What Harry Wants

JanieB

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 31/12/2004
Last Updated: 31/12/2004
Status: completed

He felt the pain of remembering Hermione looking enchanted by this blue-eyed man with dark brown hair that did precisely what it was told, unlike his own wretchedly unruly mop. And in the early hours of the New Year as he lay in bed, restless and inexplicably angry and anxious he knew. He was jealous. And he was jealous because he loved her. He wanted her to look at him the way she’d looked at that man. He wanted her. And so his residence in hell began. I'm sure you all know what Harry wants - but does he get it?

Chapters

1. WHAT HARRY WANTS

1. WHAT HARRY WANTS

Author’s Note: This began with the tiny thought: What if Harry and Hermione argued, instead of Ron and Hermione? So that inspired the beginning of this story. From such a tiny thing comes something to drive you crazy until you write it down…

WHAT HARRY WANTS

By Lady Jane

Hermione took a cup and saucer from the shelf then slammed the cupboard door shut. She opened another cupboard to get out the teapot and slammed the door shut. Then opened yet another cupboard for the tea and sugar – SLAM! – another for the toaster – SLAM! – another for plates – SLAM! – the drawer for cutlery – SLAM! And finally another for the bread board – SLAM! She then slammed the wooden bread board down on the bench top. She stood with her fists clenched, breathing deeply to try and calm herself. She was going to kill him. That’s all there was to it: she was going to kill him. The interfering, inconsiderate –

‘Hermione?’

She whipped around as he came into the kitchen, his voice tentative, looking as though he was ready to bolt, his black hair falling in his eyes making her, even now, want to push it out of the way.

‘What?’ she managed through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

‘I, um, thought you might like some help preparing breakfast…’ his voice trailed off as she continued to glare at him with frightening ferocity.

‘Well, Harry, since I have managed to successfully prepare breakfast for the past four years all by myself with no help from you or anyone else and without any major mishaps, I can’t see that I would suddenly need help now. Go to hell.’

He straightened as he stepped into the room, crossing his arms and frowning at her.

‘There’s no need to be rude, Hermione and if all that bloody door slamming was for my benefit-’

‘It was. And also for mine. I needed to slam some doors and I also really need you to just leave me alone Harry. Please.’

As Hermione turned her back to him, going about making her breakfast, Harry was undecided about whether he should pursue this further now or do as she asked and leave her alone for the time being. Before he could decide one way or another, he heard Ron come bounding down the stairs, whistling, obviously in a good mood. As he should be, thought Harry bitterly, at least he got to go out for the night with the girl he loves AND no doubt got in a serious bit of snogging to boot.

As Ron bounced into the kitchen past Harry his steps slowed down and he came to a halt halfway between Harry and Hermione, looking back and forth from Harry, standing just inside the kitchen door to Hermione, fussing about making tea and toast. Then he groaned in disgust.

‘Not again you two! I’m bloody sick of this! What the hell is the matter with you both?’

Receiving nothing in reply, as usual, but total silence, Ron gave them each a very sour look before announcing that he was going out for breakfast again as he didn’t need to start his day in such a rotten atmosphere thank you very much then promptly Apparated out of the flat.

‘See what you’ve done!’ accused Hermione, without looking at Harry.

‘And you, of course, had no part in it, I suppose!’ yelled Harry, for once feeling completely fed up. ‘I think I’ll join Ron.’

Of course, the second Harry Apparated, Hermione felt regret creep over her. She’d been storing up her anger since last night and now that she’d let it out, she was left feeling high and dry and empty. She picked up her cup of tea and plate of toast, taking them to the small round kitchen table and sat herself down, feeling Crookshanks wind himself about her legs, rubbing his head against her. She felt grateful for his loyal and loving company and wished she could talk things over with him.

Sipping her tea, she sighed deeply. What the hell am I going to do? she wondered. Thank Merlin it was Saturday and she didn’t have to go to work. She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate.

As she sipped her tea, her thoughts took her back to the night before, reliving yet another episode with Harassing Harry…

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

She’d been sitting in the small, cosy Italian restaurant at a table for two with her boyfriend of nearly twelve months, Alexander Davis, when she heard a familiar sound: the soft, tinkling noise made by the small mirror in her handbag when either Ron or Harry, who had matching mirrors, wanted to speak with her. Smiling an apology at Alex who had a rather long-suffering look on his handsome face, she pulled the mirror out knowing full well that it would be Harry, not Ron, she would see. And there he was, smiling, his green eyes gazing at her from behind his glasses, his famous scar covered for the moment by his unruly hair. She resisted the urge to glare at him and say “What the hell is it this time?” very rudely and vehemently. Instead, she smiled patiently at him, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

‘Sorry to interrupt Hermione,’ he started apologetically, ‘I was just wondering where you keep the bottle opener? I bought some wine and I’ve looked and looked but I can’t find that damn opener!’

Hermione felt a hard, tight, ball of anger forming inside her chest. Every time she went somewhere with Alexander, Harry, without fail, called her about something totally trivial. And totally pointless and unnecessary. He was a wizard, wasn’t he? ‘Use your wand!’ she’d hissed at him before roughly shoving the small mirror back into her bag but before she’d managed to let go of it, she heard Harry calling her name, his voice sounding as thought it came from a great distance. Alexander by now was twirling the stem of his wine glass in his fingers, frowning at it as though it had offended him in some way.

Bringing the mirror back to her face, she whispered fiercely at Harry. ‘Couldn’t whatever it is possibly wait until I get home?’

Harry gave her one of his sorrowful looks, his eyes apologetic. ‘Of course it can. I’m sorry, Hermione.’ And he was gone, leaving her feeling infuriatingly as though she’d done something to hurt him.

Returning the mirror to her handbag, Hermione forced a smile on her face and reached out to place her hand on Alexander’s. ‘I’m sorry Alex; you know what Harry’s like.’ Alexander’s deep blue eyes lifted to hers, no returning smile evident. ‘I know what Harry’s like with you. I know that you’ll take just about anything from him, however disruptive or annoying. Harry can do no wrong, can he?’

Hermione withdrew her hand, dropping her eyes. Alex didn’t understand. No one did. Except Ron and Harry. And Luna did too and she thought how lucky Ron was to have someone who did. Anyone who hadn’t been part of those last few years at Hogwarts could never really understand the formidable bond that had been forged between them all, the one between herself, Ron and Harry being the strongest of all. She didn’t blame Alex but it certainly made it harder. It would’ve been easier if she’d fallen for Harry or Ron or even Neville!

For some reason, since she, Harry and Ron had moved into their London flat together eighteen months ago now, Harry seemed to have become dependent on her in a strange sort of way. She’d simply accepted it, as she did anything to do with Harry, and it had never been a problem until she’d started going out with Alexander and he persisted in contacting her every time she was with Alex. She’d decided that Harry was probably afraid he was going to “lose” her and so became more demanding in some ways. She’d done her best to reassure him that their friendship would never be in danger but what she saw as his insecurity persisted nevertheless. She knew it was probably unfair to expect Alexander to understand - Harry was, after all, a man, and it was only natural Alex would see Harry as a rival for her time, attention and affection, despite her constant reminders that Harry was now and had always been her FRIEND, no more. She sighed, wondering if it was all actually worth it.

Alexander, aware of her despondency, felt a mixture of remorse and annoyance. Remorse at upsetting Hermione and annoyance at Harry-bloody-Potter. Why did he have to go and fall in love with the best friend of the great Harry Potter? He knew Hermione was devoted to both Ron and Harry and he was aware of the bond between them but it didn’t make it easier to LIVE with, that’s for sure. His last year at Hogwarts had been the trio’s third year so while he’d been well aware of them – as had every student at Hogwarts – they were so much younger and also in a different house (he’d been in Ravenclaw) he’d never really had anything to do with them. He’d met Hermione at a New Year’s Eve party the previous January held by Lavender Brown’s parents who were friends of his own parents. He’d been immediately attracted to the slender, animated and very pretty girl he’d spotted across the room and when he managed to introduce himself, he knew he was smitten. Even when he found out who she was and so of course was introduced to Harry and Ron he was too full of Hermione to give them any thought.

Returning to the present he sighed. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ he told her. ‘It’s not your fault, I know. I just get so resentful sometimes of the way Harry expects you to be at his beck and call.’

‘I’ve never felt as though I’m at his beck and call,’ said Hermione tersely.

‘Well, not beck and call perhaps, but just always available, always there for him.’

‘He’s always there for me. Always was.’ Alex always made her feel defensive about Harry.

Alexander knew where this discussion was going. The same place it always did. Different words might carry them there, but they always arrived at the same place: he resented Harry and Hermione resented him doing so.

‘I know, I know. Listen, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. Why don’t we go away for a long weekend? Somewhere quiet and peaceful. We can relax and read and do whatever we want.’

Before she could stop herself, Hermione said, ‘Go away from Harry, you mean.’

Alexander winced and Hermione immediately regretted what she’d said.

‘Oh, hell! I’m sorry I said that, Alex. I really am. The trouble is, I get so bloody annoyed at Harry too, but…’

In the end, you can’t help yourself, he thought bitterly. Because it’s Harry.

She gave him a small smile as she said, ‘Let’s get away. And I won’t take that bloody mirror with me.’

Alexander laughed, reaching across to take both her hands in his. ‘Good! I’ll take care of it. The weekend after next – arrange to have it off and I’ll make sure we end up somewhere warm.’

Hermione’s smile grew as she thought of getting away for a holiday. Perfect. To hell with Harry. Although she knew she’d give him hell in the morning…bottle opener, for crying out loud!

Harry put the mirror back on the kitchen bench and sighed, hating himself for being unable to leave Hermione in peace. Hating the fact that he annoyed her - upset her and made her angry. But mostly he hated the fact that she was with Alexander. He hated his own inability to stop himself from contacting her every time she was out with him. It was his weakness. He couldn’t bear to think of them together, it made his insides twist into the most painful convolutions; he could feel his heart being squeezed. He hated the fact that he couldn’t stop loving her and wanting her. He slumped onto the nearest stool, his head dropping onto his arms. Her name seemed to be present in the rhythm of the ticking clock on the wall, in the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Her-mio-ne. Her-mio-ne.

He felt caught and trapped. By his own love and obsession with the wonderful witch who was his friend. Who had been his friend for what felt like all his life. His real life. The life that had started when he’d first gone to Hogwarts.

How long had he loved her? Always and forever, his heart told him. But he knew that what he felt now had crept up on him, not knowing it for what it was even when he’d moved in with Ron and Hermione. It had taken him a little while to realise the reason behind his wanting to always be with her, wanting to see her smile, wanting to be the one who made her smile. It had sprung from that unacknowledged love a friend has for a friend and had been growing slowly, unacknowledged by him, only coming to the surface, bursting into his consciousness almost a year ago.

He shuddered. The night of Lavender’s New Year’s Eve party. That’s when he knew. When that accursed Alexander Davis had come charging across the room, his eyes riveted on Hermione. Introducing himself to her, barely acknowledging the presence of her two best friends when she introduced them. He felt the pain of remembering Hermione looking enchanted by this blue-eyed man with dark brown hair that did precisely what it was told, unlike his own wretchedly unruly mop. And in the early hours of the New Year as he lay in bed, restless and inexplicably angry and anxious he knew. He was jealous. And he was jealous because he loved her. He wanted her to look at him the way she’d looked at that man. He wanted her. And so his residence in hell began. He knew that if you loved someone you were supposed to want for them what they wanted for themselves. And he did. He just wanted Hermione to want him. You were supposed to be selfless and do everything to support them. He would. Especially if it concerned her wanting to be with him. He didn’t know how or when or where but if he had anything to do with it, Hermione would NOT end up with Alexander Davis. Not while he was alive, at any rate. Not if there was the slightest chance that he could persuade her that the best thing for her was him. He didn’t consider the possibility that Hermione might not ever want him. He couldn’t face that.

He had to pull himself together and do something constructive towards getting what he wanted and what he wanted, more than anything in the world, was Hermione. He lifted his head. He’d survived countless battles with Voldemort and in the end, defeated him. If he could do that, gaining Hermione’s love and desire should be easy. Somehow, though, he had the feeling that defeating Voldemort would be a picnic by comparison.

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

Hermione took her empty cup and plate over to the sink, shaking her head. She should be thinking about going away with Alex, not being angry with Harry. I’ll go and write to mum and dad and tell them about Alex’s idea for a holiday weekend. And let them know I’ll be back for Christmas. As she walked down the hallway to her room, she wondered where Harry would go for Christmas. To the Burrow? He would go to the Burrow, surely. The Weasleys wouldn’t let him spend Christmas alone. She’d ask him later, just to make sure.

Harry Apparated to the same café Ron had and spotted his mate heading for an empty table. He followed him and as Ron sat down, Harry stepped up beside him, saying, ‘Mind if I join you?’

‘She chase you out too?’ said Ron, picking up the menu from the centre of the table and gesturing for Harry to sit down, which he did, shaking his head.

‘I just left to escape the Wrath of Hermione. Despite the fact that I deserved it.’

Ron looked up from the menu. ‘How’s that?’ he asked.

‘I used the mirror last night when she was out with Davis.’

Ron groaned. ‘Again? Harry, you gotta stop doing that!’

‘I know, I know. I just can’t stand her being with him.’

Ron shook his head. ‘Mate, you gotta let go. Hermione’s a big girl now. You don’t have to protect her anymore. Davis isn’t so bad. He seems to really love her. She deserves anything good.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Harry again. ‘There’s just something about him…’ Harry had never told Ron of his feelings for Hermione and Ron had automatically assumed Harry’s protectiveness towards Hermione was coming from his friendship with her and was the reason for his actions and attitude, mainly because that’s how he felt towards her. He had begun to wonder a bit lately, though.

‘You know what you need?’ said Ron as he handed the menu to Harry.

Harry glanced up at him.

‘You need a woman.’

Harry frowned. ‘You make it sound the same as needing a painkiller for a headache.’

Ron shrugged with a smile. ‘You have a headache, you take a painkiller. You drive your friends crazy, you get yourself a girlfriend.’

Harry couldn’t help but smile at Ron’s rather lame attempt at humour. For a moment, he teetered on the brink of telling Ron about his love for Hermione, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to burden Ron. This was his problem. He’d deal with it.

‘Maybe you’re right. But I guess I always feel as though they’re interested in Harry Potter, not me. If you know what I mean.’

‘Yep, know just what you mean. That’s why I’m so glad I’ve got Luna. She knows about everything – about what it was like – she knows me, for me…’ Ron floundered, but Harry smiled encouragingly.

‘I know what you mean, Ron. She’s one of us, so she’s not unrealistically impressed. Too bad there’s no one else like her for me.’ Except Hermione.

The waitress came and took their order and then Ron looked at Harry. ‘You’re right. The only other girls that wouldn’t be impressed by the legend of Harry Potter are all taken. Maybe you should try dating a Muggle.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve often thought of that but then I realise what I’d have to tell her – what I’d have to explain. Just the thought of it’s overwhelming, forget the reality!’

‘True,’ said Ron. He shrugged. ‘Dunno what you can do, mate. I really don’t.’

I do! thought Harry ruefully. I could have Hermione. Hermione is perfect for me, I just wish she knew it!

They both leant back as the waitress placed their plates before them, each saying thank you before she left. Picking up his knife and fork, Harry said, ‘Something’ll come up. It always does.’

After finishing their breakfast, Ron and Harry Apparated back to their flat to find Hermione closeted in her room writing a letter to her parents.

‘I won’t be much longer,’ she told them, ‘and I need to talk to you both before you go anywhere.’

Harry and Ron decided they’d play a game of wizard’s chess while they waited and so retired to the loungeroom.

A little while later, Hermione signed off on her letter and went looking for Harry and Ron, finding them easily by the triumphant yells from Ron and the groans from Harry.

‘Losing at chess again, Harry?’ she asked with a smile as she walked into the room.

Harry looked up with a pained expression on his face. Hermione felt a strong wave of affection for both of them wash over her as she looked at them. She walked over to Harry and dropped onto the lounge beside him.

‘I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning,’ she said, looking down at the rolled parchment in her hands. Harry move his Rook and turned to her, leaving Ron to decide on his next move; he knew the conversation that would follow by heart now he’d heard it so many times.

‘And I’m sorry I interrupted you with Alex last night,’ he told her. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her arms go around his waist as he did so. He closed his eyes, wanting to commit each second to memory. The feel of her, his arms around her, her arms around him, the softness of her hair – the smell of her – his longing and yearning for her surfacing once again to torment him. Unbidden, images of her kissing some faceless man, then the faceless man becoming himself, went whirling through his head. If only…

They pulled back at the same time, smiling at each other. Now that they’d made up, all was right with the world once more. Hermione jumped up feeling a lot more light hearted, then remembered something.

‘What are you doing for Christmas Harry?’

‘Why?’ said Harry with a lopsided grin. ‘Thinking of taking pity on me and inviting me to your place?’

Hermione’s look of puzzlement was caught by Ron who said, ‘We’re all off to Romania this year to spend Christmas with Charlie and his beloved dragons. Harry didn’t want to come although he’s more than welcome and he knows it.’

She turned back to Harry. ‘You’re not staying here by yourself, are you?’ she asked.

‘Well, I don’t really want to butt in,’ answered Harry, rolling his eyes as Ron made a noise of disgust at this comment, ‘even though I know I’m welcome, so I was just going to have a quiet Christmas here.’

Hermione looked quite indignant. ‘You are NOT spending Christmas alone, Harry! You will come home with me! Mum and dad would be more than happy to have you, I know.’

Harry suddenly felt as though he was floating. He’d truly not wanted to tag along with Ron despite the fact that he knew he was considered family by the Weasleys; he knew they hardly had any time where they were all together and so he’d resigned himself to a quiet Christmas alone in the flat, perhaps visiting one of their friends for Christmas lunch or dinner. Now he was going to spend it with Hermione! Things did indeed have a way of working out.

After assuring Hermione he’d be coming with her, she asked him if she could borrow Hedwig which of course she could and so her letter to her parents, now with a postscript telling them Harry was coming with her for Christmas, went winging on its way.

That night the three of them had arranged a movie night at the flat with pizza and for Luna and Alex to join them. It was a good night, mainly because Alex was happy about his pending week away with Hermione, sans Harry and that bloody mirror and Harry was delighted beyond words about spending Christmas with Hermione, sans Alex. Hermione, if she’d cared to analyse it, which she didn’t, was happy because Harry was happy and therefore not baiting or upsetting Alex.

Just over a week later Hermione was spreading her beach towel on a vacant sun lounge in a Fijian resort hotel that catered for the magical world. She settled herself down, book in hand, sunscreen having been lavishly and lovingly spread all over her by Alex, who was by her side.

True to her word, she’d left the mirror at home but not without telling Harry just in case, so that if he or Ron really needed to contact her, they knew where they could Floo her.

As she opened her book Hermione smiled, feeling very pleased with herself. She’d done all her Christmas shopping and wrapped everything before she’d left; on their return, Alex was coming to dinner, along with Luna, the night before she and Harry were to leave for her parents’ place. She hadn’t yet told Alex that Harry was coming home with her for Christmas – something she found herself really looking forward to; plenty of time for that she thought.

Alexander turned to look at her, smiling as he saw the happy expression on her face.

‘Enjoying yourself, I see,’ he said quietly, smiling.

Hermione turned to him, ‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘very much!’ feeling a little guilty that it was because she’d been thinking of spending Christmas with Harry she’d looked so happy. It was at that moment she realised she wouldn’t be telling Alex about Harry coming to spend Christmas with her at her parents’, justifying her failure to do so by telling herself it would just upset him too much.

Harry had been devastated when Hermione had first told him about her planned holiday weekend away with Alex, but he’d managed to hide it well. Getting to be quite the expert on pretending and hiding, he thought sourly. However, he still had Christmas with her. Without Alex. He’d have Hermione to himself. Well, most of the time. And even when he didn’t have her entirely to himself, he’d still be with her so it didn’t matter. The thought of his pending week with Hermione was what sustained him throughout her weekend away with Alexander Davis. He’d concentrate fiercely on what he and Hermione would do so he wouldn’t think about what she WAS doing at that moment. With another man. Each time he let a little thought like that escape it was as though a thousand knives were driven into his heart. But he couldn’t dwell on such thoughts. If he did, he’d end up driving himself crazy...

Harry came to know the full meaning of the phrase, “it felt like an eternity” because that’s just what Hermione’s weekend away with Alex felt like – an eternity! But then miraculously, he emerged from the personal hell he’d occupied the minute she was back. And then he kept telling himself it was only a matter of days before he’d be going away with her. Going home with her. He even found it in his heart to be magnanimous towards Alex when he and Luna came for dinner with the three of them the night before he and Hermione were due to leave for her parents’. Hermione had warned him and Ron not to say anything to Alex, citing his lack of understanding about their friendship. Harry happily agreed. He felt as though he and Hermione had their own little secret and it warmed his heart.

There’d been only one bad moment that night, one horrible, nightmare of a moment. It happened after Luna left and he and Ron said goodnight, leaving Hermione and Alex to finish off clearing up in the kitchen. As he climbed into bed, Harry realised he’d left his wand in the kitchen as he’d done most of the cooking. He never went to sleep without his wand being within reach. Intending to simply open his door and use a Summoning charm, he heard some unusual noises in the kitchen and decided to go and retrieve his wand himself and make sure everything was all right.

As he walked through the door into the kitchen he stopped dead in his tracks. Hermione had her arms wrapped around Alex’s neck while he was crushing her to him, one hand spread on the small of her back, the other entangled in her long hair, holding her head in place while they kissed. It looked to be a very passionate kiss, Alex’s soft moans being the unusual sounds he’d heard. Harry went white and felt sick to the stomach, no sound escaping his open mouth, his wide, horrified eyes unblinking as he backed unseen from the room, fleeing to the sanctuary of his bed, curling up, his wand forgotten, wracked with the pain of knowing another man was holding and kissing the woman he so desperately wanted and needed. He knew the agony of loving someone so much it defied description, without them being aware of it, knowing there was probably little hope of them ever returning it…yet still wanting her so much he felt as though he’d burn alive with desire.

The next morning Harry woke having had only a few hours sleep. He sat up in bed feeling exhausted, that indelible image of Hermione wrapped around Alex still haunting him. He started at the knock on his door. ‘Harry! Are you awake?’ It was Hermione.

‘Yes,’ his voice coming out in a dry rasp.

‘Good! Breakfast is ready and after that we can leave.’

Harry fell backwards, his head hitting the pillow with a ‘whoompf!’ He closed his eyes. He didn’t think he could eat. And keep it down, that was. Still, he had to try. He had to dredge up some optimism or he’d drown in misery. He’d just focus on the fact that he was going to spend a week with Hermione with no Alex in sight. Perhaps her parents had some mistletoe somewhere in the house? He could kiss her. Yeah, right. On the bloody cheek. After exploring bloody Davis’ tonsils the way she’d been he wondered if she’d even notice if he kissed her.

Hermione, after making sure Harry was awake, walked with a light step into the kitchen, giving Ron a good morning hug before moving to the bench to make herself a cup of tea.

‘Chirpy this morning, aren’t we?’ asked Ron, smiling.

‘Yep! Off to my parents’ place for a week – being spoilt and doted upon – can’t wait!’

‘Not to mention that you’ll have Harry under your wing, safe and sound.’

‘Knowing he’s not going to be alone at Christmas is great!’ she retorted, taking a seat beside him with her cup of tea. Ron eyed her sceptically as she sipped her tea. He was seriously wondering about these two. They both heard Harry’s footsteps take him into the bathroom and a few seconds later the sound of the shower running.

‘So,’ said Ron nonchalantly, ‘what about Alex? You’re not seeing him over Christmas?’

Hermione started fiddling with her teaspoon. Despite her best attempts to ignore it, she was coming to realise that she was pulling back from her relationship with Alex lately. She knew that not telling him about Harry being with her for Christmas was a major telltale sign that things weren’t as they should be. It had also hit her in the last couple of days that she’d rather spend Christmas with Harry than with Alex. It’s because I’m more relaxed with Harry, she told herself. Why? said a little voice. Because I’ve known him so long, she thought firmly, and that’s that!

She shrugged. ‘Actually, I think the whole Alex thing might be going off the boil.’

Ron whistled. ‘Know what?’ he said, eyeing Hermione over the rim of his cup. ‘I think Harry might be very happy to hear that. You should see him whenever you’re out with Alex – he hates it and he drives me nuts the whole time! I think Harry has a thing for you. I think he fancies you.’

Hermione sprayed her mouthful of tea all over the table, Ron leaning back and yelling in surprise.

As Ron patted her on the back with one hand, trying to help end the coughing fit that was doubling her over, he grabbed a serviette with the other hand and tried to mop up the tea.

‘Sorry, Hermione. It was just my own little thought. It’s just that I figure the way he’s been talking about you and the way he is when you’re around it can only mean one thing – he fancies you.’

Hermione was speechless. She had no answers and she had no thoughts because she couldn’t think and she couldn’t think because she was speechless and she was speechless because Ron had sat there and just now suggested, with incredible absurdity, that Harry fancied her. She shook her head as she gaped at him, managing to whisper, ‘You’re mad!’ It was very disconcerting hearing Ron say such things just when she’d been thinking about how she preferred being with Harry.

Ron shrugged, grinning. ‘Could be. Who knows?’

When Harry joined them in the kitchen ten minutes later it was to find Hermione busily tidying the pantry cupboard although she’d done it only last weekend and Ron reading the Daily Prophet with an amused look on his face. Harry looked from Hermione back to Ron and Ron simply shrugged his shoulders. ‘I think it’s her form of therapy. She just told me, quote, I think the whole Alex thing might be going off the boil, unquote. Since you don’t seem to like him much, that’s a good thing, wouldn’t you say?’

After arriving at Hermione’s parents’, Harry and Hermione decided to go for a walk around the village before lunch. Harry was feeling a little disgruntled as Hermione had persisted in discussing Alex. So much for “off the boil”! he thought. What Harry didn’t realise was that Hermione was attempting to sort out the change in her feelings for Alex and talking about him helped. Harry, however, was get a little fed up until he finally spoke up.

‘All right, Hermione, enough about Alex, please.’ He felt angry with disappointment because he thought Ron must’ve got it wrong and he just wanted her to stop talking about Alex. Wanted her to shut up about him, as a matter of fact. It was ruining his Christmas.

‘Oh, Harry! I’m sorry – I’m just rambling, I know. I’m just not sure that things with Alex are really good at the moment and it’s a little confusing. What do you think?’

Harry stopped. She’s asking me what do I think? Oh God, remember she doesn’t know how I feel, she doesn’t know… He kept repeating this to himself but it wasn’t helping. He suddenly felt tired from the strain of being with Hermione so much and yet making sure he gave nothing away about his feelings for her. They were taking a path through the small park not far from Hermione’s home and having had enough of Alex and everything to do with him, he made the mistake of actually saying so, finding himself glaring at her, feeling totally fed up, his fists clenched by his sides, his anger at feeling so powerless spilling over.

Hermione turned and glared back at him.

‘How dare you say that! I just needed someone to talk to!’ Hermione knew her own anger had flared because of her mixed emotions and her guilt over Alex.

Harry, despite his anger, couldn’t help but be aware of her in every way, the proximity of her body – another inch and her breasts would be against his chest - the fire in her eyes, put there by her anger. His fists clenched even tighter, his eyes moved down her face to her mouth. Jesus God in heaven he wanted to kiss her! He’d never been this close to her, not like this, her mouth just inches from his…

‘When it comes to you, Hermione, I’ll dare anything I please!’ he roared, glad to see her flinch at the sound of his voice, wanting irrationally to pass on some of his frustration by yelling at her.

‘What? What right do you have to speak to me like that?’ she hissed, shocked at Harry’s outburst, driven by her own anger.

His mouth curled in a mocking semblance of a smile. ‘I have every right,’ he told her, his eyes moving back up to meet hers which widened on seeing the expression in his green eyes; she suddenly felt acutely aware of him - that he was a good four or five inches taller, definitely bigger and indisputably stronger than her – that he radiated some masculine power that seemed to be surrounding her, going through her, leaving in it’s wake some unnamed emotion. What the hell were they arguing about?

‘Harry?’ her voice was barely above a whisper. She didn’t know what she was asking only that there must be something he could tell her, something to explain this sudden surge of what felt like electricity coursing through her – between them.

‘Oh God! Hermione!’ He sounded as though he was in pain and only the fact that he’d placed his hands on each side of her face stopped her from stepping away from him in mingled fear and surprise.

Then she heard him groan, followed with a whispered, ‘I’m sorry,’ just before she felt his lips on hers.

Her hands flew up to grasp his wrists with the intention of pulling him away but instead she found herself falling against him as though some irresistible force was at work; she found herself opening her mouth to him when his tongue demanded entrance, feeling as though he was setting her on fire. A faint alarm bell sounded in her head. What the hell was she doing? What was Harry doing? Why was he doing it? Why did she feel the way she did? These thoughts seemed to be there and just as suddenly they were gone. The feel of Harry’s hands on her face and especially his mouth on hers seemed to be making her mind go blank; the taste of him, the amazing sensations coursing through her – she struggled with her feelings – this was madness! It couldn’t be! This couldn’t be Harry! This couldn’t be happening! She felt Harry withdraw – his lips parted from hers – appalled that she felt so bereft – horrified that she wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to kiss her again.

She could feel his breath softly caressing her mouth as he whispered, ‘I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll be back tomorrow.’ Then he was gone, Apparating to she knew not where.

She felt unable to support herself, crumpling slowly as she dropped to the ground, sitting with a bemused, confused and horrified expression on her face. She brought the fingers of one hand to rest gently against her lips, remembering the feel of his mouth on hers. Hearing his voice – hearing him say, “my love” - to her. He said he’d be back tomorrow. She eventually got to her feet and not trusting herself to Apparate safely, walked the last ten minutes to her home, grateful her parents were out shopping as she climbed the stairs to her room, collapsing on her bed, eventually drifting into a restless sleep filled with strange dreams where she was kissing Alex who became Harry and she felt so mixed up and she didn’t know which one was which…

At dinner that night she told her concerned parents that Harry had to unexpectedly visit Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts but he’d be back tomorrow. She told them she had a headache to explain her lack of appetite and went to bed early, needing to think, Crookshanks following her upstairs to sleep near her as he always did.

The next morning she woke feeling stiff and unrested and when she opened her eyes it was to see Harry sitting by her bed in the chair from her desk, staring at her, his expression unreadable.

She sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Harry slid off the chair to kneel beside the bed, leaning on one arm and gently stroking her cheek with his free hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ he told her again. ‘I had no right to be angry with you, let alone yell at you and certainly no right to kiss you. You belong to someone else.’

The implications of his words were too overwhelming to be considered now. She simply needed to know everything was all right between them. However, she felt the need to set the record straight on one thing: ‘I don’t belong to anyone but myself Harry,’ she told him, smiling. ‘And you’re right, you were wrong.’

He smiled at her turn of phrase as he stood up and held out his hand to her.

‘Where did you go?’ she asked him.

‘Just back to our flat – I knew it’d be empty. Would you like to come on another walk? I promise not to pick a fight with you this time.’

Taking his hand, Hermione noticed he didn’t promise not to kiss her this time.

As they walked through the cold morning air, their breath frosting, they kept stealing glances at each other. Hermione felt consumed by a mixture of great confusion and a strange excitement at the same time. But she kept coming back to one thing: Harry had kissed her. What did that mean?

In the end she couldn’t stand it any longer so she asked him.

Harry stopped after she’d spoken, his hands buried in his coat pocket as he gazed down at her. He couldn’t lie to her about this, so he simply said, ‘It means I love you.’

Hermione felt as though she’d been struck by a ton of bricks, her knees almost giving way. Seeing the shock on her face, Harry put his arm around her shoulders to support her, turning her to walk in the direction of home at the same time. ‘What I feel about you is not your problem,’ he continued, ‘as long as I can always be your friend.’

She gazed up at him, still stunned.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, pulling her tightly against him, her arm automatically going around his waist as they walked.

As they neared Hermione’s home it was to see Alexander standing at the gate, arms crossed, watching them. Hermione felt her stomach drop. This was all too much. Way too much. What was she supposed to say to Alex? Hi Alex! Its okay, Harry loves me and he kissed me but we’re just going to stay friends. Friends who walk along with their arms around each other – and get kissed on the forehead when really I’d like him to kiss me properly again. Shit! Did I just think that? Worst of all, she realised she was annoyed with Alex for turning up uninvited and unexpectedly.

She felt Harry give her shoulder another squeeze and as they came up to Alex then he dropped his arm and stepped away form her.

‘Hi Alex. Happy Christmas,’ he said, nodding in his direction. ‘See you later Hermione.’ Then he went inside, leaving her alone with Alex.

Alex stared down at her, a slight frown creasing his brow. He looked distant rather than angry.

‘I just arrived – there was no one home but I thought I’d wait a minute or two. I don’t suppose you’d want to go for a walk since you’ve already been on one with Harry,’ he said, ‘and by the way, what’s he doing here anyway?’

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. He hadn’t even said hello or Happy Christmas. And he hadn’t even looked like he’d thought about kissing her.

‘Of course I’ll go for a walk with you Alex,’ she said, keeping her voice even. ‘Harry’s here because otherwise he’d’ve been alone this Christmas.’

‘Can’t have that, can we? And since you are the self-appointed president of the official Take-Care-of-Harry-committee then of course it’s only natural he’s here.’ The sarcasm in his voice immediately made her defensive and she glared at him.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, her voice sharp.

‘I thought I’d surprise you,’ he said tersely.

‘Well, you’ve certainly done that,’ she retorted.

‘Since you’d obviously rather spend your time with Harry bloody Potter I’ll leave you to it,’ he snapped and Disapparated with a loud crack.

Hermione sighed, then trudged up to the front door. Harry opened the door and looked sadly at her.

‘I’m sorry his visit turned out like that,’ he told her as she walked in.

‘Are you really?’ she asked.

Harry winced. ‘Actually yes,’ he said, ‘because it’s upset you.’

Hermione sighed as she was bending to remove your boots and put on her inside shoes. Harry helped her out of her coat and scarf, hanging them up for her beside his own.

‘Come on, let’s go and have some breakfast,’ he told her, leading the way to the kitchen.

Hermione’s parents had left a note on the table saying they’d gone to visit her father’s sister and would be back by lunchtime.

As she made a pot of tea and Harry cooked some crumpets, Hermione’s head was whirling. Alex had been right. She would rather spend her time with Harry. She suddenly felt as though she was going to be permanently confused and had no idea how to think her way out of it. But she had to. And what was she going to do about Harry? About the way he made her feel? She shivered at the memory of his kiss. She had to be honest with herself – it had certainly made her feel as she’d never felt before, even when Alex kissed her. Was that the element of the “forbidden fruit” making it more exciting? She risked looking over at him, bent over the toaster, buttering crumpets. He had on the jumper Mrs Weasley had knitted him this year, a deep emerald green one. His profile was strong and she found her eyes drifting to his mouth, thinking again about him kissing her.

Then his lips curled up in a smile and her eyes were drawn back to his to find him looking at her. She found herself thinking he had the most amazing eyes.

She smiled back at him, suddenly feeling for a moment as though she’d woken up in a different time and place where it was perfectly all right for Harry to be kissing her, where there was no Alex to confuse things, where she could just walk up to Harry and kiss him any time she wanted to…she turned and put the teapot on the table, next to the cups and saucers she’d gotten out earlier, feeling Harry’s eyes on her. She walked over to him intending to help him carry the plates and crumpets and honey to the table but as she stopped beside him, he turned to her and took her hands in his.

‘Hermione, I hope I didn’t upset you by kissing you like that. I’m sorry, I just got carried away.’

‘By what?’ she asked, wanting to hear it again without stopping to think about why.

He looked away from her and she sensed his embarrassment. Then, perhaps to remove some of that embarrassment as well as just simply have him kiss her again, she found herself saying, ‘Would you kiss me again Harry? Please?’

Harry’s head snapped back and his eyes were fixed on her. ‘What?’

She couldn’t say it again, so she just stood here, looking at him, her eyes asking.

‘Hermione,’ he stopped, unable to speak and he knew he couldn’t help himself - she’d asked him and he wasn’t capable of denying her. He dropped his head and kissed her again, more gently this time until he felt her let go of his hands and fling her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him; it was her tongue this time that demanded entrance. Helpless, Harry simply wrapped his arms around her, knowing it would only end when she ended it.

So swept up were they that they didn’t hear the crack as Alex Apparated into the loungeroom or his soft footsteps as he walked along the hallway, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen when he saw the two figures wrapped in a tight embrace, kissing passionately. Nor did they hear the crack as he Disapparated after turning away, his expression furious and defeated at the same time.

They drank the tea, the crumpets forgotten, and talked. Hermione told him about the change in her relationship with Alex and how she thought it probably wouldn’t work out. She was glad that this had come about before she knew how Harry felt because it meant she hadn’t been influenced by that. Then she told him what Ron had said and he laughed. ‘Fancy Ron figuring something like that out by himself,’ he said with admiration.

Hermione blushed. It still seemed strange for her to be sitting next to Harry knowing that he loved her while at the same time it felt good!

‘We’ll just enjoy our Christmas here and worry about everything else when we get home,’ Harry said.

‘And worry about Alex too,’ said Hermione, still feeling a little guilty.

‘When we get home,’ said Harry firmly.

It seemed as though talking about it had removed any embarrassment and awkwardness and coupled with their determination to enjoy Christmas, they felt a new closeness descend.

That night over dinner, Hermione’s parents noticed a distinct change in Harry and Hermione’s manner with each other but said nothing, sharing pleased smiles. They’d always liked Harry and they’d never met Alex although they knew Hermione was going out with him.

Harry and Hermione said they’d clean up after dinner and Hermiones’ parents moved into the loungeroom to watch television, leaving them to it.

Harry couldn’t believe doing the dishes could be so wonderful. Hermione stood there next to him, drying the dishes he’d washed, smiling up at him as they talked, and he felt the happiest he had in a long time.

When they finished and Harry had dried his hands, Hermione draped the teatowel over the drainer and turned to Harry. ‘What shall we do now?’ she asked him.

Harry smiled wickedly at her, waggling his eyebrows as he said, ‘Go find some mistletoe.’

Hermione laughed, hitting him playfully on the arm. ‘Oh you!’ she exclaimed, ‘I mean seriously!’

‘I am serious!’ he retorted.

At that moment an owl landed on the windowsill and Hermione hurried over to open the window for it. It hopped onto the kitchen sink and waited patiently while Hermione removed the parchment from the pouch attached to its leg. As soon as she had it in her hands, the owl left, obviously not waiting for a reply.

Harry leaned back against the kitchen bench, his arms crossed, watching Hermione, wondering who’d owled her.

As she unrolled the parchment, he saw the questioning look on her face relax as she obviously recognised the writing. Then, within seconds, she looked stricken – her face white, her eyes wide and unblinking. As the hand that held the parchment dropped to her side, unknowingly crumpling it, she raised her eyes to Harry and he saw the shock, guilt and distress warring in her eyes.

He closed the distance between them in seconds and wrapped his arms around her, not knowing what the parchment contained but knowing that she needed comfort.

He felt her slump against him, felt her shoulders shake as the first sobs escaped her. He felt her arms go around him, clutching at him convulsively as she buried her head against his chest. He simply stood there and held her until she pulled back, looking around for a tissue, her tear streaked face looking unbearably sad to Harry.

‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ he asked her softly.

She moved from the circle of his arms, reaching over to the box of tissues her mother kept on the bench and wiping her face and nose.

Harry couldn’t bear to not be touching her, comforting her; he moved over to her and rested his hands on her shoulders, waiting for an answer.

‘Alex,’ was all she said.

‘Alex? Is he hurt?’

Hermione shook her head. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

‘Did he write to you?’

Hermione nodded.

Leaving one hand on her shoulder, he placed the fingers of his other hand under her chin, lifting it, so that she had to look at him.

‘And?’ he said.

‘It’s over. Apparently he came back to apologise and found us – you were – I mean, we were-’ as she spoke she pointed to the spot where Harry had kissed her.

Harry’s hands fell to his sides. ‘Oh God, Hermione. I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m not.’ Her voice sounded determined.

Harry looked at her in utter surprise. Had he heard right? ‘What?’ he exclaimed.

Hermione sniffed and straightened her shoulders, turning and throwing the crumpled parchment and tissues into the rubbish. ‘I feel terrible about the way it happened – the way it ended, but I’m not sorry it’s over. I’m going to bed. I need to think – long and hard.’

She unexpectedly wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist, laying her head on his chest. ‘Night, Harry,’ she whispered.

He hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head. ‘Night, Hermione.’

Then she left and he stood, looking at the doorway she’d disappeared through, wondering what the morning would bring and knowing that he’d get very little sleep that night.

Harry fell into a restless sleep just before dawn and woke an hour later, wondering why he felt so rotten. Then he remembered and looked at his bedside clock. Seven o’clock. He got out of bed and dragged on the jeans and jumper he’d worn the night before, quickly pulling on his socks and trainers before hurrying along to Hermione’s room. The door was open and her bed was empty. He ran downstairs and found her sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea into which she was staring.

She looked up when she heard his footsteps and said quietly, ‘The pot’s still hot.’

Harry moved to the bench and poured himself a cup of tea, taking it to sit with her at the table.

‘Get much sleep?’ he asked.

She looked at him and he knew she hadn’t. Her eyes were red – she’d obviously cried a lot during the night too.

Harry felt as though a knife was slicing through his heart. He couldn’t bear to see her so upset, so hurt. Putting down his cup, he took hers from her and placed it beside his own; then he took her hands, drawing her to him, pulling her onto his lap, feeling her arms steal around his neck as her head dropped onto his shoulder, her eyes closing. He felt and heard her sigh deeply.

Then she sat up and looked at him. ‘See?’ she said, sounding a little wild, ‘You see? This is what happens! You just – just – you’re there for me! I don’t need to say anything or explain anything -you’re just for me – I mean – oh hell! I’m not making any sense!’

‘You’re making perfect sense, Hermione.’

‘I always do, to you, don’t I?’ she sighed. ‘I’m just afraid that even thought I don’t meant to, I might be taking advantage of you – that, because, well-’

‘Because I love you and I’ll do anything for you?’

Hermione blushed.

‘Hey, it’s all right. I told you that. I think it can help sometimes knowing someone loves you. Everyone should have someone that loves them, just for themselves. I’m not asking for anything in return, Hermione. I don’t expect anything in return.’ Just hoping like crazy for it! he thought to himself, a wry smile on his face.

She moved back to her own seat again, picking up her tea and sipping it.

‘Harry, would you come shopping with me today? I know it’s Christmas Eve and it’ll probably be absolute bedlam out there, but I think I just need to get out. I don’t even really need to buy any more presents.’

Harry gave her a crooked grin. ‘Let me think about it.’ He made a show of resting his chin in his hand, frowning as though concentrating on his reply. Hermione laughed and swiped his arm playfully.

He sat up straight and smiled at her, winking. ‘Okay.’ Hermione laughed again, aware that for the first time in a quite a while she felt relaxed and happy – not tense and anxious; she hadn’t even realised until now that she spent most of her time like that. They left a note for her mum and dad and then they caught a bus to the nearest large shopping centre and simply wandered from shop to shop.

Most of the time Harry held her hand, sometimes she looped her arm through his. They sat at the back of a small café for lunch, Hermione laughing at Harry’s mock-indignant remarks as she pinched chips off his plate, he retaliating by trying to take some of her grilled sandwiches. They meandered through a few more shops after lunch then decided to head home, Hermione telling him that her mum would need a hand preparing for Christmas dinner the next day.

As they walked in through the front door, Hermione called out, her dad answering from the loungeroom where he was watching television, her mum from the kitchen. ‘We’ll be right there Mum, to give you a hand!’ replied Hermione as she hung up her coat, hat and scarf, Harry hanging his beside hers. She felt Harry’s hand on her arm and turned to see him pointing upwards, smiling. Before looking, she knew. Her mum always hung some mistletoe from the hallway light on Christmas Eve because the first time her dad had kissed her was under the mistletoe when he’d taken her to his home on Christmas Eve.

The look in Harry’s eyes made her heart skip a beat – even Alex had never looked at her with such deep longing and yearning. She couldn’t deny him something she knew he wanted so badly when it was within her power to give it to him, not to mention she was becoming rather taken with kissing Harry herself… With that, she put her arms around his neck, feeling his whole body tense as he brought his hands up to rest on her waist. She tilted her head slightly and stretching up, put her lips to his, immediately feeling that same incredible sensation she’d experienced before. Harry’s arms wrapped around her, one hand finding its way to the back of her neck, his fingers spreading through her soft hair. She could feel his heart pounding and knew hers was doing the same. When she opened her mouth to him, she felt him more than heard him groan, pulling her even more tightly against him. The reality of the effect she had on this man slammed into her when she felt that telltale hard bulge pressing into her lower stomach and she surprised herself with the wave of desire that swept through her.

Harry pulled back, breathing heavily, his gaze dark, intense and – wanting. Hermione knew she was also breathing as though she’d just been running, that she was flushed and that her own eyes were probably full of the same want and need as Harry’s.

‘Better get to the kitchen, don’t you think?’ His voice was deep and hoarse, sending shivers through her.

She couldn’t speak, so she simply nodded, Harry then saying, ‘Tell your mum I’ll be along in a minute.’

Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, Hermione walked down the hallway and into the kitchen to find her mum peeling vegetables at the kitchen sink. She went over and kissed her on the cheek, aware of her mother’s scrutiny.

‘Found the mistletoe, hmm?’ she said knowingly, looking at her daughter’s slightly flushed countenance and shining eyes.

Hermione felt the colour steal over her face and her mother laughed with delight. ‘Your father and I both like Harry, sweetheart, and have no objections to him kissing our daughter under the mistletoe!’

Cutting up the vegetables her mother was peeling, Hermione found herself wondering what her parents would have thought of Alex, then realised she’d never know. Alex would never meet her parents now - now that it was over. And it was over - he’d made that clear and she felt relieved. She’d done a lot of thinking last night and had come to realise she’d always resented Alex’s attitude towards Harry and she also realised just how much time she spent thinking about Harry, worrying about him – even being angry at him – but just always having him on her mind. She’d always known she loved him – and Ron. But it had been different with Harry, she just hadn’t seen it.

‘Harry! It’s snowing!’ cried Hermione, running into Harry’s room and jumping onto his bed. She’d woken early and once she’d seen the snow falling outside she knew she couldn’t stay in bed so she got up, showered and dressed, feeling wonderfully excited

Harry sat up, still half asleep – and perfectly adorable! thought Hermione, smiling at him – and rubbed his face then ran his fingers through his hair, automatically reaching for his glasses on the bedside table. Hermione crawled up from the end of the bed and flung her arms around his neck as she cried, ‘Happy Christmas!’

Grabbing her around the waist, Harry twisted so that she was lying beneath him. ‘Happy Christmas, yourself!’ he told her happily, kissing her lightly on the lips. She pouted. ‘What kind of kiss is that?’ she complained. ‘The one you get before I brush my teeth,’ he told her, ‘Now scat! I’ll see you downstairs under the mistletoe.’

As Harry came down the stairs he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Hermione standing in the hallway under the mistletoe, grinning cheekily at him. ‘Mum and Dad are in the kitchen getting breakfast for us all,’ she told him.

As he reached her, Harry quickly pulled her to him with one strong arm, his other hand gently cupping her face. Reaching around him with both arms and pulling herself against him, Hermione looked up at him as she whispered his name.

‘This is definitely my best Christmas ever,’ he said quietly, then covered her mouth with his.

That night, after a wonderful day during which presents were exchanged, opened and exclaimed over and a delicious Christmas dinner eaten, Harry and Hermione were curled up together on the lounge in front of the fireplace, Crookshanks on the rug before them and Hedwig sitting on the back of the lounge, her head tucked under her wing. Harry had his arms around Hermione’s shoulders and she had hers around his waist, her head resting on his chest.

‘Do you know,’ said Hermione contentedly, ‘even though I’ll have to face the music with Alex when we go back, right now, tonight – as awful as it sounds – I couldn’t care less. I’m too happy.’

Harry took a minute to reply because at first he was too overwhelmed to speak. ‘Hermione, you couldn’t begin to imagine how happy I feel right now. I’ve got everything I could possibly want.’

Turning her head to face him, Hermione looked into those amazing green eyes. ‘And what does Harry want?’ she asked with a very cheeky grin.

He answered with one word: ‘You.’

She stood up then and held her hand out to him, smiling down at him. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

Taking her hand, Harry pulled her back down to sit on his lap. ‘Was that an invitation or an order?’ he asked her gruffly.

Putting her arms around his neck she smiled seductively at him. ‘I wouldn’t dream of ordering you around, Mr Potter, so it was definitely an invitation.’

‘I accept. And by the way, you can order me around all you want, Miss Granger. I’m all yours.’

Looking into his eyes, she whispered, ‘And I’m all yours, Harry.’

‘Best present I ever got,’ he said hoarsely, Apparating them both to his room.

Crookshanks raised his head and looked at Hedwig who hooted very softly before putting her head back under her wing, then he curled up contentedly once more, the fire crackling softly in the background; all was right in the world that night.

FIN

Author’s Note: Just in case there are any perverts out there wondering what happened after Harry and Hermione Apparated to his room, you’ll have to use your imagination, LOL!! Because now I have this “off my back” I’m going back to holidaying and my next writing venture will be the next chapter of “Day by Day”. I swear. I promise. I think. Maybe. Perhaps. (My motto is “never say never”!!)

Happy New Year to all my fellow Harry/Hermione Shippers and roll on the 16th of July, 2005!!!!!

xxxx Lady Jane xxxx