I'm glad you guys talked me into writing more! I hope I don't disappoint!
Enjoy.
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Missing Harry
Chapter 2: New Discoveries
July 31, 1999
Hermione giggled as she sunk further into the couch, Ron and Harry on either side of her. These were the nights she lived for: staying up late in Harry's flat and just talking to her friends as they sipped wine. Tonight was especially wonderful, for Harry had bought her favourite: Pinot Noir. He bought it just for her…
Oh, Harry, how she loved him; everything about him. When she let herself think about him at night, no words would form in her mind. She could only moan and fantasize of what it would be like to be with him, all of him. It was terrifying that the way he made her feel could reduce her cognition, and hindered her speech. Terrifying, but absolutely brilliant.
But when she saw him, she ached to be with him.
And she knew he loved her just as much, if not more. There were times she would catch him staring at her, his eyes glazed over and a bit of drool forming at the edge of his lip. It took all her willpower to not reach over and grab the back of his head and force him to kiss her, especially when her blood was filled with as much alcohol as hers was at the moment.
She knew if Ron wasn't sitting on her left, that she would jump Harry for the way he was looking at her. Same as always. His left arm rested near her on the back arm of the couch, and his right hand was busy swirling the small amount of drink left in his glass. She didn't look at him, but could feel him and all his actions. It sent a current down her spine as she downed the rest of her drink and reached across him for the bottle of wine. She could feel Harry stiffen and almost fell about laughing when she saw his pants twitch.
"Well, I'm all lashed up," Ron mumbled drunkly. "I think I'm going to floo myself home. And Harry, you got a bit of dribble at the corner of your mouth. Make sure he behaves, Hermione. We both know how he can be when he's smashed. I'll see you in the morning. Happy Birthday, mate."
Harry furrowed his brow slightly as he wiped the corner of his mouth. Hermione stood to give him a swift kiss before he stepped over to the fireplace. The other two watched as Ron disappeared from the fireplace before Hermione came back to sit with Harry on the couch. She stretched and took in a deep breath, getting a bit dizzy from the sudden inrush of oxygen. It was an incredible feeling and made her take another sip of her drink. She heard Harry put his own glass down on the side table before moving to set his head in her lap, something he was attuned to doing lately when they were alone. "Tell me something, Hermione." She made a questioning noise and started to stroke his hair with the hand that wasn't occupied with her drink. "Am I going to die?"
Hermione choked on her wine trying not to spit it out. "W-what? Why are you saying that, Harry?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. Well with Voldemort trying to kill me and all, I just don't know if I can go through with it." His right hand came up and clutched at her thing quite innocently, though it still set a fire through her. "He's an extraordinary wizard, Hermione."
"So are you."
"Not like him. You should have seen his face the way I saw it in Dumbledore's pensive." She sat back and let him talk it out. "When Dumbledore came to the orphanage to pick him up, Voldemort told Dumbledore how he could possess animals and scare people, talk to snakes and hurt people, without knowing what he was doing. He was so thrilled to learn he was a Wizard, and could now figure out how to inflict pain on people whenever he wanted."
"Oh, Harry."
"All I could do was grow back my hair when my aunt Petunia cut it too short, and make a glass wall disappear so the snake I was talking to could escape. I'm not saying I want to do all the horrible things he did, but…"
"No, Harry, you listen to me. She set her drink unsteadily on the carpet near her feet. "If you had a heart like his, you would be the same way. You don't, though. You would get upset with your aunt for cutting your hair, but your heart was good and it only fixed the problem instead of hurting her."
Harry smirked. "I think you forget the Aunt Marge incident."
"Yes, well I think that woman deserved what was coming to her."
"You still went spare when I told you about it."
"Well, you know me…"
"Yes, I do."
"A little too much you jumped up chauvinist."
"Oh leave it out, Hermione." Harry sat up, knocking his leg against hers and forcing her glass of wine to spill all over the white carpet. "Oops."
"Scourgify," Hermione muttered and the carpet cleaned itself up.
"Look, Hermione," Harry slung his arm around her shoulder again as his face came impossibly close to hers. "When I lived with the Dursleys, I felt like I was always standing about like some spare prick at a wedding. With you…and Ron," he added quickly, "I feel wanted. I feel like I'm worth something, and that's the only thing that keeps me going and makes me feel like I can actually do something about killing Voldemort."
The wine on his breath seeped through her nostrils and fueled the fire in her blood. She couldn't help herself when she grabbed the back of Harry's head and pressed his lips roughly against her own.
Harry didn't seem surprised; he didn't even flinch when she acted. He only drew his arms around her waist and pulled her closer as she opened her mouth to him. Hermione sighed against him as he groaned a bit, shoving his tongue into her mouth.
It happened so quickly, but she didn't even hesitate.
Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned backward on the couch, drawing him down on top of her to settle in between her thighs. He pressed against her comfortably, but it sent a jolt through her every time he moved. Even the tiniest shift of his hips caused her to moan against his lips as his pants got tighter and tighter.
"Hermione," he moaned hoarsely against her neck. It took all her resolve not to groan deeply at his stubble that lightly scraped her neck. God he was so hot. "Hermione, we should stop."
"No," she breathed against his lips.
"We need to," Harry mumbled hesitantly, breathlessly against her neck. "I'm completely cracked, and from how much you drank tonight, you've got to be too."
Hermione smirked. "So you've been watching me?"
"Are you mad?" Harry flew up, running his hand through his hair. "Merlin, I know you're not thick. I know that you're aware at the way I stare at you."
"All the time."
Harry blushed. "Yes, all the time! God, Hermione. I don't know what's come over me, but I can't stop thinking about you."
Hermione's smile died quickly as a blow of shock came over her. "Harry, I…"
"You don't get it, Hermione. I fucking love you, okay?" Harry laughed, swiping his wine glass from the side table and taking a sip. "I love y-" But he couldn't finish. Hermione had attacked him with her lips and he dropped his glass, spilling his drink all over the carpet.
"I don't care," she responded to his inquisitive glance. "I'll clean it up later."
Harry laughed. "I think I can get used to this."
"Good." She leaned down and pressed her lips to his again.
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November 3, 2011
Hermione felt a poignant smile run across her face as she stared at the stain on the carpet. She reached down and ran her hand across the coarse fabric, remembering how hard she had tried to get the stain out.
"You-you-you scrubbed that stain for days," Harry noted, coming up behind her.
She grinned as she stood up, greeting him with a hug. "You and Ron told me it was impossible."
"I'll never forget the way I felt when you-when you-when you told me you didn't care. I'd though you'd been possessed."
Hermione chuckled against his shoulder, but a tear still made its way down her cheek. "How is it you can remember that, but you can't remember how wonderful our love making was last night?" she whispered.
Harry stood back from her. "What?"
She cast her eyes down. "Oh nothing. I was just talking nonsense."
"My Hermione," Harry grinned, pulling her back into a hug. She was shocked to feel his arousal against her thigh.
"Harry-"
"I want you."
"But, Harry."
"What?" Harry pulled back from her, an annoyed expression crossed his face. "You don't want to sleep-to sleep-to sleep with your husband?"
"No, it's not-"
"Then what is it?"
"Harry, its two o'clock in the afternoon. Madison could walk in at any moment."
"It's not two."
Hermione face fell. "Yes it is, look at the clock."
Harry looked over at the clock to see it was only four after two. "What the fuck is wrong with-with-with me? I'm all ballsed up!"
"Harry, I'm sorry, we can…"
"NO!" Harry screamed. "I don't want you taking pity on me!"
"Well how would you like it if someone kept banging on about the same thing over and over again." The words were out of her mouth before she had even known she said them.
A baffled look came across his face, but his eyes were filled with dejection. "Why would you say something like that, Hermione? I don't bang on about anything!"
"Oh, Harry. If you only knew…"
"Knew what?" She didn't answer him and that only made him more upset. "Knew what!"
Hermione closed her eyes and sunk down onto the sofa. Even though her eyes were closed, she could feel him leave the room, and heard him slam the door behind him. That was when she let out a loud sob, allowing her to wrack all these confusing emotions out.
After a bit, she stood up, still teary-eyed, and walked over to their bedroom door where Harry had disappeared to. Peering in, she saw Harry sifting through her drawer with one of her negligees in his hand.
He looked over at her, grinning like an idiot. "This would look great on you tonight."
Hermione's face crumpled a bit as she nodded slightly, and he seemed satisfied with that. She left the room, closing the door behind her and let out a scream that blew apart the vase across the room. These were the times she could not bear, and felt like dying. She sunk down to the floor and idly rubbed the small bump that had started to form on her stomach. She was so exhausted with the last half-hour that she soon felt herself drowse away from the world around her, as sleep took over her conscience.
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I hope everyone liked this chapter! I'm actually really glad you guys talked me into continuing this, because I'm liking where this is going!
And just a reminder, people with Harry's form of amnesia can hold a conversation for approximately five minutes before forgetting it…in case you were confused as to why Harry was able to row with Hermione.
And thank you Rylee for your AMAZING beta skills! Everyone thank her by going and reading her story, The Good, The Bad and the Drunk.
British Slang
Lashed up=drunk
Jumped up=arrogant
Leave it out=stop it; come on
Like some spare prick at a wedding=unwanted; useless
Cracked=drunk
Ballsed up=mixed up; confused
Banging on=going on about
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