A/N::: I thought that, for a change of pace, I'd put my author's note at the beginning. For one, I hope that everyone enjoys reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Second, thanks to Mabel (my excellent beta), and a few reviewers who have been with me since the beginning: danfan4ever, dianablack, Ori, and swivelchair. Thanks a million for your constant reviews…keep them coming! Also, special thanks to my best friend Kate, who helped me jump into a bit of the fluff for everyone! So, without further ado, I give you---
Chapter 12
Distracting
But it's different this time.
This time, there are no flames, no spurts of fire. It's more like a volcano has erupted deep in my gut, and the burning sensation comes, instead, from electrically-charged lava, rushing through my body to the tips of my fingers and toes. The force behind the kiss is so brutal that I can feel the scorching heat in every pore, on every inch of skin. I feel myself cool slightly as the feeling ricochets off my nerve endings, drawing my attention to the concentrations of heat radiating from the hand on my neck and the one on the small of my back. I jerk forward slightly as one of his fingers slides under the hem of my shirt, causing my chest to clash against his. Vaguely, I register the sound of Harry groaning deep in the back of his throat; the vibrations from the action seem to shock my hands into movement, and, as if of their own volition, they claw at the bottom of his t-shirt, shaking with the desperate need to touch his bare skin. Suddenly, the pressure on my neck and back disappears, and his hands struggle to pull mine away from his clothing just as my fingertips brush his side.
Almost frantically, his lips leave mine as he shoves himself away from me. I can physically feel the loss of warmth at his departure, but my mind is still too caught up in the heated haze for me to care. The punch-drunk sensation lasts through the echoing of his hurriedly retreating footfalls, the clatter of him stumbling over the rug, and the rattle of him grappling for the door knob. The feeling is finally chased out by the slamming of my study door, leaving me cold and lonely.
*
"Herm, tell Harry that it's my day to read the sports section first!" Ron's request is the first thing I hear when I walk into the kitchen the next morning. I'm already dressed for work--black and white pinstriped dress slacks and a fitted black turtleneck sweater--hoping to make a quick entry and exit at the breakfast table.
Not that I'm trying to avoid Harry, or something of that nature. No, I'll just tell them that I have a lot of work to catch up on and that I can't stay long or maybe that I promised my mum that I'd meet her for brunch. But definitely not trying to avoid Harry Potter like the plague. Nope. Not at all.
My black Doc's thump softly against the floor as I walk to the dining table and pick up the first page of the Daily Prophet. Harry is currently hidden behind the sports page, blatantly ignoring me. Honestly, could he be any more immature?
"Harry," I sigh in exasperation, "you know that Ron gets the sports section first on Mondays."
"The Cannons got steamrollered by the Wasps-" Harry speaks, not to me, but to Ron.
Ron whines in return, "Can it, Harry! I want to read it myself."
"-170 to 490-"
"Stop it! You're ruining the experience!"
"-and the Cannon's seeker caught the snitch!"
Ron sticks his fingers in his ears and starts humming loudly.
"The Cannons'll have to win nine back-to-back matches to even think about qualifying for the playoffs."
"La, la, la...I'm not listening..." Ron screeches in a sing-song voice.
"SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!"
Ron eyes me with something just short of contempt.
"Well, if he would just give me the bloody paper..."
Ding!
Harry flicks the paper closed and slides it over to Ron as he rises smoothly from his chair.
"The muffins are done," he announces to no one in particular, but I know that the phrase is meant for me. I can smell the mouthwatering scent of Harry's white-chocolate cranberry muffins coming from the vicinity of the oven, where the baker of said muffins is currently bending over in just a loose fitting, worn out pair of jeans, sticking a toothpick into the top of each one. The muscles in his arms and back flex nicely as he reaches toward the back of the oven to continue his poking. For some slightly uncomfortable reason, the sight of that alone gives me goose bumps and heightens the tone of my voice as I ask,
"Why don't you just take them out to do that?"
"Because muffins are just like cakes; they'll fall if you take them out before they're completely done."
"Oh."
He stands, muffin tin in hand, and shuts the oven door. How is he so unaffected by what happened yesterday? I'm entranced. I can't seem to keep my eyes off of him. Different things seem to distract my sight all at once. How his chest rises and falls with each breath. How tightly his creamy skin is stretched over his toned stomach. How his jeans swing low on his hips, offering me a glimpse of the black snail trail that disappears under his waistband...
"Hermione? Are you alright?"
Damn. He caught me.
"Yeah, I'm-" I flick my eyes up to meet his. The flickering heat of his gaze sends a shiver of excitement through me, causing me to turn away.
"I'm fine."
I grab a muffin from the tray, mutter a quick goodbye, bolt out of Harry's flat, and fly down the stairs, apparating to the Ministry the second I hit the porch.
A/N:: Review!! Pretty Please!!!
Mandy
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