The dining room was small and cozy, and reminded Hermione of Madam Puddifoot's tea room in Hogsmeade. There were flowers on every table although Harry had moved theirs to one side so, she preferred to think, he could see her better.
"Have you thought anymore about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?"
Harry shook his head. "Not really. I've told McGonagall I wasn't interested, and that hasn't changed. That doesn't stop her from asking, of course."
"Did you think it would?" Hermione laughed. "Come on, Harry. You're the best one for the job, and you know that. Nobody knows more defensive spells than you do, and no one's had more experience at using them, save possibly the Aurors. I think you should at least consider it."
"I'm not interested. I like my job."
She sighed. "I'm sure you do, but-I don't know. I guess I'm a bit surprised. You wanted to be an Auror. What happened to that?"
He shrugged, fiddling with his place setting. "I don't want to work for the Ministry. I thought you, of all people, would understand that."
"I do. Completely. But if you take the teaching job, you won't be working for the Ministry."
"I don't want it, Hermione. I don't want to be an Auror and I don't want to teach." There was an edge to his voice, and she knew she needed to change the subject.
"All right. Sorry." She took a sip of her tea. "What did you do with Hedwig?"
"She's with Neville. He and Hannah like having her around. Apparently Dmitri will go out to hunt mice, but he won't eat the ones that are already in the house."
Hermione laughed. "Leave it to Neville to own a confused owl. How does he like his new job?"
Harry smirked at her slightly. "He likes it. Of course, he would, wouldn't he? He's always loved Herbology and he loved being at Hogwarts, so it's not surprise he'd want to teach there. That doesn't mean I would, though."
"I never said it did," she sighed. "I was just asking about his job. Don't read into my questions, Harry."
He stared at her for a second, then nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. Look, I don't expect you to understand why I chose to work in construction. I don't really expect anyone to understand it. God knows I've never been able to explain it."
"We don't have to understand it, Harry. If it's what you want, then we have to respect that. It's no one's business but your own."
He smirked. "Which isn't to say that you wouldn't like to know."
"Well, of course I'd like to know," she laughed. "There are a lot of things I'd like to know about you. If I never find out, though, it won't change anything. I'd still--."
"Here we are!" Hermione jumped, looking up at Mrs. Crispenson as she set their dinners on the table. "Chicken parmesan for you, Miss, and manicotti, for you, my dear." She beamed at them. "So glad to see you're feeling better, dear. Sam told me you looked fine yesterday when you stopped into the pub, but I didn't believe him. You know how men are, always overlooking the important," she said, almost conspiratorially, to Hermione. "Ah, but you're the picture of health," she said, reaching out to pinch Harry's cheek. "So glad to see it! Well, you two enjoy your dinners and let me know if you need anything at all!" She grinned at them one more time, then rushed back off toward the kitchen, saying something about "lovely couple" as she went.
Harry laughed as Hermione stared after her. "Is she always like that?" Hermione wondered aloud, her eyes wide.
"No idea. It's no wonder her husband is so quiet. He probably can't get a word in edgewise with her."
Hermione giggled. "Well, she's certainly friendly. I'll have to remember to thank her before we leave."
Harry took a long drink of his wine, watching as an older couple sat down a few tables away. "Did you tell Ron when we'd be there?"
"Not exactly. He'll be either at home or at the store, so-he won't be hard to find."
"Did he ever try out for the Cannons?"
Hermione shook her head, smiling sadly. "No. You know how his confidence is. He heard rumors about who they were expecting to show up at the try-outs and he chickened out. Of course he says he'd made a promise to Fred and George and he wanted to keep it, but you know that wasn't the sole reason. Speaking of, I ran into Alicia Spinnet the other day. She asked about you."
He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Did she? How's she doing?"
"Fine, I suppose. She had to quit Quidditch though. Some sort of bludger injury."
"That's too bad. She was a great chaser."
"Do you miss it?"
"What? Quidditch?" She nodded. "A bit, I guess. I always knew I'd have to give it up sometime." He grinned, shaking his head. "I'll tell you what I don't miss, and that's Malfoy."
Hermione laughed. "Me either, although he was fun to pick on."
"I'll never forget that time you slapped him."
She blushed slightly. "I suppose I shouldn't have done it, but I just couldn't help it. He's such a little--."
"Ferret?"
She giggled. "Yep, that would be it. It fit him so perfectly; it's a shame that McGonagall changed him back."
"Ah, well, maybe he became an animagus, turned into a ferret and was eaten by Nagini. That's what I've always hoped, anyway."
Hermione turned her attention to her dinner, not wanting to think about that bloody snake, or Voldemort, or anything else, for that matter. She had hoped this dinner with Harry would be romantic, but it seemed just like any other dinner with him. They had talked about everything that they always talked about. Of course, she could change that, if she wanted to, she supposed. "Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"What do you find romantic?"
He laughed softly, actually blushing a bit. "I don't know. I think romance is all in your head. Anything can be romantic if you're in the right state of mind."
She thought, at first, that this was his way of not answering her question. Then, she realized he was probably right. "So, do you think this is romantic?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, a bit. I mean, it might be a bit more so if you didn't have tomato sauce on your chin, but--." He laughed as she reached up and wiped at her face, blushing furiously. "Here, let me." She leaned forward, feeling mortified as he dabbed at her chin with his napkin.
"That is so embarrassing," she muttered, sighing.
"It hasn't been there that long. No one else saw it."
"You saw it."
"Well, yeah, but I've also seen you crying your eyes out, with your nose running. I think I've seen you at your worst, Hermione, and I still think you're beautiful."
She choked out a laugh, hoping he didn't see the tears welling in her eyes. Stop being such a girl, her mind chided, but she couldn't help it. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest and she had the crazy urge to crawl over the table and kiss him. "Um, thank you. That was-so sweet," she sniffed, trying to force a smile.
He grinned at her. "You aren't crying, are you?"
"No, shut up," she muttered, wiping her eyes on her napkin. "You just-surprised me, that's all."
"What? You don't think I know beautiful when I see it?"
She could barely make herself answer that question. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain the whole room could hear it. "I-I just-you've never-told me that. Why didn't you ever say so before?"
He shrugged, smiling. "I didn't think it was my place."
"What? Why not?"
"Because we were always just friends. It would have made things weird between us. I think we've been through enough together now that I'm entitled to say it."
She laughed softly. "Well-yes, you most certainly are. I-well, thank you. You make me feel beautiful." He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Can we go back to the room? Like-right now?"
He chuckled. "Eat first. Trust me, the bed will still be there when we get back."
She almost groaned in frustration. "I don't want to eat. I want to kiss you. Now."
He squeezed her hand. "No, no. We have to finish dinner first. I'm hungry."
She let out a heavy sigh, but tried to focus on her dinner. Her job was made even harder when he lifted his foot and stroked it over her leg, causing her to jump. "That's not playing fair, Harry," she muttered, pulling her leg away from him.
"I'm sorry. Were we supposed to be playing fair?"
She giggled. "Did I not tell you that? I'm sorry, let me fix it. Stop teasing me or I'll embarrass the hell out of you."
His eyes widened slightly. "You wouldn't."
"Oh but I would. Do you want to test me?"
He eyed her carefully, then grinned. "No, I really don't. I'll play fair. At least until we get back up to the room."
*********************************************************************************
She sighed heavily against his neck, running her hands over his broad shoulders. "Harry?"
He grunted against her shoulder between gasps for breath.
"Do we-uunnnh, oh god--," she broke off as he started to move again, taking a break from the frenzied pace they'd been in, favoring something much slower and achingly tender. "Do we ever have to get out of this bed again?"
"Well, I would like to-ummmmm-to say no, but I think we'll eventually have to."
"But not anytime-ooooooh-not anytime soon, right?"
He chuckled. "I hope not." He picked up the pace just slightly, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close to her. "Oh, Hermione," he moaned, arching his back to thrust into her harder.
She let her eyes slide shut, getting lost quickly in the noises he was making. He grew more passionate, it seemed, each time they were together, to the point that he now seemed to lose himself in it just as much as she did. It was incredible to her, when she thought about it. She was the one doing this to him, turning him on, making him gasp for breath even as he groaned out her name.
She felt her climax start to build and realized, vaguely, that she had to let go of Harry's neck or she might very well snap it. She released him, then grabbed him again as her orgasm hit her with all the force of a semi-truck at full speed, and she gasped. "Harry!" she squeaked, pressing her body up into his as she rode it out.
"Whoops," he muttered, laughing softly into her shoulder. "I meant to hold---oh god-unhhh. Never-mind." He gasped, his fingers scrabbling behind his back until he caught hold of her hand. He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed as he came.
She loved everything about that moment. The way his hand clung desperately to hers, the way his shoulders trembled against her chest, the way that he sighed her name into her ear as his body began to relax.
"Hermione?" he said softly, not lifting his head from her shoulder.
"Hmmm?" she murmured.
"Forget what I said about getting up. I'm not moving from this spot. Ever."
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