Author's Note
Thank you EVERYONE for your fabulous reviews - I'm lovin' it! But enough of that *grins* - here's a little more URST to brighten your day!
URST
By JanieB
Chapter Four
Due to Hermione's ability to completely ignore all thoughts and feelings not connected with friendship in respect of Harry, she and Harry actually managed a week of easy-going camaraderie.
The trio's decision to live together continued to appear to be an excellent one - as long as Ron didn't share in the cooking, they'd discovered. Harry and Hermione shared that duty while Ron was on clean-up duty every night, Harry and Hermione taking turns to assist him.
`I don't mind,' Ron told them magnanimously, `I'm much better at eating and cleaning up than cooking.'
Ron did wonder at his two friends' apparent reversion to their old friendship but decided it wasn't worth worrying about - he'd much rather think about Luna, anyway.
The Saturday following the pool party, Luna invited the three of them to her flat for dinner, along with her father and a few other friends. It had been an interesting evening, although Hermione found herself drinking rather more than she normally did which naturally had nothing to do with the fact that she was seated next to Harry at the table. It certainly wasn't because Harry, in his black jeans and charcoal grey shirt, looked dropdead sexy (that being a totally objective observation, of course). Also, the fact that he was very attentive all evening definitely wasn't the reason that a flock of butterflies had Apparated into her stomach, Hermione resolutely ignoring the fact that she couldn't give any other reason for the wretched things taking up residence. She did find it a tad annoying that a lot of glasses of wine seemed to have no effect their ability to fly, either.
Harry offered to take her home shortly after they'd had some coffee (which hadn't helped - she still felt a little giddy) and Hermione happily accepted. After saying good bye to everyone, they Apparated back to their own living room.
Hermione knew she was still a little tipsy. Harry knew it too and for some inexplicable reason, the tension between them made a sudden, unbidden return as they stood, smiling awkwardly at each other.
`Well, I'm off to bed.' Harry walked to the door, intending to go straight up to bed. He turned at the doorway to say goodnight to Hermione and found her looking at him from across the room, a strange expression on her face. Harry suddenly felt as though he couldn't breathe properly and took a step backwards, overcome with nervousness. Hermione suddenly seemed…dangerous. Tantalisingly so.
`Harry…' He felt his stomach clench at the sound of his name spoken in a soft, breathless voice that was very un-Hermione-like. And then she was walking towards him - slowly and carefully to avoid tripping or stumbling he supposed, although she certainly didn't seem unsteady. He seemed to lose control of his eyes at this point - they insisted on travelling down over Hermione's slender curves, watching her hips sway slightly as she continued to get closer. When his mesmerised gaze decided to make the return journey to her face he found it lingering over the tantalising swell of her breasts beneath the soft, black, silky material of her dress. When he was looking once more at her face he realised she was much closer, that if he reached out, he could touch her. And he so badly wanted to touch her…
Two more steps and she was standing right in front of him, lifting her hands and placing them on his firm, flat stomach, her eyes holding his as she slid them slowly upwards, over his chest, until they rested on his shoulders. His senses were being assaulted from so many directions that Harry felt light headed. Hermione's hands seemed to have left a trail of fire in their wake - he could smell her perfume, a soft, sexy scent - her hair was shining and her eyes - they were luminous and Harry was certain that he could see desire in their depths. He could feel the warmth being radiated by her body it was so close to his.
He stood there, gazing down at her, tentatively putting his hands on her waist. Hermione lowered her eyes and he knew she was looking at his mouth. He could see her lips were slightly parted and he knew exactly what was going to happen - he was going to kiss her. Or she was going to kiss him. It didn't really matter. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear nothing else and as he pulled her closer he felt her arms wind around his neck and she was looking at him again, her eyes swimming with anticipation. As he slowly dropped his head he saw Hermione's eyes close and just as he closed his own, their lips so close he was sure he could taste her, they were startled by a very loud, strange noise. They both raised their heads in fright, looking at each other first before breaking apart and looking around.
Ron was standing in the living room.
Hermione groaned softly, Harry not so softly. Holy crap, Weasley! First prize for the worst timing in bloody history! thought Harry as he had a fleeting vision of himself hexing Ron.
Ron was mortified. Luna stepped out from behind Ron, looking at them questioningly. `What's wrong? Why did you yell, Ronald? Is everyone all right?'
`Not all right!' whispered Hermione fiercely, glaring at Ron over her shoulder. `I'm going to bed, goodnight everyone,' she announced and headed for the stairs.
`Ronald, what's going on?' asked Luna.
`Sorry, mate,' said Ron to Harry.
`Don't be, s'probably for the best,' said Harry, although they both knew he didn't mean it.
Harry heard Hermione's door close said goodnight himself as he turned to the stairs.
Hermione lay on top of her bed, fully clothed, one arm across her eyes. She heard Harry's foot steps on the stairs, then passing her door before being silenced as he closed his bedroom door.
She didn't know whether to scream or cry. Probably both were in order. She couldn't believe she'd just done what she'd done. She'd practically jumped him! It was that bloody wine. Had to be. She was still trying to cling desperately to the last shreds of her illusion that Harry was still just her friend. A friend who was very much a man. A man she wanted to - no! No! Damn it! It just wasn't right!
She felt Crookshanks jump onto the bed near her feet and curl up, purring.
`Crookshanks,' she whispered, `what's wrong with me?'
She felt him push his head against her feet in sympathy.
She sighed. Harry. That's what's wrong with me. She'd managed to explain away the few odd moments with Harry during the weekend they'd all moved in. But ever since last weekend at her mum and dad's, when she'd opened her eyes to see Harry looking at her as they lay on the sun lounges, she'd been unable to "explain it away". So instead she'd ferociously ignored every thought and feeling concerning Harry. Refused to think about it. And so far it had worked. Things had been "normal" again this week. Until tonight. She groaned softly in the dark. She had to finally admit defeat. Just say it! she said to herself scornfully. You fancy your friend. A lot. A really big lot. Shit.
She was surprised to feel a sense of relief.
`Just bloody wonderful, Crookshanks,' she whispered. `Bloody brilliant.' She thought of Harry in the next room. In bed. Then decided that was not a good thing to think about. Not if she wanted to sleep.
But she couldn't stop the replay of what had happened downstairs as it unrolled over and over again in her head.
Harry walking away from her, turning to say goodnight - that's when it hit her again just how good looking and sexy he was, how much she wanted him. And she'd just reacted without thinking. She groaned softly in the dark. I can't believe I did that whole seductive walking and stroking thing! Gods, I was so close to kissing him - bloody Ron! Blast him to hell and back! Then she groaned once more. What must Harry think of me after that little performance? How can I face him tomorrow? What will he say? What will I say?
As it turned out, nothing.
When she woke, still dressed and on top of the bed, Hermione berated herself as she headed for the bathroom. She knocked tentatively and receiving no reply, opened the door a little and peered in. Empty. Relieved, Hermione did what she should have done last night - brushed her teeth and washed her face, changing into track pants and a t-shirt before walking slowly down the stairs, feeling her stomach churning with nerves. She could hear the wireless and realised it was probably Ron listening to the Wizarding Wireless as he always did on Sunday mornings.
She walked into the kitchen, calling a falsely cheery good morning to Ron who was sitting at the table with the Sunday Prophet and mug of tea, his now empty breakfast plate pushed aside.
`Morning, Hermione. Sleep well?'
`Where's Harry?' she asked, without hearing Ron's greeting, noticing immediately Harry wasn't there.
Not so well, I'd wager, thought Ron. `Harry? He's gone out for a walk.'
Hermione poured herself a mug of tea and joined Ron at the table.
`Listen, Hermione, I'm really sorry about last -' Ron began.
Hermione put her mug down. `Don't be,' she said softly. `I don't know what the hell I was thinking. It was too much wine.'
Ron sighed. `Hermione, if you and Harry feel like that about -'
`We don't!' Hermione broke in fiercely. Maybe if she said it often enough it'd be true. In the cold light of day, she found herself once again doubting everything.
Ron sighed again, rolling his eyes. `Fine. People always go around kissing and ogling each other when they're not in the least bit interested in each other. All sorts of silly buggers are at it.'
`Sarcasm is unbecoming, Ronald.'
`So's denial.'
`And we didn't kiss.'
`More's the pity. I could kick myself from here to Hogwarts and back.'
Hermione's eyes suddenly glistened with tears.
`Ron,' she whispered, `I don't understand. I don't know how or why. But it can't be right!'
Ron reached out with his hand and took Hermione's.
`Stranger things have happened, Hermione. Why don't you just talk to Harry?'
Sniffling, Hermione managed a sad little giggle. `And say what, exactly? Harry, I've suddenly developed a real fancy for you?'
`What's wrong with that?'
Hermione pulled her hand out from under Ron's and wiped the tears from her cheeks with her palms.
`Everything, Ron.'
`I'm sorry, Hermione. I guess I'm just rubbish at all this sort of stuff. Lucky that Luna just asked me out.'
Hermione looked up at him in surprise. "Did she really?'
Ron smiled as he nodded.
Hermione laughed this time before saying, `But it's different with Harry and me. I mean we've been friends for so long it just feels really peculiar to feel like this! I just don't know if I could - well, I just don't know…' she trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
`You don't know if you could actually shag him, you mean?'
Hermione dropped her head to the table top and groaned.
`Hermione?'
She raised her head and looked at Ron. `Actually, if you hadn't come home when you did last night, I'm sure that's precisely what I would've done!'
`Well, then, get a little pissed and jump him!'
Hermione gasped as she jumped to her feet. `Ronald! This is NOT a joking matter!'
`Who's joking?' replied a bewildered Ron. He'd rather thought it was a good suggestion.
`Joking about what?' came Harry's voice from the doorway.
Hermione jumped back as Ron jumped to his feet, both of them looking guilty.
Hermione didn't know where to look and mumbled something to Harry about speaking to Ron and that she was going for a walk. Then she bolted, making a beeline for the front door, charging down the front steps and across the road where she headed for her favourite bench in the park. She sat down, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap as she tried to calm herself.
Shit, shit, shit! Stupid, ridiculous witch! How much of an idiot can I be? I should've just sat down calmly and thought of some funny retort and continued on as though I hadn't been trying to seduce him last night and that he didn't look utterly adorable just now in his oldest jeans and a white t-shirt and - oh, do shut up Hermione! She dropped her head into her hands and thought she might cry again. Or die from embarrassment and idiocy.
`You all right, miss?'
Hermione looked up to see an elderly gentlemen looking at her with great concern.
She gave him a weak smile and nodded. `Yes, thank you, I am. I'm just a little confused.'
`Well, that happens to the best of us, at times, doesn't it? Take care.' He tipped his hat and smiled at her before walking on.
Hermione sat back and took a few deep breaths. She certainly couldn't stay here all day. She'd just have to put on a brave face and act as though nothing had really happened. That way, she may retain a few shreds of dignity.
She stood up and squared her shoulders, realising that her stomach was once again doing that awful churning thing but she ignored it and headed back for the house. Get it over and done with, she told herself.
As Hermione sped out the front door, Harry gazed after her and wondered if he should follow her.
`Wouldn't go near her just yet, mate,' said Ron quietly.
Turning back to Ron who'd once again taken his seat at the table, Harry joined him, dropping a bag of croissants he'd bought to show some purpose for his walk.
Placing his arms on the table, Harry groaned.
`Ron? What am I going to do? I feel as though she's dead against having anything to do with me except as a friend - and yet I'm sure there's something more there. Well, not really sure. Hoping. But it's as though she doesn't want it - she's fighting it.'
Ron closed his eyes and rubbed them. Great. First Hermione, now Harry.
He looked at his friend. `Harry, mate, I don't know if I can help you. Hermione will kill me if I repeat anything she's said.'
`She's said something? To you? What? And I'll kill you if you don't tell me!'
`Listen, I just told her she should talk to you. She's confused. I'm a bit freaked out I have to say. It's a bloody weird situation after all these years.'
`You and she weren't weird back in school.'
Ron grinned at him. `Yeah, we were. That died a natural death pretty damn quickly.'
`Like me and Ginny.'
They grinned at each other before Harry reminded him of his imminent death if he didn't spit it out.
`Not fair,' said Ron firmly. `Want me to tell Hermione what you've said?'
Harry looked as though he was contemplating a really horrible hex when Ron spoke again.
`See? I can't tell you if I can't tell her.' Bloody revolting spot to be caught in!
`Right. I suppose. Fine,' said Harry. `I'll just pretend nothing's bloody happened until -'
`Until you both explode under the pressure. I just don't wanna be around when that happens,' said Ron with a realistic shudder.
`Won't happen that way,' said Harry firmly. `So, like a game of chess, then?'
`Sure! I love to win,' grinned Ron.
When Hermione returned, it was to find Harry and Ron engrossed in a game of wizard's chess at the kitchen table.
`Back!' she said brightly, and unnecessarily. `Cup of tea boys?'
`Yeah, thanks,' said Ron and Harry in unison, without looking up. As Hermione moved around the kitchen making tea, Harry cast a few surreptitious glances at her. And while Ron's rook viciously attached one of his knights, he made a decision. Somehow, somewhere, some way, he was going to talk to Hermione and find out exactly what was going on in that clever, pretty head of hers. And bloody soon, too. Besides, he thought with a grin as he risked another look at her, she owes me one helluva kiss.
TO BE CONTINUED.
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