Trust

TheBlackPearl

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 21/03/2006
Last Updated: 15/04/2006
Status: in_progress

Harry and Hermoine trust each other with their lives. Will they trust each other with their hearts? A one shot that has been extended.

Chapters

1. untitled

2. untitled

3. untitled

1. untitled

A/N : I have to give huge accolades and thanks to Mabel, who was my goddess of a beta. This is the second time she has betaed for me and she is awesome! Thank you so much, Mabel.

Also, this one shot is a collaboration with MrsHermionePotter, who gets total and complete credit for the events that transpire. So, between the two of us, we bring you….Trust.

Harry stepped into the bathroom at 12 Grimmauld Place and carefully laid his towel on the counter. The search for the horcruxes had taken their toll as he looked in the mirror and he noticed he had bags under his eyes. He chuckled to himself as he rid himself of his shirt and looked at his reflection. His mother's eyes. He'd been told about them over and over again and yet, he'd never get to see his mother. He sighed as he stripped down to his boxer shorts. All he wanted was a shower to rid him of the dirt and filth he felt overcame his entire body. Of course there had been no horcrux that night.

***********

Five hours earlier:

"Why did I think this was a good idea, Hermione?" pleaded Harry as he walked into the library of their latest destination. He was covered from head to toe in mud and sprigs from weeping willow trees.

"Honestly Harry," she turned toward him with a furrowed brow. "We need to know if it’s here or not." Exasperation warred with relief as Hermione looked up from her attempts at prying open a box. 'What happened to you?' Her dark eyes widened as she took in his appearance.

Harry mumbled something unintelligible about crawling around cemeteries being a nasty bit of work, avoiding her eyes and further explanation.

Meanwhile, Ron stood over in the corner was muttering to himself as he flicked his wand around.

"Bloody hell Harry, I’m getting nothing over here."

It seemed like a good idea at the time, a horcrux buried in the depths of a mansion in New Orleans. Why wouldn't it be logical? After all, they'd found out that Rowena Ravenclaw had contacts in the United States and it was commonly known among Muggles that there was magic within that house. Voodoo....magic....something was within that mansion. That's what they all thought anyway.

Harry looked over at his two best friends and frowned. What if they were in danger? What if he had led them into another trap? Just like today's lead, it had seemed a good piece of information. Harry's stare drifted past Ron and to the stained glass windows, but the beautiful designs lit by a sinking sun were not what filled his vision...

The had met the private detective in a small flat. Muggle London. Ron had frowned mightily at this, as he did not share his father's fascination with the Muggle World. The detective's name was Watson, and whether it was a first or last name Harry neither knew or cared, he was just hoping the information was good. It had been too long since they'd had anything resembling success. That, alone, was what had him trying to ignore his unease and going along with Ron and Hermione to meet this person. They weren't there very long at all. The meeting was concluded in short order with Watson divulging a muggle pawnshop, The Philospher's Stone (how they all kept a straight face was something he never knew), was rumored to have the object they were looking for. Helga Hufflepuff's cup.

They'd had no trouble finding the place. None at all. And they'd decided on a plan. Ron and Hermione were posing as husband and wife out doing a bit of shopping. A bickering husband and wife, Harry thought, as he trailed behind them covered by the invisibility cloak, listening to them argue about who would do the talking and how they'd bring up the Hufflepuff cup. Harry just shook his head as Ron tactlessly reminded Hermione of what happened the last time she had tried to pull off a con like this in their sixth year at Borgin and Burke's. Hermione had her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at Ron as they opened the shop door to the tinkling sound of a bell, which Harry supposed announced the arrival of new customers to the clerk inside. But before anyone could say a word, they were suddenly surrounded by Death Eaters. Harry hastily cast a silent 'Protego' to shield them long enough to apparate out, but the death eaters had cast anti-apparition wards. The spellfire flew fast and furious, multi-coloured jets of light illuminating the room. They had to get out of there. Hermione fired off an "Impedimenta!" freezing two of the death eaters.

'Bloody hell.' breathed Ron as he turned suddenly barking out 'Stupefy!' dropping another masked man in black.

'We have to get out of here.' Harry muttered so only they could hear him. 'Be ready to MOVE.' Harry was a mere shadow in the strange light of dueling wands as he positioned himself, the cloak fluttering around him and exposing him in part as he moved. He waited for Ron and Hermione's twin nods of understanding as they continued to disarm and block the spells hammering at them furiously. 'Reducto!' Harry roared and the wall of the pawn shop exploded outward, rattling the interior of the store. 'Now!' Harry hissed, grabbing each by the arm and dragging them through the hole they'd created while Voldemort's followers scattered in the wake of the falling debris.

Once clear of the store, they'd all apparated to just outside 12 Grimmauld Place. As all three stumbled into the foyer, Harry tripped over that ugly umbrella stand, causing a chain reaction and all three landed in a heap at Remus Lupin's feet. A furious Remus Lupin...

“Good evening, you three,” came the soft greeting from their former professor as his eyes narrowed on them. “Care to join me for dinner? Unfortunately, Nymphandora has just been called away.”

Harry’s stomach began to knot up at his soft words.

Remus’ mouth smiled, but his eyes did not. “‘You’ll never believe what happened at a pawn shop in Muggle London today. A shop called, funnily enough, The Philosopher’s Stone.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances and then looked up at Lupin once more from their position on the floor.

Bloody hell, thought Harry. He knew there was going to be hell to pay from the Ministry, never mind what Tonks was going to do to them when she got back…

Harry shook himself out of the memory, violently brushing at the sprigs of Willow tree sticking to him. "Guys, I don't like this. Something just isn't right," he stated as he readjusted his glasses.

"Harry, you've been crawling around a cemetery that’s centuries old. Of course that isn't going to feel right," suggested Ron as he turned away from the bookshelf in the mansion.

Hermione looked at him worriedly before throwing down the box she had been desperately trying to open and looked up at the clock.

"Harry's right, we haven't found anything in hours. We should go."

Whatever Ron and Harry might have said was lost as three arms reached for a tattered copy of The Great Gatsby and were transported back to 12 Grimmauld Place in a pile. Ron got up first and shook his head.

"Bloody hell, I'll never get used to that. Damn portkeys. I'm starving...you guys want anything?"

Harry and Hermione shook their heads.

"Go ahead mate, I think I need a shower more than anything," Harry said, looking off into the distance.

**************

And so it was that Harry was standing in his Gryffindor snitch patterned boxer shorts, pondering the stubble on his face. He hadn't really had to shave all that much before, but as he rubbed his hand over his chin; he realized that he’d have to shave tonight. Just another added bonus, he thought sardonically as he glanced around the bathroom, taking in its contents, trying to find a razorblade. Nope. He checked the cabinet behind the mirror. Still nothing. The bloody Boy-Who-Lived and who faced Voldemort and who couldn't keep a girlfriend to save his life was without a razor or shaving cream. Stupendous, he thought as he stripped himself of his boxers and stepped into the scalding shower, attempting to wipe the grime of the day's events off of him. He scrubbed his skin almost raw trying to get rid of the filth.

It's not everyday that one is traipsing about the dead.

That train of thought had his mind flashing back to the cave and the inferi. He shivered and tried to push the thoughts away, telling himself that it was only the water beginning to run cold as he turned off the taps. He rested his head against the shower wall as he struggled against the memories, his throat burning in that terrible way he hated. He heard soft footsteps in the hall, and was startled to remember that he wasn't alone. He hurriedly wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped from the warmth of the shower into the cooler air.

He swung his head around at her voice. Hermione.

"Harry, are you okay?" He could hear the worry in her tone. “Can I come in?'

“Err...yeah, I'm fine. Hang on a sec...”

His sentence trailed off as the door opened and she entered the steamy bathroom. He squinted as he tried to bring her blurry form into focus, but it was a lost cause without his glasses and was rendered moot when she launched her smaller form at him, gripping him tightly to her as he swallowed hard. He, for all intents and purposes, was covered but he was not at all used to having a female in his bathroom with him.

"Hermione...I...I'm okay it's just..." He couldn't even see, let alone think as she was wrapped around his chest and breathing against his neck. He wondered briefly about the way his stomach fluttered as her warm breath caressed his skin, but her next admission distracted him sufficiently to pause that train of thought.

"Harry, I was so scared out there." She pulled away for a second to gather her thoughts. "I was terrified...for you."

Harry gathered his senses enough to step back.

"You, were terrified for me?"

He didn't know why her voicing such a thing had surprised him. He was well aware that her fear for his safety had driven her to participate in some rather dangerous and harebrained plots in the last years. As he fumbled around to find his glasses, a memory of a nighttime flight on a hippogriff sprang to mind. She had clung to him as tightly then as she had moments ago and again, he wondered at the somersaults in his stomach. He frowned as he finally put his glasses on his face and discovered them to be completely fogged up. He promptly slapped them back down on the counter, muttering something unflattering beneath his breath.

Hermione smiled and reached up to grab his face.

"Of course I was. You were the one out there alone, crawling around in that muck ridden cemetery." She said it lightly but the words were serious. The unspoken fear of another trap hung between them and the easy smile faded and was replaced by a slight frown as her hand made contact with a couple of day’s worth of stubble. "You need to shave." she said succinctly.

He looked down sheepishly, and blushed ten shades of red, as he was reminded that he had been standing in a relatively confined space with a woman and he was wearing nothing but a towel.

"I, uh, was going to shave after my shower but...thing is…" He looked up to see her grinning at him.

"Let me guess Harry, you don't have a razor?"

He could hear the smile in her voice. He wasn't sure why, but he was loathe to admit that he didn't have a razor and he needed his damn glasses, which was irritating. He felt around for them for the second time, hoping he'd be able to see out of them this time, though that still did nothing for the fact that he needed a razor. All of this only added to the agitation he felt at having Hermione standing casually talking to him while he was only covered by a bloody towel as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He jammed the glasses on his head at last and his vision cleared, though he wasn't sure that was such a good thing. He saw Hermione clearly, dressed in her own sleepwear, a pink camisole and boxer set, and she was smiling bemusedly at him. He couldn't help the thought that she looked adorable standing in his bathroom. Wait. When did he think it was his bathroom? When did he think she looked adorable? This was Sirius' house but it was his house now. Where the hell was Ron? So he did the logical thing in that uncomfortable situation and ran his right hand through his hair and looked down at the floor.

Hermione had watched all of this transpire with great interest; Harry seemed okay. He seemed normal and yet, there was something she couldn't put her finger on. Something seemed to be bothering him and now he was staring at the floor, his fingers pushing through the thick, wet hair in apparent frustration. All of this because he had no razor? She sighed.

“Oh, honestly, Harry. You’re a wizard aren't you? Where's your wand?”

He glanced up at her again. “In my room.”

She simply shook her head at him. “What would Moody say?” she teased him as she pulled out her own wand. “I think I can help you a bit.”

Harry stood dumbfounded as Hermione waved her wand over the sink and there appeared shaving cream and a razor.

He stared at the objects on the sink, his eyes fixing on the blade. It was a straight razor. He couldn't possibly use that. He swallowed visibly.

“Hermione, I’ve never used one of those.” His voice was slightly strangled as he thought of placing the shining silver blade against his own throat.

"Harry, do you trust me?" she asked.

"Honestly, Hermione, I'm the one standing here in a towel and you're the one with the razor. I'd be stupid not to say yes, but, of course, I trust you. I trust you more than anyone else I've ever known. I trust no one like I trust you, Hermione." When did that come out? He certainly didn't mean to say that out loud. But there it was. He waited for her to walk away, except she didn’t.

Hermione blushed at his reference to his attire, or lack thereof, as she took him in from head to toe and the implications of standing within touching distance of a nearly naked man finally sank in. She felt a nervous sort of feeling beginning in her belly and she took a deep breath as his words about trusting her pushed past her physical reaction and made her heart leap with joy. A smile lit her face.

"Good,” she replied as she looked at Harry and pushed up onto the sink, bare feet dangling. "So let's do something about this."

She reached up with both hands, her touch soft, almost a caress, as she assessed his chin. His eyes closed as he enjoyed the sensations of being touched by gentle hands and as her fingers trailed away, his eyes shot open. He could have sworn she made a sound. Merlin, he really should have put on some jeans, he thought, as she pulled him flush against the vanity where she was perched and he found himself standing between her parted legs.

He watched her curiously as she twisted from the waist to run warm water into the sink, causing her pajama top to expose a patch of skin. He wondered idly if it were as soft as her hands had been. She smiled up at him as she righted her posture and began lathering the shaving soap in her hands; hands that were now spreading the soap carefully along his face and neck; hands that were playing havoc with his senses at this point. Typical Hermione, determined to do the task properly and every touch was setting him on fire. Her face was mere inches from his own as he stifled a groan, watching a pink tongue peek out at him as she clamped it between her lips in concentration. He took a deep breath; her scent permeated his senses and he could almost taste her. His jaw clenched reflexively and he closed his eyes as he felt more than one base male instinct rising to the fore.

"Harry...HARRY?" His eyes shot open and focused on her face. Her expression seemed a mix of amusement and exasperation. Exactly how long had she been talking to him, he wondered.

"Yes?" he managed to get out. Concentrate, Potter, concentrate, he berated himself.

"Harry you need to pay attention so that I don't cut you." He looked into her eyes. She was so determined to do this right and yet there was something else there that he didn't quite understand. He had to remind himself to breathe normally as she braced herself against him, her feet resting on the backs of his thighs and one hand resting against the side of his neck, the other picking up the razor. She looked up into his eyes one last time before she started each stroke of the blade.

Slowly, and with infinite care, she pulled the blade across his skin over and over again. He watched her as she allowed her task to consume her, her brow furrowed in concentration. Oddly, he had no fear as he felt the blade scrape across his face and neck. He trusted her hand more than even his own. In fact, this was the most fun he'd ever had shaving. His lips quirked slightly as she stretched to reach his upper jaw and the camisole rose again, exposing her navel to him. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides as the desire to touch the smooth, flat surface of her stomach became a near tangible thing.

The sound of her laying the razor down on the sink diverted his attention and his eyes focused on her intently as she dampened a washcloth with warm water and reached up, yet again, to wipe the remnants of the soap from his skin. He could feel water droplets making their way down his neck and chest.

As Hermione washed the soap from his face, she found herself transfixed by the rivulets of excess water making their way down Harry's neck and chest; a very bare chest, she noted with a sharp intake of breath. She locked eyes with Harry, startled by the intensity of his watchful gaze. She hurriedly broke eye contact and picked up a towel and began patting his skin along his face dry. She smiled up at him, about to announce that her work was done, but his gaze left her mouth dry and anything she was going to say left her head.

“You missed a spot,” Harry rasped out at her, and covering her hands with his own, moved the towel to dry his chest.

Hermione stared as their joined hands dried the moisture from his skin and she felt her cheeks growing pink. She drew her hands away and laid the towel flat on the sink and almost desperately searched for something to say as their eyes locked again. His bright green gaze seemed to look right through her and she adopted a brisk tone and said the first thing that entered her mind.

“Well, let's see then.”

Harry's dark brows rose and he leaned down in acquiescence as she indicated his newly shaven face. She put her hands on either side of his face, rubbing the now smooth skin and curled her fingers slightly as she allowed them to run along his jaw line and trail down his neck.

"This is much better Harry." There was a breathless smile in her voice.

Harry felt like he was in a dream state as Hermione’s thighs rested against his own, and her bare feet rested on the backs of his legs just above his knees. Her hands then began drifting softly over his skin all while he was in a towel and she had just spent the last twenty minutes shaving his face. He barely comprehended that she was talking to him.

Hermione would never know what prompted her next words, let alone the action that followed. She certainly did not think about it beforehand, she simply heard her own voice saying,

“Well, there’s only one way to be sure we've gotten it right.” And she reached up and pulled his face to hers, rubbing her cheek softly against his, encountering only smooth skin. Then she turned and placed her mouth against his jaw line, leaving a trail of feather light kisses. She was breathing in the scent of the shaving soap and she pulled back, saying, “Oh, yes. That's just perfect, Harry.”

"Thank you Hermione", he gasped out, his mind reeling at the onslaught her mouth grazing his skin had brought.

“It was my pleasure, Harry. Anytime.” She smiled up at him as she slipped from the sink to land lightly on her feet, her body brushing his as she did so. Harry's hands reached up to cup her shoulders, automatically steadying her, as he took a step back. Their gazes locked once more and pink graced two sets of cheeks.

“G'night.”

“Night, Hermione,” he replied softly, his gaze speculative as she exited the bathroom. He couldn't help the small smile that had his lips lifting at the corners as he laid a hand against his smooth jaw.

*******************

2. untitled

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.

****************************************

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.

**********************************

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.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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.

3. untitled

Authors Note : Hi. Just a quick note to let you know how much all the reviews are appreciated by MrsHermionePotter and myself. This started as a one shot in MrsHermionePotter’s head and the response was so overwhelming, it’s been extended indefinitely. The reviews have been so wonderful and supportive, we are blushing. Thanks again and we hope you enjoy Chapter 3.

Hermione raised her head from the pillow and sighed. The sparse light coming through the window indicated it was dawn. She’d hardly slept at all and her body felt every last minute that she’d tossed and turned, the precious little sleep she’d gotten plagued by disturbing images. All of them of Harry. She struggled to remember the dreams. Dreaming of Harry? The thought startled her and she put her head in her hands, fists pushing at her closed eyes, as if to push the images away. But once she started, she couldn’t stop the onslaught. Everything from Harry, still damp from a shower in a towel, to Harry sprawled across the couch sleeping. It was all so vivid. She even thought she could still smell his shaving soap. She raised her head, forcing logic to take over. Her hands fisted into the blankets covering her legs. Don’t be silly, Hermione Jane. Of course, you do not smell anything of the sort. She was about to throw the covers off when she heard footsteps in the hall. Footfalls that were neither Ron or Harry’s. Instinct born of years of experience fighting side by side with Harry Potter had her eyes narrowing and her hand deftly pulling her wand from where it rested beneath her pillow. The door opened and Luna Lovegood walked into her room. More like glided, Hermione thought as she lowered her wand and looked questioningly as the petite blonde absently wished her a good morning, never seeming to notice that she’d had a wand pointed at her chest. ‘Luna? What are you doing…How did you--?’

‘She’s with me’ grinned a slim, young woman only a few years older than Hermione and Luna. Nymphadora Tonks caught herself as she stumbled into the spot Luna had just vacated.

Hermione eyed the pair of young women and noted that Luna had moved imperceptibly moments before Tonks’ entrance, almost as if she knew that Tonks was going to…Well, she argued with herself, Luna’s weird, not stupid. She is a Ravenclaw, afterall. And when does Tonks not trip over herself and anyone in the immediate vicinity? She focused on Tonks. She had righted herself, and brushed off her robes. She was sporting her favored bubble gum pink hair, her dark eyes flashing with something akin to glee. Her eyes fell on Luna. She’d been quietly moving about the room, and she was now examining the muggle and magical photos on the desk. She had her blonde hair piled high on her head, her wand holding it in place, exposing the dragonfly earrings flapping about her neck. She was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and rather beat up trainers. Hermione struggled not to laugh as she saw the logo on Luna’s long-sleeved t-shirt. A shirt that sported an animated Ron diving for the bludger, bold letters at the top proclaiming “Weasley Is Our King”. She groaned back into her pillow, smothering an escaping snicker.

Once she was sure she had control of herself, Hermione sat up in bed, fnally returning Luna’s earlier greeting. ‘Good morning, Luna. Tonks.’ Her attention focused on the young Auror standing in her bedroom. ‘Care to explain?’

‘Training.’ She replied, cryptically. ‘Luna’s going to join you three.’

Hermione arched her eyebrows. ‘I don’t think we can. We have to-‘ She cut herself off abruptly, with a glance at the young woman who’d just turned with a dreamy smile to face Hermione.

Luna walked to the bed and languidly draped herself over the end and watched as Hermione struggled for words. "I know you're stressed, Hermione." Her voice was calm and matter of fact, for Luna.

Hermione looked at her sharply. Luna’s normally misty, silver eyes were focused and clear as she met Hermione’s always direct brown one. She looked at the bushy haired witch and nodded, taking in her tired eyes and hair tangled around her shoulders. She nodded to herself. The mist was back in Luna’s eyes as she told her, ‘There’s nothing you can do, but accept what is. It will work itself out when the time is right.’

Suddenly Luna straightened her back and rose from the bed to stand beside Tonks.

Tonks watched the odd by-play between the two girls, privately thinking that this may work out even better than she and Remus had anticipated. ‘I suspect Remus has found Ron and Harry by now. Hermione, get yourself together. Wear something comfortable.’ She turned and motioned Luna out of the room. ‘It’s going to be a long day.’

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm at the mention of Harry. She spun out of bed and grabbed some clothes from the closet. She wondered exactly what Remus and Tonks had in store for them, as she stepped under the warm spray of the shower. And her mind wandered to Luna’s cryptic words. What would work itself out? When the time was right? Luna was by her very nature illogical and, therefore, difficult for Hermione to understand. She made a conscious effort to put the thoughts aside. She was going to have her hands full today, of that she was sure. She dressed quickly and stepped back into her room, braiding her still wet hair quickly. She was ready. As she made her way to the door, her foot kicked something heavy, nearly tripping her. Blood Curses and Vows. She glared at the book as if it had offended her. She bent to retrieve it. Just looking at the book brought a rush of images from last night. Watching Harry sleep for who knew how long before finally getting her book and fleeing the room. But not before she’d run into a table full of books, nearly sending them crashing to the floor. She’d held her breath as Harry stirred, nearly waking. Needless to say, she had learned nothing from the book, because she’d been unable to focus on the words on its pages. Harry sleeping. The way his chest rose and fell with the even breathing only achieved in sleep. His chest. That is absolutely it! You can just stop right there! She berated herself, willfully shoving the images away. With a final nasty look at the book in question, she tossed it carelessly on her bed and shut her door soundly behind her. She could only hope that whatever the day held it was totally exhausting. Merlin, she could use a good night’s sleep.

*******************

‘Sleep well, Harry?’ Lupin asked kindly, but with a pointed glance at the wand Harry still had pointed at his head.

‘Morning, Remus.’ Harry mumbled as he lowered his wand. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

‘Not at all. Constant vigilance.’ He smiled down at the young man on the couch.

Harry stretched out and wondered why he felt so cramped. Oh yes, he’d fallen asleep on the couch in the library. His vision blurry, he felt around for his glasses. However, the images from his dream did not require glasses to be clear. Hermoine was downstairs in his Quidditch jersey. Reading. Sticky pumpkin juice spilled and Hermione splayed across his back. It seemed so real. His searching fingers finally located his glasses on the floor next to the book he’d dropped there last night. He sighed as his vision cleared, glasses in place. He sat up, completely aware that there was no way he could stand up anytime soon. He glanced over the couch, meeting Lupin’s kindly smiling eyes.

Bloody hell. This was not good. Not at all. He could feel his face burning. Not only had he been awakened abruptly from a dream about Hermione, from the state of his boxers it was going to be obvious to everyone what sort of dream he’d been having. He spared a momentary glare at his lap taking a very slight comfort in the fact that there was no way anyone could know exactly about who and what he’d dreamt. He looked up once more at the perennially tired looking man watching him bemusedly. Remus Lupin, former professor, order member, and friend. He felt the red flush spread down his neck. Harry really didn't want him to see him in well, this state.

The former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, werewolf, friend to Harry’s father, James, and now friend to Harry, himself, was doing everything in his power not to laugh. It was clear that he had woken Harry up....suddenly. If only James could see his son now, he thought bittersweetly. The smile twitching at his mouth disappeared completely as he remembered the reason he was here that day was tied directly to the very reason James nor Lily lived long enough to see their son grow into a man. To see him find the love and happiness that he deserved. He banished the misty thought of James and Lily. Nothing would ever bring them back, and they must see that Harry was ready to face the reality that was waiting for him. Training was paramount. He cleared his throat.

Whatever Lupin was about to say was lost as a loud crash came from the hallway just outside the library. Before, either of them could react, a blonde drifted into the room. ‘Good morning, Harry,’ came the dreamy greeting. ‘Tonks is just outside.’ She added, unnecessarily.

‘Errm…Hi, Luna.’ Harry’s fading flush darkened his cheeks once more, as he became more aware than ever of wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Thankfully, Luna appeared not to notice.

Noticing Harry’s discomfort, Lupin quickly intervened. He gently took hold of Luna’s arm and steered her back toward the door. ‘Why don’t you and Tonks wait for Harry and myself in the kitchen. Ron’s already there having breakfast.’

At the mention of Ron, Luna seemed almost anxious to leave the library. Lupin turned back to face Harry. "As you can tell, Luna and Tonks are here. We have about fifteen minutes until we begin. I'm guessing you might want to umm…change." chuckled Remus. ‘We’ll be downstairs in the kitchen.’

Harry, at last able to stand, nearly gave himself whiplash as Lupin’s cryptic words sank in. Begin what? He whirled to face his former teacher and question him, but he was alone. Lupin was already gone.

Ron Weasley was not a morning person. Despite having been awakened by his former DADA professor more than twenty minutes ago, he still felt barely conscious. He stared rather vacantly at a cup of coffee. It rather looked as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. Slumped over the table with his head propped on his hand, he did not see or hear Luna enter the kitchen.

Luna walked to the table and nimbly leapt up to sit on the table, drawing her legs underneath her, Indian style. She looked down at the top of Ron’s head and said converstaionally, ‘You would sleep better if you checked your bed for nargles.’

‘Luna!’ Ron started at her sudden appearance on top of the table and her soft voice, seeming to come from nowhere.

‘Good morning, Ronald.’ She blinked her large silver eyes, angling her head to look him in the eye as he stood. ‘You don’t happen to have today’s Quibbler, do you?’ She asked as if she normally appeared in this dark kitchen at dawn everyday.

Ron could only shake his head mutely, as he had just gotten a good look at…himself, bloody hell!…the swooping figure on her shirt.

Luna beamed brightly at him. ‘Wonderful, isn’t it? I designed it myself.’ And, without another word, she hopped from the table, humming ‘Weasley is Our King’, while wandering towards the pantry.

‘Brilliant.’ Ron managed to mutter, dreading the moment Harry and Hermione came downstairs. No way they’d let this go without taking the mickey out of him. But he smiled just a little at the strange girl some mistakenly thought of as ‘Looney’.

At that moment, Hermione walked into the kitchen. She smirked at Ron with a pointed glance at his shirt, taking the seat across from him. Harry, appeared a few minutes later, followed by a Lupin and a bleary eyed Tonks. Luna turned from her inspection of the kitchen at the sound of more people arriving. ‘Oh, hello again.’ She said with a smile.

Harry nodded at Luna, a smile breaking out over his face, as he got a good look at Luna’s shirt. He sat down next to Hermione determined to act normal. Bloody stupid dream. Forcing his thoughts away from that dangerous subject he looked across the table at Ron. He smirked, stirred his coffee and began to hum ‘Weasley is Our King’, as Hermione fought the smile threatening to emerge.

‘Oh, shut up, Harry.’ Ron snapped, good naturedly with a sideways look at Luna. She appeared oblivious as she had found the small doorway beneath the boiler, that led to Kreacher’s small and filthy ‘bedroom’.

Tonks, leaning against the counter nursing a recently conjured espresso, winked at Lupin and said, ‘I’ll just get us some breakfast together.’

Lupin pulled Luna away just as she opened the door and spotted the nest of rags inside.

‘No, let me do that.’ Lupin eyed the witch with pink hair nervously. Kitchen duty had never been her best event. He walked over to her. ‘You’ve been on duty all night. Sit.’ He propelled her toward a chair at the table. ‘I’ll cook breakfast. Drink your caffeine, Nymphadora.’

Luna slid into the chair beside Ron, as the other three smirked at Tonks’ glowering at Lupin’s use of her hated first name. No one noticed Luna observing Harry and Hermione and the way they refused to look at one another. And the great care they took not to touch or even brush arms. ‘Oh yes, this is just as it should be.’ She said to no one, as she nodded her head.

Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled glances and shrugged. Hermione looked quizzically at Luna. ‘What is, Luna?’

However, Luna’s only response was to stare dreamily off away from her companions at the table, humming a now familiar tune.

Five minutes later, breakfast was served and Lupin advised them. ‘Eat up. You all have a long day ahead of you. Meet us in the attic in half an hour.’ He and Tonks exited the room and he spared them one last glance. ‘I suggest you don’t be late.’

*********

Hermione was the first to walk into the attic of Grimmauld Place. But it no longer resembled an attic. She wondered idly if Professor McGonagall had had her hand in this. The room had been transfigured into a large area resembling a muggle workout facility. Blue and red mats lined the floors and walls. And, the corners held weight training and cardiovascular workout equipment. It was almost as if the house had acquired its own Room of Requirement with ten times the space.

Harry came up a few minutes later, gazing at the room he’d walked into. Harry was staring at the contraptions in various corners.

Hermione, momentarily forgetting the strangeness between herself and Harry, ran over to meet him in the doorway. ‘Isn’t it brilliant?’ She gushed excitedly, grabbing his arm. ‘Do you think McGonagall did all this?’ Hermione couldn't help but smile at his confusion. "Harry, that is muggle training equipment. The treadmill is to run on and it calculates your heart rate as well as how fast your pace is. The pace can be increased due to what you set on here." she stated at she pointed out a button.

It was all Harry could manage to nod with what he hoped was a smile. ‘Maybe.’ He managed. Her arm was linked through his as she walked him around the room. She chattered animatedly, gesturing at each machine, but he could barely concentrate on her explanations because her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks held a becoming flush. And then there was the jeans and t-shirt.

Hermione stopped mid-sentence and stared up at Harry. His intense gaze was focused on her. Not the equipment she was explaining. She shivered internally under that look and came to the realization her arm was linked with his and their fingers interlaced. She stared down, noticing for the first time, how her hand was smaller than his. How it fit in his perfectly. The natural pink flush in her cheeks deepened as she raised her dark eyes to meet his emerald ones.

The thundering gait up the stairs had the two jumping apart quickly. Harry turned to the doorway in time to see Ron burst into the room and stop short, gaping at the room before him. Luna trailed behind him, neatly sidestepping her way into the room. She stared at the room, taking in the surroundings. She walked slowly, almost seeming to glide rather than taking actual steps and a smile spread across her features, lighting her normally misty eyes with delight. ‘Dumbledore’s Army.’ She whispered.

Hermione smiled at the blonde who kept surprising her. ‘Yes. Just what I thought.’

Luna’s face was dreamy once more as she twirled and came face to face with Remus. ‘This is a very old house.’ She stated. ‘Did you remove the nargles? Ronnie will sleep better, as well.’

Ron’s blue eyes widened. Harry turned to look at Ron smirking, mouthing, “Ronnie?” Ron glared at his best friend. First the shirt, now this, he thought. He walked across to the treadmill, suddenly becoming fascinated with the muggle machine. He paid absolutely no attention to the fact that Harry and Hermione were huddled together, whispering. After all, this had been going on for nearly seven years now. They would get around to telling him about their discussion when they were ready.

Lupin smiled over at the Ravenclaw. He had a feeling it would be a serious mistake to underestimate this one. Ron Weasley was luckier than he knew; or was ready to accept at this point, he thought wryly, as he observed Ron’s sudden red ears and interest in the muggle contraption Tonks had acquired somewhere. He patted Luna affectionately on the shoulder. "Yes, dear, everything has been searched, researched, cleansed. Everything."

.

Remus cleared his throat to draw their attention to him.

"Now. You all are here today for training. Myself, and…" CRACK! Nymphadora Tonks appeared. Her hair was different from earlier. It was now fuschia, complemented with an all black ensemble, down to her trainers. Remus smiled indulgently over to her as she straightened her sweatshirt. "Couldn’t just take the stairs?” He teased her, before turning back to the four young people staring at them. “Tonks. I believe this part is yours." he smiled and stepped away.

Tonks, smiled tiredly. She’d pulled an all nighter and had come straight here to begin conditioning and training the best hope their world had to survive. She pointedly took a sip her second steaming espresso and turned back to the four of them.

"I'm sure, you all are excited to train. To learn new spells. To experiment. But part of being an auror; or, in your cases,....well I don't even know what to call you. There is another aspect of training that aurors go through. And you shall as well. It is one thing, to be brilliant, to know every spell in the universe," she stated as she pointedly looked at Hermoine, grinning. "But that can only get you so far in a fight with death eaters....or, whomever else.” She looked at each of them in turn. “You have to be able to physically withstand curses. You have to be physically able to last in a fight that," Tonks grimaced, unwilling to state what she knew she had to. She sighed. "Fine, you have to be able to sustain a fight with Voldemort. And there is no telling if it will last hours or days, or worse. Therefore, you get to start with the basics. Endurance training." She gave them a smile. “Today, you begin building your stamina.”

Tonks rubbed her eyes and conjured another cup of espresso. "First things first.” She pointed her wand towards Luna and Hermione. “You need decent work out clothes.” She transfigured their jeans and t-shirts into tanks and running shorts. Luna frowned a bit as Ron disappeared from her chest. Tonks smothered a laugh. “Luna and Hermoine, you're with me. Harry and Ron, you get Remus. We'll congregate in a couple of hours," she winked over to Remus. "If you make it that long."

Hermoine and Luna squared their shoulders, glancing at each other as they followed Tonks off to one side of the room.

The young auror looked at the two them. She could see the fire in both of their eyes. The determination to succeed. Luna, looked outwardly calm, but in the rare moments Luna faced you head on, you could see the blazing fire and intelligence there. Tonks suspected that Voldemort may have been the cause of her mother's death. Naturally, no one would ever know for sure. Hermoine, on the other hand, well, she always wanted to succeed. It was what drove her, but Tonks could see something else in there. She wanted, no needed, Harry to win. More than anything. She wondered if Hermione was even aware of it and then shook her head; They didn’t have time for her to psychoanalyze her pupils.

"Okay girls. This isn't going to be pretty but here’s how it’s gonna go. First, we stretch for twenty, then we'll start with 50 push-ups, then we will do 100 crunches. Then, you get to run the treadmills. And after that, weight training. So drop and give me fifty."

Hermoine and Luna looked at each other with the same expression. I hope Remus is giving them HELL. And they dropped to the floor.

Meanwhile Ron and Harry had walked over to the opposite of the room with Remus. Remus chuckled to himself as he noted Harry’s preoccupation with Hermione. He remembered how James used to watch Lily. His lips twisted into a wistful smile. He wouldn't fail them now. He’d make sure that their son had every available resource to defend himself. He would let no one deny Harry any tool that would help him defeat Voldemort. And, if they were all very lucky, he thought as he was Harry gazing at Hermione once more, Harry would survive and even find the kind of love his parents had shared.

Remus cleared his throat as he looked at Ron and Harry. "Okay, Tonks is going to tell them the same thing but, well I'll word it differently for you two. Spells are great. Fantastic things actually. But, without the physical stamina and skill to match it, you can be just as…." He struggled for an appropriate word.

‘Screwed.’ Ron supplied bluntly.

Lupin gave a crooked smile. "Yes. Not to put too fine a point on it.” He continued. “It's possible, I suppose, to know every spell there is to know. Every curse, every cure.” He let his eyes wander to where Hermione was being put through the wringer by Tonks. “But there is something to be said for physical adeptness in a confrontation with the dark forces. Wouldn't you agree Harry?", stated Remus, pointedly.

Ron elbowed Harry as with a puzzled frown. His friend’s eyes were fixated on the two girls across the room.

Harry had forgotten he was standing there. All he could see was Hermione doing sit-ups. Sweating. In her work out clothes. Ron’s sharp jab to his ribs had him whipping his head around and it dawned on him that Remus was addressing him directly.

"Uhhh, yes sir," he answered, trusting that Remus would not have them doing anything that might actually harm them.

Remus set them off on much the same regimen as Tonks. “So that will be 100 push-ups and 100 crunches. To start."

The four teenagers were currently sitting back at the table in the kitchen downstairs. They were quite a bedraggled lot. All hunched over their light lunch, the movement of food from plate to mouth mechanical. The silence stretched with no discomfort. They were all too tired to notice that no one was talking. Hermione finished and glanced around the table. Harry and Ron seemed read to fall over into their plates. Luna, likewise, had finished, and as Hermione looked at her she had to marvel. After that rigorous workout, Luna’s wand was still in place. Holding her blonde hair on top of her head. She patted her own, now fraying, braid and sighed. If only….But her uncharacteristicly girly thoughts were interrupted as Tonks entered the kitchen, promptly tripping over a chair and landing herself on the floor.

The young woman scrambled to her feet, righting the chair and said brightly, ‘Ready for round two?’

A collective groan sounded around the table.

‘What’re you tryin’ to do, kill us?’ grumbled Ron.

‘C’mon. Up. Let’s go.’ She practically chirped.

‘Somebody’s had too much caffeine.’ Harry muttered over to Ron. Ron nodded emphatically as the two young men led the way back up to the attic.

Hermione and Luna trailed behind them and while Luna seemed to pause every other step, looking for something, Hermione seemed lost in thought. She flipped her long brown braid behind her back and sighed. She struggled against it, but she could not help but watch Harry’s bum as he climbed the stairs talking to Ron. Furious with herself, she raised her eyes to the middle of his back and she wasn’t sure whether that was better or worse. After the workout they’d had, his shirt was still clinging to his skin. Who knew a back could be so sexy? Was the last coherent thought she had before she ran smack into the object of her fascination.

‘Oomph.’ Harry stumbled a bit, but righted himself quickly as his arms reached automatically behind him to steady her, grabbing blindly.

Hermione’s arms reached around his ribs instinctively and held on to keep from falling. The feel of his hands holding her to him was creating a fluttering in her lower belly and she knew she should move away, but she really didn’t want to. She took a deep breath and her senses were assaulted with a scent that was purely Harry Potter.

Harry sucked in a breath as he realized that Hermione was pressed flush against his back and his hands were doing their part to keep her there as they firmly held her hips in his hands.

Ron turned and looked at them. ‘Alright, you two?’

Harry and Hermione seemed to realize their position and guiltily jumped apart. ‘Fine.’ Came the synchronized response.

Luna smiled serenely at them an walked around the three of them into the room.

Ron just shook his head at them. They’d been acting strangely since last night, after they’d returned from New Orleans. He frowned, remembering them huddled together, whispering, earlier. Not that, that was in and of itself, strange, but there was something…something he couldn’t define. He needed time to think about it and figure out all this fit into the big picture. He was good at seeing that, when he took the time to actually think. Like playing chess. He turned to look at his best friends and ask them why they were so jumpy and there was a sharp CRACK! And the three friends whirled as one, wands raised.

Bill Weasley stood in the center of the room with Luna’s wand inches from his throat. Her long blonde hair hung nearly to her waist where it tumbled from a top her head as she’d drawn her wand.

*******************

Authors’ Note 2 : We know, we know. Sorry ‘bout the cliffie! We are evil and all that. This is a one shot turned Work in Progress, so bear with us. But we are working our way towards the Harry and Hermione fluff everyone is dying to see. Please be patient and keep reading. We will get you there.