A/N::: I apologize until the end of time for the pause I have put on my story. Traveling this past summer has left no time for the pleasures of writing. However, I've made a vow to squeeze time into my schedule for this project. After the horror that was the Epilogue of Book 7, I suppose that my story is now extremely AU. Hopefully none of you cares. I hope that this sort of pause hasn't caused you to loose interest, as I'm sure has happened with many of my faithful readers. Regardless, I give those of you who would like it . . .
Chapter 17
Betting
"Hermes..."
Harry's voice is faint, as if it's coming from a long distance.
"Hermes..."
Louder this time.
"Hermione! Wake up!"
A hand shakes my shoulder, startling me and causing me to almost fall out of my chair.
"What happened?" I mumble, rubbing a hand across my eyes and clenching them shut when they burn in reaction to my smeared mascara.
"You fell asleep. One minute you were eating and the next you were zonked out next to your chicken and pasta."
I blink, confusion washing over me.
"Asleep?"
Harry's brow furrows in concern, and his eyes search my expression.
"Yes. Asleep. Are you feeling alright? It's so unlike you to do something like that."
Asleep? You've got to be kidding me.
"So we didn't..." my voice trails off, my brain racing through the night's events.
"Didn't what?" Harry asks, his hand reaching out and brushing against my forehead.
I groggily bat his hand away and bring mine to his collar, pulling it to the side. My inspection yields no results. No lovebites. No marks. Nothing.
Bloody hell.
"Where's Victoria?"
Harry eyes me cautiously before answering,
"She left a few minutes ago. Are you sure you're alright? You seem a bit disoriented."
Disappointment covers me like a thick blanket. Lately, work has been really hectic, and I actually was prone to chronic fatigue and spontaneously passing out during my more complicated Hogwarts years, not that Harry knows anything about that though. But, seriously. A dream?
I push myself up from the table, a bit unsteady, and turn a little too fast for my knees to handle, and I stumble. In half a second, Harry's arm is around my waist, holding me up.
"Actually, no. I think I need to lie down."
Harry reaches under my knees and scoops me into his arms, making his way out of the dining room and down the hall.
"Where are we going?"
"My room. The last thing I need to do is drop you down the stairs on the way to yours."
"That wouldn't be very pleasant," I mumble as he lowers me onto his bed.
I make no noise of disapproval as he vanishes my blouse, shirt, and heels with a wave of his hand and helps me into one of his old t-shirts. The material is worn and pliable, and I burrow into its warmth and the familiarity of Harry's scent. He pulls the sheets up to my waist and brushes my hair away from my forehead before leaving the room, allowing me to drift back to sleep.
*
The tickle of fingers sliding against my scalp pulls me from the depths of slumber. However, I don't open my eyes right away. No. Instead I lie in awe of the burning heat of Harry's body against my back, of his fingers in my hair, of his lips, which are coincidentally sliding softly against the nape of my neck.
"Good morning," he rumbles against my skin, and I start at the breaking of the silence. I scramble to get out of the bed, embarrassed at being caught awake, but I'm halted by his arm curling around my waist. Struggling is futile, but it doesn't stop me from fighting for release. Despite the faded images and emotions left in the wake of yesterday evening's dream, I still can't wrap my mind around Harry`s feelings for me. The whole idea throws me out of my element, and every time the subject enters my thoughts, I shove it back into the shadows.
"I've come to a conclusion," he says calmly, ignoring the pulling of my hands against his forearm until I tire and slump back against him in defeat, "I've spent the better part of my life doing things for others. First I was my aunt and uncle's housemaid, then the savior of the wizarding world, and a doctor after that. I've saved lives and endorsed companies and donated to charity, and for once, I'd like to do one thing for myself."
The hand not around my waist runs down my arm, entangling his fingers with mine and pulling them to his face, kissing my fingertips lightly. My eyes, which followed the path of our hands, flutter shut at the contact.
"Look at me."
His tone is only slightly commanding, but I obey anyway. His eyes pull me in, his entire body oozing a confidence I'm not used to him displaying.
"You're the only thing in my life I've ever been sure about. Loving you comes as easy to me as flying, as breathing. I don't even have to think about it; I just do it. I know now that I'm never going to feel this way about another person. I can't imagine there being a feeling any stronger than this."
My back, once against his chest is now flat against the mattress and his arm is no longer wound about my waist. It's his eyes that now pin me in place, holding me as securely as his hands did.
"There's no doubt in my mind about whether I will spend the rest of my life with you. I will have you, Hermione, sooner or later."
"You're awfully confident," I breath out.
"With good reason," he replies, smiling more with his eyes than his lips, "I'm willing to bet I get a ring on your finger in month or two."
"You think so?"
"I know so."
"A month?"
"A month."
He knows me well enough to know that I refuse to back down from a challenge. How clever of him to present the rest of my life to me in the form of a bet. Me, become Harry Potter's fiancee, in a month or less? How ludicrously impossible. I would never allow myself to be shoved so forcefully from my comfort zone, much less put my most valuable friendship in jeopardy in the process.
"You're on," I whisper, unable to pull my gaze from his.
Harry's smile is smug and uncontainable,
"Let the games begin."
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