Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: Apologies for the wait for this chapter. I am well on my way into the next chapter so hopefully it won't take nearly as long-but I make no promises.
This chapter has another little tribute to L/J and the Marauders, since I love them. And if the last chapter was essentially on what I'd call outside challenges to H/Hr's marriage, this chapter can be said to be on the internal challenges.
Enjoy!
The Truth About Love
Chapter 13: On Conjugal Relationships
~
Remus Lupin strode towards the portrait gallery, his steps almost completely noiseless even in the morning quiet that still pervaded the house.
It was too early for almost everyone to be awake except-Remus glanced outside as he saw something out of the corner of his eye; Harry was awake and was outside, flying. Remus smiled a little, reminded of two other young men he'd known who had had the habit of flying at the start of each day. Like father, like son.
His steps were deliberate as he moved to stand in front of the portrait of Lily and James, seeing Lily's serene smile and James's sober mien.
"You can dispense with your attempt at dignity, Prongs; you forget I know you too well to be fooled by it," Remus said drily.
Lily laughed as James made a disgruntled expression.
"How are you, Remus?" Lily asked smilingly.
"I am very well, Lily."
"Hello, Moony," James greeted him. "You are here visiting Harry?"
"Oh, Remus, how is he?" Lily chimed in eagerly. "We have not seen him lately, except once about a sennight ago, when he and Hermione were here showing the gallery to an older couple, Hermione's parents, I believe."
"Harry is quite well. We went over the account books last evening and Harry appears to be settling into his role as landlord as well."
"Oh, those account books," James grimaced. "Yes, that does bring back memories. I wish Harry joy of them."
Remus permitted himself a smile. "Harry was less than sanguine about his abilities but I have every confidence that he will soon learn."
"That is all well and good," Lily interjected before James could respond, "but, Remus, is he happy? When we last spoke to him, he seemed somewhat troubled about Hermione, uncertain of her feelings. You've seen them both, spoken with them; how are they?"
"Harry was uncertain of Hermione's feelings?"
"That is what he indicated to us when we last spoke to him about a fortnight ago."
"I think Harry is too modest or if he is not, then the situation has changed rather dramatically since then," Remus answered, thinking of his observations of Harry and Hermione's interactions last evening.
They were not outwardly demonstrative; Harry, for one, was characteristically reserved when it came to expressing his emotions. And the presence of their guests would, of course, preclude any of the more obvious signs of intimacy and any private conversation. But in spite of that, their happiness and their mutual affection had been quite clear-or at least, it had been to Remus, who had the benefit of having also observed James and Lily's relationship from when they had been courting to after their marriage.
He'd seen the way Hermione's eyes tended to follow Harry and the way Harry always seemed to be aware of Hermione, revealed not always through his eyes but more subtly, in the way his eyes and his smile brightened, softened, whenever Hermione laughed. In the occasional quieter moments, he'd seen the look in Harry's eyes when they rested on Hermione and, imperceptible though it may have been to anyone else, Remus had noticed that look, remembered a very similar expression on James's face when he'd looked at Lily.
More than all that, though, Remus had been struck by the silent communication he'd witnessed later on, towards the end of supper, an exchange that had consisted of Harry meeting Hermione's eyes, her barely visible nod and slightly raised eyebrows, followed by his equally subtle nod and her look. The exchange had been quick enough that Remus doubted anyone else would have caught it and its purport was easily explained when Hermione had soon after led the ladies out of the dining room, adjourning to one of the parlors, while the gentlemen had lingered over their port. It had been a simple enough communication but Remus had seen enough of life to know that it usually took many months, if not years, of marriage for a couple to attain that ease of silent communication-and many couples never attained it. In a couple as newly married as Harry and Hermione were, that sort of silent communication was rather remarkable and it spoke volumes for the level of intimacy they shared. No doubt their years of friendship helped but friendship hardly accounted for the softness he'd seen in Harry's eyes as Harry had watched Hermione lead the ladies out of the dining room.
It was all very subtle but very telling and in Remus's mind, a more hopeful indicator of Harry and Hermione's future happiness than even the most loving caress could have been.
Thinking of that now, Remus smiled a little. "I do not think you need have any fears for their happiness. Indeed, I would venture to say that in due time, Harry and Hermione may well become a by-word for a happy and enduring love match."
"That is good to hear."
"Speaking of love matches," James began, "Moony, enlighten us on something. Harry mentioned something about how they had to marry but he was not very forthcoming. What exactly happened?"
Remus told the story as briefly as possible before adding, "In all truth, I am fairly certain that the entire thing would have been much ado about nothing. With Harry's firm support and the support of Professor McGonagall, for one, I doubt any lasting stain could have attached itself to Hermione but even the slightest chance of that was unacceptable to Harry."
"I should hope so," Lily interjected. "We all know how brittle a young lady's reputation can be and how much glee some people in Society take in destroying them."
"That is true enough," Remus conceded. "Harry really could not have honorably done anything else."
"It must have been a simple enough matter since neither of them was engaged to another," James commented.
"Yes, simple enough as that goes," Remus agreed cautiously. "There was some vague scuttlebutt about Harry and Miss Weasley but that was all and not widely known."
"What about Harry and Miss Weasley?" Lily frowned slightly.
"He admired her and did not trouble to hide it, and of course, why would he. But it was never anything more than that, certainly it was never a formal engagement."
"But if Harry loved…" Lily began and then stopped.
"I don't believe he did," Remus assured Lily. "And I, for one, was delighted to learn that Harry would be marrying Hermione. Miss Weasley is a charming young lady but she is…" he hesitated, aware of straying dangerously close to an ungentlemanly candor, "very young," he finally settled for saying.
"Youth and beauty. Yes, I can see why she would make such an unacceptable wife for Harry," James quipped. "All she needs is a generous dowry to render her completely beyond the pale."
"Don't be absurd, James," Lily responded but her slight smile belied the words.
Remus chuckled, both at James's wit and at Lily's familiar scold. "Well, that, she is innocent of. Rather, what I meant was that she is still too young to be an equal partner for Harry, in striking contrast to Hermione. Harry and Hermione, on the other hand, are rather like a marriage of true minds. They have always been good friends and marriage does not seem to have changed that in the slightest; it appears to have only deepened their friendship."
"And I'm quite sure Hermione's mind is the aspect of her Harry appreciates the most," James agreed sardonically with an exaggerated leer.
"James Potter!" Lily scolded, hitting James in the arm.
Remus laughed. "I wouldn't say that, exactly. If I were a betting man, I would wager that you will become grandparents within a year."
James smirked before his smirk became full-blown laughter. "That's my boy!" he exulted.
Lily narrowed her eyes at Remus.
"You," she said with mock severity, "should not encourage him so."
Remus exchanged a grin with James before assuming a look of exaggerated innocence. "I? I have done nothing."
"Hmph. Absolutely incorrigible, the both of you, with your highly indelicate speculation," Lily scolded. "What am I going to do with you?"
James winked at Remus before assuming a thoughtful expression, pretending to ponder. "As I recall, my dear, you married one of us and befriended the other." He slid his arm around her waist as he smiled down at her.
Lily's response was another humph but she didn't try to escape the circle of James's arm and a slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She fought to hide it but finally gave in and returned his smile.
James brushed a kiss against her temple before they both turned their attention and their smiles back to Remus.
Remus watched the fleeting interlude with a hidden smile; he had seen it many times before over the years and every time had to marvel a little at the palpable closeness between Lily and James, especially considering that they had spent most of the first six years of their acquaintance at odds with each other, at least on Lily's part.
On James's part, of course, the feeling had been entirely the opposite. Remus remembered very vividly how one particular evening, in their 4th year, after yet another scathing set-down by Lily, James had watched her stalk off and then turned back to Sirius, Peter and Remus, who had been silent, wincing witnesses, and announced, quite calmly, "I am going to marry that girl."
They had all gaped for a moment before Sirius had begun to guffaw. "Prongs," he'd gasped when he'd regained his breath a little, "I don't know if you've noticed but Lily Evans detests you and last I checked, kidnapping unwilling brides has rather gone out of fashion." For once, James had not responded to the mocking raillery and the moment had been easily forgotten, dismissed as a crazy whim of the moment-only to be remembered again years later when the names of Lily Evans and James Potter had been on nearly everyone's lips as an acknowledged couple. And then each of them, on the night before James's betrothal was announced in the Daily Prophet, when Remus and Sirius had been enjoying a very fine brandy in their club, had received a note which had contained only one brief statement: I told you so. By that time, the announcement had not come as a surprise and Sirius and Remus had only shared a laugh at James's chosen method of announcing his renunciation of the bachelor state to them before drinking a toast to James and Lily's happiness.
Remembering that story, Remus grinned. He must remember to relate the story to Harry and Hermione at some time, he reflected.
"In all truth, Lily," Remus finally said, more soberly, "I don't think you need have any worries over Harry's happiness with Hermione. Neither of them has confided in me, of course, but Harry seems very protective of Hermione's happiness and I am quite certain that Hermione loves Harry. Indeed, I believe she always has."
"What makes you so certain of that?"
"I saw her when Harry was carried in after the final battle. She is not given to hysteria or the vapors, far from it, but when she first saw him, she swayed and for a moment, I thought she would faint. She rallied immediately and she was among the first to reach his side, where she stayed."
"The more I learn of my daughter-in-law, the better I like her," Lily declared.
"Yes, I rather thought you would," Remus said with a slight smile. "Indeed, if it hadn't been for her devotion to Harry, I don't know if this marriage would ever have happened."
"That's an odd thing to say, Moony. Stop being so cryptic."
"Well, one of the incidents that was seen as being so potentially compromising to Hermione's reputation was the fact that she stayed beside Harry while he was recovering in the Hospital Wing after the final battle. She adamantly refused to leave his side and so she spent the night in the Infirmary and I highly doubt she slept at all that night. It was not until late the next morning, you see, when Madam Pomfrey was able to assure us that Harry would recover."
Lily shuddered a little. "Oh, my dear boy… And that dear girl, to stay with him."
"Foul-minded old dragons to make a scandalous story out of that," was James's comment even as he put a comforting hand on Lily's shoulder.
"Yes, well, you know what they can be like," Remus agreed. "And in this case, at least, much good came out of it."
"That's true," James acknowledged.
There was not much more to say after that and Remus smiled as he left the Portrait Gallery soon afterwards to break his fast, knowing that Lily and James could rest at ease in the knowledge that Harry was well and happy-- and loved.
~*~
"Excuse me, Missmynee."
Dobby materialized in the silent fashion of most house elves as the ladies walked to the sitting room.
Hermione turned to Mrs. Weasley. "I will join you in a moment in the sitting room."
"Of course," Mrs. Weasley nodded her understanding.
Hermione turned back to Dobby. "Yes, Dobby, what is it?"
"Missmynee, Dobby was wondering if the disturbance last night was taken care of or if there is anything more which Dobby should be doing."
Hermione blinked and stared. "Disturbance?"
Dobby's already wide eyes widened even further. "Yes, Missmynee. Dobby noticed some odd things and mentioned it to Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Harry Potter said he would see to it."
"Thank you, Dobby. I'm sure it's fine," Hermione smiled reassuringly at Dobby who beamed and then scurried away with a bow.
Hermione paused for a fleeting moment before she turned to continue on to the sitting room, forcibly smoothing her expression so no hint of her mood was visible.
There had been a disturbance of some sort. She didn't need to think to know what must have happened. Harry must have investigated it and-this was what rankled-he had not told her. He had not seen fit to mention anything out of the ordinary to her.
She felt oddly betrayed-not in any traditional sense of the word for a philandering husband; Harry wouldn't-but betrayed because he had said he would not wish her to change and she had thought he, of all people, understood and respected her desire to be treated as an equal. She was disappointed and hurt and, underneath all that, she was conscious of a flare of irritation. Why had he not told her?
By dint of will, she kept a smile in place as she made idle conversation with Mrs. Weasley and waited for the gentlemen to rejoin them.
It wasn't long before they did.
Keeping her expression pleasant, she excused herself from Mrs. Weasley and extracted Harry from his continuing conversation with Ron by way of a smile and a "You will pardon me for borrowing him for a few moments, Ron? A household matter has come up."
"A household matter? Oh, Hermione, you have become a matron. I'm going to start calling you madam," Ron teased before he moved away to inflict his teasing on his sister and Miss Lovegood, no doubt.
Harry turned a questioning gaze on her. "What is it? I hope nothing is amiss." His eyes and his expression softened as he took one of her hands in his, idly playing with her fingers.
For one fraught moment, Hermione felt her determination waver. With him looking at her so-as if all he wanted was to take care of her, all his caring showing-how could she quarrel with him? Did she want to appear the shrewish wife, especially with Miss Weasley present, always charmingly deferential to Harry, as a living reminder of the sort of mild, compliant wife he could have had?
And yet… she mentally stiffened-she had to, if not outright quarrel with him, let him know in no uncertain terms how she felt. This hit too closely to the core of who she was and what she wanted in this marriage. "Dobby sought me out earlier to ask whether last night's disturbance was all taken care of."
"Oh, did he? I will reassure him about it." Not a flicker of unease showed in his eyes-and of course, why would it? He didn't think he had done anything-and if he'd been married to almost anyone else, this wouldn't be an issue. But she was different.
She kept her voice quiet but let her tone firm in a way he couldn't miss. "Harry, why didn't you tell me about it last night?"
"You were asleep when I returned."
"I did wake up once you joined me if you'll recall."
She had awoken but he'd kissed her and merely apologized for waking her and soon she'd fallen asleep again, curled up next to his warmth, nestling against him.
"You did not tell me today either. If it hadn't been for Dobby asking, I wouldn't have known."
"Do you doubt my ability to defend this house, and you?" Now he frowned a little.
"I don't doubt it at all but that is not my concern. You should still have mentioned it to me. Whether or not I can help, I do want to know when such things happen. This is my home as well as yours and its safety concerns me too." She sighed a little. "Harry, I don't want to quarrel with you but I cannot simply let this go. Not at present as we must not neglect our guests any longer but we will return to this subject." With that, she turned away, firmly pasting her social smile on her face.
Harry stared, acknowledging the call of duty and mentally swore. How was he supposed to be an affable and attentive host with this clouding his thoughts? While they hadn't outright quarreled, constrained as they were by the presence of guests, he knew this wasn't over - not by a country mile. He suppressed a sigh as he went to join Mr. Weasley and Remus.
Some hours later, Harry hesitated outside of his bedchamber, steeling himself, for once the knowledge that Hermione was inside waiting for him not making him eager to enter, indeed having the opposite effect.
He had delayed this moment as long as he could, suggesting a game of billiards when the ladies had risen to retire.
He'd seen the look Hermione threw him before she'd left and it had almost made him wince-and it had tended to distract him from the game, allowing Ron to defeat him handily, much to Ron's ill-concealed delight.
It wasn't that Hermione was a shrew, far from it. But she was still a force to be reckoned with and no one with a grain of sense or any instinct for self-preservation would willingly incur her displeasure.
He did not have a choice now.
He was suddenly irritated with himself for hesitating like this. He was still a Gryffindor, was he not, and a grown man and master of this house; he should not be standing outside his own bedchamber like this.
With that, he pushed open the door and entered, closing it behind him.
She turned from the window to face him. She had changed, was in her nightgown and her wrap, her hair freed from its coiffure and spilling down her back. But, for once, seeing her thus did not incite his desire. Every line of her attitude, the set of her jaw, the way her lips were firmed, all served as evidence-and warning.
They faced each other in fraught silence for a long moment, Harry uncomfortably aware of the distance between them.
"Well, why did you not tell me?"
"I didn't think you needed to know." He honestly had not thought of it but he decided against mentioning this.
"Why not?"
"It was a very minor disturbance. It was nothing more than a small group of miscreants and they Apparated away the moment they realized their presence had been detected. They hadn't yet succeeded in bringing down the wards or anything. I merely tested them to be certain then added another set of wards a little further inside to be doubly assured of our safety."
If he had thought this explanation would appease her, he was much mistaken.
"And you decided I did not need to know all this."
"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, some of his frustration and confusion slipping out, his voice rising. "I did not want to worry you over so trivial a matter. Is it not part of my duty as your husband to protect you, preserve your peace of mind?"
"If ignorance is the price of my serenity, then I will gladly do without it. Do not think to keep me wrapped in cotton wool and treat me like one of those delicate ladies prone to succumbing to the vapors at the mere mention of anything not perfectly happy. You know I'm not so missish."
"I don't think anything of the sort of you and you know it but in this case, I simply did not see a need to inform you of something that really was so trivial."
Her tone softened slightly. "Harry, I want to know of anything that might affect the safety of this house, of our home, and it is mine as well as yours."
"Protecting this house is my duty and responsibility. I'm sorry you don't seem to trust me to do so adequately," Harry said rather stiffly.
"Harry, that's not what I mean. My problem is that you decided, on your own, that it was not worth mentioning, that I did not need to be told of something that affects me just as much as it affects you. I can't-I won't be treated like just another helpless female, Harry. This may have been a trivial enough matter but if you will not tell me of even this, then how can I trust that you will tell me of anything more significant and not simply try to protect me from any and all worries?"
She paused and he opened his lips to argue or defend himself further but before he could, she finished, "I am your wife, not a child to be protected and sheltered from the truth and I am not so witless as to worry needlessly."
"I know you're neither witless nor a child but I didn't want you to be troubled."
"Well, I am troubled now. This is exceedingly troubling to me. Why else do you think I decided years ago that I was never going to marry?"
With that last, terrible statement, Hermione whirled and hurried into her own room, wanting to escape before she gave in and retracted all her words, before she softened and apologized and let herself become one of those women who knew nothing and were happy to know nothing. Oh, she hated quarreling with Harry; she always had but it was so much worse now because she loved him, she hated to think of his peace of mind being disturbed and she always wished to smile at him, to laugh with him…
But in this case, she knew she could not let this pass without comment. She knew Harry, knew his tendencies to keep things to himself, not from any willful secretiveness but because, after his upbringing, he simply was not accustomed to telling other people about his worries or relying on others to help him or support him in any way. She understood-truly she did-but that did not change her determination to be the help, the support, the equal partner Harry had never truly had.
For a blank moment, Harry stared at the connecting door between their bedchambers, which had never seemed quite so solid and quite so intimidating than at that moment, before he mentally shook himself and began undressing in preparation for bed. His movements were quick and jerky, betraying his internal turmoil.
How could Hermione not have enough confidence in his ability to keep this house safe? Surely she knew he would always do everything in his power to keep her and Godric's Hollow safe. That was all he could think of, somehow, to explain why she felt she needed to know, aside from Hermione's perennial thirst for knowledge. Hermione always wanted to know everything; he didn't mind and, indeed, he had the healthiest respect for Hermione's intellect but in this case, he could not think it necessary for her to know what really had been such a trivial matter. He certainly did not want her to worry unduly.
Did she want to be worried over every single thing, trivial or no? Why couldn't she appreciate that he'd been trying to protect her? He hadn't wanted her to worry; he always wanted her to be smiling and happy-was that so wrong of him? Blast unreasonable woman!
Harry did not even bother to climb into bed; he knew that sleep would prove to be elusive. And his bed seemed remarkably cold and unwelcoming without Hermione in it. He could almost laugh at himself for it; he had been sleeping alone for 18 years but after just a few weeks of sharing his bed with Hermione, the idea of sleeping alone seemed unthinkable.
He glanced at his bed that had never looked quite so large and quite so empty before and his mind automatically supplied a mental picture of Hermione's sleeping form and he felt a pang of longing, his mood softening, the last remnants of irritation dying.
His mind clearer now, his thoughts returned to Hermione and all she'd said.
And as he thought, he knew he could not dismiss her annoyance as being unreasonable. He knew Hermione and she wasn't unreasonable. She rather prided herself on being rational and clear-thinking and so she was. It was one of his favorite things about her.
He was suddenly rather ashamed of himself for what now seemed like petty irritation and for not really trying to listen and understand what she was saying.
Her words came back to him with an added sting: why else do you think I decided years ago that I was never going to marry?
He knew what she wanted, even required, in a marriage; it was clear enough to anyone who knew her at all. She wanted a marriage of equals, a partnership, one where she would not be expected to blindly obey her husband's dictates or be treated as if she were any other young lady with more hair than wit and no real thoughts beyond clothing and gossip.
He had tacitly promised that he would give her that-certainly he was possibly one of a very few gentlemen who would even think to promise it-- and the words had been easy to say and he'd meant them sincerely. Of course he would listen to her and treat her as an equal; he knew how quick-witted and strong-willed she was and how clever. But in the first real test of that, he had not done so. He had fallen back into his old habits and acted according to instinct in trying to shield her but in doing so, he had treated her as someone who needed protection. And then when she had pointed that out to him, he had retreated behind his own pride and sense of male dignity and he had not truly listened to her.
It had been instinct, a subconscious decision, not to mention the disturbance to her because he did not wish to worry her-but that decision was not his to make. She could not be an equal partner in any sense if he concealed information from her on a whim, no matter how relatively pure his motives may have been.
He winced. Truly, he'd been a fool and he did not deserve her.
He did not fool himself into believing that it would be easy to keep his promise, easy to always treat her as an equal. His instinct to protect her, shelter her from any worry or possible danger, was well-honed and powerful-all the more so because he knew now just how precious she was to him-but he also wanted her to be happy. It would be a near-constant struggle, he suspected, between his protective instincts and her need to be treated as his equal-but it was what she wanted and so he could do nothing else but try.
It would not be easy-but then when had dealing with Hermione ever been that easy? Hermione, who was too clever to fool, who somehow knew when he was lying, and who was too strong-willed and determined to give way when she believed she was in the right (as she usually was). She was not meek or biddable or weak or at all awed by him-and he had spoken truly when he had said he would not wish her otherwise.
He looked again at the connecting door and then glanced at his unwelcoming bed before making a quick decision. There was no possibility that he would be able to sleep.
He knocked quietly on the connecting door, figuring if she was asleep, it wasn't loud enough to wake her and if she wasn't… If she wasn't, he could begin groveling.
"Come in, Harry."
He winced at the tone of her voice; it was very calm and controlled, too controlled.
His gaze went from the undisturbed counterpane on her bed to her, standing by her window.
His heart clenched as he came closer, enough to see the faint trace of a few tears on her cheeks.
"Hermione, I'm sorry," he began softly, contritely. "I'm sorry for not telling you and I'm sorry for not listening and not trying to understand your meaning earlier." He searched her eyes and then ventured to add, "I'm afraid your husband isn't very quick-witted."
That coaxed a small smile from her, her eyes softening. "Oh, Harry… I am sorry too. I do not regret marrying you; I should not have said what I did."
"Not even when I am being such a fool?"
"Not then, not ever," she promised.
After a moment, she continued. "You do understand now, though, don't you? This wasn't even a serious incident and it didn't involve any risk to me. But if you won't tell me of such a minor occurrence, then how will you act if something more serious ever occurs? I don't want to be treated like some helpless, flighty girl, who needs to be sheltered from the realities of the world."
"I know. I'm sorry; I did not think of how arrogant I was being in deciding you did not need to know of the disturbance. I don't think of you as helpless, you know I don't. Indeed, you are one of the least helpless people I've ever met." He paused and then continued on, "I didn't want to worry you. You once told me that protecting people is what I do, that I assume I have to save people. You were right and protecting you is natural to me, not because I think you're helpless but because I want to know you're safe." He hesitated and then admitted, "And I can't promise that I'll never do anything like this again but I will try to be better about telling you of everything that might affect us. You will have to forgive me if I am not always successful, though."
"That's all right. I will be here to remind you when you are being overbearingly protective," she told him with a slight smile.
"I will probably require frequent reminding-but I promise you I will try."
"That is all I ask." She gave him the soft smile he was already beginning to recognize and look for, in moments of particular affection.
He let out a brief sigh. "It will be difficult, Hermione. I don't like seeing the frown that forms here," he touched one gentle finger to her forehead between her brows, "whenever you're worried. I've already made you worry enough for a lifetime in these past few years, I think."
"Perhaps but I have not minded. A little worry is the price one must pay in caring for someone and it is far outweighed by the rewards."
"I rather think that anyone who knows me would say there's mostly worry and very little reward," he said half-wryly.
She let out a brief huff of breath that was almost a laugh. "Harry, that isn't true."
He gave her a soft smile, moving one hand to cup her cheek tenderly. "I am glad you seem to think so, at least."
She reached up to brush her lips against his cheek before she put her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "I hate quarreling with you, Harry."
He tightened his arms around her waist. "I know, as do I."
"I never want to quarrel with you again."
"Until the next time I do something stupid," he quipped.
She laughed, tilting her head up to look at him. "Perhaps I will be the one to do something stupid."
"You? I don't believe that's possible," he told her, only half-facetiously.
"Are we not all prone to being foolish at some time or another?"
"You less often than I, I'm certain."
"Harry…" His name was almost a sigh, half-scolding and half-amused, before she reached up to feather her lips against his in the lightest of kisses and then returned to kiss him more firmly. She kissed him long and deeply, with nothing held back, with all the confidence which she felt, which she'd learned, in this realm of their marriage at least.
He angled his head to sink deeper into the kiss, one hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair and the other sliding down to cup her hip and bring her arching against him.
The kiss was long and heated and only ended when she drew back, just enough to brush a series of soft kisses against his cheek and his chin.
"Take me to bed, Harry," she breathed against his lips.
And her voice, low and husky with arousal, was as much of a seduction as her words.
"Whatever you command…" he murmured before, suiting action to the words, he bent, hooking his arm beneath her knees and lifting her into his arms.
"That's an intriguing offer," she returned, half-teasingly, as she occupied herself with scattering light, fleeting kisses to his chin and his neck and his ear.
He flinched a little. "That tickles," he protested, the protest weakened by the smile in his voice.
She repeated her earlier actions with mischievous intent this time and he twitched.
"Hermione! Don't or I'll drop you," he warned.
She laughed softly, some part of her rather amazed at her own behavior, at how she could be this open, even a little, yes, flirtatious, but somehow, with Harry, it seemed natural. But she relented and instead of repeating the forbidden gesture, pressed her lips to the underside of his chin.
As places on his body went, it was probably about the most neutral, most unromantic, most unseductive spot she could have picked, aside from his elbow. His unregenerate body didn't seem to care. He almost recoiled.
"Hermione!"
She laughed again-and he wondered when the sound of her laugh had become so arousing.
"I did warn you," he said-and then he dropped her. Onto his bed.
She tried to frown but couldn't manage it, her lips curving up instead as she looked up at him.
Harry looked at her, his eyes drinking her in as she lay, half-reclining and half-sitting up, where he'd dropped her. Her nightgown had obligingly rucked up to her knees, revealing delightfully shapely legs, her cheeks were flushed and a slight smile played on her lips. She was a perfect picture of allurement, with the unstudied and unconscious sensuality of her position. Only a eunuch or an inanimate statue could have resisted the picture she made and he smiled, a very slow, possessive smile, one that positively screamed his intentions, too much of a male not to appreciate (and react to) the view.
A deliciously sensual shiver passed through Hermione in reaction to the way Harry was looking at her. She would never tire of seeing Harry look at her like this, she thought, as if she was the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world. She didn't know how it was that just seeing that look on Harry's face could affect her so much, make her so very aware of her body, a slow tingling heat beginning in the most intimate places of her body.
He slid onto the bed beside her but made no move to touch her other than lifting one hand to cup her cheek gently. "You are so lovely," he whispered.
Everything inside her seemed to soften and melt at his words and she could only think, fuzzily, that she did not care for anyone else's opinion as long as he thought her lovely. His opinion was the only one that mattered.
She curved her arms around his neck, reaching for him until her lips hovered just a breath away from his. "Kiss me, Harry," she breathed a moment before her lips touched his. And so he did, his lips softening, parting, as she returned his kiss with all the urgency of her own desire, their lips melding, tongues tangling, until it no longer mattered who had kissed whom. It was a mutual exchange of pleasure and arousal.
She felt herself falling backwards until she was lying fully beneath him, her hands moving to the buttons of his shirt and undoing them until she could flatten her hands against the warm, solid expanse of his chest.
The rest of their nightclothes seemed to dissolve in a haze of heated kisses and greedy caresses.
She would never tire of this, she thought, would never tire of his kiss or his touch or his passion.
And then she gave up thinking entirely, giving herself up to the intensity of pleasure and desire he aroused in her, that only he could arouse in her…
She loved him and he desired her and for the moment, that was all-and everything-she needed to know.
~~
To be continued… (With one more chapter and then an Epilogue to go…)