Author's Note
Nearly there, just one last torture - I mean chapter! LOL!
And thanks a million to each and every one of you who took the time to review - you are all LEGENDS! Janie xoxoxo
URST
By JanieB
Chapter Five
Hermione slept in the following morning and it was, she decided, Harry's fault because she'd lain awake so long the night before. Thinking about Harry. She'd given up trying not to think about Harry because it had become quite impossible. Thoughts of him seemed to fill her every waking moment. And stopped her from sleeping, which created even more waking moments. Filled with thoughts of Harry.
As she made her way to the bathroom door, she could make out the sound of the tap over the basin running. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed and knocked. The tap went off.
`Harry?' she called tentatively through the door.
There was a slight pause before Harry answered. `Just finished, come in.'
She hesitated a second, her hand resting on the doorknob. He hadn't had time to leave, had he? Should she wait? But Harry had said he was finished and to go in - he wouldn't say that if it wasn't all right. Would he? Besides, she so desperately hated being late for work she decided she was being silly, opened the door and walked in.
The first thing she saw was damp skin, still glistening with drops of water from the shower - Harry's back. Harry's very smooth, well muscled back. He had a dark green towel wrapped around his waist and was wiping his face with a hand towel having just finished shaving. Their eyes met in the mirror and on seeing the confused expression on Hermione's face, Harry dropped his hands a little and said, `What?' oh-so-innocently. Harry, you devil…
`You're - I didn't - you said - finished - still wet - but - just a towel -' at this point Hermione stamped her foot and muttered something distinctly unladylike under her breath as she glared at Harry.
Harry kindly ignored her obvious confusion. `I have finished. All yours.' Hanging the hand towel up, he picked up his glasses and put them on then grinned at her as he walked past her and left the room, Hermione's eyes glued to his retreating figure.
Harry, half-naked. Freshly shaven. With wet hair. Just perfect. And probably nothing on under that towel. Shit. Hermione glared at the door as it closed behind Harry. She was certain he'd done that deliberately. She gritted her teeth in frustration as she headed for the shower.
A few minutes later as she stood in the shower with the water cascading over her, Hermione went over the whole incident and came to the conclusion that he had done it on purpose. She didn't know why, but she was sure he had. This called for serious action on the bathroom front, so once she was finished, she charmed her en-suite door; it would turn navy blue when Harry was in there and white when he wasn't. That way, she didn't risk running into half-naked Harry again. While forced to acknowlede that running into a half-naked Harry was actually a rather pleasant occurrence - very bloody pleasant, if she was to be honest - it was still dangerously unsettling. And she certainly didn't need more unsettling. Especially not of the dangerous sort.
From that morning onwards, they were exceedingly polite to each other for the rest of the week, causing Ron to roll his eyes more often during those five days than he'd done in the last five months.
Bloody gits! he thought as he watched them dance around each other, frantically pretending they didn't fancy the hell out of each other. You could cut the air with a knife when they were in the same room - even he could sense that! And more than once he cursed at himself for arriving home at precisely the wrong moment the previous weekend.
By Friday, he was considering spiking their drinks and letting them get on with it, but decided the hexing that would follow when he was discovered really wasn't worth it. Let the gits sort it out themselves.
Harry couldn't seem to find the right moment for the talk with Hermione that he'd promised himself - at least not yet. He wondered if he'd gone too far on Monday morning with the "bathroom incident" which had actually come about purely by accident. He had in fact finished shaving when Hermione had knocked on the door and so he thought nothing of telling her to come in. As soon as he'd seen the expression on her face, though, he felt a surge of triumph; she'd definitely been a little perturbed at seeing him like that. A little taste of your own medicine, my love, he'd thought with satisfaction.
Then on Saturday evening, when Hermione was going out with "the girls", she came downstairs in her new dress which, she complained, she couldn't do up herself and would Harry please give her a hand. Ron and Harry were sitting in the living room watching telly and Ron shook his head in utter disgust, unseen by his two friends who were too wrapped up in each other. `Wand broken, is it?' he muttered under his breath, casting a sour glance at Hermione, but not daring to say it loud enough to be heard.
Harry, ever the gentleman, stood up as Hermione turned her back to him and scooped her hair up with her hands, presenting the undone zipper to Harry. His hands were a little unsteady as he grasped the zipper and pulled, watching as Hermione's gleaming skin disappeared inch by inch. It was when it was pulled right up that Harry realised there was something he hadn't seen. A bra strap. Hermione wasn't wearing a bra. She turned around to smile her thanks, looking for all the world as innocent as a child. He couldn't help it - his eyes went to the deep vee of her halter neck dress, then he quickly looked up her.
And that's when he said something really stupid while grinning cheekily down at Hermione.
`Nice pair.'
Hermione fixed him with a cool look of disgust. Then without saying anything, she turned on her heel and walked to the hall table where she picked up her evening bag and wand and with a terse, `Goodnight,' promptly Disapparated.
Ron pressed the "mute" button on the remote control and groaned.
`Harry, Harry, Harry!' Ron melodramatically clapped his hand to his forehead. `What the hell were you thinking, mate? Sweet Merlin!'
Harry dropped back on to the lounge.
`It just slipped out!' he moaned.
`That's gonna take a bit of getting out of, that is. You're a right git, mate. And she's gonna make you pay for that little slip up.'
Oh, yes indeedy.
And pay he did. Sunday morning dawned hot and sultry. Hermione was as sweet as honey and insisted on preparing breakfast for the three of them. They were too scared to disagree. Afterwards, she told them she'd brook no arguments, they were all going to her parents' for a swim to escape this horrid heat. And they were still too scared to disagree.
`I'll go get my things, you two get yours and we'll leave. I owled Mum yesterday just in case and she said it was fine, although she and Dad are away this weekend. I have my spare key. Oh, and Luna said she'd come, too. I asked her last night.'
As Hermione ran lightly up the stairs to her room, Harry and Ron looked at each other stunned.
`Payback,' said Ron ominously. You poor sod, Harry.
Harry felt that since he had in fact stepped out of line a little when doing up Hermione's zipper, he deserved to be punished. So he did take it like a man. Mostly. However, the torture reached the point at which he thought he'd served his sentence and enough was enough. Unfortunately, Hermione appeared to be totally unaware of this limit and Harry became increasingly morose.
She'd paraded around in that bloody white bikini (white bit of nothing! Harry thought viciously, unable to keep his eyes off her) all day and after lunch, when Luna suggested they play a game in the pool, Hermione clapped her hands in delight. Harry had no doubt whatsoever it was all prearranged.
`Great idea, Luna! Let's!' cried Hermione. `Harry and I against you and Ron. Us girls on their shoulders - first one to fall off loses!'
Harry was transfixed. Hermione was going to be sitting on his shoulders. Hermione in that white bit of nothing. Squirming. Her legs wrapped around him. Legs he'd have to hold. He thought he just might drown himself. Or Hermione. Or both of them. Death seemed eminently preferable to the torture facing him.
Of course, he didn't drown, but he certainly gathered enough data for a lifetime's worth of daydreams about one Miss Hermione Granger. Ron felt sorry for his friend but was as helpless as he was. Besides, he completely enjoyed having Luna riding his shoulders and squirming.
When they arrived home again late that afternoon (Luna having Disapparated straight to her own place as she had an early start the next morning), they decided to have a light snack for tea which Harry said he'd prepare. Anything to keep himself busy and not too close to She-Who-Could-Torture-You-Blind. Ron and Hermione were sitting up at the kitchen bench, chatting amiably while Harry worked, chopping onions and celery. Hermione glanced every so often at Harry, a speculative gleam in her eye. It hadn't escaped her that he'd been very quiet all afternoon.
Ron tried to ignore it, but eventually, while Harry had his head in the fridge looking for the eggs, he leant over and whispered, `Will you stop it?! Haven't you tortured the poor man enough today?!'
Hermione looked at Ron, genuinely surprised.
`Tortured?' she whispered back, frowning. Hadn't she just tweaked his ear, metaphorically speaking? Or so she thought.
`I'll just run out and cut some fresh chives,' said Harry, closing the fridge and taking the scissors from the drawer.
Hermione and Ron both smiled at him and the second the back door closed, they were whispering fiercely at each other once more.
`Yes, tortured! Hermione, have a heart! Do you know what it does to a bloke when a girl prances around in a bikini, especially a girl that looks as good as you? On top of which, he fancies you and that makes it much harder than when it's just any good looking girl. You're tormenting him. And teasing him.'
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Like most girls, she truly didn't realise the impact she had on the opposite sex, wizard or not, young or old. `I never thought of it like that,' she said softly. `Oh, Ron! I didn't mean to be awful, I just wanted him to suffer a little.'
Ron looked heavenward, shaking his head. `Hermione! Suffer a little? More like colossal suffering! He has been tortured, I can guarantee it! I'm a male and if I was Harry with the hots for you and you did what you did today I'd be dead from - from sheer bloody frustration!'
He looked at her, sympathy in his eyes. `Hermione, you girls really don't know what you do to us blokes sometimes, do you? Just go a bit easier on him, all right?'
Hermione felt a little guilty. She'd been so busy thinking of herself and her "revenge", she hadn't considered that what she was doing might go beyond "tweaking".
After they'd cleaned up, she and Ron joined Harry in the living room to watch some television and when they sat down, she turned to Harry. She was fully prepared to make amends.
`Harry?'
Harry looked up at her, wondering what she had in store for him now, feeling a little "battle-weary". And he didn't think he'd been more frustrated in his whole life. It was bloody painful!
`I'm sorry.'
Harry lifted his eyebrows in query. Just "sorry"?
`For today,' said Hermione in reply.
`What about it?'
`Well, the way I acted.'
`I didn't notice anything.' She wasn't getting off that easily!
Ron dropped his head into his hand. Bloody hell. Harry was pissed off and although he didn't blame him, he knew that Hermione was genuinely sorry and now Harry was going to throw it back in her face. Prize prats. He was getting really fed up with the two of them.
`What anything didn't you notice?' asked Hermione, her voice a little tense.
Ron wished he could disappear but he was also afraid of drawing attention to himself.
`About the way you acted.'
`Really?'
Ron groaned softly. Bad. This was bad.
`Really.' Harry turned back to the television. He had suffered seriously the whole day and he wasn't going to give in without a fight - regardless of cute, apologetic Hermione.
Hermione stood up and Ron just knew she was seething. They're gonna blow! he thought, wondering if escape was possible at this late stage.
Walking a few steps, Hermione stood between Harry and the television set.
`Yes?' asked Harry, looking up at her. Damn, but she looked desirable!
`Harry James Potter -'
Ah ha! thought Ron triumphantly, finally, she's actually angry with him! But his triumph was shortlived…
`The one and only. What can I do for you?' said Harry a little caustically; he was pretty fed up, enormously frustrated and feeling quite put out. And Hermione looking so downright delicious certainly didn't help matters.
Hermione stood, hands on hips, glaring at him and before he could engage his brain, he spoke, saying exactly what was on his mind.
`You look so bloody cute when you're angry,' said Harry as he stood up, something close to a smirk on his face. Hermione instinctively took a step back to give him room, still glaring at him.
Ron was hoping desperately they couldn't hear his whimpers. He needn't have worried; they weren't aware of anything except each other.
`In fact,' growled Harry, `after what you've done to me today, I think you deserve something in return. In fact, you owe me this, Hermione.'
So saying, he grabbed one of her shoulders, his other hand gripping the back of her neck, pulling her to him. Then he kissed her.
Only neither of them was prepared for the impact their first kiss would have on each of them. Harry lost all coherent thought the second his lips touched Hermione's. A single, triumphant word echoed in his mind: Yes!
Hermione immediately melted against him, her arms instinctively curling around his shoulders. Just this single passionate contact of their lips gave him a taste of everything he knew he'd ever need. Or want. And oh God, how he wanted her! The hand on her shoulder quickly dropped to her waist, Harry's hand splayed across her lower back, pulling her hard against him, uncaring that the effect she had on him manifested itself swiftly with one of the hardest, most painful erections he'd ever experienced, one that she couldn't possibly ignore.
Hermione was unable to stop herself from moaning longingly and pleadingly into Harry's mouth which seemed to inflame him and made him press himself into her even harder. At last!
Ron was spellbound. What? No explosion? Maybe this was it, finally…bit weird, though, seeing Harry kiss Hermione like that, I mean really…he couldn't look any longer.
Dragging herself up from a well of intense desire, Hermione remembered she was feeling pretty insulted, starting with Harry turning down her apology. Between the "I didn't notice anything" to the "you deserve something in return" she'd lost her feeling of remorse for what she'd done to Harry and regardless of how incredible it felt to be kissed by him, she was hurt and insulted and so now she twisted out of his grasp, crying `Damn you, Harry!' in a strangled voice before running across the room and up the stairs. Harry, stunned, stood gaping at the spot where she'd been.
Ron decided total stillness and silence on his part was the smartest move.
Harry didn't notice Ron at all. He stood there, eyes closed, thinking of how infuriating Hermione was - and how much he wanted to run after her, grab her and kiss her again. And the rest, Potter! he thought desperately, because he sure as hell wanted to do a lot more than just kiss her. Sweet mother of Merlin! He didn't think he'd ever been so bloody frustrated in his life!
Ron watched as Harry turned and left, taking the stairs two at a time as he sought the solitude of his room. Ron was in awe of the enormous stupidity people in love were capable of, particularly when they refused to admit they were in love. Prats! he thought for the umpteenth time, glad he'd escaped the "explosion" unscathed.
Hermione flopped onto her bed and sighed.
And wondered how she could be so stupid when she was so clever.
So stupid as to not realise that these feelings for Harry that had surfaced had been simmering below the surface for some time. So stupid as to not recognise them for what they were and trying to pass them off as a "temporary aberration". Stupid. He must think I'm every kind of idiot after today! she agonised. She turned over and buried her face in her pillow.
In the room down the hall, Harry groaned as he fell onto his bed.
And wondered how he could be so blind when it was really so bloody obvious.
So blind that he hadn't seen past Hermione's "act" today, too bloody blind to see she was sincere in her apology and so pathetically blind he hadn't seen that telling her she was cute and then kissing her was just stupid.
And while Hermione was sighing and Harry was groaning, Ron was walking out of the front door of their shared house, rolling his eyes in total disgust. As far as he was concerned, both of his best friends were the biggest bloody gits he'd ever met!
Hermione wanted to scream in frustration. But instead she cried herself to sleep and then she dreamed. About Harry kissing her. Only Crookshanks heard the soft, pleasurable noises she made as she dreamt.
Harry wanted to roar his frustration. Instead he found himself staring at the ceiling, reliving that kiss over and over. Which was really not conducive to rest or sleep but he couldn't stop.
When Ron eventually returned after his walk, he found they were both still in their rooms and shrugging to himself, went to make himself a last cuppa before going to bed.
He did go up and knock gently on Hermione's door, wanting to make sure she was all right, but there was no answer so he just went to bed; he wasn't game to attempt contact with Harry tonight.
From the next morning and for the rest of the week, Harry and Hermione worked assiduously at avoiding each other and were quite successful. Hermione would leave early for work, Harry would stay late at work, eat at the Leaky Cauldron and Apparate straight to his room. He saw Ron in the mornings, but didn't mention what had happened the previous Sunday. Hermione he saw in the evenings, but she didn't mention it either.
By Friday morning, Ron was read to knock their silly heads together.
He told Harry that morning he was the biggest git he'd ever met and he should just apologise. Harry simply stared at him and said nothing. He didn't know how he was going to set things right with Hermione and his current turmoil prevented him from thinking clearly.
Hermione just looked blankly at Ron when he tried to explain to her, that same evening, why Harry hadn't accepted her apology. She, too, was in turmoil, wondering how she and Harry were going to sort out this mess.
They were both quite exhausted by the end of the week and when Ron reminded each of them about Dean Thomas's birthday party that Saturday night, they both felt relief; it was the perfect excuse for them to be in the same room without either of them having to take the initiative; a party, with plenty of other people around, would make things a lot easier.
The party was being held at The Burning Broomstick, a wizard pub that had a large courtyard in the centre, perfect for gatherings such as this.
They still managed to avoid each other during the day that Saturday, but it was inevitable their paths would cross eventually.
They finally met on the landing that afternoon as Hermione was on her way downstairs, Harry on his way up. Ron was in the kitchen when Harry left, saying he was going to get ready, and he'd had heard Hermione's door so he knew she was coming downstairs. He couldn't help himself - he crept over to the kitchen door to listen in.
The sound of their footsteps ceased. Silence. Ron waited. Then, `Hermione. How are you?' Harry sounded tense, he thought.
Hermione's voice was soft as she answered, `I'm - well. Harry.'
Just saying his name made her pulse quicken. They stared at each other for a moment, Harry looking up at Hermione, two steps above him. She was dressed in those figure-hugging black pants again, he noticed, although this time she wore a halter neck top in some sheer sort of floaty material; it was white and reminded him of that other white outfit of hers…
`You?' asked Hermione. Ron shook his head. They sounded like proper twits, the pair of them.
`Same. Thanks. See you at the party?'
Hermione gazed down into those green eyes she knew so well. His damn hair made her fingers itch; she so desperately wanted to run them through those messy black locks.
`Of course you will.'
Ron rolled his eyes. Not a very auspicious beginning but at least they were finally speaking to each other.
An hour later, they all met in the living to Apparate to the Burning Broomstick. Hermione was first to give Dean a birthday hug before moving off to say hello to everyone else.
Harry shook Dean's hand, his eyes locked on Hermione.
Seeing her earlier had made his heart race and he desperately wanted to speak to her, finally, and clear things up. So he could kiss her again. He'd never wanted anything so desperately in his life as much as he wanted to kiss her again. And the rest, he thought ruefully.
He watched as she stopped to talk to Neville and Ginny, then headed towards them. Before he could reach them, however, Seamus Finnigan stepped up beside Ginny and after shaking hands with Neville and giving Ginny a hug, he turned to Hermione and hugged her. But then he didn't let go. He left one arm around her shoulders and was leaning down, talking to her. He saw Hermione nod and after a few words to Neville and Ginny, they walked off.
Harry stood, stunned. What the hell was that? He didn't think Seamus had ever shown any interest in Hermione before. Not with my woman, you don't! he thought. His eyes darkened with annoyance and frustration and squaring his shoulders, he followed them through the crowd to the back of the courtyard where they slipped into a side room, closing the door behind them.
As he reached the door, Harry hesitated. He didn't quite know what was going on, but he sure as hell wasn't letting another man close himself in a room with the woman he, Harry, wanted. And loved. That thought wasn't even a shock. It just fitted neatly and perfectly into his consciousness.
This was it. The showdown. If there was the slightest chance Hermione felt something for him, and he was sure she did, he wanted to know. Needed to know. Now. Bugger Seamus.
Harry knocked sharply and waited, feeling more nervous than he'd ever done.
`Come in,' called Seamus.
Harry walked in, Hermione's eyes widening at the sight of him. She and Seamus were sitting side by side at a small table, an open book before them.
Seamus jumped up and held out his hand.
`Harry! Good to see you again!'
Harry only realised he'd stopped breathing when he took a deep breath, smiling as he shook Seamus' hand. Then he looked at Hermione and his expression softened. `Hi,' was all he said, smiling, gazing at her with so much longing it made Hermione very glad she was sitting down; his expression and that smile made her knees weak.
Hermione smiled back as she mouthed "hello", before looking down at the book once more, too flustered to hold Harry's gaze.
`Good to see you, too, Seamus,' said Harry. `What's up?'
`Oh, I found this book and I was pretty sure Hermione would know of it. I got it for a song and I just wanted to show it to her, find out if it's genuine.'
Harry felt relief flood through him and then realised Hermione was watching him, a small smile on her face. He smiled self-deprecatingly at her as he shrugged, knowing he was completely transparent to her.
After assuring Seamus he'd paid for the real thing, the three of them left the room, Seamus offering to buy them all a drink.
`No need, thanks anyway,' said Harry. He looked at Hermione. `Hermione and I have a - um - an appointment of sorts. If that's all right.'
`To be sure!' said Seamus in his soft Irish brogue. `I want to talk to Dean, anyway. Haven't seen him for an age. See you later you two!'
Seamus moved off and Harry and Hermione were left looking at each other.
`An appointment?' said Hermione, amusement evident in her voice.
Harry shrugged and gave her a crooked smile.
`First thing I could think of.' He looked at her and the look in his eyes made her wish they were alone somewhere; she felt as though an internal fire had been lit and was raging inside her.
`Harry -' She stopped, not really sure what it was she wanted to say.
`Yes, Hermione?'
She shivered. His voice was so low and sounded so warmly intimate she thought she might melt on the spot.
Gathering up her courage, Hermione said quietly, `We're not going to be just friends anymore, are we?' But as she said it, she looked down at her hands, overcome with nervousness.
She watched as his hands reached out and took hers, lifting them up, her gaze following them. Harry pressed first one, then the other, to his lips as Hermione looked on, her pulse racing.
`No, my love.'
Hermione's breath caught in her throat; Harry's voice was low and husky and seemed to reverberate right through her, leaving a tingling anticipation in its wake.
Harry took both her hands in one of his and held them to his chest, his free hand curling around her shoulders, pulling her close.
`Harry, I'm sorry, I really am, for -'
`I'm sorry too. But let's forget it. We were both - as Ron said - prize prats.' Harry gave her another of his heart-stopping smiles.
`We were, weren't we?' she agreed, smiling back.
`And now we're not.'
`Excuse me,' said Ron, startling them both. `Would you two mind taking this someplace else?'
Harry and Hermione looked around at him, then realised that nearly everyone was watching them; they'd been too wrapped up in each other to even notice.
Harry looked back down at Hermione. `What do you say, we take this someplace else?'
`I say yes.'
`Is this it?' asked Ron. `You're sure this time? No more bouts of idiocy? No more driving your best friend here totally spare?'
Harry and Hermione both laughed, shaking their heads.
`We promise,' said Harry.
`Cross our hearts,' said Hermione.
`Just as bloody well. Now scat.'
And scat they did.
TO BE CONTINUED.
RST tomorrow (or Sunday at the latest) dear readers!
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