This is the Way . . .

adamolupin

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 04/10/2006
Last Updated: 26/08/2007
Status: in_progress

Another dumping ground, but this time for drabbles too short (about two pages or less) to post on their own and UNRELATED to "Growth Spurts." Rating may change and all stories will probably be un-beta'd.

Chapters

1. This is the Way . . .

2. Ghost Stories

3. Crazy Love

4. Unimpressed

5. The Vegetable of Love

6. Stare Off

7. Kings Cross

1. This is the Way . . .

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but with a whimper.

“The Hollow Men” by TS Eliot

Harry rushed up to the door of Hermione's flat and knocked furiously on the wood until she opened the door a minute later with a harried and harassed air. “Yes? What? Has someone died?” she asked in rapid fire succession.

“No. I just wanted to tell you . . .”

Hermione leaned against the door jamb with a curious expression, her hand still on the inside knob. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

Her eyebrows soared into her hairline. “Oh.”

“Yes. And I felt I had to tell you now.”

“Oh.”

“D'you . . . d'you love - me?”

“Of course. Always have.”

“Can I hear it?”

“I love you.”

“And just for clarification, I mean that I love you like I want to jump your brains and have your babies type love.”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Good. Well then. I've got a match with Ron so; I'll talk to you later?”

“Of course.”

Harry smiled bashfully and turned, walking down her stoop with a decidedly bouncy spring to his step.

Hermione closed the door to her flat and returned to the book she'd been reading with a grin on her face that not even Nietzsche could wipe.

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2. Ghost Stories

Ghost Stories

“And then, when the teenagers opened the door, they found a hook hanging off the handle!” Hermione finished with a menacing, hurried crescendo that sounded a bit louder under the sheet they were sitting under.

Harry didn't look impressed or scared. Instead he quirked an eyebrow and pursed his lips. “That's it?”

Hermione sighed and dropped the electric torch she'd been holding under her chin for a “spooky” effect. “Well it sure scared the daylights out of me when I was a kid,” she retorted. “Think you can do any better?”

“Why yes.” He grabbed the torch and held it under his chin. “I can't see a thing.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It's for affect.”

Harry sighed, but kept the torch under his chin. “Ok, this story starts in a library.”

“A haunted library?”

“No. Just a plain, though very well stocked library a lot like the one at Hogwarts,” Harry replied patiently. “Now this library was always full even though it was presided over by an extremely strict, extremely tight laced librarian. She had hair the color of bleached straw and a wart that would put a hag's to shame. Every day she would catch people for the smallest infraction and take them by the ear and lead them away to the back where they were never. seen. again.

“So one day a boy walks into the library and looks around at all the books. He looks at the librarian then looks at everyone studying.” Harry slowed down, dropping his voice to a near whisper, staring intently into Hermione's wide eyes. He had her captivated and she could tell he knew it.

“So this boy walks over to a corner of the library where no one is supposed to go, where everyone was supposed to have disappeared. He knows he'll be strung up by his thumbs or taken away by the ear if he's caught back there, but he does it anyway. He reaches under the table for something he'd been hiding for days, planning and waiting for the right moment . . . and then . . .” Hermione realized that she and Harry had bent so far toward each other that their noses were almost touching, but she didn't care.

“And then . . . AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Hermione shrieked at Harry's scream and toppled off the bed taking the sheet with her. “DAMN IT HARRY! I HATE IT WHEN YOU DO THAT!”

“It - it never gets old!” Harry choked out between his hysterical laughter.

“Are you two telling ghost stories again?” Ron asked sticking his head into their room without knocking.

“Yeah and Hermione fell for it again,” Harry hooted.

“Why don't you two do normal couple things like shagging or kinky sex crap?” Ron sighed shutting the door.

“If you think you're going to get lucky any time within the next decade, you're sorely mistaken mister!” Hermione snarled untangling herself from the sheet and standing with a huff. “No kinky sex crap for you!” She vaguely realized that her declaration might have held more weight if she hadn't looked as though she'd been electrocuted.

“Aw, c'mon. I'm sorry Hermione!” Harry sat up and leaned forward to grab her wrist before she could storm away. “I couldn't help it, honest.”

She glared behind her at where he held her wrist then lifted her gaze to glare at him. “Yes you could've. Now let go. You can sleep on the bloody sidewalk for all I care!”

“Please? I didn't mean it, honest. I took advantage of something I shouldn't have and I'm very sorry. Please, don't be mad.”

Hermione turned back to him and looked at his sincerely contrite face with a sigh.

“I'll make it up to you, I swear,” he added with a sheepish grin. “Just think of it this way: it'll make whatever you have cooking up in that devious mind of yours that much sweeter.”

She sighed one last time, caving like she knew he knew she would. She looked over at him with an evil grin that had Harry gulping in deeper regret. “Yes, I think you're right,” she purred, crawling on all fours across the bed until Harry lay beneath her looking a wee bit scared.

“I'm truly going to regret that huh?”

“Most likely.”

“But not tonight?”

“Not tonight.”

“Shag and make up?”

“No, put the sheet back on the bed and make up.”

“No kiss?”

“You can have a kiss.”

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3. Crazy Love

A/N: A couple of weeks ago I asked my friends on my LJ to suggest a prompt and a pairing or HP character and I promised them a little ficlet/drabble. I wrote this for heather11483 whose prompt was “She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love” from Van Morrison's “Crazy Love” with a Ron/Luna pairing. This was the result. This is un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You TOLD THEM?!”

Harry and Hermione winced at Ron's strident screech. Harry, realizing that he'd better batten down the hatches cast a quick silencio around their table and prepared for impact. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!” Ron went on, building up steam with every word. “I'LL NEVER LIVE THIS DOWN, THEY'LL TAKE THE MICKEY OUT OF ME UNTIL I'M OLD AND PRUNEY AND I ONLY EAT PRUNES AND I NEED TO WEAR GRANNY NAPPIES! AND THEY'LL COME BACK AS GHOSTS TO HAUNT ME JUST TO TEASE ME ABOUT THIS!”

“Ron! You're overreacting!” Hermione tried to reach out for Ron's hand but he jerked it back angrily, his nostrils flaring to dangerous proportions. “I'm sorry, ok? I thought they already knew!”

“Why would you think that Hermione?! Why?! I don't tell my brothers anything because -“

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love. The chorus of a song drifted over to them and the three of them just knew it was courtesy of Fred and/or George.

“That's why!!” Ron was practically hopping with his rage, his arms straight and tight at his sides, his fists clenched in fury.

“It's just some minor teasing,” Harry said with all the calm of a negotiator trying to coax a jumper off a ledge. “They'll get bored in a few days.”

“And what about Luna?” Ron asked with exasperation.

“I don't think it'll be that big of a surprise that you fancy her,” Hermione replied wryly. “She's fancied you for ages.”

Ron's eyes popped out of his head. “And why am I always the last to know?”

Harry and Hermione exchanged identical wry looks. “Just ask her for a dance, mate,” Harry sighed. “It's a wedding, it's romantic, and it's a good time to tell her you like her instead of just staring at her all the time.”

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ok, all right, I'll do it.”

Fred and George were dancing with each other on the floor, Fred having abandoned his new wife Angelina for his brother. They were singing loudly and off key and casting the occasional kissy face at Ron while he made his way across the dance floor to Luna's table.

“May I have this dance?” Ron asked Luna quietly.

Her clear blue eyes lit up and a smile spread slowly across her face. As Ron lead her out onto the dance floor (giving a subtle two fingered salute and a glare for good measure at the twins) and into his arms, he realized what he should've seen ages ago: she did give him love, love, love, love crazy love and he was more than happy to return it.

Even if it didn't save him from a good year's worth of ribbing.

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4. Unimpressed

A/N: This is also one from one of the prompts I asked for on my LJ. Procrastinator-starting2morrow drew a great picture and after I commented on it, she wanted me to use that picture and my comment as her prompt. So here is the result. This a Lily/James drabble.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I honestly think I'm going to kill my husband. Married not even a year yet and already I'm ready to kill. Which I've heard is unusual since mum had said that usually didn't happen until the second year or so. I suppose I have to be an overachiever with everything.

Any fears I might have had about James not taking the news of my pregnancy well have fled hours ago, about the time he showed me his new purchase - a camera.

I'm barely three months pregnant, not even showing and he bought a camera to take pictures of me in all my soon-to-be bloated glory and eventually of the baby. I made the mistake of thinking it was cute instead of nipping it in the bud and hiding the film. And I guess it was cute at first until James loaded the camera and began shouting, “Work it! Work those towels baby, yeah!” or “Pretend I'm not here, pretend I'm not here, and work that wand! Ooo - so hot!” all while snapping away.

Six whole rolls and half an hour later here I am sitting at the kitchen table in desperate need of a wee and James is blocking my exit to the loo.

My legs are clenched together and I'm scowling (actually at this point it's more like a vacant yet pained grimace trying to be a scowl), but James seems to think this is even sexier than folding laundry and keeps shouting, “Pout for me love!” when I feel I'm about to piss my knickers.

“James,” I interrupted softly.

“Yes love?” he asked, distracted by reloading the camera with the last roll of film in the house (thank Merlin!).

“If you don't let me go to the lav in ten seconds, I will take that camera and permanently shove it in one of your out holes. I'll be generous and let you choose.”

James made a cute little meep noise he usually makes when he's truly afraid and stepped aside.

I leapt up and bolted for the loo making it just in time. Whoever said that women's bladders aren't really affected by the baby until their late second trimester lied.

Caught up in the relief of successfully not reverting back to a toddler, I didn't notice the door opening until its squeaky hinge creaked loudly. “JAMES!” I shrieked milliseconds before the flash went off.

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5. The Vegetable of Love

A/N: Same situation with the previous two stories, except this one was written for annearchy and her prompt was `radish earrings' with a Ron/Luna pairing. This is the result!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first time he noticed her he was seven and she was six. His mum had been shopping in Ottery St. Catchpole's market and she had stopped to talk to a tall willowy woman with long blonde hair. She held the hand of a girl who looked almost like her duplicate if it weren't for her slightly protuberant eyes and curious and frank stare.

“Hello,” she said softly.

He looked around him just to double check she was actually talking to him and not someone over his shoulder. “Hello.”

“I'm Luna Lovegood, who're you?”

“Ron Weasley?”

A small grin quirked her lips. “Don't you know your name?”

He shifted on his feet nervously, glancing up at his mother who was laughing at something the other woman, who he guessed to be Luna's mother, had said. “Er, yes?”

Luna giggled softly. “You're odd, just like my dad.”

“And you aren't?” Ron retorted, inwardly wincing. At seven he wasn't quite as up on his quips like the twins or Charlie.

Luna merely smiled, her eyes probing his in a frank and direct manner that unnerved him. “No, I'm perfectly normal.”

His mum grabbed his hand again, the two women bid their farewells and they went opposite directions. Ron could still feel the girl's stare boring into his eyes even after they had returned home.

The second time he saw her, he was ten and she was nine. He wore black robes without understanding why and his mum and dad spoke in hushed whispers even at home. A tall reedy man met them at the door and ushered them inside the quiet and somber house. It was just him and Ginny with their mum and dad, everyone else was at Hogwarts.

He wasn't sure why everyone was so quiet, but it looked to him by the fantastical paintings on the walls and the neat odds and ends around the house that solemnity was an uncommon thing here. He wandered through the house holding Ginny's hand while their mum and dad talked to the reedy looking man and the other darkly dressed people milling about.

They found her in the backyard watching the wind play with a rainbow whirligig ornament. “Hello Luna,” Ginny murmured sitting next to the blonde girl.

He stood behind them feeling a bit awkward about it all. “So where's the funeral?” he asked trying to lighten the mood.

Luna turned slightly and blinked up at him owlishly. Ginny whipped her head around frowning, her red plait flying.

“It was a joke,” he muttered feebly.

Ginny merely rolled her eyes. “It wasn't a very good one. Didn't you hear mum and dad? Luna's mum died.”

He flushed and stammered an apology while Luna merely looked up at him, her gaze less frank than the last he'd seen it. After making a complete fool of himself because no he hadn't listened to mum and dad, he'd been too busy reading a Quidditch magazine, he beat a hasty retreat. He couldn't look Luna in the eye for the rest of the day.

He supposes he would've seen her again at her sorting had he and Harry not been trapped in Snape's office after the “Whomping Willow Incident” that he liked to keep from trying to remember. But as it turned out he didn't see her until the train trip to Hogwarts at the beginning of his fifth year.

He almost hadn't recognized her. Her hair was longer and a bit darker, she was taller, and wore strange things he didn't remember her wearing at the funeral like radish earrings and a pin saying something about Crumple Horned Snorkacks. Despite all those general differences that come from growing up, it was her gaze that made her seem a different person than that little six year old girl. Gone was the frank assessment to be replaced by a dreamy haziness that Ron found both more disturbing and alluring.

While everyone in the cabin spoke, he watched her through the reflection in the glass. He could see her even though she had her face buried in an upside down Quibbler. Her gaze seemed halfway intent on the page before her and every time she moved her head, the little radishes bobbed absently.

“Do you like them?” she asked softly, looking over the top of the page at him.

Her blue eyes seemed oddly focused for all the distance they seemed to convey. He gulped and looked hastily away. “Er - yes?”

Luna smiled hazily and a little throb of . . . something good (want? need?) and not good (regret? loss?) clenched somewhere in his chest. It was overwhelming to him and it would take him another two years and a full on war to fully realize what those feelings he'd first felt on the train meant.

By then he'd grown from a teaspoon to a full cup, maybe even, if he pushed it, a half a quart. Or something. He was never good at measuring or cooking anyway. Because when he noticed her the last time before he pledged to notice only her for always, they were laying in bed, his head on her chest, her hands running through his hair, her fingers scratching absent runes on his scalp. “Why radish earrings?” he asked abruptly, his soft voice rumbling through the lazy morning.

“Radishes are the vegetable of love,” she murmured back.

He lifted his head and looked up at her, watching her expression closely. “You're having me on.” Luna's joking was more subtle than Harry or Hermione's, but after all this time he was getting pretty good at reading her.

“Of course,” she replied immediately, the twitch at her lips growing into a full grin. “But they did their job. They got your attention.”

“Love, you've always had my attention,” he murmured, leaning up to kiss her softly.

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6. Stare Off

AN: Umm… yeah, don't have much to say about this one other than it's been sitting on my hard drive for a while now. I'm still not sure if I like the ending and it's more of a gen fic than a H/Hr. But I hope you like it anyway! It's unbeta'd so blame the mistakes and junk on… the shifty eyed dog.

*~*~*~*~*

“Just give it up, Hermione! He's never lost!” Ron groaned, propping his head up on his hand, his elbow resting on the kitchen table.

Hermione frowned and shook her head slightly. “My honor's at stake here.”

Ron shook his head and sighed again, looking between his two friends in a monster marathon of a stare down. Harry had won against Neville, Dean, Ginny and Ron with ease.

“Just because you're my girlfriend, doesn't mean I'm going to let you win,” Harry murmured.

Hermione quirked a grin, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “We'll see about that.” She bent forward a bit more, her concentration sharpening on Harry's eyes.

“My money's on Granger,” Seamus murmured to no one in particular. Half the Gryffindor common room had gathered around the small table to watch the two seventh years battle it out with Ron as referee. Hermione was hunched forward on the table, her eyes steady, her lips pursed in determination. Harry on the other hand was sitting lazily back in his chair, his arm draped negligently over the back. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes were half lidded in lazy contemplation. He was the picture of confidence and ease.

One that Hermione seemed bound and determined to crush beneath her shiny black shoe.

“You do realize that no matter what you do, you're screwed Harry,” Ron spoke up after another few seconds of silence.

“How so?” Harry murmured, his eyes never straying from Hermione's.

“Well, she's your girlfriend so if you win, she'll be pissed and that means no snogging for about a month, but if you lose, you'll lose the respect of your mates and you'll have to change your name to Harriett and wear a pink bow in your hair,” Ron replied with a grin. “And pink really isn't your color.”

“Sod off, Weasley,” Harry replied, a grin twitching at his lips. “And I saw Hermione pay you three galleons to try to distract me. Some referee you are.”

Ron sat back with a huff. “Sorry Hermione. I did my best.”

“It's ok, Ron. You did do your best,” she replied reaching over to pat his arm but instead patting his crotch.

“OI!” Ron screeched leaping up out of his chair.

Hermione immediately looked over in surprise and Harry punched his fist into the air. “And Potter wins again!”

“That's not fair!” Hermione gasped looking back over at her boyfriend. “That was an accident!”

“That my love is called prudent planning,” Harry replied handing Ron five galleons and smirking over at Hermione.

“You cheat! And you liar!” Hermione gasped looking between Ron and Harry as the rest of the common room traded currency, favors, pride and various items from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. “How did you know I was going to do that?!”

“A master never tells his secrets,” Harry replied leaning back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.

Hermione narrowed her eyes over at Harry. “Best two out of three?”

“You're on,” Harry replied immediately. He leaned forward blinking and opening and closing his eyes. “Ok, now!”

“Ron, you're refereeing again,” Hermione murmured out the corner of her mouth even as she slipped a few galleons under the table toward him.

“Yes, you're so good at it,” Harry replied slipping a few more galleons under the table.

Ron leaned back with a smirk and felt a few more galleons slide into his hand. “There's more if Hermione wins this time,” he heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ginny murmur in his ear.

“Consider it done,” he murmured back.

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7. Kings Cross

A/N: Don't worry. Despite the title, this has NO DH spoilers. It is definitely AU.

Harry couldn't look at her, laid out on his bed, her hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her. One look at her and he'd stay, he'd stay and he'd die a little inside no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much he loved her… sometimes love isn't all you need.

Often times you need more than that.

So he snuck from his (their) bed, threw some clothes in a bag, and went to take a shower. Clean, but still feeling dirty, his hand paused at the doorknob to check on Hermione but no. His hand stayed, millimeters from the brass and he forced himself to turn away.

He'd be back.

His feet took him down the stairs and out the door to an Apparating point. His wand took him to Kings Cross where he bought a ticket to a train that would take him to Wales where he would board a ferry for Ireland, head south and maybe west or perhaps back east to the Continent. Either way, he'd never been to either Wales or Ireland so both sounded like fun.

The train didn't leave for another hour so there Harry sat, watching the toe of his trainer scuff the dirty tile of the waiting area instead of people watching as he supposed he should have.

Even for years afterwards he still wouldn't be able to figure out what exactly made him look up but look up he did and there, just sitting down across from him was a familiar bushy head of hair. She was replacing her wallet in her bag and was settling down for a wait when she too looked up and noticed him.

Time froze in that instant. They both knew what the other was doing, if not where they were going. It didn't matter; the destination was the same if not the route.

“Well…” Harry finally spoke up. “This is awkward.”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed, sitting back in her chair and watching him with a touch of wariness.

The silence that sprang up between them stretched until it snapped. “Where're you going?” Hermione asked softly.

"Wales. You?”

Her lips (it was all he could do not to lean across and press his to hers, fuse them together like they had been a mere three hours before) twitched in a grin. “Me too.”

“Ireland?”

“Ireland.”

“D'you… want to sit next to me on the train?” he asked looking down at the rubber tip of his trainer scuffing the dirty tile of the waiting area.

“Yeah… I do…” she murmured standing and sitting next to him. She opened her palm on the arm rest between them and he put his hand in hers, entwining their fingers together.

“Is this still running away?” he whispered looking over at her.

“No. Not when you've been found.”

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