Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off of this but I wish I could, since I think I deserve it more than JKR does, idiot that she is.
Author's Note: The second part of my 'Portrait of a Marriage' series, showing Harry's future the way it should be, if JKR had half a brain and remembered her own canon. Takes place before 'All He Ever Wanted' as you can probably tell. This was meant to be a ficlet, inspired by reading Dorothy Sayers' 'Busman's Honeymoon' and one of my favorite lines in 'Sound of Music' but it grew. And I wasn't intending for it to include smut-but H/Hr had other ideas.
So, fluff with a dash of smut. Cavity alert! Enjoy!
Portrait of a Marriage
A Matter of Trust
"Harry."
He looked up in surprise at the sound of Hermione's voice. "Hi. What are you doing here?" His smile of greeting faded slightly as he saw the look in her eyes.
"I came to see if you were free for lunch," she said lightly but he read the unspoken message in her eyes and understood that there was more to it than that. She just wasn't going to say it in public.
"For you, I'm always free," he answered, smiling, more for the benefit of the other Aurors around him than for her.
He got up, grabbing his cloak from where it was hanging. "I'll be back in an hour," he said over his shoulder as he followed Hermione out.
He caught up with her at the elevator door. "What is it?" he asked softly, under his breath.
"How was your morning?" was her response, letting him know with her glance and her words that whatever it was would wait.
He nodded almost imperceptibly. "It's been mercifully quiet for once," he said. "How about yours?"
"Busy, but not too bad." She was lying, he could tell. There had been something and it was troubling her; it was the reason she'd come to find him now. He kept his expression neutral, though, in spite of the concern. It wasn't an immediate threat and she, herself, was fine-he could see that in her eyes so he relaxed a little, his hand resting on the small of her back, as was his habit.
She glanced at him once they were out on the street. "I was thinking of getting take-away and going home."
He nodded, understanding immediately that whatever-it-was needed the privacy of their home. On any other time, he might have wondered, with a flicker of anticipation, if this would become one of their occasional lunch quickies, but not today.
They didn't say much as they picked up food and Apparated back to their home.
He turned to her the moment they were inside the door, the casual demeanor dropping from him as he shrugged off his cloak.
"What is it?"
She sighed and moved into his arms to kiss him briefly.
His arms slid around her waist as his lips captured hers in a more lingering kiss but even then, his concern nagged at him, distracting him, and he released her with a small sigh.
She took his hand and led him over to the couch, dropping into it and curling into his arms although she remained facing him.
"It's the situation in South America," she began without preamble.
He nodded, his hand on her shoulder tensing slightly but otherwise showing no reaction. He knew what she was talking about, of course. There had been an outbreak of some sort of virulent infectious disease in a remote part of South America and so far, none of their local Healers had been able to find out the cause or the cure, although they had managed, to provide relief for the symptoms. But the troubling thing was that this seemed to only affect magical people. It hadn't spread to any of the nearby Muggle villages and was only affecting the magical villages (South America being one of the few places where completely wizarding villages and towns still existed and were actually quite common, where they co-existed relatively harmoniously with their neighboring Muggle villages.)
"We were called into an Emergency Meeting this morning. The South American Ministry has asked for our help and we're going to be sending a special team down."
"And they want you to go," he finished for her, flatly.
"Yes," she said. "The Chief Healer asked me specifically because of some of the research I've done before." She studied him for a moment. "Harry," she finally continued softly, "they want us to leave tonight. They're only giving us a few hours to decide and then a few more hours to pack whatever we might want to bring."
"No," he blurted out in instinctive, automatic denial. "It's too dangerous."
She sighed, putting her hands on either side of his face as she leaned in to brush her lips against his. "Harry…"
That was all she said, just his name, but he understood what she left unspoken. It was her job and her duty but even if it hadn't been, she would want to go. People were dying; children were dying… It wasn't in her to stay behind in safety while others went into danger, not when she could help, not when there were other lives at risk.
He knew that; he even loved that about her. But at the moment, it mattered less to him than the one over-riding fear that he voiced in a husky whisper. "What if you get sick? What if something happens to you? I can't lose you now; I can't…" The disease was clearly contagious and though the local Healers had managed to quarantine off the few infected villages, the St. Mungo's team would obviously have to go into the quarantined area.
His worst nightmare was of something happening to her-and now, this suddenly made his worst nightmare seem more than possible; it seemed probable.
She was… everything to him. She was his wife, his best friend, his lover-but more than that, she was his life… How was he supposed to live without his life?
Her expression softened and she kissed him, her body fitting itself automatically to his, as his arms went around her, holding her to him tightly, almost protectively.
It was a few minutes before the kiss ended and she drew back just enough to meet his eyes, her expression serious. "If you don't want me to go, if you ask me not to go, I won't."
His breath caught in his throat at the offer. He knew she meant it; he could see it in her eyes, and he, of all people, knew just how much power he had over her-just as he knew that she had just as much power over him. She loved him, would do anything for him-if he asked her to. If he asked her to, she would stay behind, let others take the risk and not herself.
His throat closed as he hesitated for a fleeting, endless second. He was-God forgive him-he was tempted to ask. He didn't like the idea of anyone going into danger because of him but for her, to protect her… She meant more to him than anyone else in the world…
But even as he hesitated, even as he was tempted by his own need to keep her safe, he knew what his answer would be. What his answer would always be.
"Go." The one word was all that was necessary. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to say, to let her go so far away, when there was such a risk-but he could not do anything else. He couldn't ask her to stay. To do so would be to make her less than she was. He could not ask her to be less than she was, could not ask her to become less of the woman he loved-not even for his own sake, especially not for his own sake.
And he understood, too, that if she were the type of person who could sit back and let others go into danger while she stayed behind, he wouldn't love her as much and as deeply as he did.
And she thanked him with another kiss, a deeper, longer kiss, a kiss of some passion, yes, with all the intensity of his fears for her, but it was also a kiss of tenderness, of acceptance.
It was a kiss of gratitude as she thanked him for understanding. She would have stayed behind if he'd asked her to-but she'd known, even as she offered, that he wouldn't ask. It was why she could and she did trust him with her heart, her very soul-why she felt no trepidation or doubts about knowing just how much power he had over her, just how much she would do for him. Because she knew he understood and he loved her enough that he would never ask, would never take advantage of her love and her trust like that. Just as she would never take advantage of his love for her.
"When will you be leaving?" he asked in a somewhat rough whisper when they finally drew apart.
"We're supposed to get to St. Mungo's by 7:45 so we can leave at 8."
"I'll try to leave work a little early, then, so we can have a little more time."
She nodded, leaning in to kiss him again, and this time the kiss was explosive, became a heated tangle of lips and tongues as her hands fisted on his shirt and his hands found their way beneath her top to flatten on the bare skin of her back. She pressed herself against him, feeling the firm planes of his chest flattened against her breasts, feeling all the familiar heat of him, the familiar flare of arousal, as immediate and as fiery as only he could incite in her.
She tore her lips from his with a gasp, pushing herself away from him with palpable reluctance, as she glanced at the clock. "We should stop," she said, her breath coming quickly.
His head fell back on the couch with a soft groan of resignation, his eyes closing. "I know."
She forced herself to stand up, moving off from the couch and where she'd been half straddling him. "We only have about 15 minutes to eat lunch as it is. I need to get back to St. Mungo's to let them know I'm coming and then try to finish up as much work as I can before I pack." The lingering breathlessness and slight tremor of desire in her voice belied the businesslike words.
He nodded. "I know. And if I'm going to leave a little early, I need to get back too." He grimaced slightly as he stood up, glancing ruefully down at the bulge in his trousers.
She took a step forward, meaning to brush her lips against his, but stopped. No, she shouldn't touch him, not even such a simple, relatively chaste kiss, not now. With the way she was feeling, with the way she knew he was feeling, no kiss, no touch, no matter how chastely it might begin, would end that way.
She stepped back, moving to sit down at the table, and setting out the food they'd picked up on it with a wave of her wand.
They kept their conversation studiedly casual as they ate and prepared to return to work. But at the last moment, before they separated to Apparate to their respective work places, he grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips to press a light kiss on her palm, his tongue flicking out to leave a damp spot, sending a shiver of heat through her entire body.
"Later," was all he said.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Later…
Later was 5:30 when Harry returned home.
He hardly waited to shrug off his cloak before he pulled her into his arms, where she went willingly, pressing herself against him.
His lips came down on hers forcefully, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth, claiming her, possessing her. It was, from the first, a lush, blatantly passionate kiss, as the lust that had been smoldering in them all afternoon exploded, arousal rising up in their bodies like a tidal wave, sweeping them up in its force.
His hands were hard, greedy, on her body, as they touched, caressed, every inch of her, roaming from her back down to cup her butt and bring her arching against him and then up again to cup her breasts.
They stumbled blindly backwards towards their bedroom, still kissing.
She had no recollection of how or when they shed their clothes-they seemed to vanish as if by magic-until they were falling back onto the bed, his body landing half on top of hers.
She arched up against him, her hands wandering eagerly over his shoulders and his back, her lips only leaving his to scatter damp kisses across his chest, her tongue flicking out to touch his nipples, until he let out a sharp hiss of breath.
His hand slipped down to touch the core of her body, one finger sliding inside her, and she cried out, her body automatically tightening around his finger.
Her breath was coming in gasps. "Now, Harry, please…"
This wasn't the time for slow, leisurely love-making; she wanted, needed, more, needed him inside her now…
And he gave her what she wanted-what they both wanted-and entered her with one thrust of his hips, his hands tangling in her hair to bring her mouth to his.
He kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth matching the rhythm of his hips.
He slipped one hand in between her bodies to lightly pinch her nipple and that was all it took as she shattered, fractured, shards of pure physical pleasure streaking through every nerve in her body in a glorious explosion of bliss.
And he followed, the feeling of her muscles convulsing around him pushing him over the edge as he spilled himself inside her, her name escaping his lips in a groan, the one word somehow expressing all he felt…
He collapsed on top of her in a boneless heap before he managed to roll off of her onto his side, his arms automatically drawing her in closer to him, and she followed, her body fitting into the curve of his, as it always did.
He let his eyes close, savoring the warmth of her body curled against his, and for just a few moments, as his heartbeat slowed and the sweat of exertion dried on his skin, he knew peace. For just those few moments, as his hands moved in idle caresses over her skin, he knew the joy he always found with her, the joy he could only find with her.
But all too soon, the reality of the little time they had before she had to leave-the grim reality of the risk she was taking-intruded, inevitably.
He sighed, very softly, his arms tightening around her, and he felt her shift closer to him, dropping a light kiss on his chest and then his shoulder and then his chin.
She was the first one to speak. "We will be careful," she said softly, infusing her tone with as much reassurance as she could muster. "We'll be taking every precaution when we're there. And before we leave, we're all going to take the preventive potions and perform just about every protective charm for diseases known to man. There really isn't that much of a risk."
"Any level of risk, no matter how small, isn't okay with me," he countered, rather irrationally. Even though he knew, intellectually, that all she was saying was perfectly true and that, while there was still some risk, it wasn't excessive by any means, with his fears prodding him, with all the unknowns that this new disease presented, he couldn't be reassured.
Let others be rational; where Hermione was concerned, he was never rational, could never be rational. Any threat to her, no matter how small, affected him on a visceral level, struck him at his most vulnerable point.
He loved her; he needed her… He didn't know how to live without her…
She made a sound that was half a laugh and half a sigh. "Harry…"
He moved his head so he could meet her eyes. "I love you," he said in an almost fierce whisper, as if he were trying to reassure himself that no matter what happened, she would know that he loved her, know just how much she meant to him.
Her expression softened, her eyes shining with a remarkably tender light. And she wondered, half-idly, how many times she had heard him say those three words to her before, hundreds, perhaps thousands by now… And yet, even now, she still felt her heart thrill, still felt a little amazement that he really loved her… She didn't know if she would ever become so accustomed to hearing Harry say those words that she would become blasé about it; she doubted it and she was glad of it. She never wanted to lose this thrill, the burst of pleasure in her heart every time she heard the words.
She lifted her lips to his as he kissed her, long and tenderly, his tongue stroking and caressing hers, the inside of her mouth, one hand moving to cup her cheek.
"I love you," she breathed against his lips as the kiss ended.
They got up reluctantly and she took a quick shower-alone-but he helped her get dressed afterwards. That was a pleasurable but more time-consuming experience as he took the time to kiss and caress every inch of her skin before it was covered up by her clothes, taking all the time in dressing that they hadn't taken earlier in undressing.
She'd never realized, until him, that putting on clothes could be quite as erotic an experience as taking them off could be. There was an intimacy in being dressed by someone which she'd never realized, never appreciated, until the first time he'd interrupted her in getting dressed, not to hinder the process but to help it.
And so he dressed her, once she had put on her knickers and her bra, trailing his lips up the length of her legs as his hands slowly pulled her trousers up, leaving a string of light kisses up her stomach and between her breasts as he buttoned up her shirt, until she was fully clothed and his lips returned to hers, to kiss her lingeringly.
They kept the conversation studiedly casual as they ate a quick dinner, avoiding any mention of her departure or of his worry or, indeed, of anything serious.
She managed a gently teasing smile. "I'll be back before you know it. It won't be so bad. You can invite Ron over and pretend you're bachelors again."
He smiled. "Of course. We'll just lounge around in our shorts, drinking beer and scratching our bellies, as we talk about manly things."
She laughed. "Should I expect to come home and find the house a complete mess?"
He managed a grin. "Probably."
They smiled at each other until, slowly, the smiles from their somewhat-forced humor faded.
She took a small step forward and he met her half-way, his arms closing around her and his lips coming down on hers to kiss her. The kiss started out as a hard melding of lips and tongues but it gentled gradually, becoming softer, more loving than passionate. And when it ended, he brushed his lips against her cheek, the tip of her nose, her eyelids, before he rested his forehead against hers. "Be careful," he breathed softly, and the words were a plea.
"I will." She caught his face between her hands gently, meeting his eyes. She could see all the worry he felt, all his fear for her, lurking in the shadows of his eyes-and see, too, what it cost him not to say anything more, what it was costing him to let her go into danger and know that he couldn't help her or protect her. "I'll be fine and I will come back, I promise."
"I'll hold you to that."
"I know you will," she smiled softly and brushed her lips against his.
She let him go and stepped back. "I'll see you in a while."
He nodded. "See you," he repeated, in keeping with an unspoken promise they'd made years ago, not to say goodbye when either of them had to go away. Goodbye was too final a word.
She gave him a last, small, sort of tender smile, and then she was gone.
~*~
Harry found the note waiting on his desk when he returned from questioning a suspect in an incident of Muggle tormenting that had occurred a few days ago. It was unsigned but it didn't need to be signed; he knew the handwriting as well as he knew his own. It was her writing, when she was tired and hurried, quite different from her usual precise, neat handwriting but hers. It was very brief, just one line, but the one line was enough to make relief and happiness burst in his heart.
I've kept my promise.
How he got through the rest of the day when his entire being, his very soul, was in a fever of impatience to get home, to see her, to reassure himself that she was really back, that she was really fine, healthy and unharmed, he didn't know but somehow he did.
He closed the door of the house behind him and paused for a moment to stare at her cloak, once again hanging on its usual hook, savoring the sight. He didn't know when he had become this sort of fellow, to find so much joy in just seeing her cloak hanging up beside his, but he had.
He stepped quickly into their bedroom and stopped.
She was there, sleeping. He could see from the pallor of her skin (in spite of the fact that she had gotten a light tan in the past two weeks) and the shadows under her eyes that she was exhausted, and his heart pinched a little at the sight. She looked as if she'd hardly slept at all in the more than two weeks she'd been gone.
But she was home; she was safe-and that was blessing enough.
Quietly, he shrugged out of his shirt and his trousers and then slid in beside her.
It was a sign of just how exhausted she was that she didn't awaken but she stirred and shifted automatically closer to him, a soft murmur, "Harry," escaping her lips on a sigh, as he curled his body protectively around hers.
He let his eyes drift closed, feeling peace settle into his heart (a peace he hadn't known as long as she'd been away), and knew that he was home.
~The End~