A/N:
Here's the next chapter. I hope you guys like it!
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The next day...
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Hermione woke up with a very different feeling ---
Oh come on, did you really think I`d leave you hanging like that?
Don`t be mad, it was pretty funny (probably)...
All right, go on to the next paragraph...this one's the beginning of this chapter for real...
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Harry stopped in midstride, unsure of what he'd just heard.
He'd had a few drinks, but he was quite certain he wasn't drunk enough to be hallucinating.
How many times in the past few nights he'd come close to asking her to spend the night with him?
It was torture, this, that though they were husband and wife, lived in the same house, and hell, even slept in the same bed, he didn't believe he'd the right to touch her, claim her as his own. His hands, which had done so much terrible deeds, were not fit to even graze her soft skin.
He placed his shaking hands on his waist and hung his head to in defeat.
He sighed before answering her, not even sure if he should. "An offer, my lady?"
Hermione wrung her hands together, glad that he couldn't see the uncertainty on her face.
She didn't know what possessed her to actually say the thought aloud.
She'd been expecting a wedding night ever since they were married. At first it was a relief that he didn't demand it right away. Soon after, her relief turned into wonder, and then lately, disappointment, when night after night, she waited for him to ask, but he didn't.
The catalyst for her bravery was the possibility that he might seek intimacy somewhere if he didn't share it with her, a thought that had plagued her throughout the night.
But it wasn't the reason...
She didn't want this just so he would not leave...
She wanted it because...she wanted it...
The physical contact...
The heat...
Everything he made her feel...
Just the thought made her heart beat faster, her breath shorter...
"A reminder," she murmured softly.
At first, she didn't think he heard her.
But, slowly...deliberately, he turned.
And met her gaze...
Whatever he saw there must have been mirrored in his face for he saw, with barely concealed interest that Hermione's breath suddenly picked up, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched this sudden uncontrollable beating in his heart.
How it happened or when it happened, there was no certain answer. But he was soon standing directly in front of her, one hand on her shoulder, the other restless, caressing her face, grazing that spot right behind her ear, and moving up and down her arms. And then, he stilled, his hand arrested on the side of her cheek, his thumb tracing her lips.
He watched as she bit her lips in uncertainty and her eyes cast downwards toward his own.
He'd seen her do that countless times before, never saw the move as anything more than a habit. But not now, not when he was imagining all kinds of pleasure in his head, not when he kept on hearing the words she'd just spoken.
In one purposeful second, before that mouth of hers could voice out any protest, he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Harry had shown her how kisses could incite passion, could arouse the most dormant of all feelings within her. But nothing could have prepared her for this wicked onslaught, this never-ending exhaustion of energy. Her growing excitement matched the movement of his lips, a groan escaping them as he deepened his caress.
With every breath she took, she breathed him in.
He was everywhere.
In her mind, filling her lungs, swaying her heart, caressing her soul.
His kisses drugged her, made her dizzy.
She tasted his desire, his frustration, his...passion.
He was strong, holding her against him, imprisoning her in his arms, tightly, without room for escape. It was as if he was forbidding her to leave with his body, stopping protests with the gentle assault of his mouth, obliviating all thoughts with the sweet invasion of his tongue.
Yet her back stayed rigid, unbending...
And he sensed her fear, acknowledged it by stopping and pulling back.
He touched her forehead to hers, smiling, eyes closed, trying to regain his ragged breathing...
"You're trembling," she whispered.
Harry chuckled, smoothing the hair on her forehead and planting a lingering kiss on it. "Not as much as you, sweet."
Hermione closed her eyes as well, drew in a deep breath, but she couldn't stop shaking. She hadn't even noticed it, consumed by the feeling of desire. Despite her bravado, she was a bit frightful. She wanted this to happen, with every fiber of her being, but her body was unaccustomed to the waves of pleasure Harry was radiating into her, it was not in agreement as her mind and heart were.
Above her, Harry smiled.
Slowly, almost reverently, he took her hands in his and brought it up to his lips, all the while looking into her eyes. And then, he placed it on his chest.
Hermione's eyes widened as she felt his heart, beating rapidly almost erratic, against her palm.
He bent down so close to her she was taking in his very breath. "You do this to me, Hermione," he whispered, against her lips. "Do not be afraid."
Somehow, he had changed it from her to him. A shiver of delight reverberated throughout her whole body. And as if sensing her acceptance, Harry hooked his arm at the back of her knees and carried her all the way to the bed, where he gently laid her, his body following hers, not allowing their bodies to lose contact.
A reminder, she remembered saying, as his fevered touches became more demanding, more consuming.
This was no longer a reminder...
What he was making her feel...
There were no words, no words at all.
She felt beautiful every second that passed.
He revered her with his touch, the same way she humbled him with her acceptance.
Her whimpers brought him to the brink of uncontrolled frenzy. He was aching with the impatience of taking her, making them one. Yet, his self-control won the battle. He would not make this another coupling. With everything he was, Harry vowed he would make this night special, a night she won't soon forget.
He was in bed with Hermione, his wife.
His bride...
He'd be damned if he let himself think or feel that she was just anyone!
With his women, he'd been a generous lover.
With her...he would be a slave...
It took him the greatest sense of sanity to pull back, to stop himself from devouring every inch of her. As he gazed upon her radiant face, took in her eyes, slowly opening in wonder, he tried to pace his breathing.
"Shh..." Harry whispered, giving her a quick kiss. Then without standing up, he unfastened his coat, and discarded it along with his shirt. Before she knew it, he was back, taking her in his arms.
Hermione sucked in her breath at the sight and sensation of his naked chest pressed against her. Through the thin silk of her nightgown, she could feel his warmth, emanating all over her.
"Harry..."
Her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes. Blushing, she nodded. Slowly, he unbuttoned her dress with one hand, all the while looking into her eyes, respecting her innocence to never let his gaze stray away from her face.
When he'd disposed of her nightgown, he didn't allow her time for embarrassment, for he was soon kissing her with such reverence she nearly cried in appreciation.
When his hand left her waist, Hermione stilled.
With hooded lids, Harry looked down.
"Just say the word, sweetheart, and I will stop."
Hermione wondered if he really would, but she didn't want him to.
For the life of her, she wanted this.
"No." She saw the slight hesitation in his eyes, the disappointment and then resignation. He braced himself on his arms, prepared to stand up and retrieve his clothes but not leave, no...never leave. Yet she chopped her arms across his elbows, locking him on her.
"Do not even dare, my lord."
Harry's lips quivered.
And then he let out huffed breath.
"What am I going to do with you, Lady Potter?" he whispered conspiratiorally. There they were, lying so close, so intimate they didn't know where one started and the other let off, and he was bantering with her.
Hermione bit her lip, sober now.
"Take me..." she insinuated, looking into his eyes, letting him catch her meaning.
"Where?" Harry gritted out jokingly, forcing his body to calm down from her words.
Hermione wiped the sweat forming on his forehead, her touch ending as a caress on his cheek. "Here," she said and pressed her other palm against his heart.
Harry looked down at her solemnly, what little he could see of her face squeezing his heart with an emotion he would not soon recognize. Clasping her hand in his, Harry turned to kiss her fingertips.
"You're already there, sweetheart..." he whispered with barely disguised sweetness. "Tonight, I'll take you somewhere else."
And as a man of his word, he did as he vowed, giving her no time to think of what he'd just confessed. Perhaps it was just because of the moment, perhaps it was not. But all that concerned Hermione at that moment was the destination he'd promised.
And take her, he did, to a place she'd forever remember...
As paradise...
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"A messenger has come for you, my lord." Peter Pettigrew stood by the door, halfway inside his master's chamber, halfway outside, ready to bolt should any untoward anger be spent on him, which it often did.
Tom Riddle was not in a good mood.
Suffice it to say, that was an understatement.
It seemed that the dark manor, in which he lived, had become darker in the past few nights after news of Harry Potter's departure from Godric's Hollow with his wife had reached the estate.
In fact, his duties had gotten heavier since then. First from the list was his task to relay a message to Adam, which required him to travel all the way to London and search for the bloody man without a hint as to where he had been staying.
And for what message was that?
You know what to do...
What was that supposed to mean?
He went all the way to that damn place just to relay that one short sentence?
Not to mention, he had been told to spy on the couple, which meant he had to mingle with the Ton, which had not always been a pleasure for him since everybody seemed to think he did not belong in their circle. He'll have them know, once they paid attention, that he was the only son of a baron.
If it weren't for his loyalty, and of course, fear, to Lord Riddle, he might have been managing his own estate at Gryffindor.
The Potters had only been in London for one day, yet the havoc that Harry Potter's affairs were making to their marriage had been enough to convince Peter he had sufficient information to satisfy his lord.
Yet when he came back bearing the news, he was met with nothing but contempt and a beating that almost sent him packing.
"What?" Riddle drawled out boringly. "More of that bastard and that whore he chose for a wife?"
Peter blinked then decided not to say anything about that.
"Shall I tell him to come again on the morrow, then?"
"No." Tom Riddle said, waving a hand, or at least that's what Peter thought for he but only saw a shadow. "Let him come in here and see the state I'd been reduced to. Perhaps once he does, he'll do his job better than most."
Ignoring that comment, Peter bowed his head and went to the sitting room.
He returned moments later, the messenger behind him.
"So," Riddle sneered, already sitting up. "What did my heir say this time?"
"My lord," the messenger acknowledged first. "Lord Adam has confirmed his understanding of what he needs to do. He is on his way to carry out your orders as we speak."
For the first time in many nights, Riddle spoke with enthusiasm. "Good, that is good."
He slowly stood up and made his way to the messenger.
"Perhaps you could tell me all about that in the Drawing Room." He maneuvered him outside the room, Peter alongside him. "Wormtail, give this fine man a glass of brandy. Have one yourself. I will be down in a while."
Peter showed nothing of what he thought of this strange occurrence. With Tom Riddle, you learn not to ask in fear of being given more than an answer. So, he merely nodded and led the messenger to the manor's Drawing Room.
Halfway across the hallway, he and the messenger turned their heads sharply towards the room they'd just vacated, wondering why there were sudden bubbles of laughter coming from within.
Neither of them asked, yet that didn't stop theme from wondering, him, the most...
What was that message all about?
Hermione woke up with a very strange feeling.
The early morning sunshine was falling upon her face, indicating it was time to rise and face another day. Yet, her eyelids seemed to have their own thoughts and as of now, were still unwilling to open.
Her rest had been uneventful, caused by the sudden absence of her nightly visitor, the same nightmares that hunted her from time to time, more so lately, since that night she ran away.
Whatever it was that gave her this languid feeling of contentment, Hermione was loathe to let go, thus her entire body seemed unwilling to copperate with her mind.
When she finally did move, it was her legs that kept her from going any further. They felt stiff and sore, muscles protesting and all.
She winced from the pain, and then suddenly, memories of last night came barrelling down on her. It was so unexpected that for a moment, she lost her ability to breathe.
And when she had recovered a minute later, her eyes suddenly opened and met, with surprised delight, and yes, maybe a little shock, the handsome and peaceful face of her sleeping husband.
Although still sleepy from the exhausting night they'd gone through, Hermione couldn't stop but stare at his face, now relaxed and void of worries. From beneath the silken sheets lying on top of her, she felt her heart and found it to be beating rapidly with each moment.
Dear God!
She`d never noticed how handsome he really was.
But being this close to him, having this opportunity to look at him without looking at him with those green eyes, disconcerting enough to make her turn away, she sighed dreamily.
She reached over to smooth the lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead. The scar that he hid behind his unkempt locks bared itself and she smoothed her thumb over it. It must have hurt, his wound.
Then, her eyes shifted past his aristocratic nose and landed on his lips.
Hermione licked her own as she studied his.
Images of last night, and where those lips of his had been, which parts of her it had claimed, came in a speed that threatened to take her breath away.
And take it away, it did!
She soon found herself breathing with difficulty.
With her forefinger, she traced the outline of his lips, wondering what it would feel like to be in control of a kiss for the first time? To give back what he made her feel when he took without inhibitions.
Before actually losing the nerve to the do it, Hermione leaned forward, eyes closed and placed her lips on his, not kissing, just touching, feeling the sensation of such gentleness.
How long she did it, she had no clue.
Still dazed, she closed her eyes, prepared to sleep off her desire for him to respond.
Then she heard him chuckle.
"It seems a bit too early for breakfast, isn't it?" he teased. He was looking at her with hooded lids, still sleepy, yet unmistakably pleased and aroused.
Hermione felt herself redden in answer. This only seemed to increase his playfulness.
"But who am I to turn down grace," he whispered merrily.
She tried to answer, but a moment before she could, she found herself being kissed thoroughly. She responded with growing enthusiasm, but when she stretched out her leg, she involuntarily winced. Harry pulled back, but did not ask. His eyes told her he knew.
She felt his hand graze her thigh in a gentle caress. He smiled and gave her a soft but swift kiss and then tweaked her nose. Dazed, she was barely able to comprehend more than a few words of what he said, "That settles my good morning kiss."
He then got up and strode across the room, retrieving his robe in the process. Hermione felt disappointment at seeing all that male glory being covered and tucked away for the day. But more so when she realized that the evening of passion they had shared had obviously come to an end.
"What are your plans today, Harry?" She asked, sitting up, watching him with barely concealed glum.
Harry glanced at her, pleased she called him by name in a different tone, and then turned away to face the vanity mirror. "I shall meet with my messenger before luncheon. Nothing definite after, though. But I surmise I shall be quite busy."
"Oh" was all she felt saying.
Dancing attendance upon her after last night had not been something Hermione expected, but she did hope for a little bit of change from her husband. Perhaps just a few more minutes of his time. Alas, she was mistaken. It was merely she who thought what happened meant more than just the physical act.
Adjusting the buttons on his shirt, just so that the smooth plane of his upper chest was slightly revealed, Harry leaned down and gave a pefunctory kiss on her cheek. "I shall see you later."
Hermione could do nothing but merely nod.
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"My lady?"
From behind the closed doors of Harry's library, Hermione heard her lady's maid call out. She put down the book she purchased the day before and answered.
The door opened and Eloise came in, curtsying before speaking. "His Grace has summoned you to the Dining Hall."
Frowning with wonder, Hermione left to do as she was bidden.
It was half past noon and Hermione had gone to the library after taking her lunch. She'd taken it alone, as Harry was still a bit preoccupied with his business to dine with her, something that added to her depression and brought an even greater worry in her heart.
Upon entering the Dining Hall, she saw her husband sitting at the head of the table, sipping what seemed to be coffee, and reading the newspaper. When he sensed her presence, he turned towards her and looked up.
Raking her entire form with a gaze that was unmistakably appreciative, he gave her a grin. "You look lovely in that morning dress, my lady."
Despite herself, Hermione blushed in pleasure, despite the fact that she saw nothing special about her green high-waisted dress with neat puff sleeves, which was apparently the rage all over London at the moment.
Harry bit back a wicked laugh. If she knew that he was not just thinking about the dress, but actually the one it concealed, she would probably be doing more than just blushing a becoming shade of pink.
"Thank you, this was---"
"Perhaps you might like to change into something else?" Harry interrupted her, enjoying the way her mouth turned into an 'o'.
She blinked. "Beg pardon?"
"You can't very well go traipsing into town in a morning dress, can you?"
His words merely increased her confusion, her brows creasing. "Am I going out?"
Harry shook his head, then he shifted his head back towards the paper he had been reading. "No, sweet."
"Then---"
"We are."
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Life in Town was not as exciting as compared to how one so fresh and innocent initially thought it was.
There were jewellers' shops, booksellers, lending libraries, and millineries all over, with people in different shapes, sizes and fashion walking in and out, curricles, carriages and phateons gallivanting on the road with teams of horses pulling their burden. Parks and clubs were at the residents' disposal, providing young couples with the opportunity of romantic courting, amidst a group gathered for a picnic.
It was a buzzing busy place, but not exactly exciting, especially for Hermione who had seen it before and had long since then experienced visiting and meeting far more memorable places and people.
But to sit under the sun, on a lovely green field, albeit slightly concealed behind a huge tree trunk, with a husband contentedly sleeping on one's lap was something she'd never done before.
It was not in fashion amongst the Ton to show affection between married couples. Yet, neither she nor Harry cared whether people who recognized them paused in between strolls to glance, if not stare, at their position, or discreetly whisper their disapproval to their indifference.
For Hermione, it was a merely a blissful day, an unexpected one at that.
But for Harry, it was something else.
Last night, the entire Ton had been privy to their awkward situation, it was just right that they should witness their comfort now.
Watching the lake lying so still in front of them, the distant sound of children playing near the water echoing in her ears, Hermione looked down at Harry, unaware that her hand was caressing his hair.
"We came here for your shipping problems," she whispered, knowing that despite his closed eyes, he was fully awake. "Should you not be dealing with them right now? We just arrived yesterday."
The smile on his lips was the only response she received.
She sighed, looking far away again.
It had been the perfect day.
He took her riding around the park, raced with her even, challenging her more when he didn't let her win, but actually urged his horse to go faster the moment she gained on him.
His suggestion to visit the modiste shop eventually landed them into a booksellers' where she purchased more than the number she had the day before. Harry had disappeared for a while as she browsed through the new arrivals, surprising her when upon his return, he'd been holding a bouquet of myrtles, her curiosity piqued when he said "I trust you know the language of flowers."
She had not bothered to recall what myrtles stood for, as she found it hard to concentrate on anything but the fact that Harry gave them to her.
And then they'd simply walked around, exploring and talking about various topics, mostly affairs of the estate, which had Hermione pleased, knowing that Harry trusted and respected her enough to include her in them.
After what seemed like hours of their excursion, he'd suggested they rest in Hyde Park where a nearby lake offered enough privacy from the prying eyes of the Ton. It was in this moment of rest that she remembered the reason they came here, which was certainly not to merely stroll all day.
"You met with your messenger this morning, Harry." Hermione tried again. "You must have sent some very important messages to your solicitors, no doubt summoning them for a meeting."
Harry caught the hand caressing his hair and brought the palm of it to his lips and met her gaze.
"I sent for a messenger merely to advise my solicitors on how to handle our situation even without my authority."
At the look of deeper concern on her face, Harry got up from her lap and leaned closer to her. "I also had them informed of my schedule for the rest of our stay. After today's meeting, wife," he tweaked her nose, grinned at her. "I am all yours."
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There'd been nothing but pleasure after that for both Harry and Hermione, though neither of them bothered to voice out. What seemed to have been the most satisfying day had been simply the start of more blissful and passion-flared nights and heartwarming strolls and delightful picnics outdoors.
With each day that passed by, Hermione felt her heart being broken into pieces, and then rearranged into a more fitting position in Harry's heart. Slowly, she began to realize that she was not merely feeling gratitude nor attachment to her husband, but something else.
Something skeptic people called deeper concern, but what believers called love.
It was a long overdue recognition that had been masked by past concerns and tainted with turbulent emotions. In the end, one thing was for certain.
If she did not love Harry just yet, she was halfway there.
Seemingly, there may be a few things to like about him. But to look beyond what was apparently dominant was something Hermione had learned to do over the past weeks.
His past held the direst and darkest of struggles, but there he was still, strong and full of resolve. It was not easy to live after having seen death countless of times. For him to still be able to smile, it made her heart ache to remember and then leap each time he did because of her.
At night, when he lay sleeping beside her after making love to her with a passion that always brought tears to her eyes, she found it satisfying to look at the man he had become and bask in the glory that all that male magnificence was hers.
And, as if he always knew she was watching him, he would wake up, do so with a grin, then lean over and kiss her, pulling her in his arms with a contened albeit sleepy sigh.
She never knew how happy it was to be in love. Now that she was closer to it than she realized, It made everything seem right. If it were only up to her, this was the happiest feeling she'll ever want to know.
But hovering just above her ecstasy was the reality that she could be happier than this...
But that would only be if Harry were to love her in return.
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A week after their first night in London, Harry took Hermione out once again to enjoy the Town's busy streets.
While walking down the streets, dodging attempts at conversation with acquaintances --- who were probably just gossip-mongers --- Harry paused in front of Rundell and Bridge, which was the most famous, thus the most expensive, jewellery shop in England.
Hermione, who had been talking at that time, was forced to stop and glance at the shop Harry was perusing. "Shall we goi inside?" Hermione asked.
Harry patted her gloved hand, which was tucked at the crook of his elbow and then gave her a quick sideways glance.
"We are not going in there, Hermione. Just me," he said. Then he turned to her. "Would it be ungentlemanly of me to ask you to wait out here?"
"That is an undebatable question, Harry. I am certain you know me well enough to know my answer." Hermione smiled up at him. She inclined her head in his direction playfully, not giving him time to figure out her reply. "That would be a no."
"You are insolent, wife." Harry teased before releasing her hand. "I shan't be long."
"I'll be right here." She locked her feet on the floor, deliberately showing him she was taking her words literally. Laughing, Harry pushed open the door to the jewellers' shop, noting with indifference the bell that rang above his head and acknowedging the delighted greeting of the shop's owner.
Meanwhile, still standing where she was left, Hermione primly placed her hand on reticule and glanced around, hoping that a female acquaintance would materialize out of nowhere and draw her into a conversation.
Squinting at the rare glare of sunshine, Hermione's gaze fell on a man across the street who looked awfully familiar. As he seemed to have recognized her as well and had started walking towards her direction, she too began forward, the name forming on her lips.
Her friend raised his hand to wave, but she didn't quite see the rest of his greeting because a carriage suddenly pulled up in front of her.
There had been no time to pull back either from the sudden obstruction, for amidst the buzzing and hussling streets of London, and certainly not for the first time, Hermione Granger Potter was abducted again.
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A/N:
I would move this into the R-rating but I guess it's not really R, just PG-13.
I had no idea what I was writing during the first scene. Never really had the opportunity to write that kind of scene before, so I guess it wasn't that effective.
Okay, so this didn't have it's long conversations, for which I WAS particularly fond of in the previous chapters. It didn't call for it because it had a climactic beginning, i didn't want the entire chapter to be filled with tension.
If Hermione's revelation about her feelings came as a unfitting to any reader, I guess I am to blame. In writing chapters with a long time in between, I probably lost the sense of continuity and might have appeared foisting it suddenly in this chapter. But then again, when I read romance novels, i often find myself wondering why authors choose to have their characters proclaim their love in those particular moments. Then I realize that no timing can ever be right or wrong for a man or a woman to realize how he/she feels. Sometimes, it springs out of nowhere, sometimes it gradually reveals itself. As I quoted in the revelation, Hermione's proclamation is long overdue. It would have been sillier had I said yet again that she didn't love him at all.
*The terms, places or names pertaining to the regency era in this story are not meant to be historically correct in some parts. So yeah...
I apologize yet again for the 3-month wait. I know you guys are getting impatient with me, probably you're not going to believe me when I say I'd have the next chapter up soon, but to tell you honestly, I've not been feeling the urge to write. I've been preoccupied lately with work, and worrying about whether or not I study this year. As I have recently been splurging my money on things that I missed out on buying before, I have nothing to send myself off to college. That's pretty stupid, eh? But I'm leaning the error of my ways and I have started saving.
Anyway, just one last note. Does anybody know the Asian group Dong Bang Shin Ki, a.k.a Tohoshinki, a.k.a. TVXQ? They're my favorite band, recently proclaimed though. They're so awesome, so if you're a fan as well, I'd like to know. Hehe...
I won't be making any promises, you'll probably curse me to hell and back if I did. So I'll just leave you with an "until next time!"
thank you so much for reading! I hope you guys won't get tired of waiting.
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