Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.
Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be
Switchfoot
Dare You To Move
Chapter Eighteen: Signal To Noise
Wednesday, November 13th, 2002; 6:36 pm
"You sure you don't want to come with me?"
"Not tonight, mate," Ron answered.
"Ok…" Harry said. "But why?"
The redhead shrugged, staring at the chess board between them. Harry was losing spectacularly, as usual.
"Don't feel like it."
"But it's Hermione," Harry emphasized.
Ron glanced up at Harry and shrugged again. Harry wanted to reach out and hit his best friend in the face. Why was he so indifferent about this whole thing?
"I know," Ron said, moving his Knight. "Check."
Harry considered his next move for three or four seconds and then decided to throw the rest of the game. He moved his King behind his Queen, which Ron would take next. The hour was late and he wanted to get to the Hospital Wing before Madam Pomfrey kicked out all visitors.
"She would go for you," Harry said, watching as his Queen fell.
"Check," Ron said.
"And you know it," Harry added, moving his King again. The game would be over soon.
"Yeah, probably…" Ron trailed off, cutting down another of Harry's pieces. He looked up. "Checkmate."
Harry sat back, watching detachedly as his remaining pieces raised their fists at him and marched off the board.
"So? Why won't you come?"
Ron sighed, sounding quite exasperated. "Because I've bloody been there almost every night for the past two weeks. Can I just have a night to myself?"
Harry frowned at Ron. "This isn't supposed to be a chore, Ron. It's Hermione we're talking about here."
"Yeah, a Petrified Hermione. Honestly, what trouble can she possibly get into without being able to move a muscle?"
Harry couldn't believe Ron was being so callous about this. Their mutual best friend was sidelined indefinitely, partly because of their actions, and he did not even want to go see her for five minutes.
"I don't really think that's the point, Ron."
"Would you just let it go?" Ron asked, putting the chess pieces away. "I'll go tomorrow night."
"If she can still hear us, she will know that you aren't coming with me," Harry told him.
"Oh well," Ron said. "I hope she isn't too disappointed."
Harry stood up and paced away from his friend; he was sorely tempted to hit Ron, unlike he had ever wanted to hit anyone in his life, so moving away was the best option.
"Suit yourself," he said. "See you later."
"Later, mate," Ron said, infuriatingly unconcerned.
Harry seethed for a short while as he traversed the silent and empty corridors, but his anger faded as he neared the Hospital Wing. Honestly, if Ron didn't want to visit Hermione every night, that was his prerogative; Harry supposed he shouldn't be angry with Ron-or at least not completely furious.
The hush of the cavernous stone corridors, where every footstep produced a muffled echo, turned into a completely different kind of silence as he pushed open the doors of the Hospital Wing. His thoughts of Ron were quickly forgotten as he crossed the muted space, with its rows of beds and sterile smell. He could see Madam Pomfrey in her office; she was at her desk doing some work by the flickering gaslight of a lamp. She looked up and smiled warmly at him, and he waved back.
Being careful not to disturb any of the patients, he moved to the far end of the Wing. A familiar tangle of brown hair greeted his eyes as he drew closer, though it was splayed across a white pillow, hard and unmoving. Pomfrey had told them all to be the most careful with her hair, because if touched or handled improperly, it could break apart. Strands of hair that had been turned to stone were very delicate.
He stopped by the end of her bed for an undefined period of time, just staring down at her serene and unmoving features. Her eyes were half-open and he could just make out her auburn irises; otherwise, she looked like she was asleep. He knew she wasn't, of course, and that was a fantasy he could not afford to lose himself in at this point. She had been affected by the malignant force inside Hogwarts, and he had made it his duty to use her last clue and hunt the Basilisk to its death. He had no idea how he would accomplish that, however, so he ventured here every night to draw some silent inspiration from his best female friend.
Even though she couldn't respond or move, he had a funny feeling that she might be able to hear what he said. So his nights here inevitably turned into one-sided conversations as he talked about whatever was on his mind. His brain would fill in what he imagined Hermione might say to his comments or questions. He knew it was futile and probably pathetic, but he missed her daily presence in his life. It was odd without her there to remind him about emphasizing the second syllable of wingardium, to fill his plate with toast in the mornings, and to be the last face he saw every night before climbing the stairs to his dormitory. He supposed by sitting here with her, she still was one of the last faces he saw every day, but there was big difference: she was usually smiling or laughing at something he'd said, instead of staring impassively with hooded eyes at the ceiling.
Harry sat down in the chair beside her bed and rested his elbows next to her body. The bed creaked slightly with his added weight. He wondered when the Mandrake juice would be ready, and hoped it would be very soon. He couldn't wait for her to wake up-he smiled when he thought of how distraught she would be upon realizing how many classes she'd missed-and wanted to be there for her when she did. He hoped being one of the first things she saw after nearly coming face-to-face with a Basilisk would quickly set her mind at ease.
"Hullo, Hermione," he whispered. "I know you probably can't hear me…but I wanted to say hi anyway."
He paused, willing her to somehow respond. Nothing happened, of course. He sighed and continued gazing at her frozen face. There were faint freckles across the bridge of her nose he had never before noticed.
"I miss you," he said, though he'd wanted to say something about how odd it was not having her around. Instead, those words had jumped from his mouth. He said nothing more as he considered the disconnect between his brain and his mouth.
"I do miss you," he repeated, eventually. "Ron's great and so is everyone else, but it's not the same without you around. I keep turning to you in class to ask a question and you're not there."
Harry fiddled with the edge of the sheet. He was never very good at this type of thing, talking about his feelings-though Hermione was always the one who could get him to open up.
"This is probably pointless, as usual, but I'm going to walk you through today's classes," Harry said. This was another reason for visiting her every night; on the off chance she could hear him, she would not fall behind everyone. So for the next half hour, he recounted as much as he could remember about the day's classes, going over the lecture, the practical, and anything interesting or funny. It was…cleansing…to tell Hermione all of this, even if his words weren't reaching her. It brought him closer to her when she was the furthest from him she'd ever been. She was locked inside of her own mind and he had no way of getting to her.
"Ron didn't come with me tonight," he concluded. "So it's just plain old me, talking to myself by your side."
After his long monologue, the stillness of the Hospital Wing was almost oppressive, so he laid his head on her bed and closed his eyes. He pulled the chair a little closer so he wasn't straining to reach the soft mattress.
A very low thump… thump… thump… reverberated through the bedclothes into the ear that was pressed into the mattress, and with an honest and beautiful smile he realized it was Hermione's heartbeat. Petrification wasn't death, so of course her heart would still be beating! He decided not to wonder about the mechanics of a stone heart, and instead marveled at how close he felt to her in that moment. He was listening to her only sign of life like no one else had. Hermione was there, underneath that distant and gentle heartbeat-all he had to do was listen to it like he had never listened to anything in his life.
"Hermione, can you hear me?" he asked. "If you can hear me, I can hear you. I can hear your heartbeat." What did he hope to accomplish with this? He didn't know, but he wasn't about to stop now.
The soft thud of her heart continued, uninterrupted and unchanged. "Madam Pomfrey said yesterday that the Mandrake juice should be ready sometime in the next two weeks." Still nothing.
"And that's great news because you'll be able to get back to classes at least two weeks before finals," he added. Thump… thump… thump.. thump.. thump. thump. Harry's eyes widened as he, undeniably, heard her heart rate increase.
"You can hear me!" he exclaimed. "I knew it all along. Oh, this is wonderful!" he said, quite loudly. His words drew the attention of Madam Pomfrey.
"What's this about?" she wondered, coming over to Hermione's bed and looking down at both of them.
"She can hear me!" Harry said.
"How do you know?" Pomfrey wondered, and Harry heard skepticism in her voice.
"Her heartbeat-it sped up when I told her she should be able to get back to her studies soon," he said, looking down at his best friend's face. It was odd, looking at her unchanging features, when he knew she could hear and that she was probably just as excited as he was right now.
"But that's impossible, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, moving closer and waving her wand over Hermione's body. "She's Petrified-she's all stone, even her heart."
"But…" Harry started, suddenly crestfallen. He had been so excited. "But how is that possible? She's still alive, so how could she be all stone?"
Pomfrey gave him a sad, almost condescending smile. He frowned at her, which she did not notice. He did not need her pity.
"It's just how it works, I'm afraid," she told him. "She did not look the beast directly in the eyes and can therefore be cured, but that does not change the fact that she is completely stone. Even her brain."
Harry did not believe her. He supposed his denial was irrational, but how else could he explain that soft and rhythmic pulse he'd heard when his ear was against the mattress? He clung to the idea that Hermione could in fact hear him and that it was her heartbeat he was listening to, and ignored Pomfrey's further conversation. She seemed to take the hint and went back to her office after a minute or so. He pushed her sympathetic look out of his mind.
After placing his ear against the mattress once again, he found the reassuring sound of what he knew was her heartbeat and let it wash over him for awhile. It grounded him to the reality that Hermione would wake up and that she would be with him again. He couldn't wait for that day.
"I know you're in there, Hermione," he whispered. The noise sped up again. "I'm here for you."
-----------
Every single inch of his body ached. Several interminable moments passed as Harry hovered between the dream-flashback and true consciousness, and gradually he was aware that he was awake and alive. It was an underwhelming realization, after hearing and seeing the Killing Curse rushing in to end his life, but startling nonetheless. There had been absolutely nothing to do-the Curse had hit him and he'd felt his magic flare up, impossibly high and fast-and then nothing. Just…darkness.
He breathed deeply, reveling in the feeling of pulmonary expansion for the first time in however long he had been out. Blinking several times, he tried to make sense of the bright and blurry surroundings, but his eyes were still clogged with sleep and addled with the hallucinatory memories of his dream. There was a warm form next to him and he knew without looking it was Hermione. He just knew.
He had vague and disconnected memories of dreams and flashbacks, and he was already quickly forgetting all of them, but the last image remained indelibly etched upon his brain: Hermione during their second year, Petrified because of the Basilisk.
Harry's brain was trying to catch up to his sudden awakening, and finally the attack hit his mind like a speeding lorry. Someone had tried to kill him! But it wasn't just someone…
He had seen her face in that last instant before the green light of the Killing Curse had filled his vision. Her mouth etched in a rabid snarl; her eyes gleaming with wretched triumph; her platinum hair tucked into her dark hood…
"Harry?" a voice thick with sleep asked, and his train of thought derailed as Hermione stirred beside him. He turned his head toward her voice and blinked a few more times, mostly clearing his eyes of their blurriness. His neck creaked as it pivoted. It could use a good massage.
He found himself staring into depthless chocolate orbs. They were warm and inviting, and he could see the concern smoldering beneath the surface emotions. But there was one more emotion prevalent in her eyes, and it was love. It was the love he also felt for her, which she could undoubtedly see in his green eyes. Her pupils dilated slightly and the silver and bronze speckles swirled around the dark center as her irises adjusted.
Harry tentatively reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He smiled at her, and then his eyes were drawn to her lips as they started trembling. She returned his smile as tears began to drop from her eyes.
"Hi, Hermione," he responded, and she began to cry in earnest. She moved into his side and buried her head in his chest. He turned slightly, ignoring for now his screaming muscles, and tucked her into his body with his arms. She was soft and firm at the same time, and he felt like he knew every curve. Holding her was like going home.
"Don't you…don't you ever leave me again," she said, and he distinctly heard every word, muffled though they were by his body. "Oh Merlin, Harry, I missed you so much. I was so worried…" She sniffled and lifted her head slightly to look him in the eyes once again. Harry felt an odd pressure behind his eyes-odd because he couldn't remember the last time he had cried or even wanted to cry.
"I'll try, Hermione," he whispered, and his voice was raspy from lack of water. He cleared his throat, even though there was a funny lump in the middle of it. He swallowed but it didn't help. "I love you."
She squeezed him tighter and he returned the gesture. "Love you too," she whispered, and they lay like that for quite some time. At some point, Harry suffered a moment of panic as he remembered what he had been doing just before his run-in with Death-but a quick inventory of his body told him the box was in the pocket of his pants. Funny…he thought he remembered putting the ring into his robes after making the purchase. He shrugged internally; the last five minutes before leaving the jewelry shop were hazy.
"What day is it?" he asked, after a time.
"Wednesday evening," Hermione answered, and then lifted her arm into the air. She waved it casually and whispered, "Tempus."
Golden letters appeared out of nowhere, shimmering slightly, and arranged themselves to form Wednesday, 13 November 2002, 19:05:23. The last two digits increased by one with every second that passed. Hermione waved her hand again and the image faded.
"So I was out for two days?" Harry wondered. It hadn't seemed like very long at all; yet, it also seemed like an eternity. He fleetingly wondered if it was possible to get lost within one's own mind.
Hermione nodded against him. "Yes, and I hated every minute," she said.
"Do you know what happened?" Harry asked, thinking once again of the familiar and completely unexpected face under the dark hood. It was someone directly out of his nearly-forgotten past-certainly a past from which he had successfully moved.
"Do you?" Hermione asked, looking at him with her penetrating eyes. Vivacious and intoxicating were only two of the many words he could use to describe those wonderful eyes.
"No," he told her. "Not really, at least."
"Just that someone tried to kill you?" Her voice had quickly become hard and bitter, and he entwined his fingers in her hair and gently stroked.
"And failed," he reminded her. "I'm still here. You can't get rid of me that easily," he joked, and was rewarded with a tiny smile from Hermione. It was still tinged with sadness and anger, though.
"How?" He received that same penetrating look. "Harry, how?" she wondered.
"I don't know," he answered, truthfully. He had apparently survived the Killing Curse twice now, something no creature had ever done once. "I honestly don't know. I felt a burst of my magic just as the Curse hit me, but nothing else. I didn't even have time to think about Disapparating."
"Not that I'm complaining, mind you…"
"I know, Hermione."
"Fred and George were at their shop, and I guess George saw the attack because he was using that sign of theirs. They rushed into the Alley and Fred sent his Patronus the Ministry; meanwhile, George tried to fight off the Dementors-"
"Dementors?" Harry asked, disbelieving.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, Harry. Dementors… Perhaps we should have followed up on that Dementor at the Manor?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Hermione shook her head slightly. "Moot at this point; anyway, Fred's Patronus arrived at the Ministry and it broadcast the emergency message through the whole building, or at least the administration and Magical Law Enforcement levels. I immediately Apparated to the Alley without even a second thought."
"Through the anti-Apparition wards?"
"Through them," Hermione asserted. "It was easy, actually. Probably because I wasn't thinking at the time-it was just instinct, really."
Harry pulled her against him and pressed a soft kiss into her hair, glad that she had been there to save his arse once again. He'd cheated death more than a dozen times in his life and Hermione was responsible for at least half of them.
"Sounds like something I'd do," Harry told her.
She pulled back a little and had an interesting little smile quirking her lips. "It does, but that's nothing compared to what happened in the Alley."
"Do tell."
"When I arrived I saw twelve Dementors bearing down on George. Everything stopped when I got to the Alley; Fred had you and said you were alive and that he was bringing you here. I don't know what happened then. I think it must have been my rage at someone trying to kill you, and my frustration at the apparent lack of response by the DMLE, and the anguish of knowing you were hurt…but I completely lost it."
"How do you mean?" Harry wondered. He couldn't remember seeing Hermione truly angry, unless he counted that time during their sixth year when she'd sent the canaries at Ron.
"I mean I just lost it, Harry. I told George to get out of the way and then I destroyed the Dementors."
"Destroyed?"
She nodded, and he thought he could see some fear in her eyes. Or perhaps it was apprehension. Whatever the emotion was, Harry didn't like it.
"I burned them," she continued. "I used one of the Doomsday spells and incinerated them. I did that Apparition trick you taught me-you know, when you draw your magic to the surface like you're going to Apparate."
Harry nodded, waiting for her to continue.
"I scarred Diagon Alley, Harry. I melted the cobblestone in the process of destroying the Dementors. I didn't know I was that powerful."
"I did," Harry said. She just looked at him, and he could see some moisture shining in the corners of her eyes. "I always know you were special, Hermione, and not just because you were my best friend. You were always the first to get spells right and the last to stop practicing them. And it never tired you out; you always had more to give. And then this past spring when we were doing those lumos spells you saw for yourself what you could do. And now you tell me you destroyed twelve Dementors? Well, I can believe it. And I want to thank you for once again saving my skinny little arse."
She sniffled. "No need to thank me, Harry. I know you would have done the same for me…and your arse is not skinny."
"I would have destroyed one hundred Dementors if you were down, and you know it," Harry told her.
"You've already saved someone from that many, Harry," Hermione said, obviously thinking of Sirius. "We'd have to up the ante to two or three hundred to really challenge you…"
Harry chuckled, though it was a weak gesture. "I'm just glad I woke up to your beautiful face. I love you, `Mione."
"Mmm, I love you too, Harry," she said, scooting up the bed slightly and capturing his lips with hers, so soft and warm and pink. She palmed the side of his face; he felt his stubble scratching against the surface of her hand as they deepened the kiss. His tongue ran over her lip and she parted them slightly, allowing him access to her mouth. His tongue met the tip of hers and then swirled around. It was the passionate kiss of lovers separated not by distance or time but by tragedy. He was desperate to feel her against him and to reaffirm her physical presence in his mind.
His body was reacting to the kiss in very obvious ways, and because they were lying against each other, Hermione noticed and slid against him several times. She moaned into his mouth, breaking the kiss briefly and pulling his bottom lip with her teeth. When she let it go, she captured her own lower lip in her teeth. Her face was flushed and her hair was scattered about her temples. He felt her chest push against him with every rapid breath she took.
"Harrrrrry…" she moaned, and the blood rushed through his veins even more hotly and urgently. "I missed you so much. Even when you were right here I couldn't get to you…" She leaned forward once again, trailing her hot lips against the edge of his jaw toward his ear. She left a burning trail of nerves in her wake.
"I know, Hermione," he gasped, as she teased his ear lobe with her tongue. "I was dreaming-about the same-exact thing," he told her, through his shuddering breaths. She moved from his ear down the side of his neck, turning him slightly with her body weight and laying half her body over him. Her full and firm curves felt amazing against his body and as she half-straddled the evidence of his arousal, he knew he wanted her more at this moment than at any other time in his life.
"I was in the Hospital Wing," he said, as she banished his shirt and continued trailing her awe-inspiring kisses down his torso. "And I was sitting with you-it was during Second year-and talking to you even though you were Petrified."
"And?" she wondered, briefly breaking contact with his skin to prompt him. When she returned to his body, she engulfed one of his nipples in her mouth and swirled her tongue around the slightly raised nub. Then she took it between her teeth and bit down gently. He arched his back off the bed as the sensations radiated out from his chest, many of them heading south toward his raging erection. It was so intense-yet so good-that he almost told her to keep moving down. But she would go at her own pace.
"And I was convinced that you could hear me," Harry continued, as she switched to his other nipple. "Pomfrey told me that was impossible-but-but I could hear your heartbeat," he finished, losing words for a moment as she moved further down, trailing her tongue over his sternum onto his abdomen. Merlin, she knew how to push his buttons.
"Like I can hear yours right now?" she wondered. "It's racing, Harry." She pressed a few kisses to his stomach, focusing on his navel.
"I wonder why?" he asked, rhetorically, and then laughed as her warm breath tickled his lower abdomen. "Look what you do to me," he observed. Her body was now pressed fully into his erection. All that remained between her and it was his pesky clothing.
"I can feel what I do to you," she said, licking across the very top of his pants. "And you should feel what you're doing to me," she added, looking up the length of his torso into his eyes with a mischievous glint in hers.
"Give me a chance and I expect I will," he returned, grinning. Her eyebrows crept up her forehead and quite suddenly he was very naked. His arousal was pressed against her t-shirt, just above her breasts. She reached up and placed a warm hand over his hard member.
Harry closed his eyes at the wonderful pressure and waved his hand in the direction of the door. There was a soft squelching noise as he sealed the room against intruders. Nothing would break this moment between them.
She lowered her head to his skin and kissed further down, maneuvering around his most sensitive areas as she rubbed them slowly with her hand. She moved from his erection to his balls and back again. He wanted to burn the feeling of her hands into his brain-
"Oh, shit-Hermione," he said. She had pushed his cock toward his navel and lowered her mouth to his balls, and now she was swirling her tongue over them. She sucked one into her mouth as she began to pump him in earnest; then she sucked the other into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it at the same time. Harry couldn't even form coherent thoughts anymore. His entire consciousness was focused on her grasping mouth and what it was doing to him.
His right nut left her mouth with a pop and then he shivered involuntarily, emitting a formless cry of pleasure, as she licked from the base of his cock to the fully engorged head. The coarseness of her taste buds against the super-sensitive skin just below the end of his rock hard member almost sent him over the edge; he entwined his hands in her hair, willing himself to hold on just a little longer, to enjoy this treatment for as long as his body could take it.
"Herrrrrmioneeeee," he moaned. His mouth opened wide and then closed again as she engulfed the head in her mouth and then slowly worked in his entire length. He felt her throat close around his head as her nose bumped against his stomach. His hands closed into his fists, though somehow he was careful not to pull her hair. She swallowed and the action of her throat against his cock was unlike anything he had ever felt in his entire life or would likely ever feel again.
She developed a rhythm, bobbing gently up and down, but never coming more than three or four inches from his stomach. As she moved up and down, her tongue swirled around his swollen member; when she went all the way down, she stuck out her tongue and moved it over his balls. She'd pleasured him orally before, but never anything like this. It was beyond amazing. But he knew the end was near-he wouldn't be able to last much longer.
"I'm-going-to-come," he panted, and she nodded with him still in her mouth. But she didn't let up at all; instead, she increased her pace and when he bucked up off the bed several times, she went all the way down and stayed there. There was an enormous pressure at the base of his cock, waiting to explode, and when it did waves of the most pleasurable sensations he'd ever experienced flooded through his body. He gushed into her mouth, and once again he felt her throat working against the head as she swallowed everything he released.
When his body stopped pulsing and he could think again, she slowly-inch-by-incredible-inch-moved upward and eventually released him from her mouth. He was covered with a glossy sheen of saliva. When she looked into his eyes once again they were consumed by lust and had darkened considerably; her lips were red and swollen and looked impossibly and intoxicatingly luscious.
"Wow," was all he could say.
She smiled. It was a smile of triumph and knowledge and perhaps even power.
"That was… It was…" he trailed off, not wanting to say `incredible' because it would sound lame.
"Why don't you show me how it was?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. He needed no second prompting and reached down to move her up so she was face to face with him again. He kissed her and tasted himself on her tongue, but he didn't care. He ran his tongue over her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth.
He twitched a finger as the kiss slowly ended and was rewarded by the feeling of her skin against his skin. Her clothing had magically disappeared. He ran his hands up and down her smooth back, from the swell of her bum to the nape of her neck. He felt her firm breasts press against his chest; her nipples poked against his skin and he felt her wriggle slightly to place his erection between her legs. The heat emanating from her core was incredible.
"We both end up naked quite frequently," he said. She giggled.
"Yes we do."
"But that's ok with me," he added, and she nodded in agreement. She leaned down to kiss him again and without breaking it he turned them over so he was on top. He trailed his left hand over her stomach and then up to her chest, loving the feel of her firm yet somehow soft breast as he cupped it in his palm. The hard nub of her nipple pressed against the center of his hand, and he wound his whole hand over her breast for several moments, feeling and loving her excitement at the pleasure.
He lowered his mouth to her other breast and suckled on her nipple; she whimpered in pleasure and arched her back. He took as much of her in his mouth as he could and kneaded it with his tongue. Eventually, as her whimpers grew, he removed his mouth from her plentiful mounds and kissed his way toward her burning center.
He stopped to tweak her navel, but she impatiently pushed his head further down. He smiled into her mons as her insistent hands wound their way into his hair. As his lips encountered her other lips, her fingernails dragged against his scalp and she twisted on the bed. A growl of something escaped her lungs and he found himself pressed face-first into her moist folds. He parted the outer lips with his tongue and found the hard little nub buried in there.
"OH!" she cried, and bucked once as he played with her clit for a moment. She smelled and tasted wonderful, and she was so soft down here that he could suck on it for ages and never get tired or bored. Moving his tongue from her clit, her pushed apart her inner lips and sought her entrance; he darted in and out of her several times, moving his hand to her moist nub to pleasure her even more.
"Just like that…keep doing that, Harry," she panted, though when she said his name it was guttural and animalistic and nothing at all like her normal voice.
She pressed her thighs together and he found himself wedged in between her most intimate of places and her firm, toned legs. He was surrounding by her warm skin and he was currently sucking in and out of his mouth her wet folds; he couldn't imagine a better way to show Hermione just how much he loved her at this moment.
He reached under her and lifted her legs; she took the hint and wrapped her arms around them, behind her knees, and pulled them back to her chest. This left her completely open to his exploring tongue and hands, and he took advantage of the clear invitation. He focused on her clit once again with his tongue, teasing it with the very tip, and pushed two fingers into her. She cooed as they slid deeper and deeper.
When they were in as far as he could reach, he gently retracted them and sucked her entire clit and the surrounding skin into his mouth at the same time.
"Fuck-Harry! That's amazing-do that again," she told him, and he did as he was told, though he couldn't keep the grin off his face. As his fingers slid in and out of her-as her slick juices coated his index and middle fingers-he continued sucking on her nub. He felt her clench several times around his fingers and he knew she must be getting close. His eyes followed one of her hands as it went to a breast and started tweaking the nipple. He always loved watching her pleasure herself.
"Mmmmm," she intoned, grinding her hips and letting her legs down a bit. Harry adjusted to keep the same access, and continued his ministrations of her most sensitive parts. "I'm getting close," she whispered.
He rapidly pistoned his fingers in and out as he felt her climax building; he eased off her clit at the last moment and gently licked up and down her slit around his quick fingers. She shuddered and mewled and went crashing over the edge, tightening around his fingers and leaking out even more of her wetness.
"So good…" she moaned as she continued to ride the high.
After the clenching stopped he let his fingers rest inside of her; they made eye contact and he saw love, lust, longing, desperation, and passion. Her breathing was ragged and his eyes were drawn to her heaving breasts. Her nipples were swollen and very dark. He withdrew his fingers from her core and waved his hand toward his face, erasing the sticky evidence of his oral adventures.
Harry slithered up Hermione's body and rested against her. They were both slightly sweaty, but their warm bodies felt very comfortable against each other. He threaded his legs through hers and rested his head against the side of hers. Their breathing settled and soon enough their hearts were beating as one. He could feel the thump of hers in time with his.
"Before all this happened," Harry said, after a long time, "there was something I was going to ask you."
"Oh?"
"Yes…can you un-banish my clothes?" he wondered. He couldn't help the bemused smile that stretched his lips when he heard her giggle at his request.
"Sure, Harry." Two seconds later, his clothes were in a pile at the end of the bed. He reached down and retrieved the pants, feeling the hard object in the pocket. He lifted his head from hers and saw something like…expectation?
"Before anything else happens to us," Harry started, fumbling around in the pocket, "I have to pose this question to you."
"Ok," she said, staring at him intently. He gripped the box and pulled it from his pants.
"Hermione Jane Granger: will you marry me?"
He lifted the box into view and opened it, showing Hermione the breathtakingly gorgeous engagement ring within.
Her eyes slid from his to the ring and then back to his; an adorable smile then lit up her face all the way to the depths of her russet eyes. She placed her hands on his cheeks and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.
"Oh Harry…yes. Of course. Yes a thousand times. I would love to be your wife," she said, speaking quickly and almost gushing.
Relief flooded through him and he kissed her back. They broke apart and he lifted her left hand in his, sliding the ring onto her fourth finger. They both stared at it as it sparkled in the light of the room. It was then that he noticed the purple of her nipples beyond her hand.
He started laughing.
"What? What's so funny?" she wondered.
"Hermione, I just-I just proposed to you completely naked," he told her, through his laughs. She smiled and then chuckled a few times.
"And I accepted…also completely naked."
"A sign of things to come?" he wondered, after he stopped laughing.
"Hopefully. If they're anything like that…" she trailed off, signaling what they had just done with her eyes. There was that same mischievous glint in them.
She sighed and curled into him, wrapping her arms around his body. He reveled in the feeling of their skin-to-skin contact now that they're all-consuming passion had passed for the moment. It was nice just to lay there with her and enjoy the feel of her body as it moved gently against him with every breath.
"I love you, Harry."
He shifted, turning so that he spooned her. She pressed back into him, wriggling to place his flaccid member between the cheeks of her bum. If she kept that up, she would get a quick repeat of what had just occurred.
"I love you too, Hermione."
"Husband…father of my children…lover…keeper…" she said, with long spaces between each.
"Wife…mother of my children…lover…soul mate…" he told her.
She craned her neck to look into his eyes.
"Really?"
"Really."
She nodded in acceptance and looked forward again, resting her head on the pillow. He dropped a kiss to her bare shoulder and she made this endearing cooing-giggling noise.
"I can handle that," she said.
"I'm glad," he told her. "I'll have to get you some matching Potter and Black rings, too," he added, looking at the two rings he wore. "You'll be Lady Hermione Potter-Black, after all."
"Lord and Lady Potter-Black," she mused. He watched her twirl the engagement ring around her finger with her thumb.
He was reminded of Sirius for some reason. Perhaps it was the mention of his surname, but his thoughts of Sirius led to the favorite cousin, Tonks, and then to her mother and her sisters. Andromeda, Bellatrix, and-
At that moment, he suddenly thought of the face of the attacker once again. It came from the depths of his subconscious to the very fore of his mind. Almost without realizing what he was doing, he drew in the air to speak:
"Hermione, I know who attacked me."
"Huh? What-?" she asked, sounding quite startled and trying to turn over to face him. He cut her off.
"It was Narcissa Malfoy."
----------
Saturday, December 14th, 2002; 7:15 am
Harry was trying to cope with how busy his life had recently become, and although he thought he was doing a fine job, he wished he could enjoy his new engagement to Hermione more. Because they were both at work most of the day, they only had time for fun and games two-or sometimes three-times a day. If he had his way, and if Hermione had hers, they would never leave the bedroom. He hoped that never changed.
But life intervened in the usual way; it prevented him from doing what he loved (Hermione) and instead made him focus on other priorities, like his new position as the Vice Minister of Britain. He and Arthur had been officially sworn into office on December first, and the turnout from the Wizarding public had been surprisingly large. It might have been because Harry had kept an extremely low profile since leaving St. Mungo's and the multitudes wanted to catch a glimpse of their almost-fallen hero, but whatever it was the ceremony had been moved from the Ministry Atrium to Diagon Alley.
He had started in the next day with very little time for transition, and even he was a little surprised at how much work had been figuratively piled on his desk since day one, hour one. Apparently the government had faith in his ability to be the second-in-command; he had received very little guidance and was expected to fulfill all of Arthur's former responsibilities. The new Minister had taken to his job very well, and Harry joked that the elder Weasley loved the spotlight and would get used to it very quickly. Arthur usually just shrugged his shoulders and gave him that small smile.
Settling into his new governmental duties had taken the majority of his time during the past two weeks, but he also had his responsibilities as a Board member of Gringotts to consider, and he had almost daily communication with Ragnok and the other Directors over financial matters. He had privately met with Ragnok twice since leaving St. Mungo's; their first meeting had consisted of Ragnok telling Harry the goblin nation would see his attacker brought to justice; during their second meeting, they had finalized their plans for the trip to Rome. He would be leaving with Kregg, Hillmook, and Nebnar the morning of the third of January.
Even more pressing than all of these things, though, was the ongoing manhunt (or womanhunt) for Narcissa Malfoy. At first Hermione thought Harry might have been mistaken, but he showed her his memory of the incident through the use of a Pensieve, and she eventually agreed that it was quite unmistakably Narcissa Malfoy who had attacked him. They of course couldn't rule out Polyjuice or other appearance-altering magic, but they saw no reason for someone to impersonate Narcissa before attacking him. Before that day in the Alley, she'd had almost zero effect on Harry's life; in fact, Harry couldn't remember ever meeting her, though he couldn't be sure. It had been a long time since he'd been a student, and an even longer time since he'd had daily contact with her son…
Those thoughts had led to the consideration of what had happened to Draco during their Horcrux hunt. He had then asked Hermione if perhaps this was motivated by vengeance for Draco's death. She had shrugged and told him it was possible, though why Narcissa had waited so long remained a mystery.
Suffice it to say that when the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been informed, its forces were rapidly deployed. If Narcissa was in Britain, surely she would have been found by now; the Aurors and Hit Wizards, among others, had canvassed all of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland. Nothing substantial had turned up. Even the long-deserted Malfoy Manor was scoured, but of course it was empty.
The one sunny and warm spot in his busy life was his new engagement to Hermione, which at times he still could not believe. If someone had told him when he was eleven years old that the slightly annoying girl from the train would eventually become his fiance…he probably would have thought they were absolutely nutters. But here he was-here they were-engaged and moving forward with their lives. He often found himself wondering what the next ten or twenty years would bring; these daydreams usually included several children that looked suspiciously like him and Hermione.
His days were roller coaster rides, for sure, and he was glad he finally got a chance to slow down for at least a day or two this weekend. He was considering all of these things as he descended through the Manor from the master suite to the kitchen, looking forward to a hot cuppa and some delicious breakfast.
Two of their friends were moving ahead with their lives in a way Harry hoped to repeat in the near future-today was the day Neville and Ginny were getting married. The ceremony was scheduled for one o'clock in the Great Hall and all their friends and some of their classmates they hadn't seen in years were going to attend. Harry was looking forward to watching two of his oldest friends tie the knot. It gave his past a certain kind of closure, one which he didn't quite know how to express.
Now that two childhood friends were getting married, the reality of adulthood was in fact more real. In a way, it validated his new direction, his coming back to Britain and taking upon his shoulders the mantle of the Vice Minister position. If his friends were moving on with their lives and emerging into adulthood relatively unscarred from their chaotic youths, then he had nothing-or very little-to fear in attempting to do the same thing. And with Hermione at his side in all things, he looked forward to the future in a way that he had never before experienced.
As he sat down at the table, provided with some sustenance by the ever-helpful Dobby, Hermione entered the kitchen and greeted him. She sat opposite him and Dobby served her as well.
"Why don't you sit with us?" Harry asked, speaking to the Elf. "You can enjoy your breakfast with us. And by the way, this is very good," he said, enjoying the bangers Dobby had cooked.
"Thank you," Dobby said, sliding into a seat.
"Where are Libby and Winky?" Hermione wondered.
"Still sleeping," the Elf replied, smiling.
Hermione nodded and the three of them continued to eat; soon thereafter, they were joined in the kitchen by John and Erin. Harry's two Muggle friends had been extremely upset about the assassination attempt and even more upset about all the red tape they would have had to go through to see him in St. Mungo's, but Harry told them it was a part of his life and always had been. If people weren't trying to kill him, they were obsessing over him.
"What about you two?" Harry asked, looking at John and then Erin.
"Huh?" John articulated, through his breakfast.
"Well…you two are the only ones left out of the eight of us who aren't engaged…" Harry trailed off, seeing the looks on their faces and grinning.
"Fancy that," Hermione added, reaching across the table and grasping Harry's hand. "So how long before the happy news?"
"I dunno," Erin said, propping her hand underneath her chin and looking sideways at John. "Am I going to have to kick your arse to get you moving with that proposal?"
John looked like he had just been punched in the face. "Why are you all ganging up on me?" he asked, mock whining. He ran his fingertips through his short, dirty blond hair. "What does a guy have to do to decide on his own time how he wants to propose to his girl?"
"Just love her," Harry said, now genuinely smiling at his friends. They had settled so easily into the housemate roles that sometimes Harry forgot they had only been living in Britain for seven months.
"I think I have that covered," his friend said, locking eyes with Erin. "Soon enough is all I'll say," he added, smirking at them.
Erin arched her eyebrow in a very Hermione-like gesture. "Mm hmm…when are we leaving for Hogwarts?"
"Probably around noon," Hermione answered, looking to Harry for confirmation. He nodded.
"Ok…" Erin said, trailing off a little wistfully. "I'm so happy for Ginny and Neville. And then Ron and Luna are doing it this summer…and now you two!"
"Oh boy," John mumbled. Both women snapped their heads toward him.
"Yes dear?" Erin wondered. Harry shook his head at his friend's tactlessness. Hermione and Erin were as sharp as they came; nothing got past them.
"What?"
"Why did you say `oh boy'?"
John shrugged. "You were starting to gush."
"There's nothing wrong with that. Is there, Hermione?"
"No, I don't think so," she responded. "Especially when it concerns your close friends."
John conceded the point with another shrug. "You're right."
"I'm glad you think so," Erin said, smiling and winking at John. He waggled his eyebrows at her.
Harry put his palm to his face and groaned.
"What's the matter?" John asked.
"You two are just impossible. Do you know that?"
"You love me, Potter," John asserted. He had a cocky smile on his face. Erin giggled under her breath and she and Hermione smiled at each other.
"Ha!" Harry exclaimed. "Hardly!"
"Oh come on, don't lie, you know you do."
"Actually Sanders, I love Hermione. I might like you just a little bit, but love? That's reserved for this beautiful witch," he told John, looking at Hermione.
John threw up his hands in defeat. "I know I can't compete with Hermione. I guess I'll have to settle for now."
"Excuse me?" Erin asked. "Settle for me?"
"Nice job Sanders," John told himself, laughing through his words. "You always know how to put your foot in your mouth."
"Couldn't have put it better myself," Erin agreed, nodding at his words.
"Have you four actually been talking about anything?" Dobby wondered. He had been quietly listening to the early morning banter all along.
"Uh…not really," Harry laughed.
"Thought not," Dobby asserted. This caused the four of them to grin at their diminutive friend.
"Does it bother you?" Hermione asked.
Dobby shook his head. "Of course not, Hermione. I think I will try this on Winky sometime-perhaps I will even wake her up right now with some of this meaningless conversation," he told them, getting down from his chair and leaving the kitchen. The four of them looked at each other across the table and burst out laughing.
The morning passed quickly; Harry strolled through the expansive Manor for the first time in months, just enjoying the space he could call his. He chatted briefly with the Portraits, filling them in on the wedding and other various little things. They had been shocked and angry about the attack, but their glee at his proposal to Hermione had offset that reaction. Lily had cried and James had held her while Sirius mimicked giving Harry a high-five. James called Hermione `quite a catch' and Lily agreed through her tears.
The four of them met in the foyer around noon, dressed in their finest clothing, and prepared to leave for Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione linked hands with John and Erin and told them to hold on tight. They had only experienced Apparition a few times and still were not comfortable with the sensation, though they trusted Harry implicitly. After all, Apparition was how they'd entered the Wizarding world in the first place.
"Just meet us there, Dobby," Harry said, after the Elf had told them Winky was a little late getting ready.
"We can do that," Dobby said. "We'll be there shortly."
"Sounds good," Harry responded. "Here we go."
There was a pause the length of a shutter-click and then four of them popped out of the foyer with almost no noise. They arrived in Hogsmeade where a carriage was waiting for them. Once they were inside it started moving toward Hogwarts.
"Thestrals are pulling this, aren't they?" Erin wondered, having heard enough about them to guess correctly.
"That's right," Hermione said.
"And you both can see them?" Erin asked.
"We can," Harry affirmed, keeping his voice level. Erin nodded and they chatted about easier things the rest of the way to the castle. After arriving at the large marble steps and exiting the carriage, they entered and headed across the Entrance Hall for the Great Hall.
Harry had asked McGonagall to have the wards modified so John, Erin, and Hermione's parents could attend the wedding, and she had complied without reservation. They were meeting Dan and Jane here-McGonagall had supplied them with a Muggle-safe Portkey-along with the rest of their friends and family.
Upon entering the Great Hall and after listening to John and Erin marvel over the ceiling's enchantment, they headed for their table. Along the way, Harry was stopped by several people he hadn't seen in years, including Hannah Abbot, Seamus Finnegan, and Colin Creevey. They all congratulated him on his success in the election and wished him well in the future. They were shocked he was attacked but knew he would recover-he was the Boy Who Lived, after all.
Hannah surprised him when she said she was attending Muggle graduate school. Harry hadn't realized any of his classmates had taken a similar path after Hogwarts. Seamus owned several pubs and two clubs in London and Dublin. Colin was an affluent and well-respected photographer, evidenced by his tailored suit and polished manners. There was none of the fanboyishness Harry remembered from school. He thought Hermione might have told him Colin worked for National Geographic, but he couldn't remember for sure.
After wading through his old schoolmates, he encountered his close friends and family. Luna looked radiant in the robes reserved for the Maid of Honor; Jane looked enormous and must have been getting close to her due date, because to Harry she honestly seemed about ready to pop. In the busyness of their lives, Hermione's impending baby sister was something they had discussed only very briefly. Remus and Tonks were also there, with their young son William, and Harry chatted with them. It had been quite some time since he'd just sat down with the last of the Marauders and talked about nothing in particular, and he hoped to change that in the near future. Maybe Remus could offer some perspective on married life and fatherhood, something he would certainly need considering what he wanted for his future.
McGonagall greeted him and Hermione and they talked about Hogwarts for several minutes. Harry still felt slightly uncomfortable returning here, but his time back in Britain had done a good job easing that feeling. He didn't think he would ever feel completely at ease within the halls of Hogwarts, due to the countless time his life and the lives of friends had been threatened-or lost entirely-but the past was something everyone eventually moved on from. Time healed or lessened all wounds, and perhaps one day he might enjoy the Room of Requirement or the Quidditch pitch again.
Around one o'clock everyone took their seats because the ceremony was about to begin; Neville came in with his Best Man, Ron, and headed for the front of the Hall. Hermione had asked Harry if he was offended or jealous at all about Ron being Neville's best man, to which Harry had responded with an emphatic no. He knew that his absence from Britain for nearly four years had changed the dynamic of his friendships, and if that meant he wouldn't stand up with Neville as his Best Man, then so be it. He didn't hold it against his longtime friend, nor did he think he should. Hermione had accepted his explanation with a smile.
Luna came next. There were some appreciative murmurs at how well she filled out her dress in all the right places; she was quite attractive with her blond hair and gray eyes. Harry had never really thought about it before, but Hermione, Luna, and Ginny were all extremely striking, but in different ways.
As Ginny entered the Great Hall, a hush fell upon the spectators as they all basked in her beauty. She wore a strapless gown with a white tiara, which shimmered in the light of the hall; her hair was drawn up into a beautifully woven bun, and her face was lightly made up. Her pale skin and darker freckles meshed well with the stunning dress.
Harry watched Neville's eyes widen as he first caught sight of his bride. The official who was presiding over the wedding got things started when Ginny reached the front of the hall, and the ceremony passed quickly. Harry looked over to Hermione as Neville and Ginny were saying their final vows and pressed her hands in both of his. There were quiet tears in the corners of her eyes-a quick look around told him most of the women had similar expressions-so he just gave her hands a reassuring squeeze.
"I love you," he mouthed at her.
"I know," she mouthed back. They returned their attention to the wedding, which was just concluding with the spectacular kiss. Ginny pulled Neville down a bit and threw some passion into their lip lock, generating some cheers and applause from the audience. When they parted for air, their smiles were positively radiant.
----------
2:45 pm
"And then I told her to get her arse over to America and talk to this Harry bloke," Jane Granger said, winking at Harry and smiling at her audience. The reception was under way and he was at a table with Dan and Jane Granger, Hermione, Neville and Ginny Longbottom, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ron, and Luna. Remus and Tonks had left soon after the actual ceremony ended, citing their rather cranky young son. Harry thought William Lupin's fifth birthday was sometime soon; it was another thing he would have to ask Remus about.
"And she did," Harry supplied. "And I'm happier because of it. It's interesting how things turned out this way…"
"What way?" Molly asked.
"Ginny and Neville," Harry started, nodding at the newlyweds. They were still basking in the afterglow of their official marriage. "And Ron and Luna," he added, looking at the Best Man and Maid of Honor.
"And you and Hermione," Arthur added, gazing at them with a knowing look, strongly reminding Harry of the way Albus might have looked at them all. His thoughts turned toward the fallen Headmaster for a moment, briefly considering how much the man would have enjoyed this day. Seeing the students who had been most affected by the Second War were moving on with their lives and successfully navigating the tricky route from late adolescence to early adulthood would have been a nice validation of his work as Headmaster and mentor.
"Yes," Harry agreed, after a moment's silence.
"Doesn't seem like it could have turned out differently, now that we're here and can look back on it all," Neville said. His arm rested over Ginny's bare shoulders. "Does it, Mrs. Longbottom?" he teased.
She giggled. "No, definitely not."
"Mrs. Ginevra Weasley Longbottom…" Molly said, trailing off and looking wistfully at her youngest child. Harry recognized the look in her eyes. It was powerful nostalgia and it was sweeping her away on its wings toward some distant memories.
"I'm so proud of you," Arthur said. "Both of you-all of you."
"Thanks…dad," Neville said, carefully. Arthur nodded at him.
"That's the spirit! You're welcome, son."
"Or should I say: thanks, Minister," Neville amended.
"Dad will be just fine," Arthur told him, laughing a bit.
Jane grunted and shifted in her seat. Dan leaned toward her and placed his arm around her shoulders. Harry loved how easy Hermione's parents were with their affection toward each other.
"You alright, Jane?"
"Yes," she said, shifting again. "She's kicking a bit."
"When are you due?" Molly asked, perking up at the mention of the baby. Harry smiled at the predictability of the whole thing; he hoped Ginny and Ron were ready for how spoiled their children would be at the hands of Grandmother Molly Weasley.
"Monday, actually," Jane said. "So anytime, really."
"Have you decided on any names yet?" Ginny asked. All of them women at the table, with the exception of Luna who was staring at the ceiling, had leaned forward with interest at Jane's news. For Hermione it was understandable because it was her little sister.
"Maybe," Jane said, coyly, looking sideways at Dan.
"When she's born we'll let everyone know what we decide," he said, playing along.
"Come on, daddy, that's not fair," Hermione said, pouting. Harry and Ron laughed at the look Dan gave his daughter.
"That's not fair and you know it, Hermione," he said. "What father can resist his daughter's pout?"
"So what are you considering?"
"You'll find out when she's born!" Dan told them, grinning.
Jane suddenly jumped a little in her seat and then looked mildly alarmed. Harry looked at her, as did the rest of them. She reached under the table.
"Umm…that might be sooner rather than later. My water just broke."
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