Author's notes: I do thank my wonderful beta reader, Aurabolt who endeavored to read this NC-17 chapter. He doesn't read NC-17 usually, but he did it for me. ;) Thanks!
Also, on the matter of Moon Phases, at this time of 1999, the moon was waxing. So there's a bit of an anomaly with regard to this story, but I'll just say that I'm flexing some fiction muscles, here. Life is good in the world of fantasy.
Standard disclaimers apply.
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Chapter Twelve - Present for His Birthday
Upon which Harry gets what's coming to him.
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The week that came before Harry's birthday was explosive with activity. Hermione was swamped with work from the WizCOF and Ron had begun portkeying all over the World. It was no fieldtrip for Harry, either. Death Eaters suddenly begun to pop out of hiding in the most unlikely places, as if determined to make Harry too exhausted to give Hermione the attention she deserved.
They were all so wrought with work that going home meant having dinner then passing out where sleep caught them. Three times for Harry and Hermione, it was in the viewing room, usually after a good round snog which they had probably hoped to take further at some point, but ended up forsaking for sleep.
It was somewhat sad, but they didn't dwell on it, much. Their lunch breaks were always pleasant, anyway.
So on the 31st day of July, which Shacklebolt had decided to make miserable, Harry was too exhausted to care that only Hermione and Ron seemed to remember his birthday.
It wasn't so bad, really. Hermione's tender loving care was enough to make up for the world of friends who forgot.
Ron's drowsy, "Happy birthday, mate. I'll give you your present, later. It's not ready, yet. But don't worry, it won't involve one-legged women with eye-patches," was most appreciated.
The reference would have to be an incident in the seventh year, when Seamus offered them to take a gander at his naughty Wizard's Magazine. It would have been mighty interesting, seeing as the women weren't clothed at all, but somehow, the one-legged-ness and the eye-patches (it was the Pirates' Edition) sort of took some off the allure.
Hermione had asked what Ron meant, of course, but Harry thought it best not to go into any more detail than, "That would be Finnegan's debacle."
To her credit, she didn't want to know anymore after that.
She had been less cavalier about her treatment of his birthday. First thing she did was hand over a packed breakfast.
"It's freshly cooked eggs, sausage and a muffin. Coffee's good, too. It'll stay nice and hot. The chocolate chip cookies aren't exactly standard breakfast fare, but it's your birthday, so you deserve a treat."
He had smiled at her, kissing her fitfully for her efforts. He didn't usually have any breakfast at all during the weekday, but that was because he didn't have time. He truly appreciated what she had made for him.
She said she had her present all wrapped up for him, but she preferred to give both of them later, when they didn't have to go rushing about to get somewhere.
He tried desperately to keep his mind out of the gutter with regards to that.
He succeeded, mostly. Shacklebolt kept him busy the entire day doing silly, first-level auror things. It was fine, considering he was technically still an Auror-in-Training, but modesty aside, after having fought Voldemort and winning, first-level "threats" were as boring as hell.
By the time seven thirty came around, he was ready to call it a day and run into the sweet embrace of his dear Hermione.
So he was thoroughly put off when Shacklebolt came over to his desk and said, "Death Eater sighting in an abandoned warehouse in Islington. This is a big one. I'm sending most of the aurors in."
"Right," grumbled Harry, looking longingly at the door. Maybe Hermione would show up and demand that he be let off the hook this once. If anyone could do it, she can.
"Cheer up, mate!" said Gail. "At least this isn't going to be as boring as everything else we've been assigned to today."
"Can someone please tell Hermione for me that I'll be back as soon as possible?" he called to no one in particular.
There were no volunteers. He sighed, writing a hasty note to Hermione and leaving it hovering visibly over his desk.
Reluctantly, he got up to follow his seniors.
They converged in the conference room. Him, Tonks, Remus, Gail, Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody.
"I'll follow with Dawlish and his team," said Mad-Eye. "Make sure they get it right."
Now that Harry thought about it, he realized that this was more serious than he thought. They were sending all the big boys to play, and that could only mean this Death Eater was dangerous.
Tonks held out a rusty frying pan. "All together now."
Harry touched his hand to the portkey and he felt the woosh of magic transporting him.
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The warehouse looked little more than a giant tin can held together by rust and outfitted with one big door at the front.
The growth surrounding the warehouse hadn't been tended to for years, and they had plenty of weeds to hide behind. The moon wasn't all that bright, and it was halfway to waning.
Shacklebolt gathered them round. "Gail and Harry, you go on over to the back while Tonks takes the front. Remus and I will go inside and get him in there. We're looking at a male, freakishly tall. Not much else to describe him since most of him was covered up, but he had the mark of a Death Eater on him, and seeing as the lot of you aren't exactly the tallest sons of bitches this side of Islington, I don't suppose you'd have trouble I.D.ing the bloke.
"The whole warehouse has been anti-apparated, so we can't have him getting out. This is why you have to guard the exits. I don't want anyone alerting him of our presence until Remus and I have him cornered, got that?"
Harry nodded. He didn't like guard duty much, but fortunately for him, they always paired him with Gail, which meant he could leave her to do what they were told to do so he could do what he wanted.
When Shacklebolt sent them off, he and Gail took off in a quiet rush. They had to stay low to avoid being seen, but they had to move fast if they wanted to get anything done quickly.
It was quite a long run, seeing as the warehouse was big. When they got around to their position, they saw the back-entrance.
It was just a small door, really. Only big enough to let people and a few crates to pass through. The loading trucks that frequented warehouses would do better to park up front.
He and Gail crouched behind some old oil drums, waiting and staying alert.
Harry knew that as soon as he heard action coming from inside, he would leave Gail out here and slip through the doors. Shacklebolt would definitely get on his case, but he was always very careful. He didn't want to put anyone in danger anymore than they already were. Most times, anyway, he managed to help bag the bad guy.
"So," whispered Gail. "How are you and Hermione coming along?"
Well, he had expected that all week from Gail. He didn't realize she would bring it up now, though.
"Perfectly. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing. Just wondering, is all. She's been looking rather glowy."
"Glowy?"
"Oh, you know… lovelier. I didn't think much of her the first time we met, to tell you frankly, but the more I see her, the prettier she gets. I'm still trying to figure out of it's all her or if you had something to do with that."
Harry kept his senses more attuned to the warehouse, but he couldn't help but respond to Gail's observations. "Much as I…" He perked his ears to something he thought he heard. After a moment, he decided he was hearing things. "… would like to take credit for her allure, it's all her. She has that effect."
"Well, then you must think she's damn well gorgeous by now, don't you?"
"Pretty much…" He replied, distracted. He had heard the sound again, and this time, he was sure he wasn't imagining things. "Did you hear that, Gail?"
"Not really, Harry. Not all of us have bionic ears like you do."
"Stay here."
Gail sighed and rolled her eyes. "Here we go again! You always do this to me, Potter!"
"Guard the entrance," he instructed, inching his way out of their hiding place already. "Anything that comes out of there, hex it."
"What if it's you?"
"Gail…"
"Right… far be it I'd be able to hex the great Harry Potter," she muttered.
He sighed, but yeah, basically, that's what he meant.
Harry took out his wand. Even if he could do wandless magic, he still needed the wand handy a lot of the time during these man-hunts. He cast a silencio on the door to keep it from creaking and slipped into the warehouse.
It was darker than he expected, and while he had decent night-vision, the total darkness would make stalking impossible to do, undetected. There were boxes, crates and junk everywhere. He'd be knocking things over and giving himself away the entire time.
"Occulus inlumino," he whispered, tapping his wand to his glasses.
His glasses instantly gave him superb night-vision without casting a light. There were many advantages to being a four-eyed geek, he had often joked to himself.
He found his way around deftly, training his ears for any sound that might give the Death Eater away.
There was a scratching sound to the left of him and as he whirled to find out what it was, he held his wand at the ready.
Rats, he thought, seeing several of them scurrying by. Hermione hates rats.
Focus, Potter!
He stifled a sigh, creeping along a bit further into the warehouse. He didn't know where he was going, but he was bound to catch someone if he got around.
Harry saw movement, but judging by the bald pate and gold-earring, he wasn't about to start hexing. Shacklebolt wouldn't appreciate getting hexed by his own trainee.
There was movement in the rafters above, like the flutter of wings. It was probable that any number of birds could be nesting up there, but if there was a Death Eater living here, it would make sense to have an owl living up with him. They would have to check the ceiling later.
Harry refocused his attention to the hunt, staying alert.
A loud shout and an explosion from deep within the warehouse floor shattered the silence. Harry acted quickly, rushing through the spaces and making way for himself by magically pushing crates aside.
It had sounded like Remus and he was absolutely not going to stand by and wait for further instructions.
There was smoke, and it smelled suspiciously like cinnamon. There was no visible fire. There was soot on the floor and some of the crates, cast in an outward motion from the center of a small clearing. He lumbered through just when Shacklebolt appeared from the other side.
"Potter, what did I tell you?" he hissed.
Harry didn't care as he searched frantically for Remus. He kept his panic hidden. It was a lesson well-learned from the war.
Where's Remus? he thought while the beating of his heart rose to a crescendo. Where the FUCK is Remus?
"I don't see him, Kingsley," he said, not bothering to answer Shacklebolt's question. "Are you sure the wards are up?"
"I won't even answer that," Shacklebolt replied. "Take that side and I'll take this. I suppose it's you and I for now, Potter."
Two silver messenger spells darted towards Shacklebolt from opposite directions and he sent them back immediately. Harry could only suppose they came from Tonks and Gail.
"Lord knows anyone listens to me in our department," muttered Shacklebolt.
Harry followed Shacklebolt's instructions this time, but only because it suited him. He hadn't gotten far before the same explosion cut through the warehouse from where Shacklebolt had gone to a few minutes ago.
Swearing loudly, Harry rushed to follow the sound, only to be met by more smoke and even less evidence of what might have transpired. "Kingsley!" he yelled helplessly.
He cast messenger spells out, all at the same time, telling Tonks and Gail to keep their positions while informing Dawlish's team-if they were out there-about what had so far transpired.
He rushed to the back, hoping his instincts were right in supposing that the Death Eater would opt for a rear exit as a better choice to the front, where aurors were more likely to be prepared with back-up.
"Harry?"
It was Gail, and it sounded like she was inside the warehouse.
"Gail, get back out there!" he shouted above the crates.
"Harry, wha-" She screamed, followed by the all-too-familiar explosion.
Harry was filled with grim determination as he pushed his way to the rear exit.
Who IS this guy?
He was met with the same thick cinnamon smoke. It filled his vision and there was no sign of Gail.
There was movement around him and he didn't think twice. He shot out an exploding spell with his wand, a binding hex following right behind it. Crate chips flew everywhere in a spectacular display of power.
"Heads up, Potter!" someone cried from behind him.
The voice was shockingly familiar as he whirled around, mouth agape. "Ron?"
Something was heading straight for him and he raised his hand just before it hit him. "Imobulus!"
It hung in the air, inches from his nose. It was a stinky old shoe.
He frowned. "What the hell is going on?"
"Wotcher, Harry!"
Harry turned, startled out of his skin. He was completely unprepared for the rubber chicken that Tonks was hurtling right at his face.
It connected with a splat, and Harry felt the overwhelming swoosh of a portkey.
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Harry stumbled gracelessly to the hardwood floor of wherever the hell the portkey brought him. He scrambled to his feet, wand at the ready but was shocked speechless at the blinking letters, the balloons, the lights and most of all, dozens of grinning people.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!" they all yelled at once.
He gaped. There was Remus blowing a horn loud enough to wake the dead. There was Shacklebolt looking rather grim in spite of the smile on his face and there was Gail, throwing up party fairies so they can start sprinkling fairy dust over everything. And then of course there were the other dozen or so friendly faces he had come to love in his young life.
Hermione, the center of his universe, flashed him a breathtaking smile as she and Ron threw up exploding birthday greets, filling the air with a cacophony of "Happy birthday!" in the funniest voices as glitter and ticker rained down on him.
She jumped in his arms and only then did he find the sense to smile and laugh.
Tonks bumped him from behind waving the rubber chicken like a victory banner and Ron waved the other half of the stinky shoe.
"In case the first one didn't work!" he later said.
Harry whirled Hermione in his arms and set her down, pointing an accusing finger at his co-Aurors. "You right bastards! You had me!"
A loud shout erupted from everyone, with Fred and George agreeing that it was the best joke of the season.
"That lady right there has shown a talent for the properly applied prank!" said Fred, bowing to Hermione.
George bowed right with him.
Harry's jaw dropped as he turned to the woman in his arms. "You!"
She laughed. "Well, I couldn't have done all this without the help of the aurors…"
Harry thought she was positively the most beautiful, most brilliant woman ever. He swept her into his arms and kissed her rather lusciously. As soon as the whooping sounds from everyone began, he dipped her down dramatically, eliciting rowdier shouts and catcalls.
When he brought them back up for air, she was all adorable blushes and sheepish looks, but it was well worth it.
But, oh, Hermione COULD kiss, even when she's embarrassed as anything.
He exchanged loving smiles with her.
Ron clapped him on the back. "I was going to say I had some to do with it, but after seeing that, I didn't want to take my chances!"
Everyone converged upon him, the women showering kisses and the men giving him breathtaking blows to the back.
The Weasleys, save for Percy, were there in full-force. Even Fleur and Gabrielle graced the clan with their ethereal beauty. And while the sudden recollection of Ginny being there, watching him snog Hermione, brought a blush to his cheeks, her friendly wave, complete with charm bracelet, eased some of his discomfort.
Molly fussed like anything, and Arthur waved a bottle of whiskey in his face. Most of everyone from the Order was there, along with old classmates like Neville, Seamus and Dean. His old Quidditch teammates had been invited, and so were several of his professors. Having McGonagall there was a bit disconcerting, but after she greeted him with as much warmth as he'd ever seen her express and then turn to Hermione with motherly attention, he felt certain that he couldn't have celebrated his birthday without her.
Dobby and Winky appeared later, and it seemed Hermione had commissioned them to mind kitchen duties because they wouldn't have come to the party otherwise. They expressed excessive gratitude at the invitation "Hermione Granger, Ma'am" sent them, but they couldn't possibly come to a party and do nothing.
Hermione's weak smile was confirmation enough of this. No doubt, she would have preferred to have them as guests, but where Elves were concerned, she was painfully understanding.
Music from the phonograph filled the air with jazz and swing as the drinks and food magically appeared on the tables. The music had Remus written all over it.
Harry loved it all.
He held Hermione's hand the whole time as he hovered between friends, keeping her near enough when he didn't have his arms around her shoulders.
A bit later, as Hermione stood nearby conversing with Lavender and Parvati, Harry saw another familiar face waving to him in his usual friendly manner from across the room. It was Lee Jordan.
Lee still had his dreadlocks, though they were shorter now. His job as a sports announcer gave him the celebrity he was destined for, and it was quite a surprise to have him show up for the party.
Harry managed to force his lips into a smile, nodding back a response as he raised his bottle of ale. Lee headed his way.
He nudged Ron who stood beside him exchanging dirty jokes with Seamus, Dean and Neville. Without removing his gaze from Lee, Harry spoke to Ron through his teeth.
"What the hell's he doing here?" muttered Harry.
Ron looked and gave Lee a grin and a wave, replying without moving his lips. "You'll thank me for it later. You'll see."
"Lee!" cried Harry and Ron in unison. It was the fakest thing Harry had ever heard. Fortunately, nobody noticed.
Hermione turned to offer her own greetings. "Oh, Lee! Ron said you were going to be here, but I wouldn't believe it 'til I saw it. How've you been?"
Lee grinned, exchanging cheek kisses with her. "Doing quite well, thank you very much! Harry! Been a long time, hasn't it?"
"Very!" said Harry, his voice a tad pitched as he shook Lee's hand. Much as he really liked Lee before, he couldn't exactly take it in stride when Ron told him Hermione compared his snogging abilities to Lee's. Sure, she said he snogged much better than Lee, but for her to use Lee as a comparison at all! Territory had to be marked immediately!
Lee exchanged pleasantries with everyone and Hermione actually separated herself from Lavender and Parvati to join their conversation.
Two shared private jokes between Hermione and Lee later, Harry just wanted Lee to go away.
Hermione and Lee shared an easy laugh about something witty Lee had churned out.
"Oh yes, he's sooo funny," grumbled Harry aside to Ron as he casually wrapped an arm around the front of her possessively.
Ron grinned.
"Lee!" yelled George from the other side of the room. "Stop kissing up to the savior of the world and get over here!"
Lee waved to George before begging his leave. "I have to go, but I'll definitely talk to you again later, alright, Harry?"
"Sure thing, Lee," Harry replied.
Lee left and when they were sure he was gone, Hermione turned to Harry and slapped him lightly on the chest.
She frowned. "Way to go, Harry! Why didn't you just mark the line between me and Lee with your piss?"
Ron and the boys doubled over in laughter.
"What'd I do?" said Harry with the most innocent look he could manage.
"Goodness, Harry!" she huffed. "I'm going to go over there to talk to Minerva and Remus. You stay right here in your boys club until you can grow up!" She kissed his cheek before she left, though, so at least he was sure she wasn't angry.
He smiled stupidly as he watched Hermione walk away. It was a delectable backside, she had. Possibly had to do with that nice little red and pale-moon clingy dress she had on, then again, he'd seen her in her worse clothes and he still managed to enjoy the view.
Seamus made a whipping sound and pretended to crack it at Dean's ass.
"Oh, Hermione!" cried Dean in an exaggerated baritone as he threw his head back in dramatic bondage.
Ron and Neville's laughter rang out through the room.
"Ha-ha, very funny, you guys," Harry sneered.
After he bore several more jokes from his dorm mates disparaging his manhood, he quite happily moved on to speaking with Professor Flitwick and Katie Bell. Mad-Eye joined them later and didn't say "Constant vigilance!" once, though Mad-Eye did whip out his wand when Fred exploded a cracker in the fireplace.
Harry was in the midst of exchanging spell theories with Flitwick when the lights were dimmed and a huge cake was brought out for him, magically levitated by Dobby and Winky.
There were twenty merrily bobbing candles on it and Harry smiled bashfully as the attention of the entire party was once again brought to him.
Hermione and Ron were suddenly on both sides of him and he draped his arms over them; the two people he loved most above everyone.
"Make a wish, Harry!" cried Bill.
"But zon't zay eet out loud," Fleur said.
Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes. "Of course he knows that!"
Hermione giggled, pressing her lips to his ear. "Make a wish…"
Her breath tickled him, and it sent pleasant shivers down his spine.
Harry thought about it briefly, and he was shocked to realize that he didn't have anything to wish for. Everything he had wanted in life; everything he could have hoped for; he already had.
He had a home, a family, people who loved him, a worthwhile career… he was alive. There was nothing else he wanted.
He looked to Ron and grinned. "Maybe I'll wish that you'd find a nice, respectable woman to settle down with. Molly'll surely like that!"
Everyone had a grand laugh over that, as Ron's womanizing was a well-publicized fact. Molly dealt Ron a stern look for it.
Hermione grinned. "Oy, don't waste your wish on a lost cause!"
Harry rubbed his nose against hers fondly. "Oh, but I have everything I want right here."
She blushed but rewarded his gallant words with a kiss.
There were "awws!" and "blechs!" all around to punctuate his sappy little speech.
He looked up, struck with inspiration. "Alright, then! I've got a wish, but it's for everyone, so I'll say it out loud. Hear?"
"Hear!" shouted everyone in response.
"Zee?" Fleur snootily told Ginny. Ginny made a sound of disgust.
Harry began, keeping his tone light. What he had to say was serious, but he wanted to keep the festive atmosphere. "It was the beginning of terrible times for the Wizarding World when I first went to Hogwarts, wasn't it? I didn't know a thing, and very few people then understood how bad it was going to get in the coming years. I'd dealt with Voldemort five times, one way or another, before he was even acknowledged to be alive, and it was only three years after that Voldemort was beaten at all. We lost so many of the people we love, and even our very way of life was threatened. I couldn't even begin to tell you how painful the losses were. A lot of you don't need me to explain. But as filled with tragedy as those years were, I learned to appreciate everything and everyone I had in a way I never would have known if I had chosen to live my mundane, muggle existence. And it's greatly because of that, that if I had been given a choice to redo my entire life, I don't think I'd choose to relive it any other way. So I'll wish that you, everyone you love, and everyone you will love, would know this same wisdom of cherishing what we have without the pain of loss you and I had to suffer. Hear?"
"HEAR, HEAR!"
Harry blew the candles from his cake and a festive shout punctuated the brief, special interlude. The music began again and Ron officiated the cutting of the cake and giving pieces of it away while he ate several mouthfuls of it. This distracted everyone, and Harry found a moment of privacy with Hermione.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him and looked up at him with a smile. "As selfless as always."
He grinned down at her. "I thought you would be pleased."
"Oh, I'm very pleased," she said in a softly suggestive tone. She tugged his vest laces towards her and caught his lips. The kiss she rewarded him with certainly would have sent his blood rushing to unmentionable places if Ron hadn't clapped him a strong blow to the back.
Harry gasped for breath.
"Time for me to give you your present, mate," said Ron. "It's ready."
"This better be good, Ron," Harry muttered, shooting Hermione a significant look.
She grinned, her eyes twinkling, and he had a distinct feeling she was in on the secret.
Ron handed him a small wrapped box.
Smirking, Harry tore off the wrapping paper, and when he opened it, he was a little bit more than perplexed. It was a rust-splattered, broken down harmonica tucked in its pristinely cushioned box.
"Err," he said. "Th-thanks, Ron. I think."
Hermione laughed.
"It's a portkey, silly," Ron explained, grinning.
Harry became more interested. "Where to?"
"You ready for this, mate?"
"Probably not, but let's get to it, anyway."
"Well, fancy you, some Quidditch?"
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Harry and Ron swooshed to the Chudley Cannons Quidditch Pitch and was met by the roar of eager spectators from the Quidditch stands.
Hermione appeared moments later carrying with her Ron and Harry's Quidditch gear and brooms. She looked a little overloaded, but Harry was too awed by his surroundings to be more concerned.
He had seen professional pitches before, of course, but always from the stands. Never from the field itself, and standing in the middle of the pitch, with bleachers and spectators all around while professional players flew and swooped by. It was truly an experience worth savoring.
"This is just practice, of course," said Ron, gesturing grandly to the entire place. "But the team always has fans watching them. Plenty enough spectators to make a crowd and have vendors cart their food. I asked the team if they would be willing to practice with the Gryffindor Quidditch alumni for a bit. I think they just wanted to play you, mate!"
"Ron… this is… this is…"
"A Quidditch fan's wet dream?" asked Hermione.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Shut it, Hermione. As if this wasn't your idear."
Hermione scoffed and gave over their Quidditch paraphernalia. "Oh, get on out there, you two. I'll be in the stands with the rest of the party guests. I'd expect the rest of your team would be along-ah, there they are!"
Harry turned and saw Katie, Ginny, Fred, George and Lee approaching them.
He grinned, now knowing why Ron invited Lee. "Lee's an announcer. What's he going to do? Talk to the bludger not to hit him?"
Ron chuckled, winking.
Hermione frowned. "You were down one Chaser. Someone had to volunteer."
"And now we're a team," said Harry, eyes twinkling. "Go on up to the stands already, Hermione. I'll see you in a bit."
"You better behave, Harry."
"Like an angel."
Hermione left in a huff.
The party, who had been given portkeys of their own from Grimmauld Place, started to chant "Weasley Is Our King" and the other fans were beginning to pick up the rhythm.
Ron reddened as they slipped into their pads and robes. "Why did I see that coming a mile away?"
Joey Jenkins, Chudley Cannons beater, hovered by on his broom with a lopsided grin. "Nice song, Weasley."
"Shut it, Jenkins," Ron barked. "Or I'll reconsider those days off I gave you!"
Joey left, laughing.
Way back then, Ron never would have spoken to a Chudley Cannons player that way. Harry supposed being Assistant Manager to the team had taken away much of the players' glamour.
Harry's old teammates, already in gear, arrived, and they seemed as awestruck as he was.
"Isn't this exciting?" gasped Ginny. "Goes to show Ron is good for something."
"Oy!"
Katie grinned. "Oliver would blow his top if he found out we played with the Cannons starting team! He doesn't get this much action being in the reserve, you know."
"Serves him right for joining with the enemy," said Ron.
George straddled his broom and hitched up his bat. "So are we playing?"
"Or aren't we?" asked Fred, mirroring his twin.
"Chudley Cannons stats weren't up to standard at the beginning of the season," said Lee. "I think things would go a lot better if Gudgeon improved his snitch timing-"
"We'll be mixing in with them," said Ron to interrupt Lee's commentary. "Lee, Katie and Ginny, you play your positions with Team A and the rest of us go to Team B. Come on, Harry. I'll introduce you to the Galvin Gludgeon."
Ron shot up on his Firebolt and Harry followed.
Galvin Gludgeon was a fellow Seeker who was jolly and upbeat, but serious about his game. He separated the Cannons to complete two teams and soon enough, Harry was swooping above the field while the players zipped around below them.
Harry could hear the chanting from the stands, and he laughed as he saw Remus twirling a Chudley Cannons towel in the air.
Hermione sat front and center, as usual, biting her nails in anxiety and wringing her hands as she warily kept her eye out for rogue bludgers.
He swooped around, searching for the elusive snitch while Ron let one quaffle after another through the hoops he was supposedly guarding.
George shot a bludger at him for it and Ron loudly complained, eliciting a chorus of "Weasley Is Our King" one more time.
Harry didn't care if they lost this one. It was pure, indulgent fun, and how many times in his life would he have the opportunity to play against professional Quidditch players?
Probably never again.
Several times, bludgers had gone straight for Lee who dodged with impressive grace, but Ron, with all the quaffles he missed repelling, made the ones he did repel, count. Never mind if he was repelling a bludger. They went straight for Lee Jordan and that's what mattered. Lee had also been on the receiving end of several "stray" elbows, which Harry thoroughly enjoyed watching.
There was a shout from the stands, and people began to point, their hands and fingers moving in unison to a common target.
Harry saw the snitch and he smirked as he leaned forward on his broom. He shot off, all his focus on the golden snitch.
He zipped by the stands, heard the excited screams of the spectators and let the wind take him. He was close enough to hear the flutter of wings and nearby, Gludgeon raced for the same elusive ball.
Harry maneuvered to swivel right across Gludgeon's path. He had no intention of making them collide, but the tactic worked, sending Gludgeon way off the snitch's path. Grinning at his success, Harry corkscrewed on his broom to get it back on track and reached for the snitch.
He was just about to get it when he saw the bludger from the corner of his eye. Harry pulled his hand back, wrenched his broom to the side and dodged the bludger with Seeker-trained grace, following the arch of the snitch as it flew downwards.
He pushed his broom forward for a dive in a classic Wronski Defensive Feint. Gludgeon fell for it, but at the last second, they pulled their brooms up, expertly completing the move but with neither of them catching the snitch.
It was the best feeling in the world and Harry shared a laugh with Galvin Gludgeon.
There was a series of explosions in the stands and the words "GO, POTTER!" formed with the glitter and burst of light.
Harry grinned, waving at Arthur and Charlie who had set it off. Hermione looked like she was going to be sick. He chuckled.
The snitch came into view again, high above them, and he and Gludgeon were off, soaring high above the field. They went after the snitch, neck and neck in speed. They extended their arms, fingers stretched to the limit.
Harry moved forward on his broom and Gludgeon did the same.
His competitive streak kicked in and Harry hopped up, planting his feet on his broom. In a move that would probably have Hermione hexing him to tomorrow, he launched himself into the air and grabbed the snitch. He felt the ball spin in his hand as it folded its wings within his grasp.
He laughed, summoned his broom and had it swoop him back on its seat just in time to save him from crashing to the ground.
Harry felt so very alive. His heart was thumping uncontrollably in his chest and he felt the rush of blood in his cheeks. It was the most awesome feeling in the world. The freedom; the recklessness; the thrill! He loved it all, and he couldn't help but follow it up with jubilant loops.
A roar erupted from the small crowd in the stands, and louder explosions were set off. Gludgeon was beside him, laughing and thumping him on the back.
"Harry Potter, you're mental!" Gludgeon cried. "But that was absolutely spectacular! What do you call that move?"
"Hermione's Nightmare," he said, smiling so broadly he believed he would feel the effect of it on his face in the morning.
"Hermione's Nightmare," repeated Gludgeon, as if trying the name out. He jerked his head towards the stands. "That would be Ms. Granger, then?"
Harry nodded, chuckling. "Sweetest woman there is."
Gludgeon laughed. "And I bet she hates Quidditch because she thinks you'll break your neck on account of it one of these days!"
"There's that, yes!"
His Gryffindor teammates swarmed him, and feeling giddy, he lead the way to the stands while conducting a chorus of "Weasley Is Our King", much to Ron's consternation.
Harry hovered to the bleachers on his broom, grinning at Hermione who sat shocked on her seat.
"I call it Hermione's Nightmare," he told her with a grin. "Like it?"
This snapped her out of her stupor and she went to him, hitting him once on the shoulder before throwing her arms around him.
"Oh, you git, if it wasn't your birthday I'd be so angry!" she said. "I can't believe this was my stupid idea!"
Harry laughed as he held her in his embrace.
The Chudley Cannons team came by to greet him a happy birthday and to congratulate him on a spectacular move.
"Don't forget!" said George. "You saw it here first! Potter original: Hermione's Nightmare!"
"Also known as: Harry in the Doghouse," said Ron aside.
Hermione glared at him.
The pro team chatted him and the rest of the party up. A bit later, a photographer came by and snapped photos of the Gryffindor team with the Chudley Cannons.
Soon after, the Cannons headed back to the pitch.
With the sports done and many of the guests spent, not everyone portkeyed back to Grimmauld Place.
It was just as well. Harry' nearest and dearest stayed a while more, drinking some and eating some. Among the late revelers, McGonagall said goodbye first, then Remus and Tonks. The Weasleys soon left in pairs and singles.
"I'll see you around, Ginny," Hermione said, unable to help the somewhat hopeful tone in her voice.
Ginny seemed a bit surprised. She and Hermione hadn't been the closest of friends since the sixth year. Many things happened to build the chasm between them. But in light of the war and its outcome, there was really nothing to be awkward about; there shouldn't be.
The surprised look on Ginny wavered into a smile. "Hope so, Hermione."
They embraced, and moments later, Ginny was gone.
Fred and George were the last to leave. They had special goodbyes for all three. Ron had his self-respect trounced, Harry got his usual Wizarding Wheezes Prankster's Pack and Hermione got mysterious palm-sized scrolls.
When they finally left, Dobby and Winky hurried to do clean-up, begging them to go on up to rest and telling them that no proper elf left a home without cleaning it first.
Perhaps too tired to care and knowing that they were well compensated for their work, Hermione let them do what they did best. "Just leave the presents where they are so that Harry can open them tomorrow in the drawing room, alright?"
There was quite a pile from friends and family, and Harry thought it rivaled even Dudley's stash. It was very touching.
"I'm turning in," said Ron. "Great game, Potter. Best move I've seen since Krum did the Wronski Feint in the '94 Quidditch World Cup."
"Thanks for arranging it, Ron," Harry said, exchanging manly hugs with his best friend. "It was most excellent. I couldn't have asked for anything more on my birthday."
"Glad you liked it." Ron yawed and gave Harry's shoulder one last pat. "G'night, you two."
"Good night," they said.
And Ron apparated to his room.
000000000000000000000
Hermione turned to Harry and smiled. "I haven't given you your presents."
Harry was mildly surprised. "I thought the party was your present."
She laughed. "Not nearly! Everyone helped with the party; I just coordinated."
"Well, it was a bloody brilliant coordinated party, then," he said, sweeping her into his arms. "You're brilliant. This is the best birthday I've ever had."
"Let's hope you think it can get better," she said softly.
Harry never realized such innocent words could excite him so much.
"Come on, then," she said, pulling away from his embrace and tugging at his hands. "I'll give them to you in the library."
Harry chuckled. "In typical Hermione Granger fashion."
"Oh, shut it. I think you'll like these presents." She hurried up the stairs and he went right after her.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, darling?"
"I have a couple of questions for you."
"Ask them."
"In the warehouse… did you know I would follow in after Shacklebolt told me to stay outside?"
She chuckled. "Oh, is that what you did? But I'm not all that surprised, frankly. I left the warehouse operation to the aurors and Ron to direct. I just told them to get you riled up enough to make you think everything was going horribly wrong!"
He laughed. "You're a right sneaky skirt! You know that, don't you?"
She shot him a mischievous smirk. "Oh, yes. Next question, Potter."
"What're those scrolls Fred and George gave you?"
She giggled. The sound was adorable. "I'd have to ask Fred and George if they want me to share that secret, Harry."
"Aw, come on! You're going to keep secrets from me?"
"A girl has to, you know. Every once in a while."
He ran up the stairs and caught her in his arms. She shrieked as he hauled her up over his shoulder and brought them both to the library.
"I say, this makes me feel rather manly," he said.
"Put me down!" she laughed. "Or I won't give you your presents!"
"Hang on! I'm entitled to those presents!"
"More than you know!" she grinned with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
He set her down and saw that she was all flushed and glowing; particularly delectable. He was just about ready to sweep her into a luscious kiss when she stepped back and pushed him away gently.
"Behave, you naughty boy," she said softly.
He marveled at how she expected him to, after that. But with the look in her eyes bowling him in, he supposed she could have said, "Sit!" and he would've complied.
She turned to dig something out from the massive office desk and magically brought out a rather huge box. It looked like it was heavy, considering she had to use magic to manage it. It was wrapped prettily enough, with red tartan wrapping paper and glittery gold ribbon. He plucked it from the air and realized it was rather heavy, but not terribly so. She waited expectantly for him to open it.
Grinning, he got to his knees on the floor and ripped the ribbon and wrapper off. She knelt in front of him, watching for his expression. He smiled, pausing to see if she would be impatient.
She chuckled. "Oh, stop teasing, Harry! Go on, then. See what it is! I'm anxious to know if you like it."
He removed the box and found an elegantly simple, ivory colored wide-mouthed bowl. There were tiny runes along the rim, and the ridges on the outside created a pleasing border to the bowl's over-all look. When he touched the bowl, it glowed and he gasped.
"It's a pensieve," he whispered.
She bit her lip and nodded. "I know Dumbledore gave you his, but I noticed that you never used it again after that time you used it once… It must be hard for you, even after all these years, so I thought maybe I'd get you one of your own. You'll need it, you know, if you're going to be a good auror. You have to be able to collect your thoughts and organize them, in proper order, too, so you can find things out; make conclusions, and-and ultimately, you'll know what you're getting yourself into before you do something dangerous, because you've thought things through properly…" Her explanation trailed off and she blushed. "D-Do you hate it?"
"Hate it? I love it! It's just the thing!" He admired the craftsmanship of the pensieve. Dumbledore's had nothing to distinguish it by, but this pensieve, this new one, was exactly what he needed. Hermione was right; the old one was too painful for him to use, so this was perfect.
She seemed pleased by his approval. "Really? I bought this while we-well, we weren't together yet, so if it seems a bit practical and, umm, unromantic-"
He smiled. "It's so very thoughtful."
She giggled and he realized what he said had been a pun, too.
He chuckled. "Thoughtful, just like you." He set the pensieve aside and reached for her hands. She let him hold them.
"Anyway," she said softly. "I figured two gifts are better than one. I picked something up at the store the other day. I hope you like this one."
She rose to her feet and coaxed him to rise with her.
He did, grinning. "Hermione, you didn't have to-"
"Shush, or I'll lose my nerve," she whispered.
"Nerve?"
She hitched one side of her skirt up, revealing what looked to Harry like a thigh holster. It was black, and leather, and sexy. His breath caught when he saw her pluck her wand from it.
He was mesmerized by the movement of her hand as she waved her wand, touching it delicately to her dress.
"Revelare," she whispered.
Her dress; her wonderfully clingy dress of red and pale moon yellow unraveled like a sensual sheet of rippling water. It pooled at her feet and she delicately stepped out of it in her heels. She gently nudged the pile of dress aside and looked up at him with determined grace.
He thought maybe he had gone on cerebral arrest. All he could do was watch her; look at her. Her bare skin; her perfect curves.
The light sheen of her body glowed golden in the candlelight, and the sharp relief of bone cast shadows in places he wanted so badly to explore.
She was still covered in parts, but what exquisite covering it was. It was a lilac purple concoction with accents of pink and yellow. There was lace, and there was cloth, but not a lot. The bra cradled her breasts into two perfect mounds and her panties looked so delicate, he wanted to…
Rip them off…
Steady, Potter.
But good GOD, she looks scrumptious in those pretty little knickers…
Better without them, I think.
"They're French lace," she said in a light, almost whispered tone.
"Th-They are?" Not like it mattered to him, really, though the way he was looking at them, one would think he was examining the holy bloody grail of under-things.
She nodded. "Very soft, too. Do you want to… touch, Harry?"
Touch. Touch Harry. Oh, dear Merlin… that wordplay was on purpose. I just know it. And bloody hell! Who can say no to that?
"Oh, yes…" he breathed.
Steady, now…
She took his hand and placed it over her breast, coaxing him to squeeze.
A soft moan escaped her lips, her eyes closing languorously, and that was it.
The sudden tightening in his trousers pushed him to begin the tumble and he broke.
He captured her mouth and tongue with his and clamped his hands on her bum, grasping her with building desperation. She responded just as eagerly, the massage of her tongue upon his sending heat right through him. He grew immediately frustrated that his clothes were getting between his skin and hers.
Bad clothes. Bad!
She pulled away slightly, gasping and running her hands up his arms. She pushed his work vest from off his shoulders.
"My thoughts, exactly," he muttered, whipping them off as she deftly worked on the buttons of his blouse.
He felt her lips on his throat; the flick of her tongue, and he groaned. She was going to kill him with that tongue. He just knew it.
The blouse came open and her hands; her soft, warm hands ran up his chest to trace the line of muscles there.
And as he became aware of the press of her palms, he realized that she had the most delectable neck and shoulders he had ever seen.
He leaned in for a slow taste and she made a maddeningly wonderful sound from her throat. He lived for that sound. He tried the other shoulder, and she was delightfully consistent.
It was a blessing to have two hands. To have one tracing the curves of her back while the other lifted her thigh so he can relish the feel of her leather holster against her silky skin.
She pressed herself against him in a smooth, rocking motion. Once, twice, just where his Harry was aching to be let out, and he thought maybe he'd pass out, what with all the blood leaving his brain and going to places down below, but the will to see the entire thing through to the beautiful… delicious, oh-so-satisfying end… gave him the motivation to continue.
He ran his hands through her hair and let their lips meet again in a penetrating, heat intensifying kiss.
He wrapped his arms around her and apparated them to her room, where the bed was so soft and her sheets smelled so blessedly sweet.
And as much as he had acquired a primal adoration for French lace, it just had to go. Locked in their kiss, he undid the hook of her bra, letting it fall between them to the floor.
He pulled away to catch his breath and he looked at her, wondering where in Merlin's name he had seen anything more gorgeous.
She blinked slowly, a sultry gleam in her eyes. She was blushing, but she let him look at her. "Like what you see, Harry?"
Like just didn't cut it. He liked Quidditch. He liked pastrami on rye. One can even say he liked a crisp, clear day with an autumn breeze. But this… this was beyond like. This was a passion; a bloody, freaking obsession.
He shrugged off his blouse and pulled her to him in a fierce kiss, wanting the feel of her breasts against his chest. It was terribly arousing.
He wondered what would happen if he sucked softly on her tongue while he fondled her breasts and was promptly rewarded by a luscious moan.
Trailing his hands down her flat stomach, he slipped his hand beneath her lacy knickers and slid his finger gently against the sensitive bundle of nerves. She was warm, and oh dear, wet.
He must have done something good in a past life, because this life was fast becoming abso-frigging-lutely sensational to him.
"Oh, my!" she gasped after he let his finger slide in deeper. Hooking her leg up his waist as she raked her fingers through his hair, she pressed her hip more firmly against him and his hand.
He would never think of those two words the same way again, or at least not without getting a hard on.
Speaking of which, she desperately wanted to lavish attention on his.
Belt, he thought, sucking his breath through his teeth. She unbuckled it with a deft pull, release and tug. Very efficient.
Oh, just how good ARE those hands?
They slipped beneath his boxers and grasped him with perfect pressure.
She stroked, giving him a sample of just how good she could be, and he thought he was going to die, because really, people died with this kind of anticipation… well, usually they were muggles hitting seventy and had a heart problem, but that was far from his mind right now.
He guided her to the bed, settling her firmly on the edge of it.
He would have to relinquish her touch for just five cursed seconds so he could get his blasted trousers and underpants off.
Combing his fingers through her hair, he took a deep kiss from her before they separated to each other's moans.
"H-Harry," she breathed.
He hurriedly kicked his shoes off. "One second, love, j-just…" With great haste, he peeled off his socks and promptly stumbled.
She squeaked softly, avoiding him by unwittingly spreading her legs.
He groaned from his vantage point on the floor, hating and loving those lacy panties that she somehow still had on. The heels and wand holster could stay or go, but by God they were sexy as hell right now.
Pushing himself off the floor, he managed to regain his balance as he shoved off his trousers. His erection was making things a tad difficult.
"Harry?"
"B-Baby, just one more second…"
"I've never done this before."
And that got his attention right soundly.
"Oh, I've read up on it, you know," she continued by way of explanation, because really, let's not add to the confusion, shall we? "Just so I… well, I would know how to do some things, but… I'm… a virgin…"
It certainly didn't ruin the mood. If anything, his cock twitched its own, "Whoa!" as she said it, but it did put things in a certain perspective. An interesting perspective. Read up on it, did she?
Whoa, said his Harry again.
His boxers were still on, and she was staring at them with mild interest. He doubted she was interested in the bottles of hyperactive butterbeers printed on it.
She reached out, grasping the sides of his boxers in her tightening fists, but instead of letting her pull them down, he knelt in front of her, between her legs, and glided his hands inside her thighs.
He looked up at her, seeing the glimmer of that last innocence clinging within her intelligent eyes.
"Slowly, then?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss on her lips.
She smiled, sucking gently on his lower lip. She nodded.
He trailed slow kisses on her collarbone until he got to the hollow between them, lavishing attention on it with his tongue, and moving on to the other shoulder.
He ran his hands up and down her arms as his lips traveled lower. He tasted her breasts, teasing his tongue over her nipples and was rewarded by the embrace of her arms; her fingers in his hair, and the intoxicating sound of his whispered name from her lips.
Placing his hands on her hips, he kissed lower, down to her navel. He slipped her knickers off, then her shoes; one by one as he trailed his kiss from her ankle to her thigh.
He could see the fascination in her eyes, like she never knew kisses could go where it just did. She breathed a mesmerized, "Oh," like she had acquired a new bit of exotic knowledge.
Smart, curious, Hermione. Learning something new everyday.
He flashed her a smile as he kissed the inside of her knee with his lips and tongue, watching for her reaction. She giggled a tiny bit, biting her lower lip as she fidgeted. He watched as her hand slowly stroked the inside of her thigh in an unconscious caress. It was arousing as hell, and his cock begged him to get on with it already.
Wait your turn, you impatient bugger, he told it.
Determined, he tossed away his glasses and finally put his lips and tongue to the very center of her. Her "Oh," became "Oh!" and his whispered name became Harry, double exclamation point.
The sounds she made, combined with her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her back, were designed to drive him mad with longing. But more than his need to please himself was the need to please her, and so while that very eager part of him throbbed to be noticed, he sought to express his thanks for this very special birthday present she was giving him.
And thank her, he did, without so many words at present, since his tongue was somewhat occupied in other pursuits.
When she stiffened and made loud sounds of a desperate nature, he reckoned she got his thanks across.
"Good LORD, Harry!" she gasped, collapsing back on the bed, chests heaving, sweat beading; she was glorious to behold.
It looked like they got off to a rather brilliant start, or at least she did.
He felt heady with his success, and if he didn't want her so desperately, he might have happily fainted right there with a silly smile on his face, but Harry Potter was no Gryffindor for doing things half-way. No, siree! He was committed to this quest and by Merlin, he was going to get it done. Or rather hopefully get both of them done. It was, altogether, a very promising venture.
He rose above her on the bed as he nursed her mouth with his lips. Though still in the throes of recovery, she was exquisitely responsive.
"Move up the bed," he instructed her softly.
And she did, trailing her hands temptingly down his chest and then his stomach, scraping her nails lightly against his skin. She pulled his boxers off and she clasped him with downward twisting strokes of one hand while the other carefully massaged the rest of the package. He almost rolled over and let her have her way with him, because Merlin's graces, she had that hand-job down-pat.
He wondered briefly how she learned to do that, and quickly told himself to sod off with the whys, because this was Hermione, and she had probably read more books than he could imagine for this moment.
Books were good.
If he didn't stop her right now, it was going to be wonderful for him in the next minute but embarrassing for the rest of the night. So he eased her hands away and before she could insist on pleasuring him, he kissed her, laying her head on the pillow.
He felt her arms slide over his shoulders, but those were nothing compared to the frenzied sensation the embrace of her legs wrought on him.
Her foot ran slowly up the back of his leg and he couldn't remember a time he had found it more difficult to fight his primal urges.
She squirmed, making a whimpering sound as she pressed up against him and let her tongue roll on his shoulders. She hit a hollow on his collar-bone that sent bolts of desire riding through his body.
Trying to drive him insane, was what she was doing.
He considered begging for her to go easy on him, but it would be rather funny, wouldn't it? If he asked that of her and she was the virgin in this picture.
"Harry…" she breathed, half-whine as she brought her knees up slowly.
He could feel how ready she was, and really, he supposed if she insisted… not like he needed that much convincing, anyway.
Letting his hand trail down her body, he rested his fingers lightly just below her navel and whispered an enchantment in her ear. It was important to him that she knew what he was doing. This wasn't just a romp in bed; this was him, taking care of the woman he was going to make love to.
Harry raised his head to meet her eyes and she nodded, kissing him softly on the lips. They savored the tenderness of the moment before they let their passions take over them again.
Carefully, he guided himself as he kissed her neck and throat. He thought maybe he should tell her he loved her, never loved anyone else so deeply, that this was the best birthday gift ever, and that if he died doing this, he would have died deliriously happy, but it all seemed like too much talk altogether.
When he entered her she gave a soft cry and he stayed still, burying his face on the crook of her neck and shoulder.
Holy mother of Merlin! he thought desperately. She was warm, and soft and everything he wanted. He just had to stay still for a minute.
He moaned. It was pretty much all he could do not to plunge headlong-pun definitely intended.
"Move, Harry," she whispered in his ear.
It was like an ethereal moment of liberation. So he did, slowly at first, and the sensations were glorious. A sweet, languid torture. He couldn't be sure yet if it was pleasurable for her. It was her first time; he felt it. Was she in pain?
He found it so difficult to be overly concerned, though, since she had told him to "move" and she was currently making these wonderful sounds beneath him. But then the quality of her moaning changed, and she said those two words of hers that rocked his world. He knew then she was loving it.
He shifted, quickening his pace; groans escaping his lips. And then she began to cry out commands, that he should go faster, or harder, or both. Who the hell was he to deny her that? She moaned her approval when he complied; she was big on positive reinforcement and he didn't mind her direction of him one bit.
When she lifted her arms above her head, crossing them by the wrists, he just wanted to hold them there, but he was concerned how that would make her feel. Maybe it was too much for her first time, even if it was just a very mild form of-well-bondage, really.
It was, therefore, insanely arousing when she whispered for him to hold her "down".
He might have muttered, "Oh, sweet Merlin, yes!" It was difficult to recall, but the important thing was he did as he was told, because Hermione always rewarded do-gooders. She strained wonderfully against the press of their hips and the tightening press of his hands, the arching of her back lovely to behold. He had never kissed anyone who looked quite so hot.
She pleaded for him not to stop because she was-
Well, she stopped speaking then, finishing what she was going to say with moans that were eloquent enough for him. He felt she didn't have to elaborate, because he knew exactly what it was. Her neck arched upward and she tightened around him, crying out in positively the most sensual moans he had ever heard. Watching and feeling her orgasm was just too much for a hot-blooded bloke who, before this, had desired this woman for the better part of two years.
He came, and it was everything he imagined it would be.
"Good GOD, Hermione!" he cried as he released himself inside her. There were definitely higher beings at work here.
He thought maybe his vision blurred more than usual, with dancing silver spots behind them. But who the hell cared how it looked? It just felt absolutely amazing.
When finally, the waves of pleasure ceased, he set himself gently down on her. He would move-in a bit.
Just a few seconds…
"Hmm, that was wonderful, Harry," she said lazily, trailing her fingers in his hair and back.
He resisted the urge to smirk and say, "Why, thank you, my love, but I do try."
Better not ruin the moment with masculine pride.
"Yes," he murmured. "Yes, it was…"
It wasn't his most eloquent moment, but he was too happy and drunk with bliss to care.
When finally, he found the strength to move off her, he wrapped them both in her blankets, settling her in his arms.
The wonderful spill of her hair against his shoulder brought quiet memories of days he had stared at the chestnut brown ringlets, wondering how they would feel between his fingers.
He smiled, already beginning to feel sleepy.
"Did you like your present, Harry?" she asked, an impish gleam in her eyes.
"Love it. One day it's going to kill me, but it's not a bad way to go, innit?"
She grinned. "I s'pose not. Harry… I think maybe we forgot to charm-"
A primal panic welled in him. "Er-I know I didn't forget. I know I didn't."
Hermione slapped him lightly. "Not that charm. I was talking about insula. I think maybe-well-"
"Oh, shite."
She was right, of course. They had forgotten the silencing charm.
He hoped the Weasley Death Sleep came through for them that night. They would know in the morning.
"D'you think he'll be very annoyed?" she asked.
"Annoyed" was the least of their problems when it came to Ron. The "sarcasm", or worse, the jokes. And with any luck, Ron would confine his griping to the twins and not the rest of the Weasley clan, as if the twins weren't bad enough.
He looked at Hermione and saw the real worry in her eyes. He didn't have the heart to be the bearer of bad news. "He'll-err-manage."
Thankfully, this seemed to appease her.
His body felt heavy against the pillows and he knew that a few more minutes of this restful bliss and he would be asleep.
Shacklebolt shouldn't have put him through the hoops that day. The man should have been considerate enough to leave him some strength to at least manage a second round.
"Harry?" she said in a drowsy voice.
Well, at least she didn't seem up to a second roll so soon.
"Hmm?" he responded.
"That first night I kissed you…"
He smiled at the memory. "Yes?"
"You brought me to bed… why did you stay?"
He chuckled softly, pushing himself deeper in the sheets to find the most comfortable position. "Because you were lovely to watch, asleep. And because I wanted to wake up with you and tell you I love you."
She looked up from his shoulder, smiling. She kissed him and whispered her own words of affection before she settled back down against him.
Arms around one another, they drifted into blessed sleep.
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A/N: And so I wanted this love scene to be parts love, sex and humor, because they're on the top of the world right now and they're defying gravity. ::laughs dorkily at own wordplay::
Next chapter will be more emotional when it comes to that.
Oh, yes. More nookie for Harry-kins… the lucky bastard.