A/N. We pick up the story from where we left Roy and Jane. The end of this chapter ties into the Prologue. It's about motive, intent, and doing things we don't think we are capable of. It is quite different from the last two fun chapters.
Chapter 17 - The Calm Before the Storm
Despite her seemingly jovial disposition, Harry could sense that something was different about Hermione after she came back from the ladies room. He peered into her eyes as he helped her into her coat and saw something he had not seen before. An unsettling emotion, an unrest, but what about exactly he was unable to recognize. She was hiding it and hiding it well. And because she was hiding it, it was definitely not a good thing.
If she were just any stranger, he wouldn't have thought about it too much. He had been on those dates which started out great and lost steam in the end. He would have just gone with the flow. The Roy part of him was definitely not concerned but the Harry one, her friend, was.
She told him where her hotel was.
It appears she is going through with this. Was it the impending guilt that she was anticipating?
She preferred to walk and she suggested they take a more scenic route.
It was about five, maybe ten minutes away. Did she need more time to sort things out?
She mentioned the weather.
Kiss of death. That conversation on the phone, his or the one previous, had definitely killed the fire. Or, at least, it turned it down by a significant amount. Who else did she talk with?
"They say Toronto is getting eleven inches at least, maybe up to twenty."
"I heard," he said, biting his tongue.
Who was she talking with? Ron?
"It's so nice out right now but the storm is supposed to be here any minute," she said, more weather conversation.
He agonized over how to get to the bottom of this change before getting to her hotel. If she didn't want to do this, they really shouldn't.
"It's the calm before," he answered, surprised by the chuckle that he got from it.
She saw that he was puzzled and tried to explain, "That's just so true in many ways."
Something was definitely up. If only he could ask her pointedly. Wait. He actually could. Roy could. As he hesitated for a second, a question popped up in his mind and quickly disappeared. Are you sure you want to know?
"It's okay. It okay if you change your mind about us going back to your hotel room," Harry said, offering her a way out.
Roy was protesting, No, it's not! No, it's not!
If she took it, he was thinking, he would make sure she was back safely in her room and then figure out a more appropriate way to protect her overnight. Maybe, he could use the Anti-Polyjuice and spend the night over as 'Harry'.
Immediately after Hermione excused herself to go to the ladies room, Harry had called his Toronto MLE contact and waived off the Auror who was watching her, saying he would cover for them until five thirty the following morning. The Auror was quite thankful. Well, Harry was just being considerate. If the Auror stayed, he could only imagine the difficulties that would present while writing a report. Roy's agenda for the night called for extensive and in-depth, um, contact with the Protectee, which would be considered highly inappropriate. That would raise eyebrows in Toronto, and other unimaginable skin appendages in London.
"I want to do this," she said decisively, then realized something, turned to him and said, "Unless you've changed your mind, then that's okay, too."
"Merlin, no. I want to do this, too," Harry as Roy said quickly for the obvious reason, "You're certain?"
"Positive."
The fact that she was 'positive' about sleeping with Roy didn't mean that her phone call to him earlier was not about needing a friend to tell her not to do it. Just how badly do you want to do this?
"How long have you been engaged?" he asked her and she looked at him for a second before replying.
"About six months."
"Are you ready for the big day?"
"Do you really want to know or are you just asking politely?"
"I really want to know," he said truthfully.
"Right," she said playfully, she did not believe him. "I'm excited about the big day. Ecstatic it's finally just twelve days away."
"Tell me more about it," Harry decided it was time to stop beating around the bush.
"What? Right now?" she was amused.
"Yes," he tried not to make a big deal of it.
"You want us to talk about my wedding to someone else right now before you and I have sex?"
"Why not?" he challenged, "You're obviously thinking about it and about him. Don't you think it's better if we bring it out in the open? Was that your fiancé you were on the phone with?"
She laughed as she shook her head.
"What?" he grinned at her, not knowing why she was laughing. And was that a 'no'?
"You're strange, do you know that?" she said, obviously perplexed about his intentions. "I would think talking about him and my wedding would be the last thing you would want to do."
"It's just curious. Why would an engaged, attractive and smart woman like you choose to spend tonight with a stranger?"
"I hope you don't need me to spell that out for you."
"I know the obvious 'why'," he replied, "But, why?"
She was still smiling, "Talking like a four-year-old now. The surprises with you are never-ending."
He wasn't going to let it go, "Why are you doing this?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Why risk losing what you have for something so fleeting?"
"Why do you want to know?" she repeated.
They were non-judgmental questions just needing plain simple answers. Harry was on the defensive; should he tell her the truth or lie?
Because I'm your friend and I want to understand. Because I need to know that you are sure about this. Because I don't want you to screw up your life for one physical moment with a lowlife like me and regret it.
Harry felt telling her the truth would make Roy more desirable. He could just imagine Hermione falling for Roy's charm even more.
What would the scumbag Roy say?
"No offence, but I need some assurance that this is a one time thing."
"It is. Absolutely, one time only, no repeats," she held up a sign with her hand, "Girl scout's honour."
"Not good enough," he stopped himself from pointing out to her that she wasn't and had never been one.
"I'm just not sure if I want to tell a stranger my deepest and darkest secrets," she said to him. "I hate thinking that I could be conversation fodder."
That was either true or she was stalling again. She wasn't going to get off that easily.
"There is nothing more liberating than telling a stranger things about yourself you can't share with anyone else you know."
"Really?" she was sceptical, not about what he said, but likely about his true intentions.
"I don't know. I just made that up," he replied, trying to lighten things up. He didn't want her to withdraw into a shell. "Don't people spend a lot of money to see therapists to do just that?"
"True."
"I have an idea. Let's make a pact."
"A pact?"
"A promise."
"We just met. Don't you think making promises to each other is a bit premature at this stage?"
"Whatever we say or do tonight, we won't tell anyone else and we won't discuss outside of Toronto. So you can be sure I won't tell a soul."
She laughed, "Sounds like you just want us to have an excuse to really go to town."
"We're headed there anyway," Harry replied. "Why? Are you planning on telling him? Was that him on the phone earlier tonight?"
"No, it wasn't him and I definitely don't want him to know. I'm may be a tad vindictive but I'm not cruel," she admitted.
He had a good guess why she would feel vindictive. That morning after she left for Toronto, Ron told him about their argument. So, if it wasn't Ron on the phone with her, it must have been Ginny. He wished he knew what they talked about.
"Do we have a deal, then?"
She stopped walking just as flurries started falling from the sky. They were in front of the main entrance to a Muggle Hospital which also housed the Downtown Toronto Hospital for Magical Illnesses and Injuries.
"We should have a witness, for this pact," she was making this crazier than it already was.
Harry looked around, looking to please. It was close to 11pm, a streetcar had just whizzed by and a few private vehicles passed. Pedestrians had seemingly deserted the streets in anticipation of the storm that was almost upon them. No souls around to harass.
"What about them?" he motioned to the two bronze statues right standing near the doors to the hospital.
"Them? David and Esther Maple?"
He walked towards and stopped right in front of the sculptures, knowing Hermione would follow. She stood right beside him, her shoulder brushing against his arm as she did. Her close proximity stirred an impulse to touch her. He felt her eyes on him and resisted the urge to look back.
"Founders of the Toronto Muggle and Magical Hospitals," Harry kept his eyes on the inanimate objects in front of them as he spoke.
"He was Pure-blood and she was Muggle-born. They fell in love, unlikely and odd at a time when Muggle-borns were still ostracized by most Magical communities," she added, her eyes on the happy faces of the unmoving figures.
There was something nostalgic and very personal about how she spoke about them that her voice willed him to turn to her. Time stopped, seeing her at that moment with light snow falling on her, pure white starting to cling to her brown hair, and the spotlight illuminating a most bittersweet expression on her face. "Not many know this but he was actually a Squib. That was their little secret they took to their graves. She convinced him to take credit for magical healing she did and he paraded her and her amazing magical gift allowing for those barriers against Muggle-borns to break down. They were quite a team. They were lucky they had each other."
Hermione's last few words hung in the air. They were lucky they had each other. He felt a tug in his chest but wasn't sure why he felt that way. Forcing himself to refocus, he turned to her, a bit surprised that she was so near he had to step back and diffuse the seriousness of the situation.
"Wait. Are you Muggle-born?"
It worked. Her eyes lost the pensive look.
"And you think that would just be perfect if I were, right?"
"Absolutely a positive omen. Come on. I'll go first," Harry saw her grin and that was enough to tell him to go ahead, setting his left hand on the tablet that bore historical footnotes and holding up his right hand as he would have in a Muggle court of law, "I swear, in the presence of these two outstanding Healers, not to tattle about our adventures tonight. Whatever happens in Toronto, stays in Toronto."
"I promise the same, as the Maples of Toronto bear witness," she replied doing as he did, thanking the Maples and laughing about how ridiculous they must have looked to a passer by.
The snowfall was beginning to come down hard and they decided to continue walking back to her hotel.
"Your answer?"
"What was it that you wanted to know?" she asked him.
"The why behind the why."
"Yes, how can I forget your imitation of a 4-year old asking a question?" she said, "And your need for assurance that this is a one time thing."
"I'm on to you. Quit stalling and just answer the question," he half-joked.
"You're so impatient," she answered, taking a few more seconds before finally addressing his question, "I have cold feet. And no, it's not because of the weather in Toronto."
"Bugger," Harry had no idea, "Do you know why?"
They had to chuckle at that third 'why' question.
"Pretty much," she replied.
"Cold feet are common," they were, weren't they?
"It's really bad cold feet. The worst."
"It can't be that bad. It's not as if you're in love with someone else."
She laughed. She sure was finding a lot of things funny tonight.
"I've been with him for ten years. He's the only man I've ever been intimate with and I'm curious what it's like with someone else."
"And you think one night with a stranger is going to satisfy that curiosity."
"Not to put too much pressure on you but, I certainly hope so. It's better I do this now than after I make that official vow to be faithful."
"You want to know if you're missing something," Harry could only think of one other reason, "You want to know how good or bad he is in bed."
"My future husband's sexual prowess is not on trial here. That's not the point."
Somehow, hearing her refer to Ron as her husband and her reference to his sexual prowess was very troubling. He preferred 'fiancé'. Actually, just 'him' would be better.
"What is the point?"
"You should understand if you meant every word of your poem."
"My poem?" Harry wondered if this was why she found the poem content excellent.
"Your deepest regret. I'm guessing, that was a moment in your life when you didn't act on something because it was inappropriate to do so, and now, you constantly think how different or wonderful it could have been had you dared. After I get married I fully intend to honour my vows. I'm just trying to prevent having that regret for the rest of my life."
Great! Just what he needed; her making his verse a part of this.
Somehow, he could not believe that Hermione could think about this, intimacy with someone else, as her potential deepest regret. That seemed too shallow, selfish even. But he found out things tonight he never knew about her. It made him think he really didn't know her that well, at least, not as a woman.
Throwing caution to the wind was just so unlike her. She was always the one who reminded them to do the right thing. This was so obviously wrong, cheating on Ron two weeks before their wedding.
"But you know you shouldn't do this."
"Because it's wrong?"
"You don't strike me as someone who deliberately does something wrong."
"Making the right choices all the time is a tough act and I'm due for a really bad one," she seemed to find that funny, too.
"I have a feeling you'll regret this in the morning," as Roy he was trying not to care too much but couldn't help himself.
"Maybe I won't."
"If you get caught you will."
"Maybe I won't get caught and maybe, I won't regret it even if I do," the words he heard just seemed not to belong to her. "If I don't do this I know I'll definitely regret it. And I'll take 'maybe' over 'definitely'."
"You really want this last fling."
"No strings attached. Just sex."
"Is this for sure going to help? Do you think I can cure your cold feet?"
They were in front of her hotel. She stopped walking and faced him, her mood seemingly back to the one she had at the restaurant before the phone calls. It was snowing really hard now, blizzard-like.
Her eyes danced and her voice was playful, as she leaned over and whispered the answer in his ear. "I don't know about cure but if we do what I think we will, you will definitely make them, and the rest of me, a lot warmer. Now, will you stop showing sacrifice bunt and just swing away?"
He smiled, his thoughts flashing back to six months of thinking about her this way and his curiosity now piqued about what she was thinking they would do.
Harry replied in kind, "I was trying to manufacture a run."
Their eyes met and for the first time since he thought up of the hare-brained idea of sleeping with her as Roy Hunt, Harry was hit by a reality that this wasn't going to be the all fun casual sex that he had foolishly led himself to think it would be, not for him and definitely not for her, despite what she thought. She wasn't an unattached stranger and he wasn't a stranger to her.
Suddenly, he realized that while they were merely acting on what they wanted, he should have been the wiser one to not let Roy Hunt get this far. He should have been the saner one to know better than tempting Hermione to the point of making this terrible choice.
She was getting married and while he wanted her so much, the long term effects on her for the lies of one night of temporal satisfaction was a great price to pay. They were toying with her marriage and her life. And if she found out it was him, he would definitely lose her trust and her friendship.
All night they were like two trains on the same track, gathering speed, headed right at each other and they passed the last switch a while back. Sleeping together was going to be a potentially massive train wreck that would affect so many lives. The question was, how does one stop a train wreck from happening when only one train knew it was about to happen? And if by a miracle he could avert the disaster, was it possible to keep it all a secret and not let the other train or anyone else know?
He pondered the alternative as they entered and crossed the hotel lobby, shaking off the snow from their coats. It was a peculiar coincidence, how not going up to her room was going to be his deepest regret and her deepest regret at the same time.
I'll take 'maybe' over 'definitely'.
Harry stopped momentarily and watched her as she entered the lift. He was torn, all logical reason telling him to cease, but by recklessly stepping into the elevator with her, by irresistibly standing so close to her and by allowing her to lean lightly against him, he made his decision.
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Hermione could feel Roy's body tense up and then welcome her as she leaned back against him. His lips grazed her neck briefly and his warm breath on her skin was causing an immeasurable longing deep within her. His hand was slowly stroking her arm and gently caressing her fingers. All her life she had always thought intimacy with a stranger was a paradox, and now here she was, moments away from doing something she never imagined she could do.
When he asked all those why questions and needed verification that this was a one time thing, she decided to lie and tell him the last fling story. The truth, her not wanting to marry her fiancé because she was in love with someone else, seemed too freakish and she did not want to spook him.
She was indeed overdue for a bad decision. Particularly tonight; especially tonight. All her life she always chose to do the right thing and this was where it got her. Heartbroken from a love she couldn't have and about to marry someone she no longer wanted to be with.
She needed a break, a break from herself and from the misery her being her had caused. It was a rebellion, an uprising against the norm and what more could highlight such insurgence than having a purely physical, primal and instinctive night with a complete stranger. At least tonight, she would not deny herself the pleasure.
The calm before the storm was just about over.
And as the lift doors slid shut, alone with him in the tension filled enclosed space, she submitted to her fleshly yearning, facing him to meet his equally raw sensual desire. She recognized it for what it was. Unadulterated, primitive, intuitive, pure lust.
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A/N. We are all imperfect...I hope most will be forgiving...