonderful! Even Percy was coming,
although only for the few hours of the party itself, but at least he’d be here.

While everyone remained very aware of the fact that Lucius Malfoy was still at large - Ron and
Ginny having visited their parents nearly three weeks previously to explain everything to them -
there seemed to be an unspoken agreement not to mention any of that this weekend. They would just
concentrate on celebrating Ginny and Dean’s engagement, having a good time and enjoying everyone’s
company.

Everyone had arrived during the course of the day, “everyone” consisting of her own beloved
children, Fred and George, the incorrigible (and to their mother, inexplicably successful) twins;
Ron, Ginny and their older brothers, Bill and Charlie and of course Bill’s wife, Fleur. Charlie had
brought along his latest clutch of dragon eggs which were now safely nestled in the kitchen fire
and of course, Ron and Ginny’s “other halves”, Luna and Dean; Harry and Hermione naturally, along
with Neville and a delightful young thing called Priscilla made up “everyone”. Molly herself was at
the moment, of course, in the kitchen, along with Hermione and Ginny who were helping her prepare
the food; Luna and Fleur were outside supervising the setting of the dinner table. Both Mr and Mrs
Weasley had been busy magically expanding their home for the duration of the visitors’ stay,
enlarging some rooms, adding the odd staircase and a couple of extra rooms and bathrooms to the
already rather interesting upper stories.

A lovely dinner was had by all outside under a deep, clear blue sky. Crookshanks, as he always
did when at the Burrow, fruitlessly chased garden gnomes into Wellington boots and other
hidey-holes around the garden to the great amusement of anyone that bothered to watch. Hedwig,
perched on the window sill of Harry’s room, appeared to be watching all that went on with her
gimlet eyes.

Harry sat and smiled as he looked around the table, his arm across the back of Hermione’s chair.
These people *were* his family. Especially Hermione. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to
any of them. Hermione looked at him and smiled, leaning close to him to whisper, ‘Penny for your
thoughts.’

‘Thinking about you, of course,’ he smiled back.

Wrapping the fingers of one hand around the back of Harry’s neck, Hermione brought him within
kissing range and did just that.

‘Oy! Will you two cut that out already?’ called Ron from the other end of the table, making
everyone look around to see what he was talking about.

‘Pipe down Ron!’ called Fred from his seat opposite Harry.

‘There’s nothing wrong with one innocent kiss!’ added George. Few at the table really believed
either Fred or George were terribly familiar with innocence.

‘How true!’ threw in Bill as he leant over and kissed Fleur.

Ron smiled, shrugged and leant forward to kiss Luna.

Ginny threw an arm around Dean’s neck as she gave him a quick kiss.

Mr Weasley leant towards his wife and gave her a peck on the cheek, causing her to look a little
flustered.

Priscilla felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘It’s a kissing-fest!’ she giggled.

Neville cupped her chin gently with one hand. ‘We can’t be the odd ones out,’ he said softly and
leant down to kiss her. Priscilla, at first surprised was soon overcome by some wonderful
sensations and kissed Neville right back.

‘Hey, go Neville!’ cried Fred.

‘*And* Priscilla!’ George admonished him.

As they pulled back, both with shining eyes and flushed faces, they couldn’t stop smiling at one
another. Neville had kissed her rather nervously a few weeks back after he’d taken her to dinner
but aside from a few pecks on the cheek since then, they hadn’t kissed again until tonight. It was
the one area he was still rather unsure of himself about. Priscilla was rather pleased as she was
ready to back Neville up against a wall and snog him senseless!

‘I think that’s quite enough kissing for one night!’ cried Mrs Weasley, although she had a very
bright twinkle in her eye as she said it. ‘Time to clean up!’

Mr and Mrs Weasley and Bill and Fleur were the first to go off to bed an hour later, followed
quickly by Fred and George. Charlie went to check his dragon eggs before he too, went upstairs to
bed. Neville and Priscilla returned from a walk with their arms around each other looking as though
they’d indulged in a rather vigorous snogging session which, in fact, is just what they’d done and
they too said goodnight and headed off to bed.

Ginny and Dean, Ron and Luna and Harry and Hermione remained sitting around the kitchen table,
sipping hot chocolate.

Harry raised his mug. ‘Here’s to Ginny and Dean – may they live happily ever after!’

‘Hear, hear!’ replied everyone, lifting their mugs.

Ron and Luna both finished their drinks at the same time and Ron took their mugs to the sink to
rinse them. ‘We’re off to bed,’ announced Ron. ‘Although would you believe, Mum’s put us in
separate bedrooms for crying out loud! She knows we’re living together,’ he grumbled.

‘We’re all in the same boat, dear brother,’ said Ginny, laughing. ‘You know how old-fashioned
Mum is!’

‘We can all manage for two nights, I think,’ put in Dean.

‘Speak for yourself!’ retorted Ron, causing Luna to take a swipe at his arm as they headed for
the stairs.

‘He’s a funny codger, that Ron!’ laughed Dean as they listed to him grumbling to Luna as they
mounted the stairs, his voice fading as they rose higher, heading for the top storey.

Ginny yawned and stretched, her arms above her head, her back arched, Dean watching her through
half closed eyes.

‘Should be bloody illegal, that,’ he griped.

Ginny looked at him, all wide eyed innocence as she asked, ‘What should?’

Dean rolled his eyes. ‘Go and polish your halo Little Miss Innocent and I’ll go take a cold
shower.’

Ginny poked him in the side. ‘And *you* were the one who said you can manage for two
nights!’ she goaded him.

Dean groaned. ‘So I lied! Sue me!’

Ginny stood up and leaned down to kiss him. ‘Night, sexy! See you in the morning…’

Dean leapt to his feet and caught Ginny just as she was turning to walk away. He bent over and
lifted her up over his shoulder, making her squeal. Then she began to laugh as Dean headed off with
her waving to Harry and Hermione. They could hear her laughter and demands to be put down
immediately until they heard a distant door close and a few seconds later, a second door close.

‘Sounds as though Ginny sent him off to his room!’ said Hermione.

‘Also *my* room,’ said Harry. ‘I’m in with him and Ron.’

‘Me, Ginny and Luna are sharing, too,’ Hermione told him.

Harry stood up and held out his hand to Hermione.

‘Fancy a short walk before turning in?’ he asked.

Hermione took his hand with a laugh. ‘As if I could say no to *you* Mr Potter!’

‘I’ll remember that,’ Harry told her, grinning.

They put the rest of the empty mugs in the sink and rinsed them before walking out into the
warm, still night. The moon had risen and was glowing softly. Harry took Hermione’s hand and led
her along a well worn path that wound around a small copse of old trees to a rather ancient looking
carved wooden bench. The bench overlooked a low lying, gently sloping valley at the bottom of which
was a small lake. The moon was reflected in the lake’s surface and there was the occasional ripple
as a fish broke the surface of the water.

Sitting down, Harry put his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and drew her close, resting his
cheek on the top of her head while Hermione’s hand rested on Harry’s leg.

‘Hermione,’ said Harry quietly.

‘Hmmm?’

‘I love you.’

‘I know. I love you too.’

‘I know.’

They both chuckled.

‘We’re so predictable!’ said Hermione.

Harry suddenly turned and slid to his knee on the ground, holding the hand Hermione had rested
on his leg.

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, a little, ‘Oh!’ escaping her.

Harry gave her a lopsided grin.

‘Hermione, you know I love you. I also want you to know that I could never be happy without you,
that I’m not complete without you – I’m not *anything* without *you*. Which is why you
have to marry me, *please*!’

Hermione’s free hand flew to her mouth and Harry could see her fingers trembling and her eyes
fill with tears.

‘I’d just like to take this opportunity to remind you that not less than ten minutes ago you
assured me you couldn’t say no to me,’ Harry said gruffly.

Hermione slid to the ground to kneel in front of Harry, her hand now gently resting on the side
of Harry’s face, her other still held in Harry’s firm grasp. Two tears slid down her cheeks, but
she was smiling.

‘Harry,’ she whispered, her eyes shining with love, ‘of course I’ll marry you!’

Harry raised her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed it, then wrapped his arms around her and
hugged her tightly to him, burying his face in her hair.

‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice muffled.

Hermione found herself crying and couldn’t stop.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Harry, his voice full of concern.

Hermione looked up at him, took a deep breath and nodded, smiling. ‘Perfect,’ she assured him
softly. ‘And happier than I’ve ever been in my life.’

Harry kissed her, his love for her filling his mind and his body and he knew that as long as he
had her, he would be happy.

Harry sat up on the bench again, pulling Hermione with him. He reached into his pocket and
pulled out a small silk drawstring pouch with a “P” engraved on it.

‘This came from my parents’ vault in Gringott’s,’ he told her as he opened the small pouch,
tipping its contents onto the palm of his hand. It was a ring. A small gold circle with a delicate
single spiral of gold in which nestled a not-too-large brilliant white diamond flanked on each side
with small, perfect emeralds. ‘Harry, it’s breathtaking!’ whispered Hermione as she gazed at
it.

‘It was my mother’s engagement ring. If you don’t mind having someone else’s ring, it’s yours,’
Harry said tentatively, his eyes searching her face.

Two fresh tears fell down Hermione’s face as smiled up at him. ‘Harry, it’s perfect and I love
that it belonged to your mum.’ She held out her left hand and Harry slipped the ring on. It fitted
her perfectly. Hermione wound her arms around Harry’s neck and he wrapped his around her waist.
They were so close the could each feel the other’s breath as their eyes locked, then they both
moved at the same instant, their lips meeting in the kiss that sealed the promise of their future
together.

FINIS!

Well, sort of…the sequel which will pick up where this leaves off with the actual party on
Saturday night and continue on from there.

Some of you may remember I’m calling it “Four Weddings & A Funeral” (in honour of GoF
director Mike Newell who also directed “Four Weddings”) but aside from having four weddings and a
funeral in it, there will be no other similarity to the movie! (At least, I don’t think so at this
point! LOL!)

To “hernndzzz” who wondered if there was a ring in Hermione’s future – I smiled when I read your
review because I’d already written the proposal scene – I hope you enjoyed it!

To “Lucifer”: About who was going to be guarding Malfoy – I hope you like the irony of him
ending up at Hogwarts under Dumbledore’s protection!!

Hope to “see” you all at “Four Weddings & A Funeral”!!! *Hugs to all* xxxx Janie xxxx