Death and Paradise in Rome

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Jo thought about this before me, so no, nothing but the actions are mine. But she only though of it before cuz she is older than me! Lmao.

DEATH AND PARADISE IN ROME

A/N: I know, why in the heck do I start a new fic if I have a trizillion unfinished ones? Sorry! Just couldn’t get this idea off my head. Hope you like it, it is kind of a new format, to call it something

CHAPTER 1

“Cherish”

So tired of broken hearts

and losing at this game

Before I start this dance

I take a chance in telling you

I want more than just romance

You are my destiny,

I can’t let go baby can’t you see

Cupid please take your aim at me

(.- Cherish by Madonna)

---

Never take what was your friend’s... Never take what was your friend’s... Never take what was your friend’s...

That little darned phrase had now become like a motto for Hermione Granger. She had seen it too late, seen what so many had seen as well... but too late; and now it was—late... way late. They were married and divorced... common arrangement, yes, but none had gotten over it, she was sure.

He had, as it was expected, turned to her; torturing her with his smile... and those intense green eyes that Hermione sometimes caught looking dead; he pretended, but she knew better... his beautiful look, stripped of all illusion eight years ago, when the last of his great protectors had died. According to him, because of him. Albus Dumbledore had been murdered by none less than one of his most trusted. The one big mistake he had made; the one that had cost him his life... and the lives of many others.

Very often, she felt like running away, for Rome was no longer the little quiet heaven she had searched for herself after the war had been over. It was her curse and her happiness at the same time and it all had one name; who had no idea whatsoever of the real reason behind the sometime sad look he caught. He saw her as his best friend and support, and although he knew that look and often asked about it, she never told his those two words that were the truth: Harry Potter. Whispers of it all around followed her. At work, at University, at home, on the phone... in her dreams.

Potter

Harry Potter

Harry

Ginny Potter

Hermione

Potter

And there was only one place in which the right name, to her, followed the right last name: in her dreams. In her dreams, Hermione was undoubtedly followed by Potter; there was no way around it... at least not to her. However, it was a whole different story for the man that slept in the second bedroom of the small flat.

“Knock, knock!”

“Harry, stop it! You will wake her!”

“Knock, knock!”

Hermione jumped at the sound of the door and the two familiar voices; a small smile drew itself on her lips. “Looks like someone had a good day,” she said as she walked to the door, to open it. “And you didn’t invite me to come along!” she said and opened the door, putting a hand on her hips. “I resent that, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter!” she snapped with a smile.

Even though Hermione and Harry lived in Rome; many hours from London by muggle airplane, Harry still worked at the Ministry and took the International Floo Network everyday. He'd got a Green Floo Card to travel without any trouble from country to country within Europe; and he had managed to get one for Ron and Hermione as well.

If Harry wanted to go to Asia or America, he only had to let the Floo Authorities know; unlike the rest of the common wizards, that had to go through an immense burocratic rubbish to get a permit. After all, she had to admit, there were some benefits to being The-Boy-Who-Lived best friends and the second most important people in the ultimate defeat of Lord Voldemort, as much as she would never admit it…

It was past eleven, so Hermione was already in her sleeping gown but that wasn’t really something awkward, for they had seen each other in even less than that in the fifteen years they had been friends. “Wow... fifteen years,” she muttered to herself.

A big grin appeared in Harry’s disheveled features at the moment. “Mione! My Hermione!” he exclaimed and leaned forward to kiss her cheek; getting the corner of her lips instead.

A shiver ran through her spine at his calling her “his Hermione” but she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind almost immediately drawing back a little at his advance and the smell of alcohol in his breath. She was startled when his wet lips touched the corner of hers but ignored the feeling. “Good Merlin, Harry!” she said and looked at Ron. “Oh, Ron! You know he can’t hold his liquor!”

He was alack of words for a moment and then only shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry but—“

“I had a terrible day! And we met the guys after work,” Harry said dreamily, trying to be supportive of his friend and failing miserably, for he stumbled a little when trying to enter the house. “Coming, mate?” he asked Ron.

The red head looked at Hermione, who silently told him she would take it from there, and he nodded. “No, mate, I have early shift tomorrow.”

“Oh, man! Sure?”

“Yeah, no worries. We’ll do something next week,” the man said with a shrug.

“Aww, all right. But I’m staying with Mione and you’re not,” he said like a child and giggled a little.

“You’re in good hands.”

“Thanks, Ron. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she told him as she carefully helped Harry to the couch to let him rest. She hurried to the door, where Ron was leaving. “What happened?”

Ron sighed. “He got a mission that is almost impossible to fulfill...” he started.

“But he likes those!”

“And then Ginny came.”

“Oh.”

“With her new long-term partner,” he said with a gesture and shook his head. “We went to get a couple of drinks and found Dean and Seamus... go figure.”

“Oh, goodness.”

“Exactly.”

“All right, don’t worry; I’ll get him fixed up. Thanks, Ron.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek, making him blush slightly. “I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

“See you then,” the man said and started downstairs but stopped and turned to look at her. “He wanted you there,” he said in a low voice. “Night.”

She was startled for a moment and then nodded. “Good night,” she finally said and went back to a sleeping Harry. She pushed his hair from his face. “Who understands you, Harry,” she said idly and kissed his scar.

“Mione?” he muttered in his sleep. “Mione, you’re here,” he said again and stirred.

“Shh... shhhh. Yes, I’m here, Harry,” she told him softly and with her free hand, she flew a small bottle to her hand. “I need you to drink this, all right? You’ll feel good in the morning,” she said and lifted Harry, placing his head on her lap and feeding him the potion.

“Nnn... nno, no, I don’t like that!” Harry protested, trying in vain to move out of the way of the blue bottle.

“Now, now, Harry, be good. It’ll do you well.”

He nodded and drank the whole thing. He opened his eyes, clear for a moment, and he took his hand, placing it over hers. Harry started saying something, but then the sleeping potion started to take effect and his eyes started to unfocus again. “Thank you...” he said, speaking a little muffled as his body started to go limp. “I love you… Mione,” he finished and then fell asleep completely.

She froze for a moment and felt like shaking him to tell him to repeat that; just to make sure she hadn’t heard things... but she couldn’t do that so she just sighed and summoned blankets to cover him up.

Hermione stood up a moment later, her eyes never leaving him. “Oh, Harry... who understands you?” she repeated quietly to the air and walked to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

---

Hermione couldn’t sleep much that night; Ron and Harry's words went round and round in her head. Oh, quit it, Hermione, he was drunk and he knows that you have been there whenever he's needed it; it doesn't mean anything. She told herself over and over again; but then… Ron had never said things like that, had he? Maybe he had and she had never paid any attention to it till recently.

The next morning was Harry's day off, and Hermione only had to teach at University in the afternoon, so Wednesdays were usually the only day they shared half of it and talked and just enjoyed each other's company.

When the light finally made its way through Hermione's window, she groaned in protest and tried, with little success, to block it out with her pillow over her face. At last, she gave up and threw the pillow to the side. She had no intention of getting up to prepare breakfast at the moment, and Harry wasn't going to be up for at least an hour more, or that's what she thought…

She heard noise coming from the kitchen and frowned, looking at the night table clock. "Ten? But he got here at—" she stopped herself and got up from the big four poster.

Standing in front of the mirror, she took her grandmother's brush and tamed her wild hair… at least a little, pulling it back in half a ponytail. She summoned her robe and put it on, opening the door and walking out of her room. "Harry?" she asked, poking her head inside the kitchen. "What are you—" she stopped short when seeing the breakfast he was finishing. "What in the heck?" she asked, bewildered.

Harry gasped when hearing her voice and looked up at her, his naked torso sweating a little from being in front of the kitchen. He had a pair of white trousers on and nothing more than a towel resting on his left shoulder. He smiled at her. "Hey… morning!" he chimed. "What? Can't I prepare breakfast after I woke you up last night, all drunk and all?" he asked with a sheepish smile. "Sorry bout that, didn't mean to."

"It's all right, Harry. It's not like you do it every week. Besides, I'm not your mother or your wife so—" she stopped and laughed a little, incorporating herself a moment later and smelling the food; she frowned when getting to the toast and sausages.

"What? Fine! I'm not the best cook, but the intention counts, doesn’t it?" he asked defensively but laughed too. "The pancakes are good—" he tried.

"Yeah, I think I'll have those… with blueberry jelly," she said with a smile and sat down just as Harry finished with the coffee and brought two cups to the table, taking his usual seat next to her. "Double Capuccino, one of sugar," he told her and placed Hermione's cup in front of her.

She grinned and took it between her hands, smelling the coffee with pleasure. "Your specialty…" she admitted and tasted the first gulp, which she only enjoyed for about half a second, before it burned her tongue and she let out a small shriek of pain.

"Mione! You alright?" he asked, leaning forward and taking the cup from her hands just before she dropped it. "I just made it, you silly," he said with a laugh.

"Not… funny!" Hermione snapped, taking a big sip from her orange juice. "Hurts!" she protested, stiucking her tongue out as to see if it was burnt.

"Oh, hunny, I'm sorry," Harry responded with a baby-ish voice and he kissed his own finger, taking it to Hermione's tongue a second later. "There… better?" he asked with a handsome smile.

Hermione blushed and little and chuckled. "Yeah, better," she said and took another sip of her orange juice. "Much better," she added afterwards and finally was able to drink her coffee.

She looked at Harry from behind her mug, her eyes fixed on him. The steam coming out of the fresh coffee gave the image in front of her a special touch she couldn't even describe. At last, she closed her eyes and took two more sips. He is my Harry, she told herself with a soft smile drawn across her thin lips. My Harry.

---

A/N: Short? Yeah, I know. Can't say it is my best work, but the plot is quite nice in my head so far. The reason I said it was a new format is because there is a lot of fluff; something I usually don't write as some of you know.

Anyway, if you like my work, you are invited to join me, AmyNoelle and MetroDweller at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BrainstormQuill