1. It wasn’t his fault!

“It wasn’t his fault!”

The Third part of: “That Night & the Next Morning”

By the Barmy_old_Codger

One Shot … A continuation from:

That Night & the Next Morning chapter 2

Pursuant to the Berne Convention Implementation Act of 1988 and the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, this work is copyrighted 2007 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted. No portion may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written and notarized permission of the author.

Note Zero: “Look up … look way, way up, and I’ll call Rusty.” If anyone remembers that line from your childhood, and you’re reading this … you’re far too old to be on this site. If you actually did look up, you’ll find that my trusty Beta (after giving me a hard time for not sending the first 2 chapters to him) added his own custom disclaimer and titling at the top. Thanks Edmond O’Donald. Look up his stories on fanfiction dot net.

Note One: Read “That Night & the Next Morning” (both chapters) first otherwise it won’t make a lot of sense.

Note Two: I let Harry out of the Hospital Wing 1 day early so this really should be the evening of Saturday June 26, 1995 as per hp-lexicon.org

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I have decided that this will be a series of One-Shots, that way I only fracture my promise not to start another story before the first 2 are finished. In the end I will have more finished stories than unfinished. Okay it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it appeases my conscience.

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It wasn’t his fault!

Harry was worried, very worried, this was a side of Hermione he had never suspected. She had securely wrapped her arms around his right arm and held it tightly to her body. He was going to be in trouble already and it wasn’t his fault. His upper arm and elbow was almost surrounded by her chest, warm and snug in a Hermione sandwich. It wasn’t his fault! She was looking up, into his eyes, giggling, smiling and humming all at the same time ... and … yes, she was skipping along beside him as he walked slowly towards their sanctuary. Thoughts of this morning settled in his brain as he looked down at where his arm was … and his right hand. Oh my God! Harry saw that his hand was below her waist. It wasn’t his fault! If he wiggled his fingers she would kill him. If she came to her senses, he was a dead man. He kept walking slowly so as not to jar the connection with the bouncing brunette hanging on to his arm. Harry was frightened, confused and nearly wetting himself. He truly believed he was walking his last mile … once they arrived at the Common Room she would come to her senses and kill him. He bent his right wrist up to keep the hand from touching her … down there. It wasn’t his fault! He was going to die!

When they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione released his arm and said, “Pick me up and carry me in Please.” While she stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him a quick kiss, on the lips. She didn’t want to waste the good kisses out in the hall where no one would see them do it. Harry was still trying to figure her out and Sirius instructions about ‘not below the waist’ had become a ball of flame quickly spiralling him into hell. It wasn’t his fault!

Hermione jumped up and he instinctively reached out to grab her, his seeker training kicked in automatically. His left arm was safely under her knees and his right arm was around her back. Her head leaned into his shoulder; then she looked up. It wasn’t ‘till a moment later that he realized … in his right hand … was the golden snitch … so to speak. It wasn’t his fault! She jumped up! What was he supposed to do! He knew he was a ‘Dead Man Walking’. It wasn’t his fault! Dare he move his hand? Maybe she wouldn’t notice? Yeah right! She was smiling back at him … and a wicked smile it was. She knew exactly where his hand was. It wasn’t his fault!

Harry spoke the password to the Fat Lady who was barely holding in a huge belly laugh. The portrait opened, Harry stepped in and stopped, the portrait closed. Nobody had noticed them yet, not until the laughter that had filled the corridor outside, began to filter in. All eyes fixated on the portrait hole. Harry, realizing he was still holding on to ‘the Golden Snitch’, he released his grip on her boob and moved his hand down. Too late, they all saw the movement, it wasn’t his fault!

“Harry,” she whispered. He looked down at her as if begging for her mercy. She had seen the chair she wanted and said, “Sit us down on the overstuffed armchair with the sloping back … you know the one.” He knew the one, It had an amazing history, it had been repaired, modified and transfigured by thousands of couples over the years and was almost what a Muggle would call a recliner except it was permanently fixed in a half-way back position. Only couples sat … there must be a better name for it … in that chair when they were snogging and doing … well he guessed he was about to find out what happened in ‘that chair’. It wasn’t his fault! This was going to be like his last meal before he died … he knew it!

Hermione was happier than she had ever been in her life; she had her best friend who was now her Boyfriend … with a capital ‘B’. She was being cradled in his arms like a precious gift and there were sparks and flashes and fire dancing throughout her body, everywhere he touched her. Hermione had been wanting it and waiting for it for the better part of the last four years. Boys are so dense! It’s a wonder that girls don’t carry around Beater Bats to knock some sense into the boys.

Harry made his way between the selected chair and its foot rest while trying to figure out how to sit down and lay back without bumping Hermione.

Seamus and Dean had taken Ron’s wand and were sitting on him, though they fancied they would prefer to be restraining Ginny like Lavender and Parvati were doing.

Harry sat down jostling his Girlfriend a little bit, though she didn’t seem to notice. He wiggled back into the crotch of the chair and lay back slowly while stretching his legs out and placing them on the foot rest.

They were being stared at by the entire Common Room, some Gryffindors had even returned from their beds to watch. Most had disbelieved the Lavender grape-vine as the gossip trail was called until they saw Hermione stretch out full-length while making a point of rubbing herself on him, she slide all the way over Harry from his right to his left side. She was staking her claim as erotically as possible, just like she had seen her mother do the night that her parents hosted a school reunion at their home and several of her fathers’ old girlfriends wouldn’t leave him alone. Neville had come down as far as the third step and had a better perspective than most, he tried to imagine Hermione … or any girl doing that to him and he shivered with excitement. It wasn’t until he saw Harry’s robes perk up that he noticed he had the same problem, Neville turned and ran upstairs and into a cold shower, pyjamas and all.

It was far too late for Harry, he knew it; she was just tormenting him before the kill. Bellatrix was a pansy compared to Hermione. She ground herself into his chest, his crotch, his hip and his side as she slid over him. His erection was painfully hard and obvious and he wondered why she hadn’t freaked out in disgust. Finally she stopped moving, she lay half way over his left side, her legs wrapped around his left leg, her head and a hand on his chest, her other hand under his arm and around his back, all of her naughty bits touching or pushing into him somewhere.

Almost all the boys in the Common Room were now sporting serious hard-ons and the girls were busy comparing the trouser bulges. Lavender voiced her thoughts softly, “It’s always the quiet ones … who would have guessed?” Parvati was busy settling bets and handling funds – as it had (mostly) been the girls who had won the pool. Most of them had bet on Hermione while most of the guys had bet on Cho or Ginny. Ginny and Cho might have been tops in the looks department, but the girls all knew that it was Hermione who had Harry’s absolute trust.

Hermione finally quit moving and wiggling, her breathing had slowed to an even, steady pace, Harry thought she might be trying to hide or pretend she was be asleep. He was finally able to start convincing his own body to relax until he got a whiff of her, the real Hermione smell wafted up from somewhere. This was the beginning of the end; he would wake up in the morning dead! He knew it! Either he would ravage her body and lick, slurp or suck every trace of that smell from her and she would kill him … or … he would die of frustration! It wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t … his fault!

Harry lay there listening to the voices in the Common Room dwindle down to only one or two over the next hour or so. They got bored quite easily after Hermione finished putting on her show. Hermione, it seemed, had settled in for the night as far as he could tell. She wasn’t an uncomfortable weight on him and the way she was situated kept him snug and warm. Maybe he would live … if only to ‘Die Another Day’.

“Sirius, you old Dog … when you get back I’m going to kill you myself … what in Merlin’s name am I supposed to do here … According to you I’m not supposed to touch her below the waist and yet she is spreading herself all over me like butter on hot toast … not that I mind, but you forgot to tell her the rules. Damn it! It’s not my fault!” For almost twenty minutes, as he fought a loosing battle with both his raging desire for the girl in his arms and with exhaustion. Exhaustion won, but it was a narrow thing. Harry eventually drifted off to sleep – with both hands cupping her perfectly luscious derriere.

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The sound of a lumber mill grated on Hermione’s ears in the morning, she tried to cover her head with a pillow, but her pillow wouldn’t move for some reason so she pulled the blankets over her head. Someone had covered them up last night. The blanket didn’t help much, but it did help her hear the thump, thump, wheeze, thump noise under her head and realize that her bed was moving up and down in time with it. The movement of the blankets woke ‘The-Paranoid-Boy’ in a flash, he instantly recognized Ron’s ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ before opening his eyes. Something solid and hairy moved over his shoulder and to the left side of his head. He clearly remembered him and Hermione lying on the chair last night, but couldn’t figure out how he got to bed so he would wake up to Ron’s snoring … and who was in bed with him?

Hermione’s ears couldn’t handle the racket any more and she lifted her head to see what was going on. The mop of hair was lifted from his eyes and Harry could finally see a fuzzy face with familiar brown eyes looking back at him. Hermione’s face went instantly red; she uttered an ‘Eeep’, then covering her mouth she rolled off Harry, landing facedown on the Common Room floor with a solid thump.

Harry pulled his glasses off, found his wand and muttered a cleaning charm at them. By the time he put the glasses back on his memory of last night was beginning to unravel. Hermione was now his Girlfriend … well, at least he hoped she still was … the way she ran off he wasn’t sure. Ron and Ginny were both royally pissed at him and then he remembered the show they gave the Common Room last night. Merlin and Morgana!! It wasn’t his fault!

The buzz saw started up again and Harry lifted himself up on one elbow to look. Little Ginny was partly on top of Ron and they were holding on to each other … “And me without a camera”, thought Harry. Harry drank it all in, he would have to find a way to show this memory to Hermione; he knew it could be done. He didn’t know how. He peeled back the blanket, stiffly got out of the chair, and made his way up the stairs. He found Colin Creepy (he meant Creevey) and asked him to take his camera down to the Common Room to get him a picture. Harry offered to pay for exclusive rights for the photo and negatives. He thought he might need a bargaining chip later.

Thirty minutes later after 2 of the three ‘S’s and a change of clothes, Harry returned to the Common Room and sat on a chair facing the fireplace. For some reason Harry didn’t have to shave yet, he certainly wasn’t jealous after seeing the butcher job Ron did on his whiskers every other day. Ron had odd hairs sticking out in several places, not just his nose and ears.

Hermione joined him a few minutes later. She looked back and forth between the Weasleys and Harry a few times before raising her eyebrows, taking his hand and leading him out of the Common Room.

“We need to talk.” Stated Harry as they made their way down several staircases towards the Great Hall.

“Yes we do.” Replied his Girlfriend, “Let’s grab something to eat and go out to the lake.” It was Sunday, no exams to study for and no classes until Monday, they took their time eating as the hall was almost empty while discussing some meaningless trivia.

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Harry had guided her around the lake to the secluded spot where Sirius had taken him before they started into their real discussion. “Harry, I want to apologize for last night and this morning.” She said.

“Do you mean agreeing to be my Girlfriend?” He responded with a depressed look on his face, “Or the lap dance you gave the Common Room last night?”

“I’ve wanted to be your girl for a long time Harry, no the apology is for show in the Common Room … I wanted Ron, Ginny and a few others to know in no uncertain terms to back off and leave you to me.”

“I hope they got the hint,” he said, “And you’re welcome to do that again … preferably in private. Hermione …” Harry sighed.

Hermione interrupted him when he didn’t continue immediately, “Harry, we should set some limits for now; they can be changed when we’re ready, but we should start out slowly and be comfortable with each other. I could tell last night … I think I frightened you … I wasn’t being myself, and I think you are more comfortable with the real me. I actually hauled you out of the Common Room to ask you to be my Boyfriend … I got tired of waiting for you to ask and those pesky Weasleys were driving me crazy.”

“Ron didn’t like us holding hands or being close,” said Hermione, “Yet he wouldn’t make a move on me himself, not that I would have let him, and dear sweet Gin-gin was convinced that she was going to marry you one day.”

“Yes, Ron has been mentioning stuff like that and I’ve been foolish enough to back off and stay out of the picture to give him a chance. Ginny, ever since I met her she’s either been too shy or too bold, but she’s always been after ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’, not me … I know you see the real me.”

Harry sat down at the base of a fairly large tree, leaning his back against it, he spoke. “Sirius suggested some starting rules … he figured I would be safe enough if I only touched you above the waist … funny thing though, he didn’t mention any rules about your Bludgers. That all seemed to take a nose dive into the Quidditch Pitch last night though.”

“B…b…b…Bludgers …” she stammered as she looked down at her chest, “More like snitches,” she continued, “Compared to some of the other girls …”

“I’m not comparing you to any other girls, besides,” he replied, “I’m good at catching snitches.” He said, hoping it would get him out of a jam on size comparison.

Hermione smiled and walked over to him, kicked his legs apart and sat between them leaning her back against his chest. Harry wrapped his arms around her stomach, breathing in the vanilla and rose smell of her shampoo. “Harry,” she said, “Above the waist is fine and when we’re not in public, I’ll let you know when you can chase the snitches.” She took his two hands and placed them on her snitches closing her eyes and leaning back in satisfaction.

Harry didn’t waste his opportunity and Hermione enjoyed every moment of it until they left to go back to the Castle for lunch.

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Harry recognized Amos Diggory and his wife from the last Tournament task. They were sitting at the head table between Professor Sprout and the Headmaster. On the other side of the Headmaster, in McGonagall’s usual seat was Fudge. Harry’s thoughts drifted back to the Hospital Wing, he wasn’t impressed with Fudge, the idiot wouldn’t even consider the possibility of Snakeface’s return; he denied it completely.

When lunch was nearly over Minerva made her way down to Harry’s seat at the Gryffindor table. Walking up behind him she saw his hand playing with Hermione’s hand in a way that could have been construed as illicit sexual behaviour had there been other body parts involved. Hermione quickly pulled her hand away when she realized they were being watched. She looked up at the Deputy Headmistress and immediately blushed a fabulous shade of crimson. “Busted!’ she thought

“Miss Granger …” Minerva spoke in her strictest voice as she then looked down at Hermione’s hands, now neatly folded on her lap.

“Mister Potter!” Minerva spoke with a commanding tone, “You have a meeting with Minister Fudge and the Headmaster in the Headmaster’s office at one o’clock. Come to my classroom once you’re finished with The Minister, Mr. Diggory and his wife would like to talk to you and thank you for bringing their son’s body back.”

Harry agreed and Hermione asked permission to join him. Minerva answered, “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to attend both meetings as well Miss Granger, They are however not public meetings.

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Harry was ushered into the Headmasters’ office, Hermione following behind him. Minister Fudge raised his eyebrows at her entrance and looked towards Albus, possibly assuming he would throw her out.

“Have a seat … have a seat please, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger.” The Headmaster stated. Fudge blustered for a moment before realizing that this wasn’t going to be as private as he had expected. Albus continued, “This shouldn’t take long … Minister?”

“Harrumph!” Cornelius snorted. “There was supposed to be a ceremony to turn over the winnings after the Tri-Wizard Cup was retrieved by one of the Champions. Due to the death of a Champion and the ensuing confusion as to the cause, it never happened.” Fudge held out a white canvass sack with the Gringotts logo on it towards a dumbstruck Harry. “Congratulations Mr. Potter, you were the only one to complete the task and return to the starting point. You also ended up with the most total points. Here is the one thousand galleon prize.”

“I don’t want the money!” Yelled Harry, as he turned away.

“Mr. Potter,” Albus sighed, and Harry turned back to face them. “You earned every Knut of that gold, please take it.”

Hermione moved forward and took Harry’s hand, he looked at her and she nodded her head. In the end, it was easier for Harry to acquiesce to their request than force the issue of refusing it.

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Twenty minutes later the teens had been ushered through the Transfiguration classroom and into Minerva’s private office where they were greeted by the Diggorys. Amos sat with his head down and never moved, Mrs. Diggory, however, stood up and shook Harry’s hand and then Hermione’s while asking for her name.

“Harry, we are immensely proud of Cedric and his accomplishments” Mrs. Diggory said in a shaky voice. “We want to thank you for bringing his body back to Hogwarts, it means a great deal to us to have him back.” Mrs. Diggory was almost in tears, but continued, “If there is ever anything we can do for you … please ask.”

“Cedric was brave and good …” Harry had to stop and think for a moment before continuing, “We helped each other when we could … I would like to think that we might have become good friends soon.” Harry picked up the bag of gold and held it out to Mrs. Diggory, saying, “If Cedric hadn’t helped me, he could have had this all to himself. Use this to remember him … please?” Harry pleaded.

Mrs. Diggory politely refused to relieve Harry of the bag of gold galleons saying that it was his now and they didn’t need it. Harry slumped down in a chair, heartbroken and emotionally exhausted.

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Harry woke up just before dinner time to a “BLOODY HELL!” that sounded like Ron Weasley. He realized he was lying on his side, on top of his bed, in his dormitory and someone was holding on to him from behind. The last thing he remembered was the bag of gold, Minerva sending them away while she comforted Mrs. Diggory, and Hermione helping him down a corridor. He felt movement behind him, a warm breath on the back of his neck and what he hoped was the pair of his favourite snitches embedded in his back. Ron could go to hell! Harry wasn’t going to move … until the warm presence behind him started to get up. Damn! He thought.

“Just because you won that bloody tournament, you think you can shag Hermione all over the bloody school!” he yelled.

Harry whispered, “I don’t think the Headmaster heard you.” At the same time Hermione hit their least-favorite redhead with two transfiguration spells that did funny things to his arms and legs and a hex that made him think that spiders were crawling all over him. Harry thought, “Him I can do without!”

Our favourite pair tried to get down the stairs at the same time as most of the other Gryffindors, with Ginny in the lead, were trying to get to Ron. On their way down for dinner, Hermione mentioned that she had found those particular spells in an old book of obscure jinxes and hexes and the standard ‘Finite Incantatum’ won’t work on them.

Harry smiled at her and said, “I knew there was a good reason to keep you happy.”

“You had better believe it Potter.”

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P.S. look for the next part entitled:

No More Pencils – No More Books – No more Teacher’s Dirty Looks!

Thanks for reading

Barmy