Well, after a lot of thinking, I'm risking my author-neck here, since I've decided to post this sequel anyway, betaless. I'm a little worried about my lovely Steph, and seemingly she must be very busy. I hope you're ok, Steph!
So I apologize beforehand for the zillion mistakes you're most probably going to find, starting with this intro, lol. I hope that, all in all, you can understand it. :D
Happy New Year, by the way! ^_^
oOo
It was earlier than ever when Ronald Weasley entered the kitchen of the old house.
He had caressed the appealing idea of sleeping in a bit; his rather large bedroom still was dark, which meant it had to be earlier than usual. And they hadn't slept in in ages. But then his stomach had made some kind of angry noise, reminding him that there wasn't such a thing like too early for Ronald Weasley's stomach.
Five minutes later, when he had just set all sorts of morning goodies on the kitchen table, Hermione, or more like the ghostly image of Hermione, appeared at the door.
"Morning, Hermione. Help yourself," he said, gesturing with his hand to the food on the table.
Barely acknowledging his presence, Hermione mumbled something unintelligible as she passed by him, opened the fridge, took the milk out, and prepared herself some cocoa. All of it on very, very very slow motion.
As he took a bite of toast, he observed his best friend in silence. There was definitely something wrong in the picture before him. Hermione, good old Hermione, never was a morning person. But any other morning she would have done that simple task in less than a minute, while asking him about his night sleep and talking about their day's agenda, before finally taking seat at the table with him. Instead, this Hermione was barely moving, and looked like she had spent the whole night awake, doing all sorts of tiresome tasks, until she had finally exhausted herself to her limits.
He felt a pang of sadness for her. Maybe she finally had.
"You look horrible, Hermione," he said, almost without thinking.
That caught her attention. She took her red mug in her hands and leaned in against the fridge.
"And you eat like a pig," she answered, no trace of the sharpness he usually earned with comments like that.
"No, I mean it, Hermione. Are you ok? You look awfully tired."
"I always look tired, Ron," she finally answered, rubbing one of her eyes as she took seat opposite him on the table. "You don't look all hot and dashing, just for the record."
He smiled. "I know...but it could be worse, don't you think? At least I don't have to fight with a hair like Harry's," he said, teasing her.
But almost immediately he realised that it was the wrong thing to say, because at the mention of their other best friend, Hermione almost dropped the mug. He just knew then that something was definitely going on.
Maybe last night they had one of those almost-rows they had from time to time. Rows that had nothing to do with his and Hermione's. Rows that, sometimes, he felt were just beyond him. Like they were talking cryptically about something entirely different, something he didn't know about.
Only that he knew.
"Last night," he started, hesitantly. "Was everything ok? I mean…with Harry?"
The sharp look Hermione gave him scared and relaxed him all at once. This Hermione he could definitely recognise as normal.
"Of course," she said, clear and slowly, just for him to understand the danger behind the question. "Why wouldn't everything be ok? And why do you think this has anything to do with Harry?"
As if on cue, they heard rushed footsteps coming down the stairs.
"Morning, mate!" said the extremely cheery voice of Harry Potter as he entered the room, seconds later. "Whoa, is that everything for you? Or did you make breakfast for your whole family?" Without pause, he walked by Hermione's seat and, without warning, he kissed the top of her head. "Good morning, Hermione."
She managed a little smile to her mug. "Good morning, Harry."
Ron, with the pancake still halfway to his open mouth, looked at his best friend. Intently. After Hermione's mood that morning, he was expecting…well, he didn't exactly know what, but not this. Harry was making tea, and he seemed…happy. He hadn't seen his best friend in what seemed to be an extraordinarily good mood in…well, he couldn't really remember.
For a moment he thought he had been wrong before, thinking something had happened last night. After all, he was still becoming familiar with the extents of The Bond. But then he looked at Hermione again. She was staring at her hands, though she didn't seem to be really watching. In a normal day, Hermione would be asking Harry about his night sleep, about his meal, about his nightmares, and about his plans for the day. However, there she was. Silent. Lost in thought. And what worried him most: she hadn't looked at Harry at all.
No; that wasn't a normal day.
"I'll go change and take a bath," she suddenly said, leaving the mug on the table and heading to the stairs before neither of them could say a thing.
Ron knew that some things were constants in life, like the sun rising in the morning, his appetite, and Voldemort trying to kick their arses. One of them, one of the most constant things among all them, was the fact that Hermione Granger never, under any circumstance, left a mug -or anything else- on the table after breakfast, lunch, dinner or any other occasional meal. So this, whatever this was, had to be something big.
He looked then at his other best friend. Harry's gaze was fixed on the kitchen's door, but he didn't look upset. He was…smiling.
He caught him staring, but he just smiled to him too.
"Did you have a good night sleep, Ron? Hermione told me you were really tired last night."
"Um…yeah...I was," he managed to answer, forcing himself to keep on talking when Harry looked at him for further explanation. "Hermione made me, though. I could have stayed longer, you know."
Harry smirked a little, but Ron went on before he could say anything. "You weren't…I mean, were you ok, Harry? Last night it was later than ever, mate."
Harry took seat in the chair Hermione had occupied just a moment before, a blue mug of tea in his hands. "No, I wasn't." He didn't have to elaborate further, and there wasn't any more to ask, really. They both knew. "I am now, though. Nothing to worry about, mate."
Ron held the look of his best friend with a question in his eyes, but none of them spoke a word. Harry was just smiling. Truly smiling. What had happened last night? Surely Hermione and he didn't…? No, it couldn't be. If so, Hermione would have looked a little happier, wouldn't she? Definitely not like crap. She would have worn the same stupid smile Harry was wearing now.
"Hermione looked horrible this morning," he risked. "She looked like she didn't get a wink of sleep last night."
That simple comment was enough to wipe the smile off his best friend's face, being replaced by concern all over his features.
"But is she ok? Did you ask her about it? What did she tell y-"
"Whoa, mate, breath in," he said, interrupting the tirade. "Of course I asked, but you know how she is. She just told me that yes, she was tired, but she dismissed the topic saying she was ok."
Harry looked lost in thought for a moment, so he decided maybe this was the moment to ask him.
"Mate, did something happened…I mean, last night she was anxious about your absence. You two didn't have an argument, didn't you?"
"Of course not," he said, and he seemed really surprised. "We just…" he trailed off, "She just helped me to relax."
He couldn't see his own face, but it had to be something, since Harry started to stammer.
"Come on, Ron! Not like…not like whatever you're thinking!"
"Easy mate, I wasn't thinking of…well, you know."
After that, silence was in order, he thought. So he decided it was time to just return to his breakfast. A couple of minutes later, he saw Harry stand up, put both mugs in the washer and head towards the stairs.
"I better make sure she's ok," he simply said.
"Yeah, better you than me, I guess."
He saw him nodding absently, and then running -literally- upstairs.
If only, he thought.
oOo
Harry realized that his hands were a bit wetter than they should be while walking towards Hermione's bedroom.
He felt…anxious. Ron had told him that Hermione looked bad. He hadn't had the time to even take a proper look at her before she had run upstairs, so he didn't know what could be wrong. But it had to be something big. She hadn't greeted him good morning. She hadn't even looked at him, now that he came to think. Merlin, she had left her mug on the table.
He needed to see what the matter was and make sure she was ok.
Finally, he found himself in front of her room. He lifted his fist to the door, but then stopped in track when an unsettling thought came to his mind. What if -maybe this had something to do with last night? Well, this is, if something had actually happened last night at all.
But it had happened. For him, at least, it had.
It had been something totally unexpected, a drastic change in everything he had thought right, yet so easy to accept that it scared him. They had been there, in their old couch, with her hands caressing his hair, trying to ease the bad mood he was in. She was talking about him and his future, something so distant and blurry that he never had wanted to give too much thought. But there she was, reassuringly talking about him and his wife's -Ginny, he had guessed- future. About their home, their garden, their kids…and then it had happened.
His heart stopped at the sight of the woman coming out of that blessed kitchen. His wife, who was smiling lovingly at him and his -their- children, wasn't the one he was sure he was going to see. There was no trace of red in her hair, nor was it in their kids'. Instead, brown hair in a ponytail and smiling brown eyes greeted him. Hermione had been so right in her choice words; he couldn't believe she was the one who had said yes to him in his mind.
The fact made his eyes shot open. He was totally shocked. It was Ginny the girl he was expecting to see. It was Ginny the girl he wanted, the one supposed to be coming out that kitchen. His mind was playing tricks on him. Maybe it was because of Hermione's voice, speaking so softly about all those wonderful things. But at the same time…
He tried to picture the scene again, this time with more red in it. But he couldn't. He found impossible to remove Hermione from the scene. And even if he could, he wouldn't. Because he wanted…all of that. Exactly that. He wanted that little girl, with his eyes, but with that beautiful face, and her slightly bushy brown hair, so like her mother.
He only wanted to see more and more about it, so he had asked Hermione to keep on talking about that future, which somehow it had become theirs in his mind.
Now, in front of her wooden door, he started to worry. What if somehow she had known? She was Hermione, after all. Surely she had seen through him, as she always could do. What if she was upset? What if she had felt uncomfortable? He had barely started to understand what was happening to him, but maybe she knew.
He raised his sweaty fist once more, and this time he didn't hesitate.
"Hermione, it's me, Harry," he said softly. There was no sound. "Can I-?
The door opened before he could finish. She had changed and showered, her hair was wet and her face a little red from the hot water. But Ron was right; she looked really tired. Lately, they all had bags under their eyes from the stress and lack of sleep, but Hermione looked worst than usually. He closed the door behind him.
"Hermione, are you ok?"
"Oh, I see. You've come in here to see for yourself if I look as unattractive as Ron claims I do," she said, half smiling.
He guessed she was trying to lighten the moment. It almost worked.
"Well, I didn't believe him at first, but…" he said with a green, but then became serious again. "I...we are worried, Hermione. If there's something -"
"There's nothing to worry about, Harry," she said, sitting on her bed. "I just didn't sleep very well last night."
Harry felt his heart skip a beat. Maybe I was right.
"I slept better that ever," he said before he could think. "Because of you, I didn't have nightmares. Only happy dreams. Thank you."
As soon as he saw the suspicious glistening in Hermione's eyes, he crossed the distance between them. In less than two steps, he was sitting right next to her.
"That's why I just need to know if there's something troubling you, Hermione," he said, taking her hands in his. "If there's something I can do."
He felt his face grow hotter. Hermione didn't know, but the truth was that she had spent all night in his dreams, with him, doing all sorts of simple and amazing things he never imagined doing with his best friend before: reading to their little boy in his bed, brushing their beautiful daughter's hair, asking him for his day at work while preparing the last papers for her own, caressing his hair while they were comfortably cuddled in their bed…
"There's nothing you can do," she whispered so softly that he almost missed it. "But thanks for the offer," she added, with a light smile. "I know you'd do anything for me. For us."
"Yes. Yes, I would," he said, more seriously than he had intender, and unable to articulate anything else.
So, instead of wasting time trying to find the right words, he chose to act on the one thing that never let him down: instinct. He pulled her to him, in a similar embrace that the one they had shared the previous night. And all of a sudden, he didn't care if she knew. He just wanted to comfort her. He just wanted those bags wiped off her beautiful face. He just wanted… Oh, Merlin -he just wanted her.
I want her. I want Hermione.
The thought alone was scary. So, that he didn't even want to start thinking about the implications.
Ginny still loved him. Ron…maybe Ron still loved her. What was he thinking? He didn't even know what was that…that thing he was feeling. Maybe it was only the after effects of their talk. He liked Ginny, he knew he did. Perhaps everything would go back to normal in a couple of awkward days, he tried to reason. But right then, right there, he couldn't remember a single time he had felt like that with Ginny. The feeling of being in someone's arms and find... peace. Rightness.
Love?
He felt her loosening her grip on him and, reluctantly, he let her go. She was smiling at him.
"I'm so glad you had sweet dreams, Harry," she said. "But one day, everything, every wonderful thing you saw in your dreams, will come true."
She never understood the look she saw on Harry Potter's face that morning, in her room at Grimmauld Place.
"Promise?"
He would never forget the morning Hermione Granger, sitting on her bed at Grimmauld Place, promised him a future.
"Promise."
oOo
Again, I apologize for the possible mistakes. I hope I didn't make your corneas bleed! Lol..