A/N: I think there's about two or three chapters left, before this story is finished. Thank you everyone who reviews. I appreciate your comments.
Dinner was a silent affair at Grimmauld Place. Although Hermione knew Harry wanted to pick up where they left off earlier that was just hot happening.
"What are our plans for Christmas?" asked Harry breaking the silence.
"We've already discussed this. You and I are staying here."
Hermione returned to her plate, but couldn't help but notice the hints of frustration and anger on his face.
"I know we've discussed it, but nothings set in stone. I wondered if we were going to the Burrow. Molly's always inviting us for Christmas dinner."
"Harry I wanted to spend some time with you."
But Harry stood his ground. He had known something was up. Harry continued his attempt to steer the conversation into some direction where he could make sense of it all. Hermione cleverly avoided it. He didn't like it one bit.
She was lying to him.
"I figure Ron and I could toss around a bludger or two. Perhaps you'd like to bake gingerbread with Mrs. Weasley."
Keeping it civil at the dinner table was hard. She could feel her calm exterior slipping away. Hermione thought he had previously promised not to pry her for information. This was going back on a promise. And now he had started a war.
"I don't bake Harry, remember? What is it with you tonight?"
"I just thought you understood how important family is to me," he spat.
None of it made any sense to Hermione. Her explanations were lies, so of course his answers were too. Except for the last comment. He had meant that.
She was a bit unsure of how much he actually knew. She had been in the shower long enough so he had time to apparate over and interrogate Ron into submission.
"How long have you known?"
"Known what?" asked Harry.
"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I can't believe that you would go over to the Burrow and talk to Ron. I told you that I would handle this myself. What if he had done something stupid? I'd prefer not to be visiting my boyfriend in St. Mungo's."
"So you told him," said Harry. "Is it that hard to be honest and tell me what's bothering you?"
"I didn't want to bother you with it," she said. "Even though I live here I would like to maintain a sense that I am my own person. We're not joined at the hip."
"I know we're not," he said.
Hermione knew he was probably seething at her statement, but he deserved it. She had trusted him not to ask her about the fight she had with Ron. She just wanted to put it behind her. And here he was dragging it up again.
"I hate Brussels sprouts," commented Hermione.
It was some weird vegetable pasta that he had concocted. And if he thought shredding them into small pieces was going to divert her attention from the bitter vegetable he had another thing coming.
"You don't have to eat it. I personally like it."
Minutes later she stood from the small dining room table in the kitchen and threw the remains of her plate into the bin. Hermione calmly washed her plate in the sink and walked out of the kitchen.
How had she made the situation worse?
Why couldn't she have kept her mouth shut?
Harry watched her walk up the stairs, and restrained himself from following her up the stairs. Soon after he heard her door close he too got up from the table. This time he actually left work for Kreacher.
Harry walked towards his room and plopped down on his bed opening a medical book. He had, had about all the distractions that he wanted that night. However Hermione entered his bedroom with a sound knock without waiting for a response.
He lowered his book to acknowledge her presence. He gave her a once over in her nightgown before he held up his book and continued reading.
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The principles of good healing have changed over the years. As a Healer you must understand that there is little benefit in the practice, unless you are able to be intuitive. You must have an inner eye and know what the patient needs. It is beyond what they tell you…
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Harry peered up from the book once again. It was required reading. Otherwise he would not be fed the same crap that Professor Trelawney had tried to feed him. The patients always had a sense of what was wrong with them. No one could tell him that he didn't know his own body.
Harry peered once again at Hermione. She merely smiled and waved at him. Hermione pulled at the book until she had eased it out of his hands and onto the bed. She lightly closed it and moved it over onto his other nightstand.
Hermione adjusted the straps of her night gown as she addressed him. But she couldn't find the words to speak. Harry held his hands out and took a T-Shirt out and tossed it to her. Hermione barely caught it, but she passed it back to Harry.
"I'm fine, I guess I just wanted to talk. My mum always says you're not supposed to go to bed with anger. Otherwise it almost never gets resolved. I know she was just giving a tip on marriage, but I think it relates to relationships in general. So are we alright?"
"We're better than alright," he said hugging her.
Hermione lost her grip on gravity for a second as she was pulled into his arms. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck as he had his wrapped around her waist. She leaned in and gave him a short kiss. It was getting late and she was forcing herself to go top her own room. Getting too comfortable in here was not an option.
"Good," she agreed. "You're going to have to let go, you know."
Hermione tugged at his hands around her waist and realized that they would not budge.
"What am I going to have to do to get you to let go?"
"Stay," he pleaded.
"I am not staying here tonight, especially not with what I'm wearing. You can wake me up before you go on your shift tomorrow, alright?"
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A/N: Please Review.
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