Author's Note
Thank you all for your lovely reviews! *Janie beams*
Another day - another chapter! And more tomorrow
URST
By JanieB
Chapter Two
The next morning Hermione insisted they finish unpacking after they'd cleaned up from the previous night's impromptu party.
Ron grumbled, but Harry knew he didn't really mind. He wondered if Ron and Hermione would ever stop bickering and decided they probably wouldn't - that was the way they were, the way they'd always been and no doubt the way they were going to be for good.
As they sat down for their tea that night, tired but pleased with themselves, Hermione once again brought up with Harry what she called their "shower schedule".
`I have to be at work by nine, you don't have to be there until nine-thirty, so I'll go first. What time do you normally get up, Harry? I'm usually awake by seven.'
`Seven?!' exclaimed Ron. `Why so early when you don't have to be there until nine?'
`Because, Ron, I like to get organised before I go to work,' Hermione informed him patiently.
`Get what organised? You get up, have a shower, eat breakfast and go!'
Harry laughed out loud, Hermione rolled her eyes.
`Things, Ronald! That's what I have to organise - lots of things! I'm not going to bother elaborating.'
Shaking his head, Ron looked at Harry for support.
`Oh no, leave me out of this!' Harry told him, causing Ron to snort in disgust.
`So, Harry,' said Hermione, resuming her "shower schedule", `I usually go for a half hour walk first thing; I'll be out of the shower by eight. Is that all right?'
Harry grinned at her. `That's perfect, Hermione. Just make sure you lock the door to my room in case I sleep walk to the loo or something!'
Then it was Ron's turn to laugh. `That'd be downright dangerous, mate - you'd definitely cop a "Hermione Hex" if you did that! I'm glad she picked the room next to yours and not mine!'
Hermione looked at Harry, her eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew what she was thinking: As if she'd even consider sharing a bathroom with "Mr I-hang-my-towel-on-the-floor"!
Once they'd cleaned up, they all sat down in the living room on their new couch. It was a white four-seater because they wanted plenty of room. Harry sat at one end, Ron the other and Hermione in the middle; she had a large blue cushion that she leant on when they watched television, and on which she rested whichever book she was currently reading.
Tonight, they watched a movie, `Four Weddings & A Funeral". Hermione, of course, had seen it before, although Harry and Ron hadn't.
When it was finished, Ron, despite having laughed at a number of scenes, told Hermione he'd pick the movie next time, if that was all right. `I'll go make some tea,' he finished.
`Well, I don't suppose I could expect Ron to be enthusiastic about a Muggle movie. What about you, Harry?' asked Hermione, turning to look at her other friend.
`Well,' Harry began, slowly; he didn't feel over-enthusiastic about the movie and had a feeling he'd probably enjoy whatever Ron chose a lot more, but as usual, he didn't want to hurt Hermione's feelings. `It wasn't bad, I suppose. That crazy girl reminds me a bit of Tonks.'
Hermione smiled. `Harry, diplomatic as ever! Still, as long as it's not a lot of blood-and-guts, I'll watch whatever Ron picks next time - it's only fair!'
`I must say,' commented Ron as he walked back in bearing a tray with three mugs of tea, `I didn't think you, Hermione, would watch a movie in which they say "fuck" so much.'
Hermione laughed. `They manage to make it funny in this movie - and I very, very rarely swear.'
`But you do swear?' Ron sounded as surprised as he felt.
`When the occasion calls for it,' said Hermione briskly, taking a mug from the tray Ron was proffering.
When Ron took the tray to Harry, they exchanged a look, wondering what occasion could possibly call for Hermione to swear, not sure that it would a good thing to find out.
When they'd finished their tea, Harry sent the mugs off to the kitchen with a wave of his hand and they all went upstairs together, Hermione going first, then Harry and Ron last. They all stopped on the first landing and Hermione hugged Ron, wishing him good night.
`This is working out really well, don't you think,' she said, smiling.
`I reckon,' Ron replied, grinning back at her before shaking Harry's hand. `Second night in our new home.'
`Yep,' said Harry, laughing. Last night they'd done the same thing on going to bed, only it had been "First night in our new home", naturally. `And Hermione's right,' continued Harry, `it's going to be great.'
As Ron's door closed, Harry and Hermione turned to walk up the last flight of stairs. Harry slung his arm across Hermione's shoulders, pulling her closer.
`This is so much better than living alone,' he told her. `I feel really lucky to have you and Ron.'
`We're all lucky to have each other, Harry,' Hermione replied warmly, putting her arm around Harry's waist and squeezing, watching their feet move in unison as they climbed the stairs.
When they reached Hermione's door, not far from the top of the stairs, Harry turned as they stopped and wrapped his arms around her. Just as he'd done last night. Hermione sighed happily, resting her head on Harry's chest as her other arm went around Harry's waist. Just as she'd done last night.
And then, suddenly, it wasn't like last night at all. It was only a moment but it was filled with many things. With Harry's realisation that hugging Hermione felt wonderful - that Hermione felt wonderful! Hermione realised that she'd never been so aware of Harry before - of his maleness - and realised too, that she could hear his heartbeat and that as his arms squeezed around her more tightly, it seemed to be beating faster… and faster… and then Harry, who suddenly knew that this was not your average goodnight hug, quickly released a rather flustered Hermione who equally quickly dropped her arms and backed towards her door, her hands reaching behind her for the door knob.
`Well, night,' she said unevenly. `Sleep tight.' She opened the door and turned quickly to enter, avoiding Harry's eyes.
`Night, sleep tight,' replied Harry automatically, standing and looking at Hermione's door after she'd shut, wondering what the hell had just happened.
A little later, as he lay in bed, staring out his window at the stars, his mind replayed the moments from that weekend that had struck him as a little unusual although he hadn't bothered working out why they were unusual. But now, going over all of them at once…starting with Hermione's hand on his shoulder yesterday morning, through the whole hair-smelling incident in the kitchen, remembering how she looked at the party last night, to just now, when he'd hugged Hermione. He realised that somehow Hermione had stopped being just Hermione. Maybe it was the years between leaving Hogwarts and not seeing her every day and now, moving in together again… Maybe it was Ron telling him Hermione had a soft spot for him and that she was never angry with Harry the way she could be with Ron. Maybe it was just how, well, attractive, she was. Attractive hell - she was bloody gorgeous and downright sexy! Harry grinned in the dark. Then he groaned as he felt the familiar surge and hardening. Oh my God. How bloody weird is this? He half laughed and half moaned. Bloody hell. I've got the hots for Hermione. Sweet mother of Merlin. Crap. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. No! NO! Damn it to hell - NO! I can't. It's ridiculous. She'll think I'm some kind of crazy if I come on to her. Coming on to Hermione. Like I can imagine that. Crap. He could just see it: Morning, Hermione. D'you know something weird? I've just realised I fancy you. Should we go out? Then again, we know each so well and we've known each other for so long - let's just skip the whole getting-to-know-you thing and jump straight into bed. How about it? And thinking about being in bed with Hermione prevented him from falling asleep until well after midnight and only then because he forced himself to think about Hagrid and Flobberworms and Blast-Ended Skrewts and Snape and so on and so forth…
When Harry woke the next morning he sprang out of bed at the same time as he yelled, `Oh no!' on seeing the time. It was nine fifteen. He had fifteen minutes to get to work. He barely made it and the rest of the day, as he taught DADA to trainee Aurors, he found his mind insisted on wandering off. Mostly in the direction of Hermione. He hadn't seen her that morning as she'd been gone some time when he woke up. As the end of the day neared, he found himself becoming increasingly nervous at the prospect of seeing her. Which was ridiculous. But it wasn't really. After all, last time he'd seen her he hadn't been thinking about things, imagining things. Things like - well, things that any healthy, normal twenty-two year old male, whether Muggle or Wizard, thought about when it came to girls. Things he was thinking about when it came to Hermione. He wondered if he'd be able to meet her eyes. He wondered if she'd notice anything different about him. He certainly felt different.
When she arrived home shortly after he did that evening, Harry would've been relieved to learn that Hermione didn't notice anything different about him at all. The reason for her not noticing, however, would've also interested him greatly…had he known about it.
Hermione was in the throes of denial. Because after Harry hugged her the previous night - and, let's be honest, she'd hugged him right back - she'd stumbled to bed and refused to think about how Harry had felt (so nice and hard and male!), or how he'd smelt (so Harry!) and especially not about how she'd felt, pressed up against Harry, the feeling of her breasts being pressed against his chest. Nope. Definitely not thinking about any of that. Not thinking about Harry. No, no, no. Crookshanks had come to the side of her bed and lifted himself up, his paws on the edge of the bed. He'd miaowed at her and when she opened her eyes and looked at him she'd frowned.
`Oh, Crookshanks. This is so weird. I am lying here not thinking about Harry. I can't think about Harry. Not like that. It's just too weird to think about Harry - well, to think about, oh, for instance, kissing him. Shit. I just thought of kissing Harry.' Hermione screwed her eyes shut and buried her face in her pillow. I'm going crazy! Why in the name of Merlin am I thinking about kissing Harry? Argh! It's almost perverted! He's my friend - he's like my brother. Except there was no way you hugged your brother like that, pressing against him, wanting to kiss him and run your fingers through his hair and - stop! NOT thinking about Harry, remember? Not thinking about Harry, not thinking about Harry. And it was close to midnight before she fell asleep. Not thinking about Harry…
Crookshanks gave a disgusted little miaow and went back to his basket.
When Hermione had arrived home, it was to find Ron and Harry sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea, Ron jumping to his feet to make her one when she walked into the room.
`I'll get you a cuppa!' he called, grinning.
`Thanks, Ron,' she said gratefully, smiling back. She moved towards the table, smiling at Harry, hoping that he couldn't see past her usual hello smile. He didn't. He was too busy trying not to stare at her. She was wearing white pants with a pale blue, tailored shirt. Her hair was up as it always was when she went to work.
`How was work?' he asked as she took a seat, picking up the letters on the table and sifting through them.
`Busy,' she said, giving him a quick smile. `You?'
`Fresh batch,' he said, referring to the new trainees that had begun that day.
Hermione chuckled. `Which means they're so busy gawping at the Harry Potter they don't learn a thing for the first couple of weeks.'
Harry rolled his eyes as he nodded, a lopsided grin in place.
Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. That grin had stopped her anger dead in its tracks on more occasions than she could ever recall. Now it fuelled her desire.
Bloody hell - I'm thinking about him like that again! Hermione dropped her eyes again, ostensibly looking at the post once more.
`Here you go,' said Ron, placing a cup of tea in front of her.
`Thanks, Ron,' she said, opening a letter from her mum first, recognising her writing.
Ron looked at Harry and noticed he was staring at Hermione while she read her letter.
Hello, hello, what've we got here? he thought with amusement. Harry looks a little smitten if I'm not mistaken. Feels a bit weird, though. His eyes shifted to Hermione. Wonder if she's noticed?
Harry's gaze shifted back to the Daily Prophet in front of him the second Hermione looked up.
`Oh, lovely! Mum and Dad want us all to come over next weekend for a pool party, would you believe? They've had a swimming pool put in - mainly for Dad for exercise, ever since he had that scare with his heart. Mum says we should go Saturday, we'll have a barbeque Saturday night and we can come home Sunday afternoon. She hasn't seen either of you for ages. That all right with the two of you?'
Ron shrugged. `Fine with me, Hermione - do you think she'd mind if I brought Luna along?'
`Shouldn't think so,' replied Hermione. I'll owl her and let her know.'
Hermione turned and looked questioningly at Harry.
`Fine with me, too,' he said, smiling.
`You want to bring someone, too?' Hermione wanted to bite her tongue off as soon as she finished speaking. Bloody hell, what made me say that?! Stupid witch!
Harry's eyebrows went up.
`Um, well, no thanks. Got no one to ask, actually. At the moment.'
Hermione gave him a quick smile and returned to reading her mum's letter. Which took a while due to the enormous relief that had flooded through her when Harry said he didn't want to ask anyone else; it seemed to affect her vision as her eyes became stuck on the same line. All of which was cause for concern. Because she wasn't thinking about Harry like that. No, no, no. She really wasn't. At all. Really.
TO BE CONTINUED.
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