New Chapter: Friday
Author's note: I know no one cares because this is a behind-the-scenes detail, but I broke my junk drive with all my rough drafts/outlines on it, so basically I had to start writing the last third of this story from scratch. Sucks? Yes. Will that stop me from finishing this thing? No. Even though this story has more problems than a Terry Gilliam movie, I will find a way.
So…this chapter picks up just before breakfast the next day. Remember, there are two days left in Hermione's visit. Lupin's still gone and…um…things happen. The plot thickens. And develops. Sort of. Now that I've actually got an idea where this story is going, I don't mind telling you that the last two/three chapters since the wedding have been filler. Stupid, zany, utterly utterly unimportant filler. I'm starting to think my muse is actually a glue-sniffing fairy in disguise…
Oh, and on a completely different note, I'm getting sick of Tonks. She's taken on this weird, manic personality that's bothering the shite out of me. This will be one of the last chapters where she plays any kind of part. Maybe. Probably not. Oh…I don't know. But if any of you faithful readers want me to kill her off JK style, just say the word. (Kd…but she is annoying).
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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The Next Morning:
Dearest and most looniest of Lunas,
Hellos from Tonks, your favorite cousin. I'm still here at Godric's Hollow and, I'll be frank, everything's gone to pot. I have to "watch" Hermione and Harry (which is weird), Ron is still alive (which is just annoying), and I'm fairly certain I'm the worst wife in the history of wifery because I've run Remus off (again) and I have no idea when he'll be back…
Tonks paused and put her quill down. She considered just stopping there. There was no way that Luna would ever come to Godric's Hollow if she thought things were as bad as all that.
Tonks shook her head. "This is what I'm reduced to: begging Luna for a visit. It's pitiful, that's what it is: just pitiful. I'm a disgrace to the Tonksian name. And it's already a lousy name: Nymphadora Tonks…It sounds like a sneeze."
She glanced at the clock: 8 a.m. They'd be serving breakfast soon and she was still in her nightgown. Sighing, she picked up the quill and started again.
See Luna, I had this plan. This rather brilliant plan (a plan that was really going well until Remus stuck his stupid nose into it.) It involved a spinster cousin of mine…not you of course…but…
Tonks paused again. Nothing was coming out right.
You see, all week I've been trying to get Harry and Hermione to spend more time together. You know, so they could get to know each other (notice here that "get to know" is code for "get engaged to").
They're so hopelessly cute. They both wouldn't know love if it chewed off their noses, so I took it upon myself to help things along. And you know what, it completely worked! Because I could tell they were so smitten with each other-or just at the beginnings of it anyway. Hermione has looked so happy all week. Really happy. Something happened, you know. I just assumed Harry had done something suitably heroic like saving her from an avalanche or fighting off rabid dogs or something. Hermione was smiling and glowing and Harry kept giving her all these "I'm so fond of you I could explode" looks, and then everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong because now Remus is gone, Ron is still here, Harry and Hermione aren't engaged and there's nothing I can do about it because every time I threaten to kill someone Hermione just ignores me or says "oh Tonks"…
It's really aggravating.
But other than that we're having a lovely time.
So… how about a visit? You could keep Ron company until stupid Hermione and stupid Harry stop being so stupidly stupid. There's still two days left for my plan to work and…um…the end.
Much love,
Tonks
Skimming over the letter, Tonks gave a frustrated groan and ripped it in half. She buried her head in her hands, resigning herself to Operation Bridesmaid's inevitable failure. Hermione was leaving in two days, and there wasn't an engagement ring in sight.
Tossing the letter in the wastebasket, Tonks began to get dressed, cursing herself over the universal letdown that had been the last week. Not only had she botched Hermione's would-be marriage, she'd seriously jeopardized her own.
Or rather. Cardinals had. But, admittedly, she had played a small part in that.
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Across the hall, Hermione was just waking up. The grandfather clock in her room chimed insistently, but even with the sunlight pouring through the window, she felt no need to leave her warm bed. She'd had a very interesting and unusual dream involving Harry. She couldn't remember the particulars, but her cheeks were now rosy and her eyes were bright. Settling back against her pillow, she grinned, strangely relaxed and satisfied all at once.
She glanced out of the window at the sunny winter scene. Up until this morning, rain hadn't stopped for several days and a bitterly cold wind had constantly raged over the jutted cliffs on the outskirts of the town. Most everyone stayed indoors, except Ron, who insisted on taking off on his broomstick whenever the rain stopped for more than five minutes. Between the relentless rain and constant bickering between Ron and Tonks, anyone would think it hadn't been much of a holiday. Even now she could hear Lav's unimpressed reaction to her rainy week in Pemeberley: Really Hermione? No shopping? No dances? And not a red cloak for miles? Huh. Sounds really borrrrring …[yawn]…[sympathetic pat on the back]…[ensuing description of all the handsome officers Lav met in Brighton].
But now, the sun was shining so brightly that the icicles were melting off the windowsill and it looked to be an absolutely beautiful day. As light streamed through the curtains, Hermione snuggled down into her covers, smiling secretly when a particularly pleasing memory of Harry drifted through her drowsy thoughts.
"Harry…what are you …? No!" Hermione cried, pushing him away.
"No?" Harry echoed, a hurt expression on his face as he took a step back.
They were standing at the foot of the stairs in the foyer. No one was around so he hadn't thought twice about slipping an arm around her and planting light, feathery kisses along her cheek.
Hermione grabbed his hand and led him in the direction of the door closest to them. "I meant 'no,' as in 'no not in the hallway,'" she hissed as she pushed him into the darkened room.
She followed him inside the pitch-blackness and slammed the door shut behind her. She turned, only to find herself pinned against the closed door by Harry's body.
"Harry!" She squeaked, taken by surprise.
"Sorry luv," Harry said (not sounding very sorry at all). "There's not much by way of room here."
Hermione stretched her right hand and felt the hard surface of a wall. She stretched the other hand out and found the same.
"Oh no," she groaned, completely ashamed with herself.
"Oh yes," Harry quipped. From the sound of his voice, she could tell he was terribly amused by the whole thing.
This was it. After days of fleeting touches and stolen kisses, this is what she'd finally been reduced to: she'd pushed Harry Potter into a broom closet for a snog.
"How utterly cliché," she thought with a self-depreciating smile. It was the lowest common denominator of adolescent-witch fantasies, along with riding off into the sunset with handsome Quidditch Seekers or being rescued from rampaging ogres.
"I feel like the headmistress is going to throw open the door and deduct house points," she groaned.
"Mmmm," Harry hummed. "There is something awfully fifth-year about it." His hand found her waist as he began running his hands along her sides. "But I must say like this side of you. All adventurous and such."
"You do?" she asked absently as his fingers traced her shoulder. He stepped closer to her and she suddenly felt the hard planes of Harry's chest against her curves. The sensation made her lightheaded.
"I really didn't know it was a broom closet," she softly insisted.
"Sure you didn't," Harry teased, lowering his lips to her exposed shoulder. "Have I told you that I love your hair like this?" She felt his hand run through her hair, tangling in her loose curls. His arm slowly wrapped around her as he lifted her to him.
"You do?" Hermione asked dreamily. She leaned her head back to allow him more room to explore.
"Love your shoulders."
"Oh really?" She sighed as he planted light kisses along her throat. She marveled at the stirring inside her that this simple touch caused.
"Love you."
Hermione pulled away, startled. It was the first time he'd said it since the night he saved her in Meriton.
"I love you too," she replied shyly. It was surprising how easily the words came to her. She realized it was the first time she had said it to any man.
Harry responded by pulling her to him and urgently fusing his mouth with hers.
She could feel her own body tense with surprise. It only took her a second to recover before she kissed him back just as ardently. She heard something clatter behind them and assumed it was the dusty collection of broomsticks. She couldn't have cared less. It was exciting kissing him in the dark like this. Here there was only the feel of his hands on her waist, his lips on hers, his breath on her skin…This man was driving her absolutely crazy.
Something exploded inside her, and she urgently tugged on his jacket, wanting him impossibly closer. Before she even realized what she was doing, she'd hitched a leg around his hip, and a jolt of pleasure exploded inside her as he pressed against her. The sharp pang of pleasure made Hermione throw her head back and bite her lip to keep from crying his name. Harry roughly kissed her, running his hand through her tangled locks. The closet was stiflingly hot, but Hermione couldn't care less. All she could think about was the feeling of him pressed against her and the strange sensations running through her that left her giddy and weak…
An indeterminate amount of time later, Hermione was resting against his chest, gasping, flushed, and feeling as if she didn't have any bones at all.
"Harry…" she whispered against his mouth. Harry pressed his lips to hers and she gave a plaintive sigh. After a long caress that went from soft and sweet to verging on heated, Hermione pulled away.
"Harry…" Hermione was finding it difficult to string a coherent sentence together. "We have to get back…The others will start to wonder where we are."
Harry groaned. But this time, it wasn't because of Hemrione's lips.
She buried her head against his shoulder and felt his arms go round her. "I'm not very romantic, am I? I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He shushed her and gently kissed her forehead. They were silent for a few minutes as they tried to catch their breath. "So how has it been so far?" Harry asked softly, his lips brushing against her temple. "Staying at the house."
"Wonderful," she said, tightening her hold on him. "It's been perfectly marvelous. I almost hate to leave."
"Well that's easy enough to fix. Don't go."
She laughed. "I have to."
"No," Harry said simply. " We'll just dress up Ron in women's clothes and send him back as you."
"That's either the most horribly mean thing anyone's ever said to me, or the sweetest."
"It's whichever will get you to shove me into more broom closets."
Giggling girlishly into her pillow, Hermione leapt out of bed and hopped over to her vanity. After splashing water on her face, she patted her face dry and stared at the mirror. Her reflection grinned back at her. Her glowing smile was positively conspicuous and it only became brighter as Hermione tried to scowl.
"Stop that," she told the girl in the mirror.
The mirror-girl ignored her.
"If you keep smiling like that, everyone will guess why."
Her reflection just grinned as if to say I don't care… la la fa fa…
Hermione stuck her tongue out and the reflection did the same. They called it a draw.
After slipping into a yellow dress, Hermione spent another ten minutes making sure her stubborn curls were in place before going down for breakfast.
Ron and Harry were already downstairs eating. It was only the two of them at the table (Remus was due to return the day after tomorrow and Tonks usually slept later than everyone else).
Ron didn't notice her at first, he was too busy cursing at some newspaper report about the Quidditch Regionals. Harry was also reading a newspaper but looked up as she came in. As usual, she felt a fluttering in her stomach as their eyes met.
Smiling, she said a cheerful 'good morning' to them both. She took a seat across from Harry and her usual toast and coffee were brought in to her. Tonks's copy of The Quibbler lay untouched on the table. Chuckling to herself, Hermione remembered how it was also Luna's favorite. She skimmed its ludicrous front-page headlines: "Secrets Of Ancient Ruins Revealed!" "I Married a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!" and "Authorities Investigate Southland Werewolf Sightings."
Werewolf sightings… Hermione muttered under her breath. Half-smiling, she flipped through the pages. The "report" proved to be nothing more than the usual sensational, second-hand accounts and gossipy prose she'd come to expect from The Quibbler. The entire article reminded her of the two farmgirls she'd overheard in Meriton and probably just as accurate-still, as much as she laughed at the idea of it, the story was unsettling, and the lurid way it was written made her skin crawl:
Three train charmers are quite certain that they saw a large beast resembling a giant wolf lurking around the railway station at Winterwood last night. Although authorities are reluctant to officially comment, this reporter believes that these attacks are another in a long line of incidents involving a very real and very dangerous werewolf that is roaming the countryside. One brave crewman gave the following description, leaving little doubt as to what sort of monster has been wreaking havoc along the Southland railway lines:
"The thing stood on two legs, but as it approached us, it fell to all fours. It had yellow eyes, rather slanted in a way. Cat-like really. Just two yellow glints against the black of the forest. It had a long snout like a dog, but it was wider, like a horse's. The head reminded me of a canine shape, a kind of triangle-looking head. If it was a dog, it certainly wasn't like any dog I'd ever seen. Whatever the thing was, it was looking straight on at us, growling and panting and such…"
Other accounts followed, some from train passengers who saw the thing running along the track and some from farmers who claimed the werewolf attacked their lifestock. Hermione was so engrossed in the story she didn't notice that Ron was talking to her:
"…Don't you think so, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"The thing came out of the darkness, its fangs dripping blood…entrails dangling from its giant jaws…"
"Hermione?" Ron asked again.
"Made off with three o' me sheep."
"Hermione?"
"It came at me…moved like a wolf… bounding out of the woods, snarling and snapping…"
"Hermione!" Ron said loudly.
Hermione jumped; she hadn't realized he was talking to her.
Ron looked at her with laughing eyes. Harry noticed her surprise and put down his own paper.
She smiled apologetically. "Oh, I'm sorry Ron," she said evenly as she casually tossed the paper on the table. "What were you saying?"
"I was saying that you should try and get outside today. It's too nice to stay in the library. Believe me, this good weather won't last."
Hermione nodded. "I was just thinking that. I may go for a walk after breakfast. There's miles of the grounds I haven't seen."
"Have you been through the woods yet?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer. His eyes never left his newspaper. He didn't want Ron to think he was too interested in how she was going to spend her day (and if he suggested going for a walk, he had a feeling Ron would take it as an invitation that included him as well). But this was one outing Ron could definitely not come along on.
"No, I haven't." Hermione gave a fake smile; however she wasn't half as eager as she sounded. After her last little stroll through the woods outside of Meriton, she wasn't looking forward to it.
Ron chuckled. "There's that trail that leads all the way to the lake. You know the one Harry. With those odd Elf trees. S' actually pretty interesting. People come from miles around to see it."
Hermione smiled. "I know. I have no excuse really …" she trailed off.
"Say Harry, why don't you take Mione?" Tonks's voice rang out as she came skipping into the room. She collapsed into a chair beside Remus and began pouring herself some tea. "You're the best person for it. It's your lake and your Elf tree thingies."
"Oh, that's all right…" Hermione began.
"No, it's not all right, is it Harry? Poor Mione. You've been trapped inside for five whole days. It really hasn't been much of a holiday has it?"
"No, it's fine…" Hermione began to insist.
"No, it's not fine. Here you are, a million miles from Meriton, and you're stuck doing the same boring things you always do. Potting around the house all day, reading books and being bored bored bored."
Hermione forced a smile. "How can I be bored with you around Tonks?"
"Bored?" Ron cut in. "Yeah right. 'Driven round the bend' is more like it. Speaking of which, Tonks, pour me some coffee."
"Pour it yourself Ron." Tonks stuck her nose in the air.
"But you're sitting right next to it…oh never mind. Move over."
"Don't shove me!"
"I didn't shove you!"
"Yes you did!"
"No I didn't!"
"Yes you did!"
While Tonks and Ron went back and forth, Hemione stared out the window at the forest. Just the thought of taking a walk through the woods made her shudder. The last time, well… the last time ended badly to say the least, and that newspaper story hadn't helped. Not that she believed in werewolves. The idea was laughable, but the story was uncanny…was it really a wolf that attacked her? She could remember it as though it was only yesterday… the freezing air stinging her lungs…the branches hitting her face…the scream that caught in her throat when the thing dove at her…
Hermione took a shaky sip of her coffee, trying to hide her frown, but the way her cup shook as she brought it to her lips didn't escape Harry's notice. She caught Harry's eye and could tell he was mulling something over. She winced at the thought that perhaps he'd also been reminded him their encounter in the woods. Even worse was the thought that he was also reminded of what happened afterward. With echoes of their namecalling and door slamming ringing in her ear, she hurried through her breakfast and excused herself.
Harry did the same and rushed after her.
Harry's hasty departure put a triumphant smile on Tonks' face. She was convinced that her last-ditch effort at matchmaking would work out brilliantly.
Tonks crossed her fingers and knocked on the table (the wooden table). What's that fishing metaphor? she asked herself. Bait and tackle or something like that? Of course, there'll be a different sort of tackle all together.
Tonks smiled and took a sip of her tea. They might even name one of their children after her (which would be sadistically cruel).
That poor kid…Tonks sighed, imagining the pain of having to go through life as Nymphadora Nightingale Potter. She was too busy feeling sorry for Harry and Hermione's future firstborne to notice that Ron was talking to her:
"Tonks…?"
Poor little Nymphadora Nightingale Potter. Tonks muttered absently. She'll probably get a nickname like
"Nymph-Pot."
"Hey Tonks."
Or just "Nympher."
"Hello? Tonks?"
Goodness…they might even scrap "Nymphadora" and just call her Nightingale Potter…
"Tonks?"
Night-Pot.
"Tonks!"
"What!?" She turned to him, startled.
"Pass the marmalade."
"Pass it yourself?" Tonks said snidely and went back to ignoring him.
"Pass it…? Dammit Tonks! You really are the most annoying female on the planet!"
"Don't sell yourself short Ron."
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Hermione had to admit, Ron was right: it was much too nice a day to spend inside. The grounds were still covered in a thin sheet of frost, but the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud for miles and miles.
She could see her breath against the blue sky and smiled. They really did have the strangest weather in Pemberley. For the last five days, there had been nothing but rain and black skies and now there was fluffy clouds and soft sunshine as far as the eye could see.
Harry had followed her outside. He quickly fell into step beside her and she hooked her arm with his. He said he wanted to walk into town and Hermione cheerfully agreed.
They strolled along the southern part of the house. The crackle of gravel mingled with the muffled sounds of their footsteps, the only sounds breaking the noticeable silence between them. She glanced at Harry who was kept shooting her sideways glances.
"Beautiful day," he observed casually.
She gave him a small smile and looked up at the clear sky.
"Hermione," Harry said slowly, "you haven't seen the lake yet have you? Remus said something about it at breakfast."
Hermione shook her head and forced a smile. "No I haven't. Not yet." Hermione replied nervously. It hadn't escaped her notice that they were headed towards a trail into the woods.
Don't ask me Harry…don't ask me…please don't ask me…
Harry nervously rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that Hermione always found adorable: "Well, there's a short-cut that way, and seeing as how you haven't been through the woods yet, maybe you'd like to come with me…To see it. The woods I mean. Not the short cut…" Harry trailed off with a tense smile.
Hermione looked apologetically at him. "Thank you Harry, but I just don't really feel like walking too far today…" Hermione smiled stiffly, knowing Harry saw through the lie. She sighed, resigned to tell the truth. "And honestly, you remember what happened the last time I went into the woods… I nearly got us both killed...and…and…"
"…And it's too nice a day to get eaten?" Harry finished for her.
"Ha. Ha," she said flatly, unhooking her arm from his.
Harry turned and studied her for a moment. "It's perfectly safe. I promise. Griffindor's honor."
Hermione nodded vigorously. "I know. I know, really. But still…just the idea…" She shivered as she took a long look at the woods. The trees seemed to go on for miles and miles with no end in sight.
Harry stepped towards her. "And I do have my wand. So if anything bothers us, we can just set it on fire. Unless it's Ron of course. In that case we have to exercise some restraint."
Hermione smiled weakly. She still didn't feel quite right about it. "Harry, I don't think…" she trailed off. A dozen excuses came to mind, but she knew Harry would see through all of them.
He held out his hand. "I won't let anything happen to you," he repeated firmly.
Hermione paused before taking it. "All right," she said with a shaky sigh as she took his arm. "But if I get swallowed or even slightly singed during our escape, I'm blaming you."
"All right," Harry consented with a lopsided grin. "As long as you promise not to fall on me again."
Hermione mouth fell open. "That's not funny Harry!"
"No, it's not," Harry said, rubbing his back in mock pain.
Hermione's indignation quickly gave way to laughter as they headed up the trail.
The bare tree branches above them canopied the trail, covering them in shade. Sensing her nervousness, Harry squeezed her hand. "It gets brighter up a-ways," Harry said reassuringly.
Hermione nodded and tried to put on a brave front. He was right though. When they started up the hill, the sunlight pored through the bare brances lighting their way.
"Oh Harry…" she gasped as they reached the hilltop that overlooked the frozen lake. Below them, hundreds of trees shimmered in the scant sunlight. At first Hermione thought it was just an odd effect of the light on the frozen lake. But the shimmer from the trees wasn't ice, it was glass. Thousands of trees were made of glass! Except for being streaked with odd diamond-shaped patterns of frost, their trunks were completely transparent and their crystal branches twisted up to the sky.
Harry took her hand and led her towards the lake. Crystal branches dangled overhead, light glinted from each one and danced over and around them. She was speechless. She'd never seen anything like this. Hermione didn't know which way to look, everything was so beautiful.
She pulled away from Harry to look more closely at a large tree beside them. It was almost completely transparent, flawless glass, streaked with traces of ice. She slid a glove off her hand and touched the trunk, amazed.
"Harry, I've never seen anything like this. It's like something out of a fairytale."
"It's old Elf magic," Harry explained, taking her hand and leading her down the trail. "It's been like this for the last six hundred years. Or at least that's what my father told me." Harry shrugged. "Of course, he could've just been ashamed to admit that he made himself a glass forest."
"I don't see why anyone would be ashamed of this," Hermione motioned at the view in front of her. She stopped to take a closer look at another twisting tree with outstretched glass branches.
With a pleased expression, Harry watched her admire the forest. He didn't want to stare at her, but he couldn't help admire her, or smile a goofy, pathetic smile whenever he was with her like this. He leaned against a nearby tree trunk. The branches shook with his weight and a large clump of snow fell on Hermione's shoulder.
"Harry!" she exclaimed.
"Sorry my lovely," Harry said with a smile, not looking sorry at all.
Hermione brushed the snow off her shoulder and laughed. "Not yet you're not.
Come here Harry," she said, crooking her finger at him with an inviting smile.
Harry eagerly trotted over to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss, when she suddenly slopped a handful of runny snow on his head.
"Not funny," he muttered, shaking the snow out of his hair.
"I thought it was," she said in a musical tone.
She squealed when he reached for her. Ducking behind a tree, she laughed: "Harry this is horrible! There's
nothing to hide behind!"
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An uncertain amount of time later, they were sitting side-by-side on a bench farther up the path next to the frozen lake. They hadn't quite made it to town. It had been too long since they had a chance to be alone like this, and neither seemed willing to end their time alone together. Some might have imagined it as a typical scene of young lovers: two cloaked figures sitting beside each other, white winter scenery in the background, their cheeks turned apple red by the nipping wind, their arms around each other (but not for the sake of warmth).
However picturesque and ordinary, it was still a strange and thrilling experience for Hermione. Suitably swept off her feet by the enchanted forest, she tried to lengthen the kisses, pressing her lips against his as he grazed her mouth, however, for some reason Harry resisted, pulling back each time.
"Harry…" Hermione said his name with a breathy sigh. She snuggled closer, searching for more contact, trying to get closer. He took her in his lap, and with her body flush against his, she could feel the hard lines of his chest against her soft curves
Harry rested his chin on her shoulder, his eyes drifted shut as their bodies pressed against each other. He was desperately trying to control himself, but Hermione was making it incredibly difficult. His knuckles were white as his hands raked over her dress. Hermione's lips found his throat, and began long, languid trail of kisses up along his jaw. Hermione began nibbling his ear and making kittenish sighs as she squirmed against him.
"Harry, kiss me…please Harry…" she whispered against his mouth. He tasted like the winter air, crisp and clean. She lowered her head and started softly kissing his neck. Harry's head fell to the side, his eyes closed and he groaned. His breath caught in his throat as she slowly moved her kisses up his neck and nibbled on his earlobe.
He suddenly pulled away. He cupped her cheek and looked directly into her eyes.
"Hermione?" Harry whispered reverently.
"Hmmm?" she hummed. His hand began to caress her back, and she again felt a thrill of desire radiate through her body. His hands traveled to her sides and slowly up her arms, until…
…Oh wait…he was saying something…Hermione shook herself out of her Harry-induced haze and waited for him to speak.
Hermione opened her eyes and found him staring at her. "Harry, what is it?"
Harry smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Nothing."
"Tell me."
"Er….It's not important."
Hermione looked at him skeptically.
Harry swallowed hard. "Um…Did you know this was where my father proposed to his wife…er…my mother…um…they're the same person of course…" Harry trailed off, embarrassed.
"No I didn't," Hermione answered, honestly surprised. She looked around at the pristine beauty of the countryside. "It seems a perfect place for it though."
Harry nodded. "I always thought so." He blanched, suddenly nervous. He could feel his hands shaking, so he tucked them into his pockets.
She looked at him, concerned. "Harry, are you all right?"
"Er…well…I was thinking about our plan to send Ron back instead of you."
Hermione chuckled. "Harry, I was just joking about that."
"Well…of course we were joking…but I've been thinking that…"
Harry paused and shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Hermione watched him intently, waiting for him to go on.
After what seemed like an eternity, Harry cleared his throat: "…I was thinking that there's really no reason for you to leave."
"Oh?" Hermione asked uncertainly, thinking that was the last thing she expected him to say.
"I mean…you could always…just…marry me."
"Oh," Hermione muttered again. Okay, I was wrong. That was the last thing I expected him to say. She wasn't sure whether Harry was serious. It was only when he took a luminous emerald ring from his pocket did she realize that he was, in fact, deathly serious.
She nearly fainted as he gently took her left hand and removed her glove. Whether it was her hand that was shaking or his, she couldn't tell. She felt the chilly air against her fingertips, the cold metal of the ring against her skin, and the next thing she knew, the large emerald square was glittering on her finger.
"It's perfect," she said vaguely, still shocked.
"It's perfect on you," Harry said, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
Hermione leaned in his caress but couldn't take her eyes off the ring. Flashes of elusive blue swirled in its depths as she held out her hand to admire it. She found herself unable to look away from its swimming glints of deep green. For some reason, it took her back to the first time she ever saw Harry's eyes: he was standing in the shadows of the front door of her Aunt's townhouse refusing to be introduced. He'd taken her breath away, that much she remembered. Throughout her Aunt's exhausting hospitality, she kept wondering how a person's eyes could get so green. They seemed unnaturally, eerily beautiful at the time. Those same eyes had haunted her every night since. Even when she couldn't stand the sight of him, she couldn't escape her fascination with his eyes.
…And it's the same shade of green, she muttered, staring at the ring.
Aloud, she tried to formulate a coherent reply: "Oh Harry…I don't think…"
Harry pulled away. "Shhh. Let's not overanalyze this just yet," he whispered softly. Holding her gaze, he gently kissed her lips. "Okay?"
Staring back at him, she trailed her finger down his jaw and cradled his chin in her hand. She pulled him forward until their lips almost touched and whispered, "Okay."
He nodded and lightly kissed her on the mouth, on her chin, slowly moving along her jaw until he moved on to the sensitive area of her neck. She heard Harry's breathing deepen and felt him once again draw her closer.She sighed at the sensations he was creating, and her eyes slowly closed, lulled into hazy, languorous desire. Hermione gazed at him through heavily-lidded eyes.
"Harry, we shouldn't…I can't…"
He hushed her, gently running his hand through her hair.
"My family…" Hermione insisted absently.
Harry didn't answer as he leaned over, gently nuzzling his cheek against hers.
Hermione's eyes drifted shut as his lips grazed her ear. Her hands found his collar and began absently playing with the buttons. This was the man she would marry. There was no doubt about that. The vision she had during the wedding was still as vivid in her mind's eye as ever-her walking down the aisle, staring into Harry's eyes, momentarily forgetting about the ridiculousness of Tonks' infernal Celtic costumes-that a moment that made her catch her breath and nearly drop her flowers.
She didn't want anyone else. There was no question about that. But like this? An elopement? They were supposed to be moving slowly, after all. They had their families to consider, Harry's and her own. No one would understand a sudden elopement. It just wasn't respectable…expected…proper…decent…correct…
…All the words Hermione preferred over perfect.
"Harry…" Hermione whispered against his cheek, "We can't…"
"Yes we can," he said softly, capturing her mouth and coaxing her into a slow kiss.
Harry cupped her cheek as their lips moved against each other. Her soft sigh merged with his throaty moan. Harry pressed his mouth more firmly against hers, and Hermione quickly forgot herself as she lost herself in the kiss. A groan emanated low in his throat as he slid his other arm around her waist, holding her tightly while he pried her lips open with his tongue and plunged. Hermione gasped at the sudden contact, but melted against him, squirming in his lap as light tingles raced up and down her spine.
Her mind was racing, only sensations registered: his warm breath against her lips, his hand on her waist, her hands scraping his back, his tongue dancing with hers. He explored her mouth greedily as her desire overtook her rapidly. He broke away and began whispering about Scotland, about an elopement, that they could take a carriage and leave tonight, that they could be married by tomorrow afternoon…
Hermione nodded absently as he kissed a feathery trail along her jaw. It was true. They could leave for Scotland today, there was nothing stopping them. They wouldn't have to be satisfied with fleeting touches and stolen kisses. They wouldn't have to leave each other gasping, frustrated, flushed, and unsatisified. She imagined Harry carrying her to a dark secluded hotel room and finally taking her to his bed-just the thought of their wedding night made her shudder with a heady pulse. It would be everything she wanted. It would be passionate… wonderful… perfect…
Perfect.
Hermione suddenly broke away from him. "No… Harry…I can't…" Hermione resisted
when he tried to pull her back. "I can't marry you…not like this…"
"Like what?" Harry asked, concern etched on his features as he cupped her face.
Hermione just shook her head and looked away.
"Like what?" Harry pressed her.
"Like…this. Eloping…running off without our family's consent… It just isn't done…."
"You know that doesn't matter to me."
"But it matters to me," she said sadly.
"More than I do?" He asked softly.
Hermione lowered her voice: "Of course not."
"Then I don't see…"
Hermione pulled away and stood up. "No, you don't see. Because you don't have two sisters to raise. I have to set an example for them." She gave a frustrated sigh. "And you know that Harry. We've talked about all this before."
Harry rose from the bench and stood next to her: "Luna and Lavender aren't children."
"Lavender is. And Luna's…just Luna. They wouldn't understand. I can't simply disappear with a man I hardly know!"
"Oh so we're back to that." Harry impatiently threw up his hands.
"Of course we're back to that! I've only been here a week Harry. Did you really expect me to suddenly forget that I've only known you a month or two? Or that I have a family to consider? It's selfish to think that they don't have a say in this."
"I have a family too Hermione."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean Sirius and Remus wouldn't be happy about this either, but I'm willing to risk that for you."
"I'm sorry," Hermione shook her head sadly. "I just… I can't marry you like this."
They stared at each other for a full minute. Except for the twinkling of the glass branches overhead, the forest was silent. The tense silence was finally broken by the sound of Harry's footsteps striding back towards the house.
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They walked back to Godric's Hollow in silence. The glass trees around them glittered eerily in the fading daylight. Their branches shook in the breeze, sending flecks of refracted light onto the frozen earth below. The crackle of the damp foliage mingled with the muffled sounds of their footsteps, which were the only sounds breaking the noticeable silence between them. She fell behind as Harry quickened his pace. Even at a distance she could see that his shoulders were tense and he was angrily muttering to himself.
Hermione nibbled an already tender lip. Well you handled that well, she muttered sarcastically. Harry proposes to you, gives you his mother's ring and…what? You say, 'No thank you Harry. You're being selfish.'…just brilliant…
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Well done Potter…Harry berated himself. Lose your temper. Act like a complete ass. She's right you know. Selfish, that's what you are. Of course she'd say 'no' after that, and you only have yourself to blame you stupid prat…
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And just why should I feel so guilty? Hermione huffed. Harry's the one being absolutely rash and impossible. I have an example to set for my sisters after all. How would it look if Luna followed suit and suddenly eloped with a strange man was staying with? Or Lavender for that matter? I would never forgive myself…Harry's different of course…but still…there would be a scandal, that much is certain…no matter how much we both want this, we can't pretend that a hurried marriage wouldn't affect our families…
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Harry kicked at the frozen ground. Good God Potter, haven't you learned anything from the last time you were in Meriton? Not exactly your finest hour. The girl gets attacked in the woods and you go and propose ten minutes later. Excellent idea that… [Harry assumed a mocking tone of his voice] um, say Hermione, darling, I know you're traumatized and all, but seeing as how I'm hopelessly in love with you, how bout we get married? You could do worse you know. I'm sure there's someone somewhere who makes you more miserable than I do. Think about it, won't you? I'll just act like a jealous idiot and make you cry. That'll seal the deal… show you what's in store, eh?
Harry growled in frustration. And now this. Shoving the ring on her finger, as if she doesn't have any say in the matter… Least she didn't slap me this time. Probably should have though…
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Of course, Harry's not exactly a stranger to our family…there wouldn't necessarily be a scandal…
Why do I have to assume the worst of everything?
---------------------------------
What did she call me last time? An inconsiderate idiot?
Well said.
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Aunt Aurora wouldn't mind at all. She'd be thrilled to have The Harry Potter as a nephew-in-law…
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She gives you a second chance and you pull a stunt like this…
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And Luna already knows about how I feel. When she sent my clothes she even pinned a note to the suitcase:"I hope Harry likes these." I was furious at the time of course (it's not like Luna to tease), but deep down I knew she was just giving her consent…
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There had to be a better way of going about this…
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Ugh! The man drives me absolutely crazy. How could I be expected to think straight when he's sitting centimeters
away, looking all handsome and so forth?
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I should've talked to Remus. He managed to propose to Tonks, which means he's either a master communicator or the bravest man alive.
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What does Harry have to be so unreasonable about this?
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She hasn't taken off the ring…she can't be that angry.
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He still looks so angry…
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What's a more dignified word for "begging"?
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He's so stubborn…so utterly stubborn. And now he's just stubborn and furious at the same time. I honestly don't understand the man…And why doesn't he turn around? We need to talk about this, talk without screaming this time. He needs to apologize…or maybe I do? I did refuse to marry him…but then he's so stubborn…ugh. What a mess…
Hermione could see the lights of Godric's Hollow in the distance and she suddenly realized that the ring was still on her finger. She stared at it miserably. A sob caught in her throat, but she quickly shook off her sadness.
Selfish, perhaps that's what she would've called him at once, but as she threw a retrospective glance over the whole of their relationship, so full of contradictions, she sighed at her paradoxical feelings.
She was still too shocked to be angry about it; and she was too confused to cry. It all happened so fast. One minute she was in his arms, the next they were silently storming back to the house. She hadn't dared to talk to him during their trudging walk. The entire way back, she could feel the anger radiating off him. Or perhaps it was hurt pride. Or maybe just disappointment. Whatever Harry was feeling, she had no more idea of his frame of mind than her own. She didn't know what to feel herself. Resentment, frustration, sadness…it was all a muddled mess, ebbing and flowing like the glints of blue in that emerald ring.
Perfect, she muttered again, watching the ring shimmer a deep purple in the orange light of the setting sun.
She now understood why "perfect" had two meanings. The first meant an ideal; a flawless completion; an
utterly absolute wholeness. She gave a rueful smile when she realized that "to perfect" meant quite the
opposite. It meant to improve, to refine, to finish, to build up… it implied a constant incompletion. Suddenly, the
latter meaning seemed a more fitting way to describe her relationship with Harry.
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Trying to avoid Harry, Hermione had an early dinner sent to her room and afterward curled up with a book on her bed. Making herself quite comfortable by the fire, she spent a quiet hour pouring over a book about medicinal Muggle uses for Chinese herbal teas. It was a very helpful book. An informative and utterly interesting book. A must-read in every way… at least that's what she kept telling herself. She hadn't read a single line of the text all night. Instead she'd only stared at the pages, replaying her argument with Harry over and over in her head.
It didn't help matters that the engagement ring was burning a hole in her pocket. She could feel it every time she shifted in her pillow. Harry would ask for it back eventually, and she wouldn't hesitate in returning it. It was his ring after all, she had refused it; she had refused him…again. And yet she still itched to try it on, to wear it, to watch it shimmer against the firelight. She didn't chance it in case Tonks decided to pay a visit (which would invariably involve her barging in and launching into an "I don't miss Remus" speech).
If anyone did have half a mind to come charging into her room, she was hoping it was Harry, who would crawl to her on his knees, begging for her forgiveness. Or perhaps she would fall into his arms, pleading and apologizing herself. She couldn't make up her mind which scenario was more likely.
It was funny, she thought: here she was, confused whether he should come begging for forgiveness because he stormed away after proposing (again) or whether she should throw herself at his feet because she'd refused him (again). Of course it wasn't really "funny," not in the pleasant, smiling, ha-ha sense of the word… but more in the universe-hates-Hermione kind of funny. After all their arguments and discussions and worst-laid plans, it was ironic, odd, and incredibly heartbreakingly tragic that she was confused as to who should apologize to whom.
But whichever the case, the night wore on and no one came. After anxiously staring at page 1 of her book for what seemed like hours, she became painfully aware of the ticking clock. The seconds fell like the freezing drops of rain against the window …at 10:00 she tossed aside the book, 10:30 she began pacing around the room, at 11:05 she went back to her book (but didn't read a single word of it), at 11:45 she sat perched on the edge of her bed, at 12:05 she began pacing around the room again, and at 12:30, miserable, drained, and heartbroken, she lost all hope.
He's not coming, she said in a hollow voice as the clock sounded the half-hour.
An unhelpful internal voice spoke up: "You did wonder when all this loveliness would come crashing down around you…happy now?"
"Far from it actually…" Hermione muttered. It was true. She was far from happy. She was humbled, she was grieved, she repented, although she hardly knew of what. She wanted to him to turn around and talk to her…. they couldn't simply leave things like this … she was leaving soon…they couldn't let things end like this…. There had to be some explanation why he didn't come, some explanation that didn't involve him not hating her…
Maybe he's trapped under an attic beam or fell into a closet full of broomsticks…yes that's it…well done Hermione… she congratulated herself sarcastically. Maybe Tonks turned him into a bullfrog thinking he was Ron…
She knew she wouldn't sleep at all that night. Taking a candle from her bedside, she decided to take a walk through the house. The bedroom door gave a soft thud as it closed losing behind before she stepped into the dark hallway. She padded through the silent corridor, focusing determinedly on the feel of the hardwood floors under her shoes. The clip-clop noise calmed her uneasy internal rhythm, giving her mind something else to do besides think and worry and wonder.
Worrying had always best been done inside a neat calm head because that same head would need to come up with objective solutions. But whenever Harry was involved, her mind became muddled with all sorts of odd, unfamiliar thoughts: desire, passion, longing, love, hope…and after this disappointment she felt as though she'd given way, she'd become a confused jumbled, gray mess, wilting and withering and falling into a dark pit of despair… That's what she felt, utter despair, a black aching feeling that was eating away at her, a cold shadowy ache that made her insides freeze…
And after only six hours…she rolled her eyes. Honestly Hermione. Why don't you climb out of your freezing pit long enough to actually talk to Harry? Then you can hurl yourself into your vortex of despair…
Eventually she found herself on one of the floors in the east wing, which was lined with dozens of suits of armor and tapestries and shields. Even though she'd only been there a week, she was already familiar with the Potter's collection of medieval armaments; it seemed whenever she and Tonks explored the house, she always had to keep Tonks from playing with all the swords and shields.
("But they're so shiny," Tonks would whine, before grudgingly putting them back).
As she turned the corner, she noticed a light was coming from one of the rooms down the hallway. Remembering that it was a oft-used sitting room, she headed towards it, not really sure why. It was more out of a vague curiosity about who might still be up at this time of night rather than a desire to talk to anyone.
The room was aglow with a roaring fire, and she gasped as she recognized Harry sitting on one of the dark sofas flanking it. He was staring into the flames, a brandy snifter in his hand and a tussled overcoat around his shoulders. She watched him for a minute as he thoughtfully swirled the amber-colored liquid in the glass. Moonlight poured through the ice-covered window frames behind him, reminding her of the glass branches by the lake...
Finding she had to turn away, she chewed on her already tender lip, trying to keep her despair in check. Looking down, she found herself gripping the material on her dress so tightly that her hands were white. Her legs were shaky and her breathing came in raspy breaths and she found herself wanting to sink down against the doorframe until she was safely on the ground.
But instead of fainting or falling, she summoned up her courage and cleared her throat, hoping to get his attention. He didn't seem to hear her. He kept staring into the fire, watching it with a hardened expression.
"Harry?" she asked softly, knocking on the open door.
He didn't answer her.
"Harry?"
He turned to her with expressionless eyes.
Hermione nibbled her lip and shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.
"Hello," she said weakly.
Harry just nodded and turned back to the fire.
She watched him for a few silent minutes and soon felt a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't seen Harry like this since the early days of their acquaintance- dark and brooding, his beautiful eyes tinged with icy indifference-it reminded her of the Christmas party at her Aunt's townhouse and the ball at Pomona Lodge when he was a forbidding, fearful thing to behold.
But she wouldn't be intimated. Or at least she wouldn't act intimidated. We need to talk…we can't leave things like this…we need to talk…Hermione told herself over and over again. She wouldn't assume the worst of him, she wouldn't overanalyze his manner. Instead she would talk to Harry like a rational, reasonable human being and then she would fling herself onto her bed and cry herself to sleep like any other heartbroken witch.
She gathered her courage and quietly walked over to him. Kneeling at his side, she placed her hand over his.
"Harry? Is everything all right?" she asked softly.
Harry didn't turn to face her.
"Harry?"
"Yes. M' Fine," he said in a low voice.
"Are you really?"
Harry made an affirmative noise and continued to stare at the fire.
"Oh," she said simply, removing her hand as if it'd been slapped.
Well…so much for talking, she thought sadly. But as much as she wanted to, she didn't leap to her feet and run down the hallway in a teary mess. Instead she stayed stubbornly beside him. She wanted to him to turn around and talk to her. They simply couldn't leave things like this. She was returning home soon, and they couldn't let things end like this…. A sob caught in her throat at the thought, but she quickly checked herself.
"Harry I'm sorry" she suddenly said.
"What?" Harry turned around, startled, as if seeing her for the first time.
"Harry I'm sorry," she repeated miserably.
"Sorry? What for?" Harry shook his head as a familiar concern melted his icy manner.
"For what happened earlier." She tried (and failed) to keep the utter despair out of her voice.
"What do you mean?" Harry took her proffered hand. Hermione felt relieved when he folded her hand in his and brought her closer.
"Our argument. You asked me to…I wouldn't…you were so angry and I…I'm sorry…"
Harry didn't let her finish. He put his glass down and gently pulled her into his lap.
"Oh no…no it's not that luv," Harry quickly assured her. "Never that. You have nothing to apologize for."
"I…didn't think…" Hermione wiped away a tear. "You look so strange just now…I thought…" she hung her head and trailed off.
He shook his head and wrapped his arms around her. "I've just heard some bad news is all. You haven't having done anything wrong."
"I was sure you hated me, " she said, resting her head against his shoulder.
He hushed her.
"And I do…I do want to go with you…I'm so sorry… I'm sorry…" she held onto him tightly.
"No luv," he kissed her forehead. "You were right about the elopement. It was a crazy thing to do. I
don't know what I was thinking."
Harry pulled her closer, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her lips, hushing her and trying to calm her down. "It's all right lovely," he said over and over again as tears began to fall from her eyes. Harry kissed them away as he held her to him. "It's all right, I'm sorry my lovely. Don't cry…"
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" she repeated against his shoulder.
"Shhhh… I'm sorry too," he kissed her forehead.
Hermione shook her head, running her hands through Harry's hair. "I do want to…I do want to go with you…I do…honestly…I'm just…afraid... "
Harry whispered some soothing phrases and she slowly quieted.
"I'm sorry," she murmured absently, leaning into his hand. He pulled her slowly forward until their lips touched. He kissed her softly, tenderly, telling her without words that she could trust him, that he understood and that he felt the same way. As this realization hit her, she melted into a puddle at his feet. He could have asked her to do anything and she would have complied without reservation.
He lifted her head back up and covered her mouth with his, his tongue sliding in to meet his. They explored each other's mouths until she felt dizzy. She curled her arms around his neck. His lips were so sweet and soft and she just wanted to hold onto him tightly, never let go.
Harry kissed a trailed along her jaw and whispered sweet things into her ear. A feeling of relief washed over her as she curled herself against him. "Oh Harry" she said against his collar. She said it again, and again as tears rolled down her face. All the while, Harry held her tightly, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her lips, hushing her and trying to calm her down. "It's all right lovely," he said over and over again as tears began to fall from her eyes. Harry kissed them away as he held her to him. "It's all right, I'm sorry my lovely. Don't cry…I can't let my lovely cry now can I?"
Harry whispered some soothing phrases and she slowly quieted. He lifted her head back up and covered her mouth with his. They explored each other's mouths until she felt a now-familiar tingling pulse that made her feel warm and weak as he whispered sweet things into her ear. She hummed approvingly as he gently nuzzled his cheek against hers. Hermione's eyes drifted shut as his lips grazed her ear and her hands began absently playing with his collar.
"Harry?" Hermione asked in a hazy voice, "What happened?"
Harry paused and pulled away. "What do you mean?"
"You said you had some bad news. Has something happened?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably and looked at the floor.
"Harry, can't you tell me?" She hated to press him. He looked haggard and worn, but she wanted to know what had shaken him so badly.
He didn't answer her right away, and when he did it was with grim expression.
"Not now luv." He kissed her again. "I will tell you…but…I can't. Not yet. You see I've…there's… something unfortunate happened… and…well, I'll have to leave early tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow. But why?"
"I need to see somebody about…something."
"Is it for Sir Sirius?"
"No…not for Sirius. But I won't be gone long. It's only for a day or two. I'll be back before Sunday and I'll tell you then."
"But I'm leaving Sunday," Hermione gently reminded him.
"I know," he kissed her forehead. "I'll be back long before you go."
Hermione shook her head, running her hands through Harry's hair. "Promise?"
"I promise. I can't let my lovely leave without saying goodbye now can I?" he cupped her cheek.
"No," she murmured absently, leaning into his hand. He pulled her slowly forward until their lips touched. He kissed her softly, tenderly, telling her everything would be all right, that they would have a wonderful life together no matter what. And in that moment, even though she was ever a reluctant optimist, she believed him.
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