Chapter 4
Bloody Nosey Parents
Thank you for all the reviews and support and the birthday wishes to my friends. Thank you, and now, Chapter Four…
*~*~*
"So," Harry began. They were following Hermione's parents out to the car after dinner. Harry slipped his arm around her shoulders as they walked. "You were jealous, eh?"
She glanced up at him. He had a silly little smirk on his face. It annoyed her that her mother had pointed out her glares at the waitress for Harry to realize. She couldn't have been that obvious. "Again, says the boy who bribed the manager."
"Yeah, but I'm a guy; it's expected of me." He grinned down at her. "You, Hermione Jane, were jealous."
"Don't flatter yourself, Harry."
"So you won't mind if I go back and ask her out?"
Hermione stopped walking and stared at Harry. Her heart was beating a mile a minute in her stomach. He wouldn't, would he? I thought he had feelings for me… "If you really want to, fine," she told him, resuming her stride, her voice crisp and her back unusually erect.
"Naw," Harry said. "Be too hard to find her."
He was bluffing! The male, she thought. Boys are so bloody complicated. And her mother assured her they didn't get any less so. "It's a matter of degree really, honey," she had said.
Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders again. "Wanna take a little walk when we get to your house?" he asked in a voice that screamed forced casualness.
"You sure you don't want to walk with Sarah?" she asked, surprised by the dripping sarcasm.
"Who?" Harry looked completely baffled. Hermione's heart rose; he didn't even know the waitress's name. Hermione could have floated to the car.
"Never mind," she told him and he shrugged. "I'd rather sit in the backyard. It's really quiet and pretty, especially on summer nights when the temperature is perfect."
That was what brought her and Harry to her patio swing late that night. Hermione had spent the entire trip home wondering what Harry wanted. She knew what she wanted. She wanted him, Harry, all to herself openly and brazenly. She wanted the freedom to hold and hug him and touch him and kiss him and yes, to be jealous and possessive over him; she was tired of waiting for some blasted reason to. Hermione wanted Harry to be hers and she wanted to be his.
The question tugging and her heart and mind was: "Are we on the same page?"
Harry was fidgeting, like he always did when he was nervous. Hermione was trying very hard to maintain her composure, but all she really wanted to do was grab Harry's face and smother it with deep passionate kisses.
She gave a small excited shiver at the thought of kissing him again, his gentle lips pressed to hers, his tongue caressing hers, his strong hands on her back, the way he felt against her when her kiss began to arouse him…
"Are you cold?" Harry asked.
"What?" she said. "Oh, no, I was just…" thinking of kissing your gorgeous body. I can't say that. Can I?
He smiled knowingly, and Hermione did her best not to look horrified that she had been found out. But Harry slid closer to her on the bench and stretched his arm across her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. "You can't fool me," he told her with a smile. "You're always cold."
She laughed a little and leaned her head on his shoulder. This is how they act together. None of this nervous fidgeting crap. What is going on with me? she thought. This is Harry; I should be able to tell him how I feel and have him understand. Especially when I am near positive he feels the same.
Hermione was only at "Very Strong Suspicion" before, but with the way Harry had been acting today she was at "Very Sure". Then that wink from her father, the wonderful, confusing, joking, understanding man he was, when they left the house for dinner, and at dinner when Harry paid off the manager and when they headed out to the backyard, she thought she knew what he meant. Now she was at "Nearly Positive" on Harry's Feelings.
It should be a book. Then everything would be explained and I would know what the hell was going on in his head.
I'd have to be the one to write the bloody thing, though. Who else knows him better than me?
A satisfied smile touched her lips at that thought.
The sliding glass door opened and Hermione's parents stuck their heads out. Both of them. The blasted nosey people. It's a pity they didn't have other children whose lives they could spy on and meddle in. But she loved them and they loved her. She must remember that.
It succeeded in making Harry pull away from her slightly, to which she gave a small annoyed glowered at him and her parents.
"Just wanted to remind you two not to stay up late because we're leaving for London at nine tomorrow," her father said. "And it's been a long day already. I'm surprised you're both still up," he yawned.
"You'll especially want to have plenty of rest, Harry, for trying on all the clothes," her mother added with a smile.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied, a nervous tremor in his voice. Oh, tomorrow was going to be fun.
"Goodnight, sweethearts," her mother told them.
"'Night, kids," her father echoed with a wink before closing the door.
That man is getting wink-happy. And it is getting late, blast it all.
Hermione decided to take initiative. "Why did you want to come out here, Harry?" she asked innocently.
"I wanted to go for a walk, you wanted to sit out here," he retorted with a smile.
"You wouldn't be walking in heels, though," she told him, smiling back. As soon as they walked in the front door, Hermione had kicked off her heels and sighed with relief. They were very expensive and made her legs look great, made her arse look terrific, made her back look amazing, made her boobs look fantastic, so of course, they were the most uncomfortable pair of shoes she owned.
Harry was quiet in a way that told Hermione he was thinking. How to phrase his words, she decided. But what words will he use was the question.
"I want to finish our conversation from earlier," he said, "when you showed me my bedroom."
She nodded. Harry turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. "I never had any friends growing up," he began after a moment, "because of Dudley. But then I went to Hogwarts, I met Ron and finally had my first friend."
Oh no, he's not gay, is he? was Hermione's first thought, irrational as it was.
"And then this little Know-It-All comes into our compartment," he continued with a smile, "and somehow inserts herself into our lives, and became my second friend, one of my best friends, one of the best friends a person could ever ask for."
Hermione smiled at Harry, her throat getting tight at the sincerity and affection in his voice. I will not cry at this, I will not cry, I will not be a total sap.
"Then puberty hit and the hormones made me start noticing girls, like Cho." Hermione pursed her lips slightly in annoyance. This speech of Harry's had been going so well. "But each girl I took interest in, didn't see me for me, wasn't there for me, wasn't a friend to me. They all just wanted the Boy-Who-Lived."
Harry scowled at that and Hermione didn't blame him; she had been furious about what those hussies had done to her Harry. She didn't think he had ever found out (and she wasn't about to tell him) that after each tramp had broken his heart they had mysteriously contracted a horrible case of acne and a severe case of hemorrhoids. For some reason Madam Pomfrey had a difficult time curing them, as well.
"Then I realized," Harry continued, "that you were a girl, Hermione."
She scowled at him. "And I wasn't before?" she asked almost harshly.
"No, no, that came out wrong." Harry looked distressed. Poor boy, Hermione thought, and covered his hand with one of hers to reassure him. He calmed instantly. "What I meant was I wanted a girl like you. One who treated me like Harry, who saw me as Harry, who yelled at me when I needed it, who kept me focused and on track of what I needed to do, and most of all, was always there for me when I needed her." Harry's voice was so soft and tender at the last words, Hermione felt herself choke up again and her heart begin to pound in her chest.
"Throughout last year, 'Mione, I realized I didn't have to look very far to find that girl." Hermione's heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of her chest. "I didn't have to, because she had already found me."
Harry lifted one hand, tucked a stand of curls behind her ear and cupped her cheek. "I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger." His voice was hoarse with emotion and Hermione thought she would burst into tears at his declaration. He touched his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. "I love you more than anyone could ever imagine."
"Oh, Harry…" she said softly. Hermione couldn't wait any longer, she had to touch him more, touch him again. She closed the few inches of space between them and pressed her lips to Harry's, wrapping her arms around his neck. Just like this morning, his lips were soft and caressed hers perfectly. His tongue slipped into her mouth and massaged her and it felt incredible. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and swiveled and then she was sitting in his lap, her legs draped on one side of him, as they kissed like the inexperienced hormone-driven teenagers they were.
Harry had effortlessly picked her up, his hands gentle but firm on her body as he moved her. Strong Harry is hot, Hermione decided with a smile. After moments (hours, days, weeks, who knew really?) of fevered teenage lip smacking, Harry gave Hermione a chaste kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. They were both panting slightly.
"I love you, too, Harry," Hermione said. She kissed his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and hugged him close to her.
"Last year, you were the one to stand beside me when I faced Voldermort," Harry said into her chest. "You were the one who gave me the strength to fight him, to do what I had to."
Hermione stroked his hair, tears sliding silently down her face. She had no idea she meant that much to Harry, to her Harry.
"I had to win, if only to keep you safe," he murmured.
"Oh, Harry…" Hermione said before lifting his face and kissing him madly once again. He returned the kiss with as much fervor, his hands roaming her back.
He pulled away suddenly. "You're crying," he said immediately concerned.
Hermione smiled at him. "They're happy tears, Harry. You have made me very happy tonight," she told him, as tears welled in her eyes once more.
He grinned, but Hermione could see he didn't quite understand. He wouldn't, being male and growing up in that Dursley Hell Hole; he never would have seen a mother cry at a first word or graduations from school or a special mother's day or anything else a woman and mother finds sentimental. It was something she would have to teach him.
"I hope I only give you happy tears." He kissed her nose, her eyes, and then he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss of gentle, tender passion, full of promise and love that had tears streaming down her cheeks once more.
They parted once more and Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder. His arms held her close to him and she hadn't felt this safe since she was a little girl in her father's lap, when the scariest things were the "monsters" under the bed, or a B on a test.
"Hermione," Harry whispered after a few moments, maybe longer. She was starting to doze.
"Hmm…"
"We should probably go to bed. Our beds, our own beds, in our separate rooms," he babbled and Hermione smiled. It was adorable.
"I'm comfortable," she told him, only half teasing.
"Of course you are, but my arm is starting to fall asleep. And I'd rather your dad not be tempted to kill me on my second day here."
"Oh, alright," she said standing up. "You wouldn't kiss all that well if you were dead."
Harry stood and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Glad to see you have your priorities in order." He nuzzled her neck and Hermione could feel the smile on his face.
"You would be warm either," she continued, "and you couldn't hold me like this." She leaned back against him as walked back into the house. Hermione heard a slight scuffling in the kitchen as she opened the patio door. She sighed and shook her head. Her parents… But she loved them.
They walked up the stairs and stopped at Hermione's bedroom door. "Goodnight," Harry said softly and kissing her just as softly. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight," she smiled and kissed him again. And again. His lips were so soft.
"There's one thing," Harry began in between kisses, "I wanted to ask you."
"Mm, what's that?" She pressed her lips to his.
They savored the kiss together for a moment. When they pulled away, Harry whispered softly, tenderly, "Will you be my girlfriend?"
Hermione beamed and her heart leaped in her chest. "As if you had to ask," she told him before kissing him again.
"That's a yes?" Harry asked with a small smile.
"Of course it's a yes, Harry."
It was several smooching minutes later before she was actually in her room and Harry in his. Hermione couldn't stop grinning. This, by far and so far, had been the best night of her life. Better than finding out she was a witch, better than having Harry and Ron as friends and all the escapades that entailed, better than realizing she was in love with Harry Potter. Very few things could top tonight for her, and all she had in mind involved Harry.
Hermione danced and hummed and sang around her room as she prepared for bed, changing her clothes, removing make up, brushing her hair. Everything was done on autopilot; she was floating on Cloud 9 and loving every minute of it.
Humming, she twirled onto her bed and pulled out her journal. Not one of those frilly, prissy, girly diaries that made her ashamed to be female. A lovely leather bound journal that she recorded everything about her life in. Everything. Tonight's entry would center entirely on the wonderful Harry James Potter and how they professed their love to one another and made out like the sex-starved teens that they were.
It was a good thing they'd had The Talk, Hermione decided. She entirely doubted she could have lasted Harry staying in her house the rest of summer without pouncing on him. Literally and figuratively.
Hermione fell asleep that night with a smile on her face, her dreams full of the dark haired wizard with brilliant green eyes, the words he spoke to her tonight and his lips on hers.
This was going to be the best summer of her life.
The best summer of your life so far.
*~*~*
I was watching the Simpson's Movie (so funny and so wrong at the same time) and it inspired the "The best summer of your life so far" line, since Homer says something like that like three times in the movie.
I also like how the Simpson's watch the end credits, 'cause I always do. For the names, not the chance of an end clip. I like finding unique names like mine, and pulling a Mystery Science Theater 3000 =)
-->