A/N : Yeah, Hi. Mrs. Hermione Potter and I have to thank Mabel once more for being the fantabulous and super fast beta that she is. As you may remember, this is a collaborative effort between Denise and myself. Hope you enjoy
Harry stared bemusedly at the door Hermione had disappeared through when she left. He shook himself slightly and pulled on the fresh jeans he'd laid to the side when he'd come in for his shower. He looked in the mirror and rubbed his face lightly, feeling the smooth skin beneath his hand and smiled at his reflection. Definitely not a dream.
'You look loads better, not that that's saying much,' the mirror offered snidely.
Harry glared briefly at the mirror but then, what did one expect from a mirror that had been in this dark house for who knew how many years?
'Sod off,' he muttered as he tossed the dirty clothes into the hamper and went back to his room in search of a clean shirt.
Harry pulled a t-shirt over his head and slid his feet into his trainers, hearing his stomach growling; it had been a while since he'd eaten. He wondered what Ron had found to eat, and if there was any of it left. I'd better hurry, he thought with a grin.
Hermione could feel the pink in her cheeks as she entered her own room. Why did I do that? She shook her head as if to rid herself of unwelcome thoughts; it was best if she just didn't think about it. She would just go downstairs and have something to eat with Ron. Merlin knew, there was no way he was finished eating, she thought with a grin. She considered dressing again but shrugged to herself and pulled on a robe and slippers, heading downstairs to find some food and let Ron distract her from thoughts that were going nowhere.
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Ron looked up with a frown as he heard a loud crash from upstairs. He sighed, Tonks. He started to go back to his sandwich but a cacophony of sound had him dropping it back on its plate and standing, wand drawn.
'Bloody hell.' His blue eyes widened as a tangle of arms and legs came thumping down the steps to land in a heap with a great resounding thud at bottom. He shoved his wand back in his jeans and walked around the table. He offered a hand to each of the two on the floor. 'I thought you two were Tonks with all that noise.'
Harry and Hermione untangled their entwined limbs and dusted themselves off, accepting Ron's hand up. Hermione arched a dark brow at both boys.
'Someone was in a hurry on the stairs.'
Harry glanced at Hermione, watching her straighten the robe that had become tangled around her legs in their fall; legs that rested against his own moments before. He blinked as the robe covered her creamy skin once more and blushed as their gazes collided.
'Sorry,' he said, hoping that this one time she couldn't tell what he was thinking.
'Honestly, Harry, were you afraid there would be nothing left to eat?'
Harry looked pointedly at Ron who had gone back around to resume eating.
'What?' demanded Ron, around a mouthful of food, eyeing his two friends.
Her lips quirked as she tried valiantly not to smile and looked from Ron to Harry. Mistake, her brain screamed at her as she felt the intensity of his gaze. She tore her eyes away and sat down quickly, randomly filling her plate, proceeding to ask Ron how the Cannons were doing.
Harry frowned, noticing Hermione's unwillingness to look him in the eye. He took his place, the frown deepening as Hermione willingly began a conversation about Quidditch.
Ron nearly choked and quickly downed the last of his Butterbeer as he looked from Hermione's expectant gaze to Harry's frown. Still coughing, he motioned for another bottle.
Harry and Hermione reached for the Butterbeer at the same time, their hands touching, and both of them jerked at the sudden contact, knocking the three remaining bottles over. Ron jumped up and grabbed one of the rolling bottles, his eyes narrowing on Harry and Hermione as he opened it and downed the liquid to soothe his burning throat.
The pain in his throat all but gone, Ron looked at a red-faced Harry and then at Hermione who was busying herself with righting the table once more.
'You alright, Hermione?'
'Of course I am. Why would you ask that?'
Ron looked at Harry again, who simply shrugged, and put food in his mouth.
'Well, you never seemed keen to know about Quidditch before.'
Hermione's nose wrinkled as Ron's habit of talking and eating simultaneously went unchecked.
'Honestly!' Her tone was exasperated as she dropped back into her chair. 'I was only trying to make conversation.'
'Well, you never bothered about Quidditch before,' he mumbled. 'Thought maybe you were sick or something.'
Harry watched the by-play between his best friends and groaned to himself. He was way too tired for this and they ought to be, too, he thought irritably.
'Nevermind Quidditch,' he blurted out.
Hermione and Ron's gazes swiveled to face him in unison. He looked at them both. 'We have bigger problems.' A gloomy silence descended on the room. They knew what was on his mind.
'It's alright, mate,' Ron said quietly. 'We'll just have to…'
A frown furrowed Harry's brow as he pushed his fringe back, exposing the red scar that marred his pale skin. 'Yeah. Just have to start back at square one,' he finished bitterly for his friend.
'Ron's right, Harry,' Hermione's soft voice cut across his negative thoughts. She placed a hand on his arm. She bit back a sigh as she made contact with the warmth of his skin.
At her unexpected touch, Harry started and hissed out a long breath, turning his bright green eyes on hers.
Ron's blue eyes narrowed slightly, looking back and forth at Harry and Hermione. 'What's the matter with you two?'
For the second time during dinner, they jerked apart as though something burned them, and stammered together, 'N-nothing.' A guilty flush stained two sets of pale cheeks.
Hermione took a deep breath. 'Maybe we should all call it a night, then. We can start fresh in the morning.'
Ron and Harry nodded their agreement.
'Right.' Hermione's tone was brisk. 'The library after breakfast?'
Ron sighed. 'I s'pose so. G'nite, then.' He unfolded his lanky frame and ambled off to his own room at Grimmauld, leaving Harry and Hermione looking at each other rather awkwardly.
'Sounds like we've said goodnight already,' Harry said, quietly, remembering the interlude in the bathroom upstairs.
Hermione's breath was suddenly short. 'Yes.'
Harry took a step towards her as she grabbed his hands to meet his burning gaze and held it for the first time since she'd shaved him. 'It will be okay, Harry. We will all be okay,' she said succinctly, and reached up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Alone, Harry watched her as she fled, sprinting up the stairs to her room, her long plaited hair swinging behind her. His only thoughts were a desire to free her long, wavy hair from the confines of the braid she wore at night and of the softness of her lips against his skin.
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Harry sighed as he flopped down on his bed and carelessly tossed his glasses on the table next to him. His fingers plowed through the untidy mass of black hair and his hand slowly came to rest on his face. The memory of Hermione sliding the razor blade down his face sprang to mind, unbidden. And he groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut as if that would rid him of the images in his mind; Hermione's hand on his neck, as the other scraped his jaw clean with the razor, so close that he could feel her warm breath on his skin. He shook his head, turned over on his side, and viciously plumped his pillow. He would just sleep it off.; everything would be back to normal in the morning.
Sleep. Sleep would be great. Right, said his sarcastic inner voice. He flipped over on his back, readjusting his sheets but none of it helped; he couldn't relax, let alone sleep. His brain simply refused to shut down and he couldn't stop thinking about the way her legs were intertwined with his, her face mere inches from his lips. He could almost sense her feather light touch, and he wondered what it would be like to touch her face like that. His fingers tracing the line of her jaw, staring into those fathomless, dark eyes of hers; eyes that always seemed to see right through him, knowing what he was thinking and feeling without either of them ever saying a word. It was almost like she could see into his soul.
He sighed and shook his head. What am I doing? She was helping me out, as a friend. Well, it sure felt more than friendly, grumbled that annoying voice in his head that had come out of nowhere. There really was no explanation for what happened in the bathroom earlier, but was he really prepared to risk one of his first and most treasured friendships because his hormones were in overdrive? Yes, that's it. Male/female hormones. I'll just ignore it, he told himself. He rolled over onto his stomach and gripped his pillow, trying in desperation to get comfortable, quickly realizing that would be impossible to do considering the shift in his boxer shorts.
Dammit! What is wrong with me? Why can't I just push it all out of my mind? All I can think about is her. Sure, Hermione is a beautiful woman.....that happens to be my best friend. Yes, friend.
Harry growled and rolled back over to look at the clock. Bloody fantastic. He'd been tossing and turning for over an hour. Frustrated, he grabbed his glasses and headed down the stairs; maybe he'd do some research. It was obvious he wasn't going to get any sleep at this rate. His mind was so lost in his own thoughts he failed to realize that he went traipsing down the stairs clad in only his Chudley Cannons boxer shorts.
~~~~~
Hermione's heart was beating loudly as she entered her room, leaning against the door as it clicked shut. She wasn't really sure why she'd nearly run from Harry downstairs, in the kitchen, but her emotions had been in turmoil since she'd shaved him. She slowly straightened and walked towards the bed, tossed her robe over a chair and climbed under the covers, turning out the light. She readjusted her pillow and settled down for a night of much needed rest. She stared at the clock as one minute passed, then five, then ten. Frustrated, she rolled over to her side and pulled up her comforter over her head.
What in the world was I thinking? I'll shave you Harry while you stand there in only a towel. Brilliant, Hermione.
The image of Harry, fresh from his shower, was burned into her brain; he certainly had filled out over the last year. How the droplets of water ran down from his face into the hollow between his collarbone was just too much for her.
Merlin that was hot.
Sighing, she buried her face in her pillow. At this rate she was never going to get any sleep. She turned onto to her stomach and attempted to get comfortable once again as the long braid of her hair promptly smacked her in the face. A frustrated growl escaped her as she sat upright and jerked the rubber band loose, fingers threading through and loosening the tightly secured curls as her mind imagined her fingers sliding through an untidy, raven mop of hair. She'd touched his smooth face, kissed it. What would it be like to slide her fingers up into his hair, turn her lips just the couple of inches it would have taken to kiss his mouth, all with those emerald eyes focusing intensely on her? She closed her eyes, biting back a scream of frustration and she shot out of bed shaking her head. What had gotten into her? Too many years listening to all the girls in Gryffindor carry on about The-Boy-Who-Lived, no doubt, she rationalized to herself. I've finally gone mental.
Absolutely disgusted with her apparent lack of self-control, she decided she would read. That was it. She would go to the library and pick up some light reading. She would forget all about moody wizards with intense eyes that saw far too much and how they were making her stomach flutter disconcertingly when they came too close. Nevermind how he looked in a towel, her traitorous mind declared. Oh do shut up! She snapped back at herself as she headed for the library. She had been meaning to get to Blood Curses and Vows anyway. Maybe some pumpkin juice first, she thought, and went downstairs to the kitchen first before making her way to the library.
She let out a gasp as she walked into the library and found Harry sprawled across the couch, wearing only his boxers, whatever book he'd been reading having slipped from his fingers to the floor. She looked at his face, relaxed in sleep, and sighed. She was trying to get him out of her mind. Not more in it. Well, did you come downstairs for a book or not?
Hermione set her glass of pumpkin juice next to his on the table. For a moment, she indulged herself, allowing her gaze to roam over him, taking in every detail. She smiled slightly as she noticed the messy raven hair, the worry gone from his face as sleep relaxed the familiar planes of his face. She could clearly see the boy she remembered from their first years at Hogwarts, but it was never clearer to her that he was no longer that boy, she realized as her gaze traveled from his face to his bare chest down his stomach as she sucked in her breath. The physical training with the Aurors had certainly paid off, seeing the muscle definition in his lower torso. She sank her front teeth into her lower lip as her eyes continued their journey, her stomach turning over at the sight of the line of dark hair disappearing into---She shook herself mentally. He's beautiful. All of those girls that just drone on and on about the Boy-Who-Lived have no idea that he's the Man that is right here. Get a grip, Hermione, she scolded herself as she willfully directed her thoughts away from Harry. She was here for a book, after all. She would just grab it and get out of there. He'd never know she was even there. She straightened and walked briskly across the room, determined not to be distracted, and promptly walked right into the end table, sending a stack of heavy books skittering loudly across the floor.
~~~~~~~~~
Harry awoke with a start, a feeling of disorientation plaguing him. He knew he was not in his bed and he struggled with his sleep fogged brain to figure out where he was. He remembered going to the kitchen for some pumpkin juice and then he'd gone to the library to search through their pile of research books; the gorier and darker, the better. He had finally chosen a book and settled on the couch. That was the last thing he remembered before the darkness of sleep had claimed him.
He blinked owlishly at the research books that were scattered across the floor. As his gaze panned the room, he saw a small pair of bare feet attached to a pair of seemingly endless legs. His gaze traveled up until they came to rest on her face, pink with embarrassment.
'Hermione?' His voice was rough with sleep.
'I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to wake you.' She was standing there in nothing but… wait. Was that his Quidditch jersey? And her thick brown hair was falling in waves around her shoulders. He forced his brain to focus as he noticed she was talking again.
'I'll just grab this.' she turned, and reached up the shelf above her head for a book, causing the hem of the shirt to rise, exposing more thigh as she stood on her toes. Harry swallowed hard and forced his eyes to the middle of her back. Oh yes, he sighed, definitely his jersey. POTTER above the number 7 was as plain as day. Merlin knew that jersey never looked half as good on me as it does on her.
He'd never seen anything so beautiful....so sexy in his life. She smiled as she turned to face him, book in hand and laid it to the side. "I'll just get these," and she bent to pick up the books she'd knocked down.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asked as he rose from his position on the couch to help her. He knelt on the floor, inches from her, his eyes seeking hers and his breath became short as he thought he could drown in those dark pools.
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She got to her feet and re-stacked the books on the end table, never answering his question. She picked up the book she'd chosen to read and plopped into the chair adjacent to the couch as she put her feet on the table.
Harry was watching her every move. He watched as she extended her legs, propping her feet on the table, ankles crossed. He stared at her feet. He had never paid them any attention before. They seemed small and delicate, though delicate was not a word he usually used in describing Hermione. He was fascinated by the red and gold polish that decorated her toes in an alternate pattern. Such a girlish thing to do. He had never considered that Hermione indulged in the regular girly things that he did not understand. Merlin knew she was definitely female, the utter male in him taunted. He stood up, replacing the remainder of the fallen books in their proper place, wondering idly if her toes had been painted earlier…Surely, he would have noticed. You mean when her legs were cradling your thighs while she shaved you? That irritating voice sneered. He flopped back on the couch, long legs reaching to the end, sure that a tornado could have ripped through Grimmauld and he'd not have noticed it during that particular moment.
He flipped a page in attempt to pretend that he was actually reading what was in front of him, looking up to steal glances at her. She was biting her lip and furrowing her brow over something.
Just then Crookshanks unceremoniously bounded into the room, startling Harry. The cat immediately sprang up onto his chest as he always did; he was certain to get his ears scratched. Of course, Crookshanks had no idea that Harry was not wearing a shirt. Harry recoiled from the claws, emitting a sharp breath and knocking into the table where the two forgotten glasses of pumpkin juice were sitting.
Hermione looked up sharply at the commotion between man and cat and immediately bounded to her feet to help at the same time Harry twisted sharply in an effort to disengage Crookshanks and prevent the table from crashing to the floor. The irritated half-kneazle hissed indignantly and shot across the floor, promptly tangling himself in Hermione's legs and causing her to stumble and fall. Harry's swift movements saved all but one glass of pumpkin juice and landed him face down on the floor with Hermione landing in an ungraceful heap on top of him, sticky pumpkin juice splashing over them both.
She felt the peculiar sensation of déjà vu as she recalled landing in this exact position courtesy of the Whomping Willow in their third year.
"I'm sorry," she said, placing her hands flat against his back to lever herself back up.
Harry almost sighed in pleasure as he felt her hands on his bare skin. This wasn't so bad, Hermione straddling his back like this.
"It's.....alright," he stammered out, as he turned over to face her. Brilliant, Potter, he derided himself. That moved had, for all intents and purposes, landed Hermione on his lap. He glanced over to the clock and he almost groaned out loud. In three hours the sun would be up and neither of them were getting any sleep at this rate.
Harry watched her brush at the sticky liquid adorning her legs and suppressed a smile as she only succeeded in smearing the stickiness over a larger area. She looked up at him and read the mirth in his eyes and her lips quirked. He gave in to the repressed laughter at the same time she doubled over with completely unHermioneish giggles fuelled by the utter hilarity of the situation and a total lack of sleep.
If asked, he couldn't pinpoint the moment when the laughter faded and he became aware of her hair fanned out across his chest and her breath rippling across his bare skin. He cleared his throat, still unable to tear his gaze from Hermione, who hadn't moved. And he really needed her to move or this was apt to get very embarrassing. "We....really should try to sleep. We have loads to do tomor-err, today, actually," he said with a grimace.
He could see the moment it dawned on her the exact position she was in, draped across him. With a becoming flush of pink staining her cheeks, she quickly climbed off of his torso and avoided looking at him. "Yes, right. Research," she choked out as she got to her feet. "Horcruxes…" She let her mumbled words trail off as she turned away to go back upstairs.
Harry pushed himself off of the floor, glaring at Crookshanks. "I---". Whatever he had been about to say stopped as his let his breath out on a low whistle of pain, grabbing his shoulder.
Hermione stopped and turned suddenly. 'Harry? What's wrong?' Her brow was wrinkled in worry once more.
He rolled his shoulder experimentally and winced. 'I guess I pulled something.'
Hermione was back by his side before he could blink. 'Sit,' she commanded, propelling him back onto the couch.
She stood in front of him and began probing with gentle fingers for the sore spot. He closed his eyes for his own sanity; there was no safe place to look. He was on eye level with her chest and looking down filled his gaze with a very nice set of legs extending out of his jersey; legs that seemed never-ending as his gaze traveled to the floor. So, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit back any sound he might have made as she worked the strained muscle loose. She is far too good at this, he thought as his body was quickly heading into overdrive. The impulse to let his body relax into her was overwhelming, as her hands continued to work their magic and her scent filled his nostrils. She was too close and what she was doing to him felt too good. If she didn't stop…He reached up with his other hand and stilled the movement of hers across his skin, gazing up at her intently.
'Better?' she asked.
'Yes.' His voice was hoarse, all conscious thought shut off. 'Much.'
His hands slid up her arms and came to rest on her neck just below the jaw line. Her skin was soft; softer than anything he'd ever felt. His thumb traced the skin around her mouth and the only thought he was aware of was how soft and pink her lips looked. She had a beautiful mouth and all he wanted was to kiss it. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he stopped thinking as he lowered his head to kiss her. He could feel their breath mingle as he began to graze her lips with his own.
'Harry?' The voice seemed to come from far away and became more insistent. 'HARRY!'
The masculine voice startled him and he sat bolt upright on the couch, wand pointing at the person who'd woken him from….He glared and cursed at the man standing in the doorway, smiling at him.
'Good morning, Harry. Lovely to see you, too,' Remus Lupin smiled at the rumpled young man before him. 'I'm glad to see you are ready to duel. It's time to work.'
Harry groaned, dropping his head back to the couch with a thud. It had all been a dream.