Come Undone
Chapter 9
Warnings: the f word (fl*ff).
Thank u for reading and reviewing. And rec-ing! x
*
H,
I'm so sorry about last night. I was way out of line.
I'll come by this afternoon; I won't dump Angie on you much longer.
I was right, I really don't deserve you.
Sorry.
H.
*
H,
Don't be ridiculous. It's okay.
You don't have to hurry back. Angie and I are fine.
Did you ever think maybe I'm the one who doesn't deserve you? Just forget about it. It's been a weird week.
H x
*
I'm being very strict with my thoughts.
Like rationing our meagre food stores on the Horcrux hunt, I measure out small chunks of bite sized thought to indulge in, flitting near the memory of that kiss - the real one, the one that wasn't for anyone else's benefit - but never right into it. Never thinking the whole thing through because I'm sure now that I'll drown in it if I do.
He pops in the next night, brief, courteous, just a functional visit. Angie is so delighted to see him, I don't think she notices he doesn't kiss me hello or goodbye, doesn't really speak to me, doesn't even make eye contact before leaving as quickly as is polite.
Strangely, I'm grateful for her company.
She keeps my mind off him, or somehow occupied with her care anyway. I've brewed a potion that is helping with her withdrawals from the stimulants she's used to, but she has no idea, she's just enthralled with how good she can feel without drugs. I made a whole cauldron full while she slept and I've bottled it for her - almost a month's supply that gets gradually weaker - hopefully creating a weaning process. She thinks it's just medicine my father arranged. I hope that it gets her through until Harry can place her in the care he's arranged.
Work lets me call in sick. I shouldn't, but I'm at least honest enough with myself to know how fragile I am right now and that work wouldn't be a good place for me.
Then Harry takes Angie away the next night.
She hugs me, clinging on tight.
"Jean...thanks for everything. You've been..."
Her throat closes up, and somehow I know that she's not one that cries easily, or expresses herself well.
"It's okay." I squeeze her back. "Just look after yourself?"
I feel her nod, then she draws back to look in my eyes. "You too."
I try and smile.
"And you." She stoops to pat Crookshanks. He miaows plaintively.
"Looks like you'll have to come back for visits. Can't have him pining and moulting all over the place."
She smiles up at me warmly. "I'd love to. I will." She glances at Harry for confirmation and he nods, smiling slightly. He avoids my eyes - as he has for the last few days.
"Bye Angie."
He guides her through the door, with his hand on her shoulder. I think he might leave without another word and I brace myself for that, but then he turns back.
"I'll...come back."
I nod, more readily than I mean to.
"Okay."
He nods back, finally making eye contact. I attempt a small smile and he gives me one back.
When they're gone I let myself cry.
*
If I don't say this now
I will surely break.
*
It must be exhaustion that lets me fall asleep.
So I'm dazed and disorientated when there's a knock, at 12:34am I see when I squint at the clock on the oven. My heart still beats a little faster as I head to the door.
He can tell I've been sleeping though.
"Oh, sorry - look I can take off..."
"No, come in."
He follows me as I walk to the couch and sits gingerly next to me.
"Angie okay?"
"Yeah she's good. She's pretty fond of you."
"...Now."
He smiles at that. "Yeah, now."
We're silent for a moment, and then we speak at the same time.
"Her-"
"Ha-"
"You go first."
"No it's okay, you go."
We laugh then, and it cuts some of the tension. Then he speaks.
"Shit...Hermione, I'm really sorry. I fucked up. The other night."
He looks rattled, and runs a hand through his hair, a habit he's never adjusted since he's cut it. I frown, concentrating on the serpent design on his forearm so I don't have to look in his eyes.
"You ...'fucked up'?"
"Sorry. But, yeah. I..." He takes a deep breath, and I can tell he's beginning a speech that's most definitely rehearsed.
"...I shouldn't have. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of you - or ruin our friendship. I know that's what's most important."
I look into his eyes then, just to see if he really means what he just said.
His eyes are veiled, he's concealing something. And in that moment, all my frustration, all my emotional turmoil comes to a head and I see him the way I always want to, but I never let myself - so right and so good, when I look at him he just makes me feel like everything I've ever yearned for is in that beautiful man right there, in front of me, as he always has been.
He must read my face, but I'm not sure if he interprets it correctly from what he says.
"..so... I'm sorry. You won't have to worry about it anymore."
I shift closer to him, till our legs are touching, and he notices - his whole body tenses. My voice when I speak is barely audible.
"Oh for crying out loud Harry. Will you shut up and just kiss me again. Please."
I think his eyes widen but I'm not totally sure because I'm looking at his lips.
"Uh..."
He bites his lip and then moves forward, getting within a breath of my face.
He freezes, undecided, and I have time to think that my gut reaction may not have been the best one.
And then he grabs me, kisses me, and totally contradicts what he just said. He kisses me so deeply, so well, that I forget to worry that he might pull away any second now, wondering what he's doing.
He pulls back just slightly, searching my eyes.
I shake my head, locking my arms around his neck.
"Just stop it, Harry don't. Stop thinking so damn much" I mutter.
He still hesitates, breathing like he's run a mile, but then his mouth cracks into a grin against mine. And then he listens to me.
And kisses me more.
His hands on my back press me even closer, and then he moves his lips down my neck. I close my eyes, and breathe out in one long breath. The relief that floods me doesn't stay for long - replaced quickly with other, more intense feelings.
He leans over me, lowering us back into the couch, and just the weight of his body on mine makes colours flash behind my closed eyelids.
He moves into me, and I take my own advice, shutting down all my thinking for now, breathing in the smell of him, so close now, closer than he's ever been.
Still, I want him closer.
He must be thinking the same thing because his hands duck under my top, tracing up my sides and over my bra. I arch into him and he grabs for the hem of my shirt while his lips are still locked with mine.
He drags my top right up, we break contact while he tugs it over my head, and then I find his lips again immediately once it's off.
He smiles as I do the same to him, dragging his t shirt up his back; it's the one with the skull design on it I think, in some oddly detached way.
He reaches a hand over his head to help me and we both smile a little at the slightly awkward movement required to yank it off. But finally we're skin to skin, and any humour quickly evaporates.
He kisses me hard, more urgent now and the low groan I hear from him makes me grasp him to me closer, locking my legs around his hips. His weight bears into me, his palm under my back and pressing me up into him.
"Harry... upstairs..."
I feel him nod, and he sits back quickly on his haunches, and brings me up to straddle his lap.
He holds my head, and I do the same to him, stroking the sides of his face.
"You're sure..." He whispers it more like a statement than a question.
I kiss him in response.
He gathers me close, unfolds his legs to lift us off the couch and carries me in front of him, to the stairs. He has to feel his way up the first few because we're still kissing; he pulls back to watch his footing and I hold on, kissing his neck instead.
His voice is quiet and low in my ear.
"I'm not going to ask you again, you know."
"I know. You better not."
He laughs, and then takes me to my bed.
*
I long to see you in the morning light
I long to reach for you in the night
Stay lady stay, stay while the night is still ahead.
*
The kitchen tiles are cold under my feet. I stand on one foot, and place the sole of the other on my leg to warm it, repeating the action as I stand there, bathed in the chink of light shining from the open fridge.
I stare with unseeing eyes at the contents; trying and failing to tame the smile on my face.
I can't stop smiling and I can't stop thinking.
Remembering, the last few hours, the tiniest of details.
The feel of his skin, the sight of his shoulders moving, his arms flexed to hold himself above me. My stomach flips yet again; I put my hand on it to quell the feeling.
And he's still here.
Sleeping soundly, above me right now in my bed.
I almost don't want to go back, just to savour the moment a bit longer, enjoying the anticipation.
But I give in finally, grab a large bottle of soft drink and some chocolate in my arms and pad back up the stairs. I'm also holding my top that I rescued from the floor of the lounge, along with his t shirt - I put his on. It's hanging just to the tops of my thighs, and smells like him.
When I open my door, I see him by the sliver of moonlight falling through the curtains, lying asleep; face down on my big brass bed. Twisted in the one surviving sheet that only covers him from his waist down, his feet sticking out the bottom.
I place the drink on the bedside table, trying to be quiet not to wake him.
"Hey."
He's awake. I turn to look at him, suddenly absurdly self conscious that I'm in his t shirt, of all things. I smile softly at him and he smiles back, his face still half in the pillow.
"I've got...I...there's some..."
He interrupts. "Come here."
I can't believe that after everything we've just done, I feel shy - I don't meet his eyes as I crawl towards him on the bed.
I feel him sit up to meet me then he grabs me and flips me over him and on to my back. I grab hold of his shoulders, trying to suppress the thrill coursing through me because whatever this is, I think I should try not to get too carried away by it. But then he runs his hand down my leg and bends it up against his side until my leg hooks around his and I know my resolve is shaky at best.
"Suits you."
I pull back to look at him and he looks down at his t shirt, pinching the fabric with the hand that cups my shoulder. I smile and move just the fraction it takes to kiss him.
The kiss heats up pretty quickly and I feel drunk with it, opening my eyes to see the dark outline of his arm holding me, the side of his neck and jaw. Nothing has ever looked so good to me.
He stops and presses his forehead on mine, then rolls over to grab the drink I brought. He sits up slightly, opening it and taking a drink; I can't stop watching him. He offers some to me, and helps me drink it, then puts it back.
Then he leans over me again, his arms either side, his fingers on my temples as he studies my face. I bite my lip, trying to stand his scrutiny - his eyes so close and intense.
"You okay?"
I run my fingers down his back and press closer, nodding. He smiles, his eyes seem amused. He kisses across my nose, my cheeks and eyebrows.
"Stop thinking so damn much" he murmurs.
I laugh out loud at that, remembering my own words from earlier -that feels like a lifetime ago now.
He grins into my neck as I roll over on top of him.
"Okay. I'll stop."
And I do.
*
In the morning, I wake up alone.
But he isn't gone. I can feel it.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, not wanting to move too much.
He walks quietly back into the room, dressed in his jeans and singlet, carrying his jacket and shoes. He sees I'm awake and smiles, puts his things down and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over me.
"You have to go?"
He nods, and brings his other hand in to trace my cheekbone with his thumb.
He leans closer and kisses my face, and my neck.
"I'll come back - as soon as I can."
I watch him as he moves back and goes about putting his shoes on. I can't help but sit up and press against his back, wrapping my arms around him and resting my chin on his shoulder to watch. When I kiss his bare skin, I remember.
"Do you want your shirt?"
"No. It'll give me something to think about."
"What?"
"You - in my shirt."
I bury my smile against his shoulder.
He grabs me then, pulls me into his lap. I feel a little sick when I realise it means he's going and I grip him tightly.
"Be safe. Please."
He nods, his face hidden in my hair.
I kiss him long and hard and afterwards he laughs lightly against me. "I'll never leave if you don't stop that."
"That sounds good."
He catches my eyes then, serious. I meet his gaze, his eyes a light, bright green, even in the dim light. Then he lays me gently back on the bed.
"Get some sleep." He presses a kiss on my forehead, then my lips. "You need it."
"Your fault."
He smiles and I watch him walk to the door, where he turns and looks back, gripping the door frame.
Then he's gone.
I listen to his footsteps and the front door closing.
And I turn over onto my stomach, closing my eyes, breathing in deeply.
I don't move for a long time, but I don't sleep either.
And later I can't manage much breakfast.
But I've never felt better.
*
H
I'm really sorry 'Mione, I can't get back tonight.
Something came up but I'm okay.
Tomorrow if that's alright?
I can't stop thinking about you. It's hard to concentrate.
Love,
H.
*
H
That's okay. But... hurry.
I can't concentrate either.
Your fault.
Love,
H x
*
I trace the lines on his arm, running my fingers over the ink as I lay in the crook of his opposite shoulder.
He holds me in tight, his eyes closed; I wonder if he's asleep. But then he speaks.
"Okay, so that was worth the wait."
I can't help but smile, and turn to kiss his chest under my cheek. I smell his skin - it's fast becoming my favourite smell in the world.
He only arrived maybe thirty minutes ago, and I don't remember if we said much more than 'Hi' before we were heading upstairs, joined at the lips, tugging and pulling off clothes that are now strewn like a trail through the house.
"Yeah." That's all I can manage.
He looks down at me then. "I missed you."
I push up and kiss him, slowly.
I want to say it back but the unspoken rule of us not speaking too much nags at me again, and I change the subject.
"How's Angie?"
He nods, as I rest my chin on his chest and watch him.
"She's good. She's staying out of the city at a facility. She's sounds really good - and she asked after you. And Crookshanks."
"That's great."
"Yeah." He frowns and looks troubled for just a moment; I barely catch it before he runs his fingers through my hair, a smile on his face now.
"What."
"Nothing."
"Harry."
He studies me, assessing.
"Tell me."
He sighs. "Can't I have any secrets from you?"
"You can try."
He laughs and shakes his head. "Just...there's a big shipment coming through soon. I might be gone ...quite a bit."
My heart sinks but I nod.
"But, they know now. They know where I'm going when I see you. And the good news is, Gripper is either pre occupied with the shipment now, or he gets that you're..."
"I'm ...what?"
He grins. "You're mine."
I raise my eyebrows in mock disapproval. "Oh, I'm yours."
"Yes, woman."
I roll my eyes laughing, and he grips my arms, pulls me up to kiss me. He sits up, drawing me across his lap, until I'm straddling him, without breaking the contact of our lips.
I pull back, though he tries not to let me. "Stop distracting me. This shipment, is it going to go ...well?"
He looks up at me, serious again. "Maybe. There's some muggle law sniffing around."
"Harry - you have to be careful."
"I know. Don't worry."
"I can't." He's kissing my face now.
"You wanna go out?"
That surprises me. "Where?"
"Anywhere."
I smile, the idea suddenly thrilling me, and go to move off him. He grips me tight, pulling me back, to kiss me again, and then murmurs in my ear.
"In a minute."
I nod, completely distracted now.
"Mmm. In a minute."
*
I won't go
I won't sleep
I can't breathe
Until you're resting here with me.
*
It's funny, I feel like I'm moving through my days in a stupor again - like the time that I thought he was gone for good, but this is different.
I stay engaged in life this time, though strangely it still feels like I'm observing everything from a distance again. Nobody really notices, in fact some are relived that I seem happier than I have for some time. It's just that my thoughts are preoccupied, dwelling on fresh memories.
Of him. He still shifts through my life unpredictably, but it's not as painful now, not such a wrench when every time I see him, I get all of him.
He stays the night, as often as he can.
Over the last two weeks, we've been out late, to a pub for late supper, to a midnight movie, always out of the way places, so we don't run into anyone we know. It's probably silly but just holding his hand and walking down the road with his arm around me for just that brief time gives me so much pleasure, even though we're back to not speaking much again.
It doesn't matter; we're saying more to each other than ever now.
Every touch is so saturated in feeling that I keep forgetting to be cautious, or to question what this is. And so I refuse to, pushing away like a petulant child the worries and doubts calling for my attention. Replacing them instead with memories of warm nights in my bed, midnight feasts and evenings lying tangled in each other on the couch.
But every now and then, I see my way out of the bubble we're living in and wonder if it's really that wise to continue to dodge a definition of what this actually is.
I wake one night, suddenly cold without his body heat against mine as it was when I fell asleep.
I whip my head up and around, checking the clock first which blinks a fuzzy 3.14am to my blurry eyes. I scan the room for his clothes and then I see him.
He's sitting on the window sill with half his body out of the opened window. His face is turned to me but the light keeps most of his features hidden. I smell a faint hint of smoke and then see the little dot of red embers glow bright for a few seconds as he draws on his cigarette from the hand that's out of the window.
"Harry?"
My voice is husky. He lifts a hand at me but stays silent.
"Are you okay?"
I just catch his nod in the darkness. I throw the covers back and swing off the bed, get up and walk towards him.
I wrap my arms tight around myself the closer I get to the breeze from the window. He throws his cigarette out, in time to open his arms to me when I get to him.
"Come back to bed." I huddle into him; my arms still folded as he grips me tightly, pressing his cheek on the top of my head.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
I twist to look at him. He busies his hands with brushing my hair from my face, pulling it back and together at the nape of my neck. I can see his eyes now as they study my face. They are thoughtful, almost sad. I say the first thing that comes to mind.
"You're a smoker now?"
"Occasionally. It's worn off on me I guess." He wrinkles his nose. "Sorry."
"It's okay." Strangely I think it's when I say that, I finally realise I'm in too deep.
He smiles but I can see it's an effort. I don't want to look at his face anymore; I rest my head on his shoulder.
"You must be cold." He has on no shirt or shoes, just his jeans. "Come back to bed" I murmur again.
"I'm alright."
I breathe out slowly, feeling on edge. Then I break away and walk back to the bed and pick up the blanket. I throw it around my shoulders and approach him again. He accepts it when I perch next to him on the sill and offer some.
"Whatcha been thinking about." I try and keep my tone light.
His hands come up to cup my face, his thumb rubbing my lip. I don't know if I want to know the answer or not.
"I was just watching you."
I study his lips, having no idea what to say. Instead I turn my face to kiss his palm.
He kisses my mouth, rescuing me from speaking again. I wind my arms around his waist, and press my face into his collarbone.
We sit there in silence for a while. Eventually he pats my shoulder and we crawl back to bed and warm up again.
But that night haunts me. I know it was my moment, to question or ask to qualify what we're doing. And I didn't. Gryffindor courage deserting me at the most crucial of times. I thought I was wiser than this and I feel as if I don't know myself anymore.
But I didn't know it was possible to feel this way about someone. To want to see them, like a physical hunger, and to never get enough of them, to never be close enough even when they're there, right next to you.
I didn't know that was possible.
*
H
Tomorrow afternoon. I should get you a cell phone you know.
We could go to a movie? If we make it out of the house this time. (Your fault.)
I can't wait to see you.
Let me know if that's okay.
Love,
H
*
H
Of course that's okay. The sooner the better.
There are a few good movies, so yeah, if you like. Was so not my fault if I remember rightly, it was YOU carrying ME back up the stairs, not the other way around.
Agree about the cellphone - though Capella will be a bit put out. We might have to still send a few letters through her to keep her happy.
I can't wait to see you either.
Tomorrow x
Love,
H
*
Luna looks at me knowingly but says nothing. I'm glad Ron is having drinks with us, though I don't think she would say anything anyway. But she picks up on my change of mood - hell; it must be obvious, because even Ron does.
"You look different."
"What?" I try and pretend the music and the voices in the pub are too loud to hear him the first time though my stomach lurches. I'm already a little irritated at him tonight because he told me off for calling his current girlfriend his ex girlfriends name. It's hardly my fault the old one was called Laura and the new one is called Lauren.
"What's going on with you?"
"Nothing. What do you mean?"
"Have you had a haircut or something?"
Classic Ron. "Nope. Same old me."
He smiles and winds his arm around my neck kissing the top of my head. I hope Laura or Lauren or whatever her name is isn't watching.
"I had an idea."
"Well done."
"Ha ha. About Harry."
He's got my attention now. "What about him?"
"We should leave him a letter." I frown at him and he spins me around to meet his eyes, getting all serious.
"No I mean it. See, I left him one not long ago - just on the table at Grimmauld. Kreacher let slip that he got it." His face is so full of joy and triumph it crushes me and I find it hard to keep my expression neutral. Luckily he continues because I don't know what to say. I didn't know about the note.
"So, we should keep writing to him, we might get through. You should write to him."
I bite my lip, feeling guilty for the first time in a while, about betraying all my other friends for my best one. I take a breath and paste on a smile.
"That's a good idea Ron. We should do that."
He nods, happy with my approval and hugs me enthusiastically.
*
H
I was right. Capella is not happy about the cell phones. So this is to appease her a bit - though I actually miss getting letters from you as well.
I've never asked you how you get around this - getting these letters I mean. They surely don't come to 'The Palace' do they?
Angie texted me and so I called her, she sounds great. I'll tell you about it when you come around. Which I hope is soon.
It's getting colder at nights. I need you.
Love,
H x
*
H,
Yeah - you were right about Capella and I have the peck marks to prove it. No she doesn't come to The Palace. I'm keeping that little secret to myself, because I still shouldn't really be doing it. But it's as safe as I can make it, don't worry.
That's great about Ang - she doesn't have many girl friends. It's nice of you to look out for her.
Friday. Nights are too cold for me now too.
Love,
H.
*
It feels like I'm living a double life too now.
And finally one night, my two worlds collide.
Harry arrives early, and we have the whole afternoon. I love days like this.
I come up behind him while he's making some food, wind my arms around his waist and press my face into his back, marvelling at how much broader he seems to me now. I just rest there, breathing him in and then I remember.
"Ron said he left you a letter."
I feel him laugh a little.
"Yeah. Kreacher sent it to me."
"Oh." I don't ask, even though I want to know what he said.
"He said he misses me and I should stop being a git and come back." Then he laughs again. "And the rest was about his girl problems with detailed descriptions of about three girls called Laura or Lana or something beginning with L. He's got quite the harem going by the sounds of it."
I laugh at that too then push away from him, going to the fridge.
"He loves it."
"I can tell." I hear from his voice that he's facing me now. I turn around to glance at him. He's looking serious, like he has something to say and I wish he'd put a t shirt on so I could think a bit straighter.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you...for all that. It must've been...weird."
I shake my head, not really sure where he's going with this.
"No...it wasn't. It isn't." I can't meet his eyes all of a sudden. "I don't think you really understand...it wasn't really like that with me and Ron. We kind of...never got off the ground."
When I glance back at him, his eyes are wide, though I can tell he's trying to stay composed.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Besides, I had all those other legions of male models and gorgeous athletes lining up around the corner to date me you know so..."
My attempt to diffuse the tension works, he breaks into a grin. He walks slowly towards me.
"Oh, is that right is it."
I try and keep a straight face. "Mmm. Was a bit tiring being lavished with gifts and you know, trips around the world, private yachts, diamonds..."
His smile grows wider the more I go on. "Yeah, that must have sucked."
I start backing away at the wicked look in his eyes, still trying not to smile. "Mmm, it was terrible."
He reaches me then and suddenly grabs a spot on my thigh that he knows is my worst tickle spot and I shriek, holding my hands out to keep him away.
"Then there was that billionaire who took me to dinner in Paris..."
He laughs and renews his efforts. I struggle away, shrieking again. He chases me, and is trying to corner me, when I hear the knock at the door.
We both freeze - eyes wide and locked with each others.
"'Mione? Are you in? Hurry up its freezing!"
Harry recovers first. "Ron" he mouths silently.
I nod; my eyes frantic. He looks around quickly, rushes to grab his jacket and his shoes and races past me and up the stairs. He looks back and catches my eye, smiling reassurance but I know he's rattled too.
Ron keeps knocking as I take a deep breath, smoothing my clothes and hair before opening the door.
"What's up with your wards? You've blocked me?"
He strides into the room; my heart sinks when I see he's carrying a bag of takeaways.
"Uh yeah... just being safe, girl living alone and all that. I only just changed them the other day" I say, talking about my anti apparition wards.
"Well, you're taking it pretty seriously aren't you? Couldn't even get through on the floo to tell you I was coming!"
I nod weakly; my increased security isn't anything to do with safety against bad guys.
"Sorry."
He shrugs, already unpacking the food. "Don't worry. I brought Thai."
I try and muster some enthusiasm. "Great."
"And I need some advice."
*
Two hours of sifting through Ron's girl problems and I was losing my game face, struggling to keep my eyes off the clock. I could picture Harry upstairs, lying on my bed in a maddening mental picture that was making me feel impatient beyond belief.
"...so I think we're really not compatible, you know?"
I nod feebly. I love you Ron, but will you please just go.
"I mean, it's not like I..."
He jumps, and slaps his hand on his hip pocket.
"What?"
He pulls out a glowing coin and looks at it. "Lana. Can I borrow your floo?"
I smile, authentic this time. "Sure."
I use the time to pretend to go to the bathroom upstairs. When I open the door to my room it's dark, and there's no one on the bed. I whisper as quietly as I can manage.
"..Harry..."
I jump at a hand on my bum, and turn around and swat at him standing behind the door. I can only see his white smile before he pulls me in close and kisses me - I stop being mad, or cautious and kiss him back.
"'Mione??" Ron yells up the stairs. I jump back from Harry, putting my hand over my mouth. He freezes, but I can see a slight smile still on his face. He reaches out to prod me when I don't answer.
"Y-Yeah?"
"I've gotta go!"
"I'll be there in a sec!"
Harry's arms dart out to grab me again, kissing my neck while I try and silently object, twisting away but smiling all the while. I give him two quick kisses and wrench myself away.
I almost succeed until his fingers close quickly over mine to stop me at the last moment. When he speaks, his voice is only a whisper.
"I love you."
I whip around, shocked. I can just make out his eyes in the dim light. He's calm, serious; I could be fooled into thinking he never spoke at all. I'm speechless. He gives me a gentle push.
"Go."
*
Ron leaves quickly. Lana is obviously number one in the queue at the moment.
I turn everything off downstairs and feed Crookshanks, still in a daze.
The room is still dark when I enter it from the bathroom. He's in bed under the covers. I'm wearing his t shirt again; I sleep in it all the time now.
I think he's asleep but as soon as I'm under the blankets he gathers me in to him, turning me so my back is against his chest. I close my eyes as he nuzzles my neck with his nose and lips, his hips pressing into me.
I put my hand back to cup his face.
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault."
"Was that weird for you?"
"Yeah." He sighs, his breath skimming my ear. "It was."
I turn around and kiss him then, and we forget about talking for a while.
And later, when he's asleep (fast asleep, I'm sure) I say it back.
"I love you too."
*
"No."
"If it's starting to look suspicious then I want to help."
"No way."
"Harry you-
"No."
I plant my hands on my hips. He's the most stubborn I've seen him for ages.
"You don't get to say-
"What you do and don't do, yeah I know. But you don't need to do this Hermione. The shipment is two days away. Gripper has bigger things on his mind."
"Well why did he ask you about me then?"
"He didn't - it was Fletch. He just said it was strange they didn't see you. Who cares what he thinks."
"Gripper maybe??"
Harry snorts and shakes his head. Then he looks at me and his face softens. He reaches out and strokes my cheek.
"I appreciate it, really. I know you're looking out for me. But hopefully it will be over - soon."
I look up into his eyes; the morning light is striking them just right, making the colour even more beautiful than usual.
"And then what?" My voice is so quiet, I nearly whisper.
His face changes and he frowns, watching me, a muscle flexing in his jaw.
"I don't know."
Suddenly I don't want any more of this conversation. I cup his jaw, and tiptoe to kiss him. He responds, eager for the distraction I know.
I pull back and speak softly against his lips. "Just be careful okay?"
He nods, and kisses me again.
*
H
Something's come up. Don't use the cell phones.
Come and meet me at the church on the first corner past The Palace tomorrow night at 10.
Make sure to come alone. I can't wait to see you.
Love,
H
X
*
Lyrics credit: Look After You by The Fray, Lay Lady Lay performed by Magnet (written by Bob Dylan), Here With Me by Dido.
(ps -your imagination outweighs my skill at writing full on smut, trust me. Sorry, if you wanted the gory details x )