A Galleon For Your Thoughts

A/N: This is in response to a writing exercise posted on Midnites_Angel's LiveJournal at http://midnites_angel.livejournal.com. The story had to include the words: moody, Harry, bungalow, banana, aspirin, and temperature. The story must start with: It was just after dark…

Special thanks to Midnite and Cleo for jump starting me back into writing again!

A Galleon For Your Thoughts

It was just after dark and Hermione was sitting in her usual spot on the sofa. Her ankle ached and she put down her book to gaze at Harry. He was quietly tending the fire and seemed lost in thoughts of his own.

At least he seems peaceful here, she thought. It was one of her more brilliant ideas to find this cozy bungalow in the Scottish countryside. It was their escape from the world, and these days they needed to escape more and more often. The past 18 months of searching for and destroying horcruxes had certainly taken their toll. Harry had become so moody, in fact, that Fred and George had bespelled the address plate on the door of 12 Grimmauld Place to read 12 Grim Old Place. The constant in and out of Order members and whinings of Mrs. Black's portrait left Harry with a very short fuse.

So, Hermione often brought Harry here under the guise of her own need to get away from being called "Filth!" or "Mudblood" everytime she walked past the foyer. Tonight, however, Harry was the one to suggest their coming here. She could tell he was a little pissed at Ron at the moment and he wasn't in the mood for the Weasley Family after-meeting meal that took place after every Order meeting.

It was Ron's fault, after all, that Hermione was now stuck on the sofa trying to keep warm as the temperature slowly dropped outside the bungalow. In typical Ron fashion, he couldn't wait until dinner was ready. He had snacked on a banana of all things and thoughtlessly dropped the peel on the floor.

This was the very same peel that Hermione slipped on and subsequently twisted her ankle. "Bloody hell," she remembered herself saying, among other choice words. Harry had immediately come to her aide with concern glistening in his eyes. He had then given Ron a brief synopsis of what he thought about thoughtless prats who discarded their trash on the floor.

Fortunately Hermione had become quite good at being a mediator for Moody Harry and was able to stabilize the situation before it escalated to Troll levels. Ron had sulked away to eventually be cheered up by Luna and then Harry and Hermione had left to come here. Although Ron had been to the bungalow before, it was more for Harry and Hermione. Ron found comfort in his family. Harry and Hermione did not.

Hermione's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the image of Harry standing over her.

"I found some aspirin in the medicine cabinet. If you'd rather not take muggle medicine I can always go back to Grimmauld Place for a potion," Harry offered.

"No, this will do. I grew up on muggle medicine after all," she replied. Perhaps their shared muggle up-bringing was one of the reasons they had such a close relationship. "Thanks, Harry."

"Not a problem." And then he began to rub her ankle. Those hands that had cast some of the most amazing spells, that could conjured a powerful patronus, and that would eventually destroy Voldemort, were now caressing her lower leg and foot.

How strong, yet gentle, Hermione mused. Their relationship had always included small forms of physical contact - hugging, hand holding, shoulder rubs - but over the last year and a half these encounters were more frequent, lasting longer, and seeming to be more of an actual need on the part of both Harry and herself.

Hermione tried hard not to let her thoughts follow the path her heart so badly wanted to follow, but the way his warm hands felt so smooth on her skin kept her defenses down. How many times had she secretly fantasized about Harry and his hands? She was amazed to find that she could be so jealous of a snitch!

Watching him during their training sessions was perhaps the biggest challenge. Sweaty Harry without a shirt on could definitely rival Harry in dress robes at the Yule Ball, depending on the mood she was in. Her favorite feature of Harry's was still up for debate. Those green, intense eyes, or those full, red lips. Lips...ahh, now that was...

"Hermione?", Harry called, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Uh, yes, Harry," she said, hoping her thoughts weren't evident on her face.

"This is kind of awkward, but I just wanted to remind you that you said I could practice my Legilimens on you a little while ago. I've been working on it for the past half-hour."

Shite. Damn. Bloody hell. Hermione's face reddened and she realized that, brilliant as she was, she had forgotten that all this time Harry was trying to enter her mind. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she forgot to censor them.

Suddenly, Hermione's embarrassment eased up a little as she felt Harry's thoughts enter her mind. They were reassuring and warm. They reciprocated her feelings and before she could respond, Harry's lips descended on hers. Warm and tender, just as she'd always imagined. She began to chuckle through their kiss and Harry pulled back a little.

"What's so funny," he said, smiling at her adoringly.

"A galleon for your thoughts, Potter," she said and kissed him again!

~End

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