7. Intruder in the Night
The next day, Harry was at the Ministry getting ready for the mission he'd be going to later that day, or at least he was supposed to be getting ready. In reality, he had been sitting on his chair for more than an hour staring at the fake window, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, a voice brought him back.
"Harry? Harry!!"
When his mind finally registered someone was calling his name, he turned around to face the newcomer.
"Oh! Hey…" he greeted Lupin, in a low voice.
"My, what a warm greeting that was," Lupin said mockingly. "And what are you doing here, anyway?" Lupin asked as he walked in and sat down at a chair across from Harry. "Didn't you request a couple of months off? I thought you'd be in your honeymoon by now."
Remus Lupin, who also worked for the Aurors doing special undercover work, knew all about Sally and Harry's plans to propose to her. Harry had planned on introducing the two after Sally had accepted to be his wife.
"Well?" pressed Lupin after seeing that Harry wasn't talking much. "What happened? Didn't you get married?"
An ironic smile was drawn in Harry's face. "Oh, I got married alright!"
"Then, why are you here? Moody told me you're leaving on a mission today." Then, changing his voice to a more concerned tone, he asked, "Did you and Sally have a fight?"
Harry shook his head. "Did we fight?" he repeated.
"Will you just tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" said Lupin with a tinge of frustration in his voice.
Knowing this was one of the few people - if not the only one - he felt confident enough to talk about his private business, Harry decided to talk. "Well," he said getting up. "I did get married… but not to Sally."
Lupin looked at him as if he'd be speaking in another language. Seeing his puzzled expression, Harry continued.
"I… uh… married someone else."
Lupin's expression was so comical, Harry was about to laugh. To add to Lupin's surprise, Harry gave him one more piece of information.
"I married Hermione." He simply said.
Lupin opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and he closed it. He scratched his head for a few seconds to finally stand up and face the wizard, who obviously was pulling his leg.
"You mean… Hermione? As in… Hermione Granger?"
"Well," replied Harry. "Actually, now it's… Hermione Potter."
Lupin took a step back and slowly began to talk. "Okay, do you want to explain to me how in Merlin's name this happened?"
Harry spent the next minutes, telling Lupin everything that had happened the previous weekend. Lupin listened to him without interrupting, trying to bring together the pieces of this screwed up puzzle.
After he was bombarded with all that information, Lupin sat tiredly back in his chair. After a few seconds of open-mouthed pondering, he spoke.
"I can't believe it!"
Harry sat down as well. "I still don't believe it either."
"Cousins! They… are cousins!" Lupin looked at his adopted-grandson intently. "And you never…"
"No," said Harry interrupting. "I could've never guessed they were related. I reckon in part it's all my fault," he said looking away. "My relationship with Sally was always so… full of shadows. In a way I wanted to keep it like that so she wouldn't find out about… you know, things that a muggle isn't supposed to know. But that also allowed her to have secrets of her own."
"And, what are you going to do now? About Hermione, that is," asked Lupin after a while.
Harry hadn't thought about it, but now that Lupin had brought it to his attention he didn't know what to say. "Well… get a divorce, I reckon. But I'm sure Hermione will take care of that. If she hasn't done it already!" Somehow the thought alone made him feel uneasy.
"If you don't mind my saying," said Lupin when he had finally recovered from the unexpected surprise. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave right now. I think you should work this out with Hermione first."
Harry closed his eyes, giving it some thought. "No. I need to get away from everything. I need some time to think things through."
"And, what about Sally?" asked Lupin.
Harry looked quickly at him. Just hearing her name upset him. It turned his mind on defensive mode.
"I don't even want to talk about her."
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Hermione also needed to think things through. Now that she was alone in the big Black house, or better said the Potter house, she had plenty of time to do it. That was the time that Dobby would leave her alone.
He was very pleased to have his new Mistress home. Before leaving, Harry had told him to watch after her and make sure she had everything she needed. Of course, Dobby didn't need to be told that.
He had taken as his primary responsibility watching after Hermione. Dobby would do anything he could think of to keep her entertained. Since she didn't feel much like socializing with other people, she would only leave the house early in the morning to take a walk, spending the rest of the day in the house enjoying Dobby's company.
It was during those early morning walks when she had the chance to let her thoughts invade her.
She was now a married woman! A married woman without her wedding night, but still married. When she was younger, she used to imagine how her wedding would be like. Hermione was not the kind of woman who fancied a grand wedding, with hundreds of guests and tons of beautiful floral arrangements at an elegant hall.
She didn't even care about one of those gorgeous, expensive wedding gowns most girls dreamed about. No, she didn't want any of that.
On the other hand, she had always hoped that her wedding would be a private, quiet reunion at an open space, like a beach, or even a park in the woods, where a romantic ceremony could take place.
Of course, she had always expected her parents to be present. She could see her father walking her down the aisle - or a pretend aisle if the ceremony was in an open space - and then gently placing her hand into the hands of her husband-to-be. She would've also liked for her closest friends to be there, instead of a bunch of curious people who wouldn't really care for her.
But the one thing she had expected, if none of the above would have been possible, was to marry someone who she deeply loved and who loved her as well. Was that too much to ask?
Instead, she had been forced into a fake marriage just so her dear cousin could save her neck. It was amazing to see how the selfishness of one person could ruin the lives of all those around her.
There was one thing that made Hermione the most upset. Sally had risked Harry and Hermione's friendship. She had placed them in a situation where they had to confront each other.
Harry blamed Hermione for what had happened. He had told her that many times. He was still upset with her, and she knew it. Even when the last time she saw him, the day he left on his mission, he hadn't talked to her in that sarcastic way, she could still feel distance between them.
His gorgeous green eyes had lost that wonderful, natural glow that had always made them so special. And that made Hermione angry. Sally didn't deserve that. "Oh! If only Sally were here…" she thought, closing her fists.
But as Hermione thought about it, she also realized she would never hurt her. Not just because she wouldn't hurt a human being, who unfortunately happened to be related to her, but because Harry loved Sally.
Hermione knew that even when Harry was so angry with this whole thing, he loved Sally and, sooner or later, he'd forgive her.
That thought made Hermione's insides burn. "Why do I care? As far as I'm concerned, they can both go to hell!"
But her dreams told a different story. Once her mind was deep in the world of dreams, her subconscious worked against her. An image kept appearing. She could clearly hear a voice in the background saying "You may kiss the bride." Then Harry would appear, take her in his arms and kissed her as she had never been kissed before.
Hermione would wake up breathing hardly, still filling in her lips the sweetness of Harry's kiss. "What the bloody hell is wrong with me?" she wondered. "I'm going insane!"
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On the third day of Hermione's stay at Harry's, her mobile phone rang insistently. She had almost forgotten it was still packed with her things. Hermione knew quite well who was calling her even before she answered, her mother.
"Where on heart have you been? I've called you a hundred times! Couldn't you spare five minutes to call home? And, what's all this rubbish about you getting married? Betty phoned us all the way to Sweden. You want to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" Her mother had said all this so quickly she hadn't really given time Hermione to answer.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione told her mum she'd be home that afternoon and explain to her what had happened. Hermione didn't fancy doing it over the phone. When she got to her parents' that afternoon, Mr. Granger was there too, wanting to know what his daughter had been up to.
It took Hermione about twenty minutes to explain everything to her parents. She didn't leave a single detail out.
"Oh honey," said Mrs. Granger. "I never imagined that Sally would put you in a situation like this. Of course we all know she's always been a little spoiled, but this… I'll talk to Betty," she said after a while.
"No, mum," quickly added Hermione. "There's no need for you to get in the middle of this. I'm sure things will come out on their own. Nothing remains hidden under the sun." Reluctantly, Hermione's mum agreed.
"And what about this marriage of yours?" asked Mr. Granger.
"Don't worry dad. Harry and I will take care of it."
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A little more than two weeks had passed since the day Harry left. That Saturday night, Hermione was alone in the old house. She had finally convinced Dobby to go visit Winky as he had always done. The previous weekend, Dobby had only gone to Hogwarts for a few hours instead of the two whole days as he used to.
"Dobby was told to take care of his Mistress!" he had said to Hermione.
"Yes," she replied. "But Harry didn't say anything about you doing it during your days off. Besides I can take care of myself."
After making a disbelieving noise with his throat, Dobby had left earlier that day. Hermione was glad to see that the day had ended and he hadn't come back, though she worried Dobby's feelings might have been hurt. She felt terrible for making him work more than he usually did, but there was little she could say to convince him otherwise.
That night, she had been sleeping for a few hours when she was suddenly woken up by weird noises coming from downstairs. At first Hermione thought she had only imagined the noises; perhaps it had been just a dream. But then she heard a louder noise, as if something heavy would've fallen to the ground.
Hermione gasped in surprise. "Oh, no! Sounds like someone broke in the house." Slowly, she got out of bed and walked towards the door. She pressed her ear against the closed door searching for noises in the hallway. She didn't hear anything. Then, she opened the door just enough for her to take a peek.
Holding her wand tight in her hand, she left her room. Slowly, she headed to the stairs. When she was at the top, she carefully scanned the hallway downstairs with her eyes.
However, the little light that barely illuminated the area didn't allow her to see quite well. Still, she was almost certain the hallway was empty. She started to descend the stairs hoping her weight wouldn't make the steps squeak.
The stairs seemed to be reading her mind for they remained noiseless as she walked down. When she was at the bottommost step, she found what had caused that loud thump. The hideous troll-leg like umbrella stand (which Hermione had no idea why Harry had kept) lay carelessly in the floor proving her that in fact someone had broken in.
Just then she heard noises coming form the kitchen. Tightening her grip on her wand, she headed in that direction. She stopped at the closed door, listening as it seemed that whoever was inside was rummaging trough the kitchen cabinets.
Hermione was recalling a couple of the good spells she had learn in their DA meetings, when she heard the intruder talk.
"BUGGER!"
Hermione immediately recognized that voice and walked into the room. There, giving his back to her, stood Harry. As he heard her came in, he turned to face her. Hermione gasped at the sight before her.
His appearance was horrible. He sported a black eye and a swollen lip, and his clothes were all dirty. In fact, the edge of his cloak - which had been carelessly thrown into a chair - and his pants were stained with mud. However, what impressed Hermione the most were the blood stains on his shirt. Just then, Hermione noticed his right arm tightly pressed to his chest and supported by his other arm.
He was injured.
Hurriedly, she came up to him. "Oh, Merlin! Let me see that," she said.
However, Harry would not let her see his wound. "It's alright, Hermione," he said quickly. "I'm fine."
Scanning the mess he had on the counter, Hermione realized he had taken out several potion ingredients. He had been attempting to fix himself some kind of potion to cure his wound, not doing a very good job using only one hand.
"C'mon Harry, you need help." She could see in his eyes he was in pain.
"I can do it myself," he insisted.
Hermione couldn't understand why he was trying to push her away, but she wasn't going to take it. "I don't mean to brag, but I'm better than you at potion making," she said in a this-is-serious-business way. She then pushed him until he was forced to sit down at a chair behind him.
"Now sit still and hold on, and take that filthy shirt off!" she said, her voice sounding firm and strong.
He finally gave up and did as told. Quickly, Hermione busied herself mixing several ingredients in a small cauldron. As the potion simmered, she took out of the cabinet a jar that contained murtlap essence. Minutes later, the potion was ready.
With quick movements of her skilled hands, she emptied the contents of the jar into a basin large enough for his hand to fit in. The contents of the cauldron were placed into a smaller bowl. Then, she walked up to him carrying both things, but stood there looking at him for a few seconds.
"I should clean up the wounds first," she said talking to herself. "Otherwise the mud will not let the remedies work to their fullest."
With a wave of her wand, she conjured a small bucket with warm water and a soft sponge. She kneeled before him and, after soaking the sponge, made a movement to take his hurt hand in hers. Harry didn't move for a second. After he sighed in resignation, he let out his hand to her.
Slowly so that she wouldn't hurt him too much, Hermione held his hand on hers and cleaned his wound. After making sure there was no trace of mud left, she submerged his injured hand into the murtlap essence. The same thing she gave him years ago to heal the exact same hand after some hours of detention at Umbridge's office.
As his hand was covered by the smelly liquid, the skin around the wound started prickling, sending a tickling sensation all the way to his shoulder. Meanwhile, Hermione was now washing the sponge clean.
This time, she started cleaning his bruised face. Hermione had prepared some sort of paste out of several plants and some other ingredients. The result was some light brown mixture, which she softly started to rub around the bruise in his eye.
As she was gently rubbing the side of his face, Harry closed his eyes. He could feel a warm sensation where Hermione was massaging. Harry thought it was because of the mixture. However, he then noticed that he could feel the same sensation coming from her other hand, which rested on his shoulder.
Harry tried to ignore it as he breathed in deeply. But as he did that, he inhaled Hermione's scent. His senses were invaded by the wonderful smell her body generated. He could even perceive her muggle shampoo.
A half-smile was drawn on his face as he breathed in once again, enjoying the sensations that having her so close brought to him.
Then, the warm feeling was gone. Harry quickly opened his eyes to see that she had placed the bowl on the table and was now getting ready to go back to his hand. She pulled it out of the essence, carefully wiped it clean with a dry hand towel and wrapped it up with a white bandage.
Harry never broke his gaze on her through the entire process, but Hermione didn't notice.
After his hand was ready, Hermione, once again, soaked the sponge in the water, which thanks to a handy spell, had remained at a comfortable temperature.
Harry's eyes were following her every move. She sure was good at it. Even when his wounds were sore, her movements were soft enough to cause him the less additional pain possible.
He smiled at her expression, quite concentrated in the task at hand. When she was convinced the sponge was clean enough, she brought it up to his swollen lip.
She looked at him for a while, suddenly realizing he had been staring at her. All of a sudden Hermione's throat went dry. She swallowed hard as her stomach made a somersault. Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze away from him.
Slowly, she began rubbing the wet sponge over his lips. Harry's eyes were focused on her. A strong force was pulling him to her as if her eyes were magnets. Hermione's once steady hand began to tremble.
Trying to hide it from him, she pulled her hand away and submerged the sponge into the water. She looked at his lips to make sure they were mudless. Then, the dream she had been having all those nights came to her mind. The memory of the one kiss they had shared at their wedding ceremony.
She was having difficulty breathing. The room's temperature seemed to have gone up a few degrees. If it wasn't that then Hermione couldn't understand why she felt hot all of a sudden.
Taking a deep breath, she dropped the sponge - his lips were clean now - and extended her hand towards the little bowl so she could rub some healing paste on his lip. However, Harry didn't give her a chance to reach it.
He grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her towards him. Then, Harry cupped her face with both his hands, looking deeply into her eyes. Slowly, he began to get closer to her. Hermione's eyes widened as he softly pulled her towards him.
Immediately, she looked again at his lips, which were slightly parted. She was dying for him to kiss her. As she felt him move even closer to her, she closed her eyes unconsciously.
Right at that moment, the memory became something real. His lips were once again covering hers, nibbling and biting softly. This time there were no intruders to stop their need to take in the other.
Urgently, Harry's tongue begged for entrance. Hermione didn't need a second request. She quickly opened up, offering him the flavors of her mouth. He was amazed to see how sweet and warm her mouth felt against his. The velvet of her tongue was sending sensations down his spine that urged him to seek more.
And he did. His hands went down from her face to her waist as he got off the chair and kneeled next to her, encircling her in his arms and kissing her with all the passion he had built up inside.