Disclaimer: Still the same one from the first chapter.
A/N: Normally I'd have something really insightful to say…but today I don't. Except for perhaps a thanks to Rini for trying to help me find that random word…though we still have yet to come up with it. *sighs*
Oh yeah, and go buy The Killers' album Hot Fuss because it's the best thing that has ever happened to the planet. (This is only if you listen to rock or some denomination of this genre. But then again, perhaps the rest of you would like it too. Personally, I do not limit myself to one musical genre because then I'd miss out on a lot but hey, whatever tickles your pickle.)
*giggles* I said pickle.
Thanks to the reviewers. Hope you like this chapter!
*****
"So…ahem…where do you wanna do this, exactly?" Harry asked, as he stood in Hermione's doorway watching her look for pajamas. Harry asked this question with an air of an innocent, country priest initiating a liaison with an equally pure vestal virgin.
Hermione rummaged through her drawers, pretending to look for a pair of suitable pajamas. How exactly where they going to do this? Would they sleep in her room?
Hermione stopped, and looked around her room. It was big, too big, with large windows, and a great big four-poster bed. The fireplace stood right across, and there was a large sitting area off to the side. Beyond that was the bathroom, which was roughly the size of her parent's living room.
There were still boxes full of stuff strewn about everywhere; the place looked a right mess! Even though she knew Harry's room would be no better, Hermione decided she wanted to go upstairs instead.
"I think we should sleep in your room," Hermione said assuredly. "I can start there, a place I know where you feel safe, and where I can save you if need be, and then perhaps I can graduate to sleeping downstairs."
Harry nodded; the plan sounded good.
"Of course, you'd probably have to sleep down here a few nights too, before I can get used to leaving you alone." Hermione blushed as she said this.
"Hermione, it's quite all right…I understand."
There was an awkward silence lifted only when Harry cleared his throat and told Hermione he was going upstairs to get ready for bed.
"I'll be up in a minute," Hermione assured, and nearly collapsed on the floor as soon as Harry left.
Goodness! Why did this have to be happening? The whole thing felt so…strange. But why should it feel strange? Harry was her best friend, sleeping with him, as in sleep sleeping, should be no big deal. Perhaps Hermione was worried that she would be invading Harry's privacy?
But then Hermione began to wonder if the situation had been reversed; would she feel like Harry was invading her privacy?
Of course not! If it were Harry, Hermione would do whatever it took to make him better. And she was sure Harry felt the same way.
As Hermione made her way upstairs to Harry's room, Hermione reflected on how chivalrous Harry was being about the whole ordeal. He never whined; he never complained that she was hampering his lifestyle with her twisted little phobia. He was being simply divine.
"First door on the left…" Hermione whispered to herself when she reached his room. Harry opted for Sirius' former room, as the master bedroom had yet to be unlocked.
Sirius' old room, a study, a random bathroom, and the master bedroom were the only rooms on the third floor, aside from a small closet-like room that had a staircase leading up to the attic.
Hermione knocked on the door ever so quietly. Harry seemed to have been waiting on the other side for her to enter, for the door opened swiftly after the second knock.
"What took you so long? My bed feels so cold and lonely without you----" Harry trailed off with a cheeky grin, which earned him a well-deserved smack from Hermione.
"Sod it, why don't you? If Ron passes by and hears this talk, he'd think we were…really…you know?" Hermione emphasized her point by making a funny gesture.
"Yeah…yeah. Right," Harry said with a grin.
Hermione smiled. What she thought would have been an awkward encounter was turning out to run quite smoothly. One look at the bed, however, and all humorous thoughts left her.
From the look on Harry's face, the same could be said about him.
"So err…do you wanna sleep on the left, or the right?" Harry asked distractedly, looking everywhere else in the room but at her.
Hermione took a second to answer. Harry's room was bigger than hers and quite neat actually, which sort of irked Hermione since hers was in such a mess. She bit back her ire and attributed this to the fact that Harry didn't have as many possessions as she did.
His bed stood in the center of the room, against the wall on her left, with two oak tables on either side. A large, floor to ceiling window stood directly across his bed, and the sitting room area, with the fireplace, was right next to it, and then came his bathroom, which was perhaps twice the size of Hermione's.
Hermione debated her sleeping position. If she slept on the right side, then she could protect Harry from any threat that might just spring on him if this threat happened to use the door. However, if said threat instead decided to use the window, Hermione's best bet was to sleep on the left.
In the end, she decided to sleep on the right. The very idea that a threat would crash through the window was quite ludicrous; Grimmauld Place was unplottable.
"I'll take right…" Hermione said.
Harry nodded, a most curious expression on his face. She had indeed taken a long time to decide, not that he was complaining; he loved sleeping on the left side of the bed.
Without much ado, Harry skipped off to his side of the bed and lay down. Hermione, however, remained standing. After a few moments spent with Harry tossing and turning in bed while Hermione stood watch over him like a Hungarian Horntail stands watch over its egg, Harry suddenly sat up.
"Hermione, do you think I'm smelly?"
Whatever trance Hermione was under seemed to break at this silly question. "What?" she asked confused.
"I said, Do. You. Think. I'm. Smelly." Harry tried really hard to hide his grin.
"Of course not! You do have a certain scent to you, but it is a generally pleasant one…"
Harry grinned. "So why on earth are you still standing? Get into bed and sleep, Hermione. Sleep. Please sleep. I won't be able to sleep, unless I know you're sleeping. If I had wanted armed guards to be standing over me as I slept, I would have asked Moody long ago…"
Reluctantly, Hermione lay down, positioning herself as far away from Harry as possible. She knew this was completely childish, but something about the whole situation felt…funny.
Harry either didn't find the situation odd at all, or was simply too tired to dwell on it.
"Goodnight Hermione," Harry said, twisting around trying to find a comfortable position.
"Goodnight Harry."
Hermione extinguished the lights, and with that, she fell asleep.
*~*~*~*~*
The next morning, Hermione woke up to find her feet snuggled between Harry's using them as warmers, and Harry's arm stretched out across her belly.
She felt simply marvelous.
Not only had she had the first perfect night's sleep in the past two months, but her feet were actually warm. What a delightful change!
Even though she knew both she and Harry had work, she was loathe to get up, and her desire to wake up Harry was even less. He looked so peaceful, snoring away like a cat with a cold…
Abruptly, the snoring stopped and Harry opened an eye. "Are you staring at me while I sleep?" he asked.
Hermione smiled, "Why? Are you worried I might fall in love with the angelic way you look while you slumber?"
Harry grinned sleepily. "Nope. I just can't sleep when people stare at me, not that I'm accustomed to such a thing. Unless you count Hedwig, or that one time Crookshanks snuck up here and stared at me for an hour, before he took mercy on me and licked me awake before I was late to work…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just as well, since we have to be at work in half an hour."
Harry grumbled and hid himself under the blankets.
"Up, Potter," Hermione commanded, enjoying the chance to boss him around. She heard something like a whiny "No!" from beneath the sheets, but simply ignored it.
"Harry Potter, if you don't get up this instant, I promise you I will conjure up a bucket of cold water…"
And with that, Harry leapt out of bed and ran straight to the bathroom. Hermione sighed in satisfaction. It was indeed a very good thing she had slept with Harry and had not let her silliness get the best of her. Honestly.
*~*~*~*~*
That same morning at breakfast, Ron observed Harry and Hermione from behind his newspaper.
"Judging from the wonderful expressions on your faces this morning, I take it the night went well." Ron said this with his face stuck behind the paper, so one couldn't really judge whether he really meant this in a friendship-y sort of way, or whether he was just trying to subtly express his particular dislike for the current situation with another fabulous double entendre.
Hermione beamed. "Indeed, the night was simply…satisfying."
Harry raised an eyebrow, and Ron snapped the paper shut; he had bloodshot eyes, complete with bags.
"Satisfying?" Ron choked out, clearly trying to restrain himself.
Hermione laughed. "Honestly Ron! If you're going to be making snide remarks every morning, I might as well have fun with them."
Ron blushed red with anger, and for an insane moment Harry was reminded of his Uncle Vernon.
"Honestly! If you…"
"Oh shove it Ron!" Hermione snapped. "This has nothing to do with what you're thinking! The only thing happening here is that I have this peculiar need to protect Harry -a fairly natural trauma after everything that we've been through I daresay- and that my licensed therapist has deemed it proper that sleeping with Harry in order to make sure of his security is a bloody good way in taking a step towards a full cure!"
By this point, Hermione was yelling and looking so angry Harry was afraid she'd throw her coffee all over Ron.
"We aren't upstairs going at it like rabbits, Ron! He is trying to be a helpful, supportive friend! Even if we were going at it, it wouldn't be any of your business! What happened between you and I happened ages ago, and it did not end on my account! But I'm over it! I suggest you get over it too!"
With a final angry glance at Ron, Hermione apparated out of there. Harry and Ron just sat there in stunned silence.
"Well…hmm…I'd better be off to work then," Harry said, trying to pretend like nothing happened.
"Yes…of course," Ron nodded. But before Harry left, Ron stopped him. "Harry…"
Harry looked down at Ron, who was still sitting at the table. "I'm sorry Harry, you know, for…"
Harry shook his head. "It isn't me you should be apologizing too."
With a sympathetic, pointed glance at Ron, Harry apparated out.
*~*~*~*~*
"Grr I could just kill him!" Hermione yelled as she stumbled into Parvati's office, completely interrupting Parvati's lunch break.
"Hermione, hun, you really need to start making appointments before you burst in like this…" Parvati said, closing the lid of her Chinese take out.
"I'm really sorry," Hermione blushed. "It's just that, Ron has gone and…"
"I see," Parvati said, conjuring up a quill and notepad. "I expected this would happen."
"He has no right!" Hermione yelled. "No right whatsoever! Why is it that every time I even look at a member of the opposite sex, he goes into some sort of ranting lunacy! It is enough to make me want to use an Unforgivable Curse on him…"
And with that pronouncement Hermione sobered up immediately. Never again did she ever want to see anyone go under an Unforgivable Curse, let alone cast one on another person or creature herself.
"I see that you've managed to sleep well," Parvati said, trying to dispel the gloom that seemed to suddenly descend on her patient.
"What? Oh yes…" Hermione said, her expression looking far off and forlorn. Suddenly, as if being snapped into place by some invisible puppeteer, Hermione came back to the present. "How can you tell, you know, that I've slept well?"
"Well, it is obvious," Parvati said, continuing a steady stream of scribbling. "You don't have bags under your eyes, and your energy is up a hundred times over yesterday. You seem to have regained that firecracker spirit, although it seems you're spending too much of it being angry at Ron."
Hermione tried hard not to gag, knowing full well that this behavior was reminiscent of her sixteen-year-old self. "I can't help it, Parvati. It's just that I get so upset! Why does he continue to do this, after everything…"
Parvati began to squirm in her seat, becoming a bit more uncomfortable after every word Hermione muttered. "Listen, Hermione," she began. "You sort of burst in here without an appointment, and I sort of have a client that that needs to be seen shortly. Do you think you could make an appointment and come see me another day?"
"Of course Parvati," Hermione said as she hastily got up. "Thank you for listening though. You've been wonderful."
"No problem Hermione," Parvati said. "Take care."
As she prepared to disapparate, Hermione's attention was suddenly riveted to a spot on Parvati's desk. "That quill…"
Parvati looked up to see Hermione's eyes glued to the ostrich feather quill sitting in a quill holder on her desk.
"That's an ostrich feather quill…" Hermione said, squinting a little as if trying to look for a defect.
"Yes, it is. A…friend gave it to me."
"Oh," Hermione said absently.
"Hermione, I really need to catch up on some paperwork," Parvati said, without meeting Hermione's eye.
"Oh, sorry! Goodbye, Parvati!" Hermione exclaimed before apparating out.
Once she was gone, Parvati sunk down heavily onto her brown leather chair; she had to floo Ron.
As if on cue, Ron's head appeared in Parvati's fireplace.
"Has she gone to see you already?" Ron asked sternly.
"She just left."
Ron sighed. "Parvati, be careful…"
"I know!" she yelled, eyes flashing. "Don't make me feel like this is all my fault, you…"
"Yes, I know," Ron said sadly. "It's just that, she'd never forgive me. I mean, she has, but to bring this all up again, especially right now with her situation…she's so delicate, and…"
"I know," Parvati said, some of the old anger washing away. "I'm her therapist Ron, I'll make her better."
"I trust you," Ron said, those certain feelings coming over him as he watched her sit there, looking nervous, yet determined.
"Ron," Parvati began, looking at him coldly through her big black eyes. "Don't floo here again. She might be here, and then figure it out, and the small progress we've made will have been for nothing…"
"Ok," Ron said, and disappeared.
A long while afterwards, Parvati just sat there, staring at the empty spot where Ron's head had been. At last she sighed, and opened up her Chinese take-out.
*~*~*~*~*
Hermione sat in Harry's bed, curled up with her knees against her chest, trying really hard not to hyperventilate.
He was late. It was almost midnight, and he was late. He hadn't owled her, as he usually did when he knew he would be late, and because of this she was now sitting there listening to Brian Setzer's version of "Hollywood Nocturne," thinking up really creative circumstances where Harry might find himself in mortal peril.
Hermione decided that with an imagination like hers, perhaps she should really look into a career in writing.
Of course, her career as an Auror was indeed fulfilling. She was the master in her division, having had experience in strategizing and analyzing intelligence in the past. She had tried a hand at working as a field Auror, which she was also amazing at, at least when she was alone. She found that when having to work in a group with Harry, she couldn't really keep her mind on task, seeing as she spent the entire time hovering over Harry making sure he didn't get killed.
Naturally, everyone started getting irritated after a while, Harry included, so she found it the best course of action to change divsions. The Ministry was delighted; thanks to her in depth investigation skills, the Aurors had been able to capture two of the most notorious Death Eaters: Crabbe and Goyle.
In an effort to keep Harrygeddon, apocalyptic-style thoughts out of her head, she decided to muse on the strangeness of the relationship between her and Ron.
As expected, Hermione and Ron had indeed dated. Their relationship lasted about four months, (and there was actually a running pool on how long it would last) and took place during their sixth year at Hogwarts, around the same time Harry and Parvati had had their little tryst.
But as is the case with most sixteen year olds in "serious" relationships, the subject of sex came up. With Harry and Parvati the whole thing was quite easy, they were both mere puppets of their hormones, and gave in to them as most young people do. But in the case of Ron and Hermione, it was different.
If it had been left up to Ron, their relationship would have also taken the drastic, physical turn Harry and Parvati's relationship had taken. But unfortunately for Ron, it was most definitely not left up to him…
It was clear from a start that Hermione wore the pants in that relationship.
Because of this, poor Ron never got any, at least from Hermione. Until one fine day he did indeed get propositioned from a girl, and being the hormonal, inconsiderate, selfish git he was, he took advantage of it. Why the hell not? He was in his right as a male to get some! Even Harry, who by this time had already ended his relationship with Parvati, had gotten laid. Why shouldn't he?
Of course Ron never really thought of this as cheating on his leading lady; he never had any intention of telling her at all and figured that these little clandestine meetings would end once Hermione had come to her senses and decided that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
But Ron forgot one simple fact, one that should never be overlooked: Hermione isn't stupid!
She saw the signs, almost at once, and confronted Ron about it. Of course, he denied the whole thing, which only infuriated Hermione even more.
And so Hermione, being the smart, young, vibrant thing she was, dumped Ron and fell straight into the arms of one Zacharias Smith.
Over the past two years, Hermione has gotten many a question regarding the torrid love affair she and Zach had going for each other, and even now she really can't explain how the whole thing came about, or even the purpose it served.
She vaguely remembered going out with him to piss Ron off, knowing full well that Ron thought the boy a git. The strategy of course worked, and she even went as far shagging Zach in an even further effort to anger him.
Now this whole Zach diddy lasted for about three months, which made her sixth year at Hogwarts a most eventful year. Adding to that, all of this happened alongside uncovering a plot that when successful would make Voldemort immortal. Wonder how many other kids could deal with all that?
Seeing this sordid history of Gryffindor love lives, it was no wonder Ron and Hermione still had that quasi-anal passive-aggressive thing: it was merely a device that Ron used to mask his regret at screwing Hermione over, and that Hermione used to mask the anger that she still had deep within her.
The fact that Hermione had chosen this predicament to keep from dark Harry thoughts stemmed from the dinner Ron had decided to cook. She supposed Ron had made spaghetti and meatballs as a typical I-shall-not-apologize-using-words-because-I'm-male type thing in an effort to make up for this morning's row.
The spaghetti was more or less good, as was the company. Hermione found the way Ron kept opening and closing his mouth between bites, straining with himself to apologize, highly amusing.
Of course he didn't, and at the end of it all he rather sulkily stomped up to his room.
It was in the middle of this reverie that Harry suddenly apparated right next to her.
"Hi," he said, smiling at her toothily.
"Hi…goodness! What happened?" Hermione asked, jumping up in alarm.
Indeed, Harry looked as if he had just escaped some trying situation within an inch of his life, which was most likely true. He had a big burn mark on his left cheek, and parts of his cloak were singed off…not to mention the highly disheveled state of his hair, which in retrospect wasn't that big a deal since it was always highly disheveled.
Harry let himself fall back onto his bed. "We got Avery," he said.
Hermione sighed, and sat back down next to him. They sat there in silence, until Hermione stretched over him and inspected his burn mark.
"Why on earth did you not get this fixed?" she asked him.
Harry, who had previously had his eyes closed, opened them wide and sat up. "I knew I had to come home to you."
Hermione's eyes went wide, and Harry rushed to explain himself. "Well, you know, you always have kittens when I'm not with you, so I figured…I had to be home as fast I could before you went off and did something stupid."
Hermione smiled, completely amused by the sudden role-reversal. Wasn't she the one that usually worried about Harry doing something stupid?
"Hungry?" she asked him.
In response, Harry's stomach made some weird growling noise at being ignored for so long. Hermione chuckled and went downstairs to grab Harry a plate of leftover spaghetti. On her way back up, she stopped off her study to retrieve the, "All Purpose Pomade" she had handy for Harry's burn mark.
"Food!" Harry exclaimed happily when Hermione appeared with the spaghetti.
"Beware, Ron made it." Hermione said.
But Harry didn't seem to care, for he greedily began slurping the spaghetti away, while Hermione went off in search of Harry's pajamas.
"Harry, where is the other half of your Pajama bottoms?" Hemione asked, as she picked up the bottoms off the floor in front of the fireplace.
"No…idea," Harry managed to say between bites.
Hermione rolled her eyes and threw Harry's bottoms at her. "Get ready for bed," she commanded.
Harry hastily finished his spaghetti, grabbed his pants, and ran into the bathroom.
Hermione entertained herself by turning off the music, banishing the empty spaghetti bowl, conjuring a fire in the fireplace, and sitting down to try and unscrew the seemingly unscrewable lid off the pomade jar.
In the middle of her struggle, Harry emerged from the bathroom with clean teeth, a freshly scrubbed face, (at least, around that burn…) and shirtless.
"Need some help with that?" he asked, obviously amused at all the effort Hermione was putting into opening the little jar.
When she looked up, Hermione found herself unable to utter a sound, and handed Harry the jar while trying really hard no to look up at him.
He was shirtless!
Harry, not being completely daft, noticed the way she kept her eyes away from his general direction.
"Hermione…you don't mind do you? I mean, I can go get some other shirt its really no big deal…"
"NO! I mean…no, its fine…really…" Hermione took the now open jar of pomade from Harry, and stood up.
"Sit," she squeaked out, suddenly regretting the fire in the fireplace. What on earth had possessed her to start a fire? It was already so god damn hot in the room!
These thoughts pervaded her mind as she dipped her hand into the jar, lathered some of the pomade over her hand, and every so gently caressed Harry's burn.
She was so close to him that their right knees touched. At first this was no big deal...after all, they were only knees. But Hermione's hands had the rather unprecedented affect of making Harry relax, and without thinking he placed his hand on the thigh Hermione had unconsciously settled between Harry's knees…
Why on earth had Hermione started a fire?
Hermione felt a distinct warmth throughout her body, and noticed Harry's heavy breathing. She was about to back away, suddenly frightened for no apparent reason, when she noticed a big, ghastly bruise covering his left shoulder blade.
"Harry, what is that?" She asked placing a hand on it, and trying very hard to ignore the big lump that was forming in her stomach. This was Harry! Why was she frightened of Harry? She was being ridiculous!
"It's nothing," he said through raspy breath, trying to sound brave and manly.
"Nonsene," Hermione whispered, and dipped her hand into the wonderful, all purpose pomade. She placed a delicate hand on Harry's shoulder blade, and began massaging.
By that time, the lump Hermione had in her stomach had grown. It was a malignant lump, and had spread throughout her entire body, making every limb feel heavy, and slow. Each time she rubbed Harry's shoulder, she felt like she needed to use the strength of her entire body to move her hand. The ordeal was so taxing that after a while she was completely on top of him, straddling him with her legs, smothering him with her breasts…
It was like a fight! Against herself, against him! She could NOT be afraid of him! Nothing about him should frighten her! And she had to STOP being afraid for him! But that bruise…that bruise on his shoulder…at that moment it took on the significance of everything she was afraid would happen to him! She had to get it off of him…it was her job and hers only…
By the time she was done Hermione was shaking all over, and Harry's breathing was growing shallower by the minute.
As if waking up from a trance, Hermione abruptly jumped away from him, both terrified of him and terrified of herself.
What exactly had just happened there?
Minutes passed, the clock ticked…complete silence. Hermione just stood there, sizing Harry up the way she would an enemy. All Harry could do was sit there, completely stunned by…he did not know what exactly. He ran a hand across his shoulder, touching the spot where the bruise had once been.
After a while, Harry could not take it anymore. He cleared his throat, making Hermione jump back a step further.
"So…I take it everything feels better now?" Hermione stammered. Whereas before she couldn't take her eyes off Harry - now - she could barely look at him.
"Yes…" Harry said, a dazed look on his face. He still had a hand to his shoulder, and couldn't think clearly for a lack of blood in his head.
Further silence, where the warmth of the fire transferred itself to the air, and became heavy, oppressive. Adding this to the lack of blood in his head, Harry felt the insisting throb of a headache knocking on his temple.
"Perhaps we should…go to bed?" He asked casually, trying to act as if nothing was the matter, when everything was the matter.
"WHAT?" Hermione shrieked, looking alarmed, though feeling a sudden exhilaration at the prospect of going to bed with Harry. Ok, where did that come from?
"Sleep Hermione. You know, what we did last night…" Harry said tentatively. The friend part of him was worrying about Hermione's welfare and wanted her to get a good night's sleep, though the man part of him…well…he didn't bloody care if Hermione slept or not.
"Right…right…" Hermione said, inching her way toward the other side of the bed…as far away from Harry as possible…
Though every inch of her body wanted her to get as near to Harry as possible.
"Hmmm…do you, you know, are you sure about…" Harry asked, motioning toward his torso, looking again like a modest country priest - an attractive half naked country priest.
"It's…it's ok, like I said. I mean, it is sort of warm in here, don't you think?"
"Yes. Warm. Stifling…" Harry agreed, nodding along.
"Right. Right…so, umm…Sleep."
"Yes! Sleep!" Harry said, happily jumping into bed and disappearing under the covers.
Hermione hesitated, an expression on her face reminiscent of Psyche, although one couldn't be sure whether it was Psyche's expression at Delphi, where she learned that for the rest of her life she would sleep with a monster, or when she realized the monster was in fact Eros…
After a moment, Hermione realized how ridiculous she was being, and delicately climbed into bed. She needed sleep.
Although she knew that tonight, even though she'd be safe from dreams of Voldemort, no sleep would come her way…