Warning Sign

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and company or the song Warning Sign—it belongs to Coldplay whom I bow before.

Author's Note: I know I just posted a chapter yesterday, but hey here's another. It's a bit longer so enjoy. Thanks to the reviewers who have left comments. I love hearing from you.

Chapter 7

A Sorta Fairytale with You

I grabbed a hair band as I made my way back to the kitchen. Pulling it back in a messy bun was the only way I could cook it seemed (otherwise it was in my face). I was making chicken parmesan for us to eat tonight. Harry wasn't here yet, but I needed the extra time to get the sauce started.

I should probably change since I'm sure I look horrible. I threw on a pair of jeans and a tank earlier, but I have to wonder why I am worrying about this. It's not like it's a date. This is just an almost-everyday occurrence. We eat at each other's homes. It's a habit we started a few of weeks ago. We talk about our day—my newest research and findings—his new job of teaching defense to auror trainees.

Things had been tough there for awhile after the events at my parent's house. Neither one of us have mentioned the conversation. He just showed up a week later to take me to lunch. Were things weird then? Yes, but we've moved on and things are just as they were before the incident.

I check the sauce and give a stir. I love cooking, and right now I'm in an Italian phase. I notice that I need to start the pasta soon and the chicken is in the oven. Everything is going good so far.

Looking at the recipe one more time, I check to make sure I've got everything. I'm startled as I feel two arms wrap around me and a chin rests on my shoulder. “You should use a stronger locking spell.”

He needs a bell around his neck or something. Give a girl some warning here. “Well most people coming to see me are not you; therefore they usually can't get through.” I kept reading the recipe and hoped he couldn't tell how he affected me.

He pulled away and to go over to the stove. “Looks good. Did you make this from scratch?” He begins to lift the spoon to his mouth.

I rush over to intervene. “Yes and if you think that you're going to taste it before dinner you're mistaken.” I slap his hand and take the spoon back. I give the sauce another quick stir and put the lid back on.

“Now that's not fair. How will you know if it's edible? I should taste it incase you did something wrong.” He's smirking at me from his spot against the counter.

“I think I'm insulted. You think I can't cook?” I pick up a dish towel and throw it at him.

He catches it and sets it on the counter beside him. “Well I have no proof yet, but you could be holding out me. As of yet though, I can't seem to find anything you're bad at.”

I laugh quietly. “If you only knew.” I reach into a cabinet and grab two plates.

Harry appears beside me and gets a couple of wine glasses down. I turn and watch as he goes to the fridge and takes out a bottle of red wine. I can't help but realize that this is what it would have been like. Us living together… cooking… being domestic.

His voice lifts me from the fog I've settled in. “So, are you going to tell me what it is you're bad at?”

I watch him as he pours me a glass and brings it to me, one eyebrow quirked. “Let me think about that…no.” Like I'm going to tell you the one thing (of many) I'm bad at is keeping my resolve around you.

He goes back to his spot leaning against the counter sipping his own glass of wine. I must love to torment myself. That has to be the reason why I submit myself to this torture every evening.

He shows up here wearing those jeans. The ones I especially hate since they seem to be his favorite. Worn in and fit him just right. Then there is the t-shirt—don't get me started on that. Makes me want to ask him what exactly did he do while he was gone. Looking at him makes me remember what I have on. I must have jumped away from the counter since I saw him straighten up.

“I need to change.”

His eyes look at me from my head to my bare feet. “I think you look fine.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Harry was always trying to make me feel better. “No I don't. I look a fright.”

“Hermione, you look beautiful as usual. Stay.” He turned and started walking to the living room. “I'm going to put some music on.”

I was completely flustered. What do I say in response to that? Was he flirting again? Was he kidding? Just trying to humor me? Why did I have to get slightly giddy at those words?

The sounds of Coldplay began to filter into the kitchen. Harry had discovered this band and had in turn introduced me to their music. I usually left their CD in my stereo on rotation.

As he came back in I turned quickly to fidget with pasta. “Should be done soon.” I explained as he walked over to me. He took up post beside me.

“Good, because I haven't eaten today.”

I glanced up at him. “Really? Tough day?”

“Not really. There was a problem with a guy they brought in. Needed extra people to handle it.”

“Okay. Isn't that someone else's job?” I asked while giving the sauce another stir.

“Normally, yes. I guess this guy was really causing a problem. Called for help right before lunch. It was no big deal, let's not talk about.”

“Okay.” I looked into the pot of boiling pasta. “Do you think this is done?”

He grins at me in the most adorable way. “There is only one way to find out. I watch as he carefully gets out a couple of pieces of noodles tossing them between his fingers because of the heat.

“Harry, you are not going to do what I think you're going to do.” I tried to stand in front of him.

“I don't know. You seem to know me pretty well. What do you think I'm going to do?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Come on `Mione, I want to throw the pasta. Let me throw it.” His eyes are so hopeful and his face starts to resemble a hopeful, small child that I can't do anything but move out of his way. I watch as he throws the noodles across the room. They hit the wall with a quiet splat.

“Satisfied?” I ask as I remove them from my wall.

“Not really.” As I turn around I am hit in the face with pasta. Shock is the only thing registering in my brain and on my face.

“Harry!” I pick the noodles off my face and look at him. His face is contorted, trying not to laugh. “You think this is funny?” `Take this Potter' I think as I toss the noodles right back at him. They hit him squarely in the chest.

Quickly we are involved in an all out food fight. Luckily it was mostly the pasta. I am trying to get by when I am captured in his arms. One of my arms is brought around his neck and the other is in his grasp. I look up at him questioningly.

“It's called dancing Hermione.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know what it is Harry. I just thought you hated the activity and was bad at it.”

“I'll have you know that I don't hate it completely—depends on who I'm with and I don't know if I'm that bad at it.” He grins down at me. “I do know that people are usually closer than this when they dance.” My right arm is then brought up with the other and his are both around my waist.

I think I can die happy. I'm in Harry's arms dancing. But I can't help but laugh as I realize that we are covered in tonight's dinner.

“What's so funny?”

“Us.” I can see that he agrees.

“But the truth is…I miss you…

And I realized that you were an island and I passed you by

That you were an island to discover…”

The lyrics of one of my favorite songs fill the house. “You love this song,” I say as I put my head against his chest. I feel him rest his chin on top of my head.

“So do you.”

The voice in my head decided to chose that moment to pipe up. `This is wrong. You know it is. Where is that back bone? That resolve you cling to so strongly?' I want to slam the door on the voice. This was nice being held in Harry's arms. This is what I wanted for so long and if I can have just a little taste of that life that never was, then maybe I can move on. `Get real. You're making excuses to constitute for your behavior. He feels nothing but friendship for you and the sooner you realize it the better.' What about what happened at my parent's house?

I'm sure he's startled as I pull away. I mumble something about not letting the sauce burn to cover my actions.

“I think everything is ready, but we're a mess.” I get my wand and do a quick cleaning spell. “There, much better.”

I continue getting everything ready and set it on the table all the while I'm shaking. As I head back into the kitchen I notice Harry still standing in the spot where I left him. I can't read the look on his face.

He makes eye contact with me and this is the first time since his return that I am reminded that he can be a little scary when he is silent and determined. `He wouldn't look like that if he only saw you as a friend.'

Harry starts to come near me and I remember a similar scene taking place just like this in the Weasley's kitchen. I'm backed into the counter and stare up into those piercing eyes.

“What are you scared of Hermione? Me? The situation? Or the fact that you want this too but you're to scared of what could happen? It just kills you to not be in control, to not know the answer, or the outcome.”

And there it was. Harry was addressing the elephant in the room. The one we silently vowed to leave alone after the debacle at my patents house. All I could do was break our gaze and stare at the wall over his shoulder. I'm being stubborn, but I can't do this and just be let down again…be hurt again.

He sighs, pulls away, and starts to the door. “Fine. We'll do it your way and be miserable.” He slammed the door as he left and I slowly slid down the cabinet. Sitting there in my kitchen where we had danced, laughed, and ended it all—I cried.

Okay so more drama (it never ends). This chapter has always meant a lot to me and it contains my favorite song of all time. I hope you liked it.

Don't forget to leave a review!

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