Chapter 12: Firelight
Author notes: I really don't have much to say except thanks for the reviews and keep `em coming. For the last umpteen chapters I've been itching to write from Harry's perspective. Thus far, I've been able to suppress the urge, but much like Hermione, this Thing won't be denied… I hope the alternate POVs aren't confusing.
That being said, I'll just mindlessly ramble on for a bit. Honestly, there's nothing interesting in this entry. Just skip it. Go on to the fic. Go. Do it. Now, before it's too late.... So…yeah, (as if anyone cares) I based Hermione's dress on Taylor Swift's Grammy gown (though I don't know what a "Taylor Swift" is or does). On a less relevant note, I think the moment of truth in any HHr fiction is the revelation of Harry or Hermione's more-than-platonic feelings for each other. I consider it a litmus test of good fanfiction. A lot of fics I've read just sort of gloss over it: "Oh I'm Harry and I'll just do a 180 because I saw Hermione in a bikini"… or … "Oh, I'm Hermione and I'll just entrust my virginity to Harry because he rescued me from escaped Death Eaters…" So maybe I've overcompensated. I've tried to draw the tension out for the last few chapters (or maybe from chapter one). But now I realize that Hermione's revelation came out of nowhere…sort of…I dunno…sooo …yeah. Take that. Go me. And I'll stop typing now…
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Hermione mustered up her courage and turned to Harry.
"So Harry, you wanted to talk?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. No, actually, Harry didn't want to talk. Talking never led to much good where Hermione was concerned. It seemed he had a talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time.
Instead, he studied her for a moment, trying not to stare at the expanse of skin that her dress afforded. He could tell she was nervous about something. She kept playing with her skirt and nibbling her bottom lip. He'd been around her long enough to know that she was uncomfortable and unhappy.
Unhappy about what, he had no idea. If anyone should be nervous and unhappy it should be him, he reasoned. After all, he was the one who spent the better part of an hour cursing himself for the way he acted after the ceremony.
Harry cringed at the memory. There she was, staring at him with those bright cinnamon eyes, nuzzling his hand, brushing her plump tantalizing lips against his thumb… so he goes and stutters an apology and drags her down the aisle into a crowd of rowdy party goers. All of fifteen seconds passed before he started berating himself for his undeniable idiocy. He just never expected… well, any of it, especially not that strange, incredibly odd, utterly astonishing moment between them. The way she looked at him and spoke to him; the way she gazed into his eyes and leaned into his hand; the way she parted her lips as he stroked her cheek and…Dear Merlin, what god in what lifetime did he please?
At first he thought he was imagining things. Everything happened so fast that he was sure his mind was just playing tricks on him. It wouldn't take much to convince him that she'd finally driven him insane with her blushing cheeks and glossy curls and pert humor and dammit … Hermione's tempting little dress wasn't helping in the least. When she walked down the aisle during the wedding march, his jaw literally dropped, and it stubbornly stayed that way until Lupin smacked him upside the head. Harry knew she'd look beautiful, Hermione always looked beautiful, but he hadn't expected her to suddenly materialize in a violet dress that showed off every inch of her flawless figure. He found he couldn't stop staring at her smooth shoulders which were covered only by the wild curls that rippled freely down her back, or the curve of her leg outlined against the thin shiny material of her skirt, or her rosy cheeks which held their usual adorable blush even though she was by far the most beautiful woman in the room.
Now, with her reclining figure just inches away from him, breathing was becoming very hard for Harry. She was without a doubt the most desirable, delectable thing he'd ever laid eyes on. Over the last few weeks, his thoughts had often drifted back to the time he was able to hold her for those few brief moments. He remembered her surprise when he clumsily kissed her, the feel of her soft lips against his, her look of enraptured surrender as she gripped his collar and fervently returned his kisses…but now, new visions were bombarding him: visions of him burying his hands in those wild curls, of tasting the velvet length of her swan-like neck, of running his hands up and down the curves of her legs.
It suddenly occurred to him that if he hadn't acted like a jealous prat about that blasted Krum, she might have accepted his proposal. He wouldn't have to content himself with gazing at her from across the room. He would've been the groom, taking her as his wife. She'd have been his to cherish and protect and tonight he could've made slow languorous love to her. Just the thought of taking her to his bed made him groan aloud….But no. Instead, I'm best man at Lupin's wedding. Harry grumbled as he watched Hermione's exquisite form basking in the firelight. Damn Lupin. Smug bastard didn't botch up his proposal. Where was he when I needed him?
"Harry," Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Mmmm?" Harry mumbled, turning his attention back to her.
"Talking? You? Yes?" Hermione couldn't understand why he was suddenly so distant and quiet and groaning. She hadn't said anything to offend him. Well, not recently in any case. She had said several things throughout the evening that had offended him…. Offended him? Ha. That's putting it mildly. Hermione scoffed. How about completely humiliating him? As if throwing yourself at the man wasn't bad enough. He's already told you in so many words, "Stay away from me Hermione." He might as well scrawl it across his forehead…
But that really didn't explain why he was suddenly groaning. After all, she was the one who was suffering here, darn it, not him.
Hermione pursed her lips and studied him. His eyes looked glassy against the firelight, and his cheeks were heavily flushed. His breathing was ragged and he had a strained expression on his face. The possibility that he was sick occurred to her, and her healer instincts slowly took over (her slightly tipsy healer instincts).
"Harry, are you feeling well?" Her voice was filled with concern as she shifted closer to him and put her hand on his forehead. Her hand missed the mark and ruffled his hair. Ignoring the urge to do that again, she managed to get it right the second time.
Taken by surprise, Harry nodded, although his attention was focused the feel of her cool hand rather than his state of health.
Hermione's hand moved to his cheek. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Harry, you're absolutely burning up. I'm sure you have a temperature."
"No, I'm fine," Harry said in a low voice as her face hovered just under his.
She looked at him doubtfully. "Honestly Harry." She shook her head in a way that Harry found adorable. "You must've caught a chill…" Hermione's hand came to her mouth. "Outside, when you gave your coat to me… Oh I told you not to! Now look what's happened. Harry, you shouldn't have done that!"
She was near tears as she patted his flushed cheek. Hermione couldn't help herself; she enfolded him in a bone-crushing hug, apologizing and scolding him all at once.
"No. Really, I'm fine. No. It's Ok. Don't worry." Harry wrapped his arms around her and found himself in the strange predicament of arguing with her and comforting her at the same time. All this was made even more difficult in that Harry was growing increasingly distracted by her soft perfect body which was pressing insistently up against his.
Good God Hermione…Harry thought with a tortured expression. Didn't she realize that she'd knocked him back into the sofa and was practically on top of him?
He tried to think un-Hermione thoughts as she clung to him and whispered apologies in his ear. He tried. He really did. He thought about Qudditch and billiards and Ron's chewing and Cousin Regulus's crazy portrait, but it was all in vain because her shoulder was now mere centimeters away from his lips. The bloody thing was as soft and inviting as a ripe peach, and it was driving him barking mad, mocking him with its infuriating creaminess and vanilla perfume.
He couldn't resist pressing a quick kiss to it. A kiss that expressed only a friendly concern and well-wishing and so forth. A perfectly platonic, comforting kiss. A kiss he repeated. Several times over.
"She tastes like vanilla…how does that happen?" he muttered, fascinated, going back for more.
Meanwhile, Hermione's brow furrowed. That couldn't have been Harry's lips on her shoulder, she reasoned. But then she felt it again. And again. Her heartbeat quickened and she felt herself sobering with every kiss….Now honestly. Why would Harry want to do that? she asked herself. You're imagining things. Stupid champagne…err…lovely champagne actually…
It didn't take long for her to realize it wasn't just some figment of her imagination. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and a wave of warmth wash over her. Harry was kissing her shoulder. Harry. Was. Kissing. Her. Shoulder.
"Well that's interesting," Hermione muttered dreamily as her eyes slowly closed. Of course she had some semblance of propriety. She was determined to get to the bottom of all this….lovely…wonderful…nibbling…
"Harry? What are you…mmmm…doing?"
He nipped at her throat by way of an answer.
"You're not well," Hermione protested. She moaned when Harry suckled the skin at the crook of her neck.
"I feel fine," Harry muttered, against her skin. "Absolutely perfect in fact."
"But Harry…"
"Mmmm. What?" Harry said softly. Talking was bad. Talking was keeping him from tasting her.
"Before. I mean, after the ceremony. You didn't…oh that's lovely… you didn't seem to want… um…"
Harry paused mid-nibble and sat up. "Hermione," he shook his head fondly, "I thought I was going crazy. I thought I was imagining that…imagining that you wanted…" he trailed off, running his hands over her arms. "I didn't think you'd ever forgive me for the way I acted that night in Meriton."
"The way you acted?" Hermione exclaimed. "What about me? I behaved horribly. You saved my life and I thanked you by calling you dreadful names. I spent weeks thinking about what I said. I was certain you despised me."
"Despised you…?" Harry stared at her in disbelief. "Believe me, luv, whatever you called me, I deserved it. I'm surprised you didn't hex me into some sodding barnyard animal or other. I acted like a complete idiot."
"Well you weren't the only one," she assured him, stroking his cheek and smiling as Harry leaned into her hand. Her fingers flirted with his collar as his hand came to rest at her waist. She noticed that his eyes flitted down to her mouth as he shifted closer, closing the distance between them.
"I was so sure that you didn't want…" she went on, "I mean, when we were alone a-a-after the wedding, you couldn't w-w-wait to get away from me…" Hermione shuddered as his hand crept up to tickle the back of her neck.
"Well, you're such a tempting little thing, I didn't want to ravish you in front of our friends now did I?" Harry murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss against her cheek.
Hermione gave a doubtful smile. "Oh, of course. It had everything to do with your good manners and nothing to do with your complete and utter cluelessness. Yes. Thank you Harry. That was very gentleman like of you not to ravish me in front of our friends."
"Well, I hope you appreciate my self-restraint," he whispered, lightly touching his lips to her throat.
Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Would you think me terrible if I said I didn't?" Her eyelids fluttered as his arms tightened round her waist.
"Mmmm. Absolutely not." Harry leaned further in, kissing a sensitive spot behind her ear before planting several feathery kisses down along her jaw.
Hermione's eyes drifted shut as Harry's lips gently brushed against hers. His kisses were gentle and undemanding, merely light fluttering against her mouth. Her skirt bunched in his hands as he gathered her closer and continued his soft caresses.
He began working his way down her jaw, planting long open-mouthed kisses along the way. Her head fell back, allowing him more space to explore, and she felt his lips on her throat, her shoulders, along the top of her bodice. His lips moved deftly over every inch of exposed skin, and she hazily wondered if a person could die from such pleasure.
"Harry…" Hermione moaned with a breathy sigh. Merlin he's good at that, she thought as she arched her back and her own hands began to roam. Hermione had never felt such urgency to touch someone. Her fingernails ran desperately over his back, feeling the play of muscles hidden under his jacket. Silly, utterly useless jacket…she muttered, pulling at it. Her frustration with the jacket was forgotten, however, as Harry tightened his grip on her. She found herself making soft kittenish noises as Harry began to rake his hands over the thin layers of her dress.
Harry, in turn, had been trying to control himself, but Hermione was making it incredibly difficult. His knuckles turned white as they gripped the material of her skirt that billowed around him as he fought the urge to feel the skin underneath it. Finding he just couldn't take it anymore, his arms went round her waist and in single sweeping movement, he pulled her into his lap, cradling her against his chest. His fingers moved up to the back of her neck and tangled in her hair as he brought her lips roughly to his. He gave her jagged, breathless kisses as she held on to his lapel, parting her lips so his tongue could explore her mouth with a desperate vigor.
While Harry assaulted her lips, Hermione peeled his waistcoat and vest off over his shoulders and felt the hard planes of his back through his shirt. Her hands ran over him; his mouth moved roughly against hers, but nothing seemed to sate their appetites for each other. Except for the crackle of the fireplace, only their gasps and moans filled the room over the next heated minutes. Both felt something powerful building between them as they groped possessively at each other. It was when they began tugging on each other's clothing that Harry finally snapped out of his Hermione-induced haze.
"Good Lord Hermione…we really need to stop," Harry pulled away suddenly, hissing through his teeth. His heart was racing and parts of his clothing were become noticeably uncomfortable.
Hermione tried to reply with a "oh, yes, I know," but instead just nodded as she rested her flushed cheek against his shoulder, struggling to calm her hiccupping breaths.
"I'll go see if…wow…I'll go see if any of the carriages have come back," he said in a shaky voice.
"Mmmm." Hermione hummed absently against his collar.
Neither one got up.
Harry gathered her in his arms, fully intending to help her up, but the sight of her cradled against him with blushing
lips and wild hair, made him suddenly forget why he would ever want to leave this room. Ever. Even for food.
He couldn't help himself. He caught her lips for a fervent kiss that lasted longer than it should have. His hands roved over her and his mouth explored hers until they had to breathe again.
"Why are we leaving, again?" Harry panted against her mouth.
"I don't know," Hermione murmured.
"Well it was your bright idea, wasn't it," he said with a grin. Hermione smiled and proceeded to punish him with a dozen kisses that left him gasping. Harry took a second to gather his strength to retaliate.
"M-M-Master Potter?"
They both craned their necks around and saw a house-elf standing wide-eyed in the doorway carrying a tray of champagne flutes and napkins.
"Dobby?" Harry squinted through his crooked glasses.
Hermione tried to stand up but ended up rolling out of Harry's lap and landing square on her bottom on the hardwood floor.
"Okay. Ouch," she said, sitting up and rubbing her backside.
Harry hastily helped her to her feet and began muttering apologies. By the time he straightened his glasses, Dobby had disappeared, leaving behind only a bundle of dropped napkins on the floor.
Harry chuckled a bit and Hermione swatted at his arm, completely embarrassed that they'd been seen.
"How is this funny Harry?" she huffed, rubbing her sore spot and blushing like crazy.
"You're right. It's not funny at all Hermione." He eyed her backside. "Maybe I'd better have a look at you, just to make sure nothing's broken," he said playfully as he wriggled his eyebrows.
"Don't you dare come near me Harry Potter," she held up an arm to keep him away.
"I just want to make sure you're ok, luv," he said with mock sincerity as he batted aside her hand.
Hermione laughed and avoided his grasp. She raced to the other side of the sofa, squealing as he reached for her again. She tried making a break for the hallway, but his Seeker-like senses made it impossible. He beat her to the door and she turned around just in time to be swept up into his encircling arms. He lifted her so that her feet were dangling off the floor and her elbows were resting on his shoulders. She tried to squirm out of his grip, but her petite five-foot-six figure was no match for his strong six-foot frame.
"Got you," Harry said with a victorious smile.
Hermione nodded at the understatement of the century. Caught up in the feel of him against her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him wildly.
Stumbling, Harry took a few unsteady steps forward. They both laughed as he swayed a bit, trying to stay upright. Hermione's lips found his ear and she began nipping and licking in a way that Harry found quite pleasantly distracting.
"You're not making this easy," Harry grunted, trying to balance himself.
Smiling, she gave his lobe a sharp tug, which knocked Harry completely off-kilter. He fell forward, and suddenly Hermione found herself pinned against the back of the sofa, half-sitting, half-standing with her hands against Harry's chest and her leg hitched over his hip.
"Clumsy girl," Harry said fondly, shaking his head.
"Me clumsy? Who fell…?!" Hermione cried as Harry captured her lips for another toe-curling kiss.
They were much too pleased with their current positions to worry about the loud slamming sounds that came from the foyer.
Suddenly they heard a panicked "Mione!" that made them both jump.
They pulled back, panting and disheveled.
Harry turned towards the hallway and Hermione lowered herself to the floor. Silence fell over the room as they waited for another sound. They both flinched as Tonks' voice echoed from down the hall again.
"Mione!?" Tonks hollered.
"Dear Goddess…" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"What now?" Harry muttered gruffly.
They reluctantly pulled apart, looking longingly at each other until Hermione turned towards the door.
"In here," Hermione called back impatiently.
"Mione!?" They heard pattering footsteps that grew louder until Tonks burst through the door. Hermione could see blotchy champagne spills on her sleeves as Tonks motioned for them to follow her.
"Hurry up you two!" Tonks said urgently. "It's an emergency. I need you! Chop chop. Beck and call."
Without another word, Tonks turned and ran out of the room. Hermione held fast to Harry's hand, following him through the dimly lit hallways. The frantic bride race ahead of them, waving Lupin's wand over her head as she barreled towards the foyer.
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"Oh Ron!" Hermione cried as all three came to halt and found Ron lying semi-conscious against the front door. There were no marks on him, but his eyelids were fluttering and he was groaning.
She and Harry knelt beside Ron and began looking him over for injuries.
"Tonks what happened?" Hermione turned to find Tonks pointing the wand at Ron's head, shaking the thing as though it were broken.
"Oh nothing happened Mione," Tonks said impatiently. "But I do need Harry's help. Show me how to Crucio him Harry. I've never used a wand before and it's really tricky." She waved it two more times for good measure.
Hermione shot Tonks an angry look and patted Ron's face, trying to rouse him. Harry got to his feet and snatched
the wand away from a protesting Tonks.
"Ron? Ron? Wake up. Tonks, what did you do to him?" Hermione demanded as she started shaking Ron's shoulders.
"I didn't do anything to him," Tonks spat, reaching behind Harry, trying to get the wand back. "He passed out in the carriage and Remus carried him in."
"Where is Remus?" Harry asked sternly, holding the wand out of her reach.
Tonks quickly drew back from Harry. "I…um…nothing," Tonks stammered.
"What do you mean `nothing'?" Hermione asked, standing with her hands on her hips. "Where is he?"
Tonks hemmed and hawed, looking as innocent as possible. She had the air of a naughty child about her as she played with the strands of her turquoise hair and started rocking back and forth on her heel.
All three turned as somebody began banging hard on the front door.
Harry and Hermione dragged Ron aside and undid the latch. Lupin rushed in, followed by a mass of flapping red and black feathers. He quickly shut the door, but not before a dozen cardinals flew in behind him.
"What…are those birds?" Harry yelled over the fluttering noise. He batted a few of the red flapping things away from his face. Hermione gripped his arm tightly as they ducked to avoid the storm of swirling, darting cardinals.
At the center of the noisy red cyclone stood Tonks and Lupin, yelling and cursing at each other. Tonks was shouting something about being surrounded by idiots and then marrying the idiots and then those idiots inviting other idiots to their wedding. Lupin was yelling about how unacceptable her behavior was and how she was never to use that cardinal curse again.
Meanwhile, Harry was busy spelling the birds out the door and Hermione was kneeling next to Ron, shooing away the ones that were perched atop his head.
"Mione!" Tonks suddenly exclaimed. She stood with her back to Remus and crossed her arms over her chest. "Mione, please tell Mr. Lupin that I have nothing more to say to him, or to his stupid-arse ginger-haired git of a friend who's lying on the floor over there."
Hermione shook a few red feathers out of her hair and gave Tonks a withering glance. "I think Remus heard you just fine."
Tonks shook her head. "No. No he didn't. Because I'm not talking to him. He can't possibly hear me since nothing I say is directed to him."
Hermione opened her mouth to reply but thought better of it. There was no reasoning with Tonks when she was like this. There was no reasoning with her 90% of the time anyway.
Ignoring his angry wife, Lupin strode past Hermione and with a grunt pulled Ron to his feet. He gave Harry an I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it-but-help-me look as he tucked Ron's arm over his shoulder. Harry took Ron's other arm and helped Lupin as they carefully eased him up the stairs, leaving Hermione and Tonks alone in the foyer.
Sighing, Hermione opened the front door wide and with a wave of her hand, cast an Amargorio spell that shooed the rest of the cardinals outside. With the feathers and fluttering cleared, she looked on as Tonks furiously paced back and forth, punching the air as her sleeves flapping around her.
"Can you believe it?" Tonks cried. "Of all the men to marry, I had to pick him. What was I thinking? Or better yet, what were you thinking?"
"Me? What did I do?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"What did you do? What didn't you do? This is all your fault!" Tonks shouted, now near tears. "You're supposed to be the responsible one and I'm supposed to be the impossibly impulsive one. And now I'm married and you're the cause of it because you didn't tell me not to. You were all `Oh I'm Hermione and I'm just no help at all. I'll just throw flowers around while Tonks skips down the aisle to her doom like an idiot. Tra la la la fa fa.'"
Tonks took a few deep breaths. "And where were you tonight? You should've been in the carriage with us. None of this would have happened if you'd just gone to the reception like you were supposed to."
Hermione blushed. "Oh. Um, me? I was getting…um… shoes and Harry….was helping me find them."
"Shoes?!" Tonks threw up her hands. "I hate shoes. I absolutely hate shoes and weddings and most of all Ron!"
"Oh Tonks," she sighed. Hermione was still completely confused and it seemed like Tonks was too. She ushered Tonks towards a nearby sitting room. Lighting a few candles, Hermione sat on a loveseat, hoping that Tonks would be a little more forthcoming without husbands and curses and passed-out Rons nearby to egg her on.
"Now tell me what happened. Did you and Remus have a fight?" Hermione spoke calmly, hoping that Tonks would do the same.
Tonks slouched in an armchair and buried her face in her hands.
"Oh Mione. It was awful. First Remus let stupid-bat-brained drunk Ron read out the directions to the reception, so of course he didn't do it right and the carriage started going crazy the minute we rounded the corner. And then we turned onto this horribly bumpy road and Ron's says he doesn't feel well and the next minute he's vomiting all out the window and spilling his champagne on my gown and using my flowers to wipe his mouth and…"
Tonks swallowed hard and shook her head "…I mean, what was Remus thinking? [She adopted a Lupin-like voice] Now no silliness all you drunk wedding guests. I don't want to form a search party on my wedding night…blah blah blah…so I'll go and ignore everything I just said and let the drunkest person here read out the spell because I'm Remus and I'm a stupid sod…blah blah blah…"
Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth. It wasn't funny. It really really wasn't. It sounded awful and traumatic, but Hermione found she had to suppress her chuckle with a fake cough. Tonks' Lupin-impression was spot on.
"Are you laughing?" Tonks asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
Hermione couldn't chance talking. With her hand planted over her mouth, she shook her head vigorously.
"Because if you are, it's absolutely NOT FUNNY," Tonks exclaimed, leaping out of her chair.
Hermione nodded, still holding back her chortled laughter.
"It's absolutely not funny at all," Tonks pouted. "You!" she pointed at Hermione,
"You're the one who should have champagne all over your dress."
"Me?" Hermione managed.
"Yes you! You're the maid of honor. It's your duty to throw yourself in front of all spilled drinks and other drippy objects." Tonks sniffled and slouched back in her chair. "S'not fair. My wedding gown's ruined and I didn't even get to go to my reception, and it's MY reception. I'm supposed to be recept-ted and eat cake and now I can't even do that."
"Oh Tonks, " Hermione sighed again, knowing the worst was over. She stood up and patted the bride on her shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, the champagne won't leave a stain. It'll come out when it dries. You won't be able to tell the difference."
"Really?" Tonks sniffed meekly.
"Really."
"Well, if you think I'm going anywhere with what's-his-name tomorrow, you're wrong," Tonks said resolutely. "Honeymoon shmoney-moon. I expect so many sparkly presents for this it's not even funny." Tonks flung her arms around a bit and the breeze from her sleeves blew a few candles out. The incensed bride mustered what was left of her indignation and stormed up the stairs, leaving Hermione in the dark room alone with her thoughts.
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Hermione listened as Tonks' climbed the stairs and stomped down the hall. A few minutes later, muffled shouting came from the direction of Lupin's guestroom.
Staring at her darkened reflection in the mirror on the mantel, Hermione shivered and rubbed out the goosebumps on her arms. She felt as though she'd been splashed in the face with ice water. Somehow, between wrapping herself around Harry and watching Tonks curse Lupin, the evening had been injected with a dose of stone-cold reality. Whatever warmth and joy she'd experienced earlier had been replaced with a sense of sobering self-doubt. Hermione had never believed in omens or signs, but even she couldn't ignore the significance of what'd happened. One minute, she and Harry were holding each other like their lives depended on it and the next minute a young wife trapped in a hasty marriage was charming birds to attack her new husband. It was as though the universe had said, "Ha, ha, look what happens when people let temptation run away with them. Tee hee!"
It was with these thoughts that Hermione sadly climbed the stairs to her room. She could still hear angry shouts coming from Lupin's room and closed her bedroom door, hoping the walls were thick enough to drown them out. The sheet she'd charmed for Tonks was still floating in the middle of the room, but Hermione just batted it aside, her thoughts still down the hallway with the noisy newlyweds.
Of course Tonks and Remus were arguing, she reasoned. They barely knew each other, and now they were trapped in an impulsive marriage. They'd short-cutted custom and now they were paying for it…
Hermione slowly slipped out of her violet gown. She didn't want to get ready for bed yet (who knew what maelstroms could erupt from their fight). She couldn't be bothered with dressing if she needed to quickly douse an Ignitios fireworks curse or spell away a flock of angry hummingbirds. She changed into a plain gray dress, charmed her hair into a loose braid, and took a seat on her poster bed. Muttering a spell, she watched the tidy fireplace roar to life as she began going through her mental list of Tonks' favorite I-hate-you spells (and their counterspells). She'd just gotten to the "D's" when she heard a knock at the door.
"Come in," she called, expecting Tonks. Her view of the door was blocked by the floating sheet, but she could tell that the heavy footsteps on the other side were definitely not Tonks'.
Harry appeared from behind the makeshift curtain. He seemed to be studying the sheet, puzzling over it. She didn't blame him. It was really a ridiculous sight, and Harry looked adorably confused.
"Luv, why do you have a sheet floating in the middle of your room?" Harry asked, giving it a tug.
Hermione had to suppress the smile that rose when he called her "luv." She noticed he wasn't wearing his waistcoat and Hermione blushed when she remembered how she'd tossed it onto the drawing room floor earlier.
"Tonks needed some privacy. This was our dressing room," she explained quietly, staring into the fireplace. She didn't know why she was suddenly shy with him. Minutes ago she was curled up in his lap, kissing him for all she was worth. Now Hermione couldn't even look at him. Worse yet, she didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to take comfort in his concern-filled eyes or his understanding expression. She just wanted to be left alone by the dim firelight.
Harry didn't say anything as he studied her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched the play of sad expressions on her face. There was a heavy silence as they both waited for the other to speak.
"Do you like your room?" Harry suddenly asked.
Hermione looked up, surprised. She nodded automatically, but in all honestly hadn't thought about her guestroom one way or another. It wasn't a large room, but it was cozy, with its massive four poster bed and heavy Germanic furniture. She hadn't considered it small (she and Tonks had both dressed for the wedding quite comfortably in there) but now, with Harry just a few feet away from her, the room seemed tighter and snugger than ever.
"Mind if I sit down?" Harry asked.
Hermione could tell there was an apprehensive edge to his tone and tried to offer him an encouraging smile as she nodded.
Harry noticed that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes as he took a seat in the desk chair across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He watched her nervously play with her skirt, waiting for her to say what was on her mind. It was all a mistake or I really didn't enjoy it as much as I let on…ran through his anxious thoughts.
"Harry…I…" Nibbling her lip and not really knowing what to say, Hermione trailed off. Yes, she'd been shaken by the not-so-idyllic glimpse into married life, but she didn't know how to begin talking about it, least of all with Harry. She cringed as she heard something crash and break in Lupin's room. Let's hope it's not his head, she thought with a miserable sigh.
"Hermione," Harry said gently. He rose and took a seat next to her. Judging from her tense reactions to the noises down the hall, Harry could guess at what was bothering her. He wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Hermione," he whispered. "I have an idea."
"An idea?" she echoed in a hollow voice. Their noses brushed as she turned to him. She hadn't realized they were sitting so close to each other, but this time she found she absolutely didn't mind in the least.
Harry nodded. "I think that if we just kiss again, we'll both feel better about all that's happened tonight."
"Kissing isn't going to help at all Harry," she sighed, tempting as it sounded.
"Now that's flattering," he replied without a smile.
"Oh, I didn't mean it to sound like that," Hermione explained. "I just meant that a kiss doesn't really solve anything."
"I think it will," he said in a gently challenging tone.
Hermione thought for a moment and reluctantly agreed. Anything was better than the lost empty feeling that was suffocating her.
Harry tightened his hold on her and softly brushed his lips against hers. Finding it wasn't enough, Harry kissed her more firmly, smiling when she opened for him and let him taste her.
But of course it feels wonderful, she reasoned. This was Harry for goodness sake. The man she loved, the man who could turn her insides to pudding simply by looking at her…but it really doesn't accomplish anything, does it? It simply glosses over the real problems in relationship. Just look at Remus and Tonks…
"Hermione, stop it," Harry said against her lips. "I can't kiss you properly with you thinking so much."
Gladly, Hermione thought dizzily, trying to focus only on the feel of his mouth against hers. She gripped his collar and tugged him toward her, leaning back until she was lying down. Harry followed her, crawling over her body, his lips hovering over hers, teasing her with gentle, feathery brushes.
"Harry," she moaned, arching against him while he moved his mouth across her lips and up the side of her jaw. "Kiss me again…please," she whispered.
Harry nodded absently. His hands moved up to the back of her neck and caught in her hair as he brought her lips roughly to his for a proper kiss. His tongue dipped against hers and a plaintive sigh escaped her. She shuddered with pleasure as a now familiar tingling sensation made her feel warm and weak. Returning the kiss and clawing at his back, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck as their legs tangled. They began to move against each other, surrendering the hot urgent pulse that seemed to come so easily to them now. Whatever control she'd had, she was in danger of losing as the slow rhythmic movements of their bodies made her head spin and another groan rise from her throat.
Hermione broke away, gasping for air. "Harry," she said breathlessly, "we're in my bedroom."
Harry nodded. "Mmmm. I like the way you think."
Hermione shot him a serious look. "Harry…" she said warningly, gently pushing him away.
He chuckled as he lightly kissed her forehead. He shifted onto his side next to her. "I know. I'm sorry luv." His thumb ran over her lips and a ghost of a smile broke out over his face. "I can't seem to control myself when I'm with you."
Hermione looked away and blushed. "I noticed."
He tilted her chin so that his face hovered over hers. "Someday, I won't have to."
Staring into his eyes, which now had a gleam of hunger, she groaned and bit her lip. The hot pulse rose in her again, and she shivered with want. Harry heard her moan and captured her lips. His hand found the small of her back and brought her flush against the length of his body. They kissed until it became too heated an embrace to continue. Harry tucked an arm around her shoulders and encouraged her to lie next to him. Curling up against his side, Hermione rested her cheek against the crook of his neck as his other arm wrapped possessively around her waist. They lay like that for a minute or two, until their breathing evened.
"Well that certainly didn't go as planned," Harry muttered.
"I suppose it didn't." Hermione turned to him with a sad smile. "And it really only proves my point." Hermione sighed as she tucked some stray curls behind her ear. "Harry I do want this. But…it's all so…" Hermione swallowed hard. "…look at Tonks and Remus. They're probably throttling each other as we speak because they didn't know what they were getting into…They just felt an attraction and rushed into marriage without really bothering to get know each other…"
"…and whatever else happens, Tonks won't change you know," Hermione added, her fingers playing with his shirt buttons. "She'll go on being stubborn and loud and spontaneous. And Remus will try to correct her and lecture her and it'll all be for nothing. Whatever affection they have for each other will just fall to pieces from there and soon instead of cardinals there'll be vultures because one of them will be lying unconscious in the road after getting hit over the head with a beaters bat."
Hermione paused and took a breath. "And I know that I sound ridiculous…but …I…I can't help feeling that we're starting down the same path because we're sitting in my bedroom for goodness sake and I don't want you to stop touching me and I don't want you to control yourself…And how on earth am I supposed to…to…keep a respectable distance from you when you look at me the way you do?"
"Am I really supposed to have an answer for that?" Harry asked with a chuckle.
"No…yes…oh I'm sorry Harry. I'm not explaining this at all well, am I?" she shook her head and sighed miserably. "None of it makes sense. Honestly, I used to…make sense."
She groaned at her own inanity. Once upon a time she was considered quite articulate and clever in certain circles. But that all changed after Harry came along with his heart-melting smiles and intense green eyes.
Unfazed, Harry hushed her and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "Luv, you're explaining it fine. You're worried that we're rushing into this. Is that it?"
Hermione nodded and sighed in relief. There, in less than ten words, he'd pretty much summed it up. Yes, she was afraid they were rushing into a relationship. A very intense, incredibly physical relationship. In the last hour they'd somehow managed to skip friendship and courtship and go right into snogging. Incredible, mind-blowing, toe-curling snogging, but snogging nonetheless.
"Believe it or not, I was thinking the same thing," Harry went on. "Wondering if I was taking advantage of you. Wondering if I was doing the right thing." He paused. "Well, judging from the noises you made, I know I was doing the right thing." He grinned an insufferable grin.
Hermione's eyes brightened. "That's horrible Harry," she cried as she shoved his arm, amazed that he could make her laugh in the middle of such a serious discussion.
"Of course, I knew it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to my wily charms," he said playfully.
"Oh really? And what were you going to use for charm?"
"Oh that tears it," he said. He pulled her to him and gave her a long, punishing kiss that left no doubt in her mind as to what charms he possessed.
The kiss lasted until she pushed him away, panting. Wow, he's good at that, she thought giddily as he pulled her to her feet.
Feeling a slight masculine pride at her dizzy expression, he kissed her hand and bade her good-night. She walked him to the door, her crippling self-doubt replaced with an irritatingly bouncy spring in her step.
"Should we check on Tonks and Remus?" she asked, nodding towards Lupin's room.
Harry shrugged. "If they've knocked each other unconscious, there's really nothing we can do until morning. I just hope they didn't dent my beater's bats."
He was joking of course, but Hermione had to admit he made a good point. Either the newlyweds had settled their differences or they'd shouted each other into exhaustion. In any case, Hermione didn't think she wanted to know what was happening in Lupin's room
"Then good night Harry," she said, offering her cheek.
"Good night Hermione," he replied, ignoring the offered cheek. He turned her chin with his finger and gave her a spine-tingling kiss on the lips as if to say, I don't mind taking it slow, Hermione, but not that slow.
She found she couldn't agree more.
"Sweet dreams," he whispered, punctuating it with another quick peck. With a cheerful jaunt, he headed into the darkness towards his own room.
"Oh my," was all she could manage as she closed her door. It was something of an understatement, but she was quickly getting used to sounding absurd.
"Well…that was…oh my…" she sputtered, smiling and twirling and doing all the nonsensical things that nonsensical people do when they're in love. For once in her life, she was too happy to think. She absolutely refused to deconstruct and dissect what had taken place. Instead she fell on the bed, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling with the silliest of smiles on her face.
"Oh my," she sighed again, wondering what tomorrow would bring. She hoped she could manage a few stolen moments alone with Harry and grinned when she realized that yes, she probably could (unless Tonks planned another bird curse or figured out how to Crucio Ron).
But even with the drama of the household looming over her, she still managed to keep that silly expression on her face until she drifted off to sleep.
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Don't cha just hate it when authors tack on their unnecessary and narcissistic notes at the end of the chappie? It's like… "Hey, I was getting into an escapist grove here and now you're flinging me back into the stinking pit of reality." At least, that's what I say. You might say something like, "Wow, an end note! I think I'll just skip it and scroll onto the next chapter because the writer's probably just going to rant about how stupid and hard it is to update every week."
And guess what? You'd be right.
So…yeah…not much of a cliff-hanger really. But that's only because this'll be my last post for about three weeks. Or not. I might have another one up sooner, but my accelerated summer semester started and apparently I have to read a Derrida book every week for the next month. YEAH! (which is code for "please kill me").
Much love,
Magpie
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