Don't eat me! I have a good explanation for why I'm so bad at this, and if you're really curious- send me an email. But if I get reviews on this one, I've got another chapter almost done- and I'll update it quickly. Enjoy chapter five (:
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Harry woke, rather pleasantly, to Hermione's voice. Rolling over on the couch and opening one eye the slightest bit, he could see that she was in the kitchen, murmuring to herself.
"Low on… milk, eggs, and… yogurt. Who keeps eating the yogurt? Oh, and ice cream. Wow, I just bought ice cream, too. Can't believe we ate that much in one night…"
Harry smiled to himself. He secretly loved it when she talked to herself. Another reason he was smiling was because he was the one eating all the yogurt.
Don't buy good yogurt and I wouldn't have to eat it, he thought to Hermione, knowing she wouldn't hear. He then heard feather-light footsteps in rapid succession; he guessed she was dancing, but Hermione never danced. Lifting his head slightly, so as not to attract attention, he peeked into the kitchen and saw- in his opinion- the most beautiful thing in the world.
Hermione was spinning around the kitchen, using her tiptoes to propel herself in circles. Her hair moved with her, chestnut curls waving whichever direction she chose to go. She was humming something- Harry recognized it immediately as an upbeat Italian song that she absolutely adored.
I'm so screwed, Harry thought with a groan, still watching her dance. Then she moved into the living room; Harry instantly lay his head back down, but kept his eyes squinted. He watched her move over to the TV set and stretch to see if something was on top. Harry couldn't look away as her shirt rose just over the waistband of her jeans.
Does she realize how perfect she is? He asked himself, then was stunned into silence when she bent down to pick up whatever had fallen off the television set.
Ahh-wha-huh? Was all the thought Harry could muster. When Hermione had bent over, her jeans dipped, giving Harry quite the show.
Those are not lacy knickers, those are not lacy knickers, he repeated to himself- but he didn't get another chance to glance at them; she had gotten up and was now scribbling onto a piece of paper. Putting the parchment on the table next to Harry's head, she gently ruffled his hair with her hand, and then disappeared out the door.
As soon as she was gone, Harry jumped out from underneath the blankets covering him. Reaching over to the table, he picked up the parchment and read;
Harry-
Gone out shopping. We needed a few things. Should be back soon.
-Hermione
Harry smiled softly, but it was short-lived. Glancing at her name, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Is that a heart by her name, or a smudge?" he asked himself. "Would she really sign a heart by her name? 'Hermione-smudge.' That doesn't sound good at all. 'Hermione-heart. Hermione-smudge-heart.'
After chastising himself for getting so worked up over a smudge, he rolled over on the couch and landed with a soft "thud" on the floor. Groaning, he got off the floor and stood up- a dazed expression on his face. Running a hand through his hair, he stretched lazily.
"Shower," he murmured, drunkenly stumbling into the bathroom.
Stepping under the warm spray, Harry reached out and grabbed a bottle.
Hermione is the only one I know who would label her bottles.
Opening it, he inhaled the scent that was uniquely Hermione's. He used a milder smelling shampoo on his hair, however. After his shower, he stepped onto the fuzzy rug and looked into the mirror- even when wet, his hair was as messy as ever. Tilting his head to the side, he squinted his eyes and looked at himself. Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head and smiled, muttering "Hermione smudge-heart."
He walked out of the bathroom, clad in just a towel that hung loosely at his hips. Once he had walked past Hermione's bedroom, he stopped.
"… That wasn't lace," he said and, shaking his head, he kept walking.
Harry haphazardly threw on a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He then walked into the kitchen.
"Almost noon?" he murmured to himself. "Lunch, then." Quickly throwing together a sandwich, he returned to the living room and plopped down onto the couch. After staring at the dark screen for about a minute, he took a rather large bite of his sandwich and sighed. Standing up, Harry walked over and got the remote off the top of the television set. He sat back down on the couch, and pressed the 'power' button, aiming it at the television.
Relaxing into the couch, he took another monstrous bite of the sandwich and watched the TV with a dazed expression on his face.
"We now return to our regularly scheduled programming…"
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"It's impossible for people who work in a grocery store to be this smart," Hermione muttered as she walked down aisle 5.
She was referring to the strategy grocery store owners used to get more profit. They figure milk is the one thing people buy most, and on occasion it's the only thing on someone's list when they go out shopping. So what do they do? Put the milk in the back of the store, so in order to get it you have to walk by many, many other tempting things. Things you automatically think about buying, even though in your subconscious mind you know you don't need it.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she said, pausing to look at the colorful display. Snapping out of it rather quickly, she continued walking. She passed the chilled section, and stopped right in front of the shredded cheese. Hermione laughed softly to herself.
"Harry and I never got that smell out of the carpet," she murmured, smiling fondly at her memory.
Just then she noticed a couple- newlyweds, by the look of it- having what seemed to be an amusing discussion over a tub of ice cream.
We could have been like that, Hermione thought wistfully. I can see it, too. Gods of love, Hermione. You need to get a hold of yourself. He couldn't see you like that, wouldn't see you like that. Doesn't see you like that.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" a woman said, breaking out of her reverie. Apparently she had been walking while half-daydreaming, for the next thing the woman said was "Could you move, please? I need to get hamburger buns."
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Back at home, Harry was watching the credits from a movie rolling when his cell phone rang. Laughing softly, he sang his ringtone under his breath- Low: the chipmunk version. Pressing the 'talk' button, he put it up to his ear.
"Hello?" he said, stretching languidly.
"Harry, mate!" Ron's voice came through. "How's the married life treating you?"
Harry made a face he knew Ron couldn't see. "It's okay, can't complain much."
"You can't complain?" Ron repeated. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know," said Harry, shaking his half-damp hair. "It's interesting, at best."
"Have you accidentally walked in yet?"
"What?" Harry was taken aback by this question. "Have I walked in yet?"
"Yeah," Ron said. "I mean, I know Hermione's like our sister and everything, but her in that wedding dress? Whew. I wouldn't be able to control myself if I was in a house with her for that long."
Harry was saved from having to answer the question because at that moment Hermione decided to walk in, three or four bags in her arms. Harry quickly made the decision to end the phone call.
"Uh… I'm sorry ma'am… I'm not interested in mudslide insurance," he said hurriedly. "Goodbye."
Harry briefly heard Ron say "What…?" before he hung up the phone with a 'click.'
"Who was that?" Hermione's voice floated into the living room.
"No one," Harry answered. "Some crazy woman who wanted me to buy mudslide insurance."
"… Does she understand where you live?" Hermione asked, lowering her voice as Harry walked into the kitchen and took a bag out of her arms and placed it on the island in the middle of the kitchen.
"I really don't know," said Harry, smiling a bit. "Do you want me to unpack, Hermione?"
"No," Hermione said. "That's okay. I can do it."
"I insist," Harry persisted. "Let me help, at least."
"Alright," Hermione conceded. "You can help."
They unpacked the groceries in silence at first, until Harry unpacked a bag with a few interesting items in it.
"Hermione?" he asked. "What's this?" he held up a multi-pack of an assortment of chips, and tilted his head to the side.
"It's an assortment of chips," she answered, not looking up from her bag.
"Was this on your list?" asked Harry, smiling slightly.
"Well… no," Hermione said slowly, turning to face him. "But you should see the way it's displayed at the store. Those grocery store owners are pretty clever."
"Sure," Harry said, deciding to drop the subject for now. The silence was broken again for almost the same reason.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Why is this so big?"
"What?" Hermione spun around quickly- almost too quickly- and staggered, trying to regain her balance. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw what he was holding. She held out her hands, and he handed the package to her, which she set gingerly onto one of the shelves in her cupboard.
"Skittles are my one weakness," was all she had to say about the matter, but she was smiling as she said it. Try as he might, Harry couldn't get that statement out of his mind.
How could I use that to my advantage…? Was all he was thinking about; he didn't even hear the quiet knock at the door. Hermione did, however, and went over to open it. From there emerged Charlotte. Today she was wearing very tight dark blue jeans and a rather flashy top. It was spaghetti-strapped, with a low neck line. Bright red in color, it started with a few sparkles at the top of the shirt and gradually got denser until there was a thick layer of shimmer and the bottom. Harry didn't even notice her until she latched onto his waist.
"Hey, Harry," she said in the sexiest voice she could muster, batting her eyelashes playfully at him. "What are you doing?"
"Unpacking groceries?" he said slowly, attempting to remove her vice-like grip.
"You're not sure?" she asked, smiling widely- as if to show him every one of her teeth.
"No," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I'm sure."
Charlotte's laugh sounded like the tinkling of bells- and Hermione knew at once that Charlotte wasn't really amused about anything.
"That couch," Charlotte said, using her head to gesture to the couch in the living room. "Is it pretty hard? To sleep on, I mean."
"Kind of, I guess," Harry said, not knowing where Charlotte would take this.
"I like things that are hard," Charlotte hummed, moving one hand just a bit lower.
"Um," Harry said, forcing a cough. "Well, you could have some cheese? That's pretty hard."
"I like chocolate better," murmured Charlotte, biting her lip slightly. "I like it melted. But I'm such a klutz- it usually ends up all over me. Do you like chocolate?"
"Yeah…" he answered slowly.
"You should come over sometime, we could have some. But would you clean up the mess?"
Look at her, Hermione thought, trying to not make a face at Charlotte's attempts. She's draped all over him like cheap… drapes!
Charlotte turned her head into Harry's shirt. "You smell good," she said as innocently as she could. When Harry was sure Charlotte couldn't see his face, he turned to Hermione and gave her a look of mixed confusion, trepidation, and… disgust?
Hermione smile was a mile wide as she stifled the laugh that was about to erupt in her throat. Confident that Harry most certainly did not want this attention from her friend, she moved to strike.
"Oh Charlotte?" said Hermione sweetly. Charlotte moved her head to look at Hermione with glassy eyes.
"Hmm?" Charlotte said.
"I hear they have a new front desk man," Hermione said. "He's 27, I believe, and Italian- gorgeous face and the strongest arms."
Charlotte's eyes popped open again, and she stood up- releasing Harry. She threw her arms around him in a hug, then whispered something in his ear that made him blush a deep crimson. Once she was out of the door, Harry shook his head violently.
"What did Charlotte say, just now?" Hermione asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly. The look on his face caused Hermione to not ask again- she could infer what her friend had said.
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The rest of the day passed slowly, and rather awkwardly. The two stayed inside the house; whenever they had to pass one another they shot the other awkward glances. Whenever a simple question was asked, the answer was delayed.
This is ridiculous, Hermione thought when she caught Harry looking at her over his magazine for the fourth time. I have to fix this awkwardness. She stood up from the couch, and walked into the kitchen.
"I'm making dinner," she called to him. The response was a muffled "okay."
Putting some water in a pan and setting it on the burner, Hermione made dinner in silence. About twenty minutes later, she had a large bowl of pasta, a simple tomato sauce, and a plate of breadsticks.
Placing the food on the table (which was right behind the couch that Harry was currently occupying), Hermione went back into the kitchen to get silverware and plates.
"Dinner's on the table," she told him. When she came back, he was sitting there. Setting a plate in front of him, she sat across from him and put some food on her plate. Dinner went on for a while in silence.
Merlin, I really am screwed, Harry thought as he watched Hermione dip a breadstick into the sauce and take a bite. He decided that watching her eat was his new favorite thing to watch, ever. His thoughts ran free then, to anything and everything regarding what else Hermione could use her mouth for when she broke him out of his reverie.
"So, Harry," she said, ridding a bit of sauce from her lips. "What else did you do today, besides getting called by strange women?"
Harry blinked his eyes a few times, and then realized that he was required to answer.
"Well," he said. "I woke up, took a shower, watched TV for a while, and then you came home. Then that rather… awkward conversation with Charlotte, and now dinner."
"Sounds like a pretty exciting day," said Hermione, a smile in her eyes.
"Oh, totally," Harry said, his eyes matching hers.
Once dinner was over, Harry helped Hermione put the dishes away. By the time they were done (chores become elongated when one isn't really paying attention to what you're doing) it was eight o'clock. The two decided to see what was on TV. Sitting on the couch, they flipped through channels until they found one with a movie playing.
Sometime during the movie, Hermione felt a bit drowsy- or that's how it appeared to be, because she let her head fall to Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't dare move her; he knew she was tired and he wanted her close to him.
By the time the movie was over it was around eleven at night (Stupid commercials, came into Harry's head many times). Turning off the television, Harry and Hermione were submerged into almost complete darkness- the only light was the one above the oven in the kitchen.
She'd be freaked if she woke up on the couch with me, Harry decided. He then thought that he needed to get her into her own bed. Putting an arm around her shoulders, and one behind her knees, he picked her up effortlessly. Sighing softly, she subconsciously wrapped her arms around his neck. Moving as cautiously as he could, he made his way to the bedroom.
His journey wasn't ideal; he ran into something lying on the floor, and almost crashed into the wall. He caught himself before they did, however.
He held her up against the wall, his movements had stopped completely because he didn't want to wake her up- this situation would be hard to explain. She didn't stir; instead, she shifted slightly, closer to him- her chest was just slightly pressed against his and her face was buried in his neck. He could feel her even breathing. He looked up at the ceiling, as if it would give him self control. Moving her again, he ended up in her room without another incident. He lay her down gently on the bed. The minute he had let go of her, her facial features contorted- she looked as if she didn't like this new position.
Harry seriously contemplated just crawling into bed with her, but decided against it. He didn't want her to know about his feelings for her, not yet. Leaning over, he rested a hand just by her head; she rolled towards his hand. Bending down, he gently kissed her forehead. Hermione sighed again and, feeling a bit bolder (or a bit less in control) he placed a kiss just by the corner of her mouth. She half sighed, half moaned softly.
Harry shut his eyes briefly, then moved off the bed and left the room before he lost all of his self control. Once he was back in the living room, Hermione opened her eyes. Smiling softly, she rolled over and let sleep overcome her.
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Musical Inspiration- Unbeautiful by Lesley Roy