Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

Author Note: Wanted to get this out before Finals started. The chapter plays more on the dynamic character of Hermione outside the world of just Harry (not saying that Harry isn't the center of her world as he is) and more of how she thinks and reacts to the world around her. Thank you to all who have continued to read and review. I very much appreciate it! Keeps me going, especially when writing gets tough.

***

Chapter Nineteen - Nurture

***

"Oh shit!"

"What did you do now, Granger?" `Severus' was speaking again to me.

Hurriedly, I flipped the knob to turn the burner low in heat. I nuzzled the telephone between my shoulder and chin, going about the kitchen with the chord stretching its length. I grabbed several paper towels off the roll, breaking each of them down the integrated line, and began wiping up the messy, hot grease I spilt whilst maneuvering a pan of bacon onto a plate. I acted fast, not wanting Harry's-our-kitchen counter top to be scorched. I ran the faucet on cold and pulled up the dish rag to wipe the remaining essence and, thankfully, no scars seemed to have been made.

"Rah!" I picked up the pan I'd dropped and put it back on one of the eyes of the stove. "I dropped his bacon all over the floor."

"Granger," `Severus' was back on the phone. "Thirty points for sheer clumsiness. I'd expect better from a know-it-all."

"Gin," I sighed into the receiver. "Shut up."

Ginny laughed, "Did you burn the bacon this time, too?"

I scoffed, plucking a bowl from the cupboard to pour oatmeal into, "No! Do you remember every one of my blunders?"

"I write them all down and categorize for organization," Ginny was having a fit on her end. "You know, in case I need to blackmail you in the future. Maybe I should document some of this on camera, too."

"I really hate you," I said, my hand slightly dipping the pot of steaming oatmeal to the side while my other scooped the gooey warmth from its confines with a spoon. "I hope you know that."

"I hate you too!" Ginny scoffed, offended. "Witch."

I smirked and set the empty pot down. Sliding the tray across the counter, I arranged the bowl of oatmeal beside the plate of bacon. Using a fork, I struck a sausage link I'd made and bit into the tip, all while going to where we kept the spices to retrieve cinnamon and sugar shakers.

"Actually," I could tell Ginny was smirking as well. She sounded evil whenever she'd smirk and talk. "I'd `wand' that ass. You know I would."

Ginny always made these little sex jokes. I'd heard it from her pretty much since I met her. I'd roll my eyes, like I did this time, and continue on with whatever I was doing. I'd smile, of course.

"Mhmm…," Unscrewing the lids to the cinnamon and sugar, I tapped a few sifts of the sweet to make the oatmeal more edible, tasty. "Okay, Gin."

"I'm serious, if I were a guy, I'd take that wand and-"

"God! Gin…," Suddenly, the sausage link I'd been eating didn't look so…appetizing. I set it aside. I couldn't look at it any longer. Okay, so maybe I wasn't as immune to my bestie as I thought I was.

Ginny absolutely had a riot, "Hahaha! How's that breakfast coming?"

"It's going," I made a face and dumped the sausage in the trash. "I was eating a sausage link, and the image-"

"Bahahaa!" Ginny's voice became distant and close as she laughed. She slapped something, probably the wall, and said aloud, "That's priceless. Just priceless!"

"Merlin, go find Neville! Sheesh… Get a room for Christ's sake. Shag it out or put it back in your pants."

Taking the polished handle of another metal pan, I found the spatula I'd been stirring the scrambled eggs with and lifted both to begin to process of scraping the yellow from the black. I'd put a dash of pepper while mixing the yolk with the white, giving a variety of sparse color throughout the eggs.

"Speaking of shagging it out," exclaimed Ginny. "Found any cute guys at Hogwarts?"

I grinned, having to lean further into the phone to catch it from slipping. My arm had gone up, moving my shoulder, to push the scrambled eggs from the pan. I plated the yellowing-white alongside the rich, reddened bacon. "Yeah, actually," My grin crept further as I thought about my words. "I did find a stud."

Ginny grew closer to the phone; so close I could hear every single breath she took, "Holy shit-tell me! Everything!"

"Broad shoulders, little scruffy with a five o'clock shadow, a bit tanned, smart…," I stifled a giggle. "Messy black hair, green eyes…nice butt…"

Ginny resounded depressed, "…That's Harry."

"Didn't you ask if I found someone at Hogwarts?"

"Little witch…"

Now, it was my turn to laugh.

"Gin," I switched the burner from `Low' to `Off,' mimicking the rest of the switches all gone to `Off'. "I'm not perusing the market anymore. I've found my perfect man, and he's upstairs sick."

"Though, he did fancy this chit. A redhead, loud and obnoxious little annoyance," I added with blown sarcasm.

"HA!" Gin's laugh muffled. "You're such a witch."

"AND! You can still look, Mi-Mi. It's not a sin to look at the packages out there," Ginny yawned. It was early morning, and I was surprised to even get a phone call at eight from Ginny. She usually slept in-I know I'd like to right about now, too. "On a more serious subject…how's Harry doing? Any better or is he still running that fever?"

I shook my head as if Gin could see me. I stretched the chord on the phone its entire length as I opened the fridge to grab the orange juice. "No. My poor love's up there still feeling yucky. The poor thing kept coughing all night."

"Did you go to that pharmacy in Hogsmeade I told you about? The new one I saw near the robe shop?"

"Yes, I did. But, the virus or whatever's in him isn't budging," I frowned when I stood up and hit the edge of the fridge door to close it back. "He's been coughing and sneezing for the past two days and he doesn't want to go see a doctor at all."

"Men," Ginny jeered. "If they didn't make us feel so good down yonder, they'd just be a bunch of whiney babies."

"Say that to Neville recently?"

Ginny chuckled into a breath, "You know I'm kidding…except for the `feeling good' part." She said the last portion of the sentence quickly.

I smiled, pouring the juice as I watched the essence of the fruit fill a clear glass full, "By the way," I halted the pour, plugging the carton of orange juice with its white plastic stopper.

"You know I won't be able to come over tomorrow if Harry's still in bad shape. I feel awful as it is leaving him here today for work."

"You're so whipped," Ginny snorted.

"He's done so much for me," I sighed, dropping the carton back in the fridge and closing the door once again with my hip. "I'm not going to abandon him by himself. Not going to happen, just a fact."

"But, I need us to go over the bridesmaid gown and such! It's only a few months away now!"

"It'll have to be a rain check if he wakes up tomorrow with a fever again."

I could tell, even through the phone, that she'd crossed an arm around her chest as she spoke with a tantrum, "Oh, I see how it is. Can't abandon him, but you can abandon me? Your girl?"

"I'm sorry? He's my fiance? The love of my life?"

"I see how it is, Granger."

Ginny went silent as I dug around in the silverware drawer for a fork, spoon, and knife. "Gin?" I asked through the deafening quiet.

"What?" She paused a beat, and then whispered the word, "Traitor" at the end.

"I love you."

"No you don't-traitor."

"Aw…," I tried wrapping a napkin as exquisite as Harry had the morning of my studio appointment, but couldn't quite get the sides to fold the way he had. Finally, I just gave up after four attempts only to have it unravel. I rolled the silverware together in the napkin and set it beside the plate. "What will I have to do to make up for being a `traitor'?"

"Hm…," Ginny pondered a moment, and then came back to the telephone. "Oh, I'll think of something…"

"Whatever your first gutter-thought is, toss it out. I'm not doing whatever it is."

Ginny laughed, "Damn, and here I thought I'd get you in garter belts and leather!"

"Exactly."

"Well," Ginny sighed. "I better let you get to work and be with your MAN… Tell Harry that I said, `Get better,' Brownie."

"Will do, Weasel," With Harry's breakfast ready, I'd taken the phone back up in my hand and glided over to the hook on the wall. "And, I promise you. I'll meet with you soon about the wedding-"

"You better!" Ginny interjected mid-sentence. "Don't give me a heart attack here… You're my Maid of Honor, after all."

"And who procrastinated, letting their own wedding plans wait until the last minute…? Hm? Who was it again…"

"…Witch."

My lips curled into a grin as I lay gently against the wall beside the hook, "I'll talk to you soon. Let me get Harry well, first. I'll be there."

"A nice, good shag would get him feeling well."

I giggled into my hand, "Probably… Probably…"

"Ask Neville, he knows."

"TMI."

Laughing, Gin sighed against the receiver, "Love ya, see ya lata'"

"Love you too," I went to hang up the phone. "Have a great day, Gin."

"You too, Mi-Mi. Bye-bye."

"Bye." I took the phone from my ear and set it back on its hook. I scratched the front part of my head, combing my fingers back into my hair and let the strands fall awry. They already needed a good brushing, dry and stringy from after my shower. The shower hadn't affected the covering hairs, though; still over that one eye. I fought with it, tucking the tuft of brown behind my ear to see with both. What a thought!

The tray fit between my fingers as I picked up its mass by the side-handles. I held it steady, the orange juice jostling in the glass as I turned to move. I had his medicine, too-the medicine my mother had given me that worked so well with daddy. We hadn't used this yet, having gone to the pharmacy in Hogsmeade as said to get a quick fix. Unfortunately, whatever flu-bug ailed my beloved fought against the medication. The back of the box said, "Feel better in twenty-four hours!" with time now moving into the seventy-second.

Stepping onto the first step, I flew up the flights of stairs trying not to make a sound. He was asleep when I left him to come down. I didn't want to wake him, easing out of bed and traipsing by tip-toe across the floor. He was up most of the night with a cough, a victim of insomnia.

Harry is always Harry: worried about my livelihood even after I'd tell him that I felt, "healthy as a horse". Harry didn't want to "infect" me. Rubbish-utter rubbish. Every time his body would react, with a sneeze for example, he'd immediately withdraw from me. Like a sneeze was going to bother me. Even if he hadn't proposed, I would have remained the same stubborn woman in love. I wasn't going anywhere, and with that, I'd find him when he'd retreat amongst the sheets.

The first night he argued with me, told me I was going to get sick, etc., etc.

Whatever.

I kissed him goodnight and wrapped my arms around him. One of the few nights I spooned him. Fine-if he didn't want to breathe on me, that's all right-I just slipped along him and embraced from the back.

Call me a nutter, but that's where my heart lay.

On the third and final floor, I touched the cold knob and pushed on into the bedroom. Sneaking in without a sound, I gently shut the door behind me with my shoulder and went on over to the desk. I put the tray down and picked up the cough syrup and its miniature measuring cup. I poured the exact amount it called for-two tablespoons-and looked on at Harry bundled in the bed to his neck.

He slept on his stomach. His hair looked wet, the strands fraying along the leading brim of the white comforter. He snored, his face partially hidden on the pillow in which I would have laid. I smiled a little, but then hastily subsided the sentimental thought when I heard my baby's hacking cough. Harry lifted, but I didn't think he really awoke from sleep. He sucked in his runny nose and rolled over on his side away from me.

I glanced at myself in the mirror above his desk, getting Harry prepared to eat. Talk about a blast form the past. I gazed into what resembled two years ago: white, starched collared shirt and a black, pleated skirt with black tights, the Hogwarts attire. Except, the tie wasn't striped with crimson and gold. Technically, I wasn't a "Gryffindor" any longer, so I couldn't put anything on that mimicked in case the faculty actually thought I was one of theirs. Not a problem-pink and black worked wonders.

I didn't allow the formal wear to devour all of me. My wristbands and charm bracelets covered my wrists. My signature black eyeliner colored the outline of my eyes. I don't typically paint my nails, but because I was going to be out often I decided to give me something else; so, more black. The shine from the metal studs on my leather wrist cuffs gave off a chromatic sheen in the subtle lamplight. I'd pulled the knot of my tie lower, between the second and third button down from my neck, and opened up the first few buttons-some of the perks in not being a student.

I moved quietly, syrup in-hand, and walked over to the side closest to where he lay. As I drew near, I noticed right away the thick layer of sweat on his face and shoulder which became exposed after he had lifted. I set down the medicine on the nightstand by the alarm and cautiously raised the comforter and sheet off him. Surrounded in a puddle of his own perspiration, Harry shivered.

I had to wake him.

I had to change the sheets… This looked awful, and most uncomfortable… Poor Harry… I knitted my brow, concerned and rubbed his back to rouse him. He came around in time, sluggishly, obviously sick. Harry didn't really open his eyes, but he smiled when he saw me. I gave him my most genuine of grins back, but the grin fell into looking even more concerned as I saw his bare body beneath the sheets drenched in sweat. My hand felt cool when I left his backside.

I bowed to lower and kissed his cheek, it too wet with sweat. I whispered in his ear, "I'm going to change the sheets and everything, get you a towel…can you stand up?"

His arms removed from around the pillow, his hands going to the mattress where he rose far from it. "I'm freezing…," he said, but I was already on it.

I ran into the master lavatory and snatched up a clean bath towel. Rushing back, I caught Harry as he stepped slowly from the bed. I draped the towel along his naked body, patting him down to dry him of his own fluids. I frowned when I saw him shaking. "I made you a fire downstairs…," I said, trying to dab the towel anywhere and everywhere I could.

Even shaking from his flu, he managed to grin. In a hoarse voice, he stated, "…Thank you."

I had dried most of his body off, handing the towel to him to complete the rest of himself. I was behind him when I came back to the nightstand, and I gave his bare back a light kiss before stepping to his side. His focus was directly on the platter of food I'd brought up for him. He smiled and coughed, turning away from me when I held up the medicine.

"Smells good…," He had to clear his throat of phlegm midway through those two words.

"Take this and go sit down at the desk," He reached and took the greenish liquid from my hands. I motioned back over the dresser drawers and lavatory with a nod of my head. "I'm going to go get your robe and change those sheets. Eat something before you take that, though. It's no good on an empty tummy."

"You look beautiful as always…," He'd sat down on the chair at his desk by the time I'd come back with his dark blue, plush robe. His voice remained rough, but he tried to smile, tilting his head back to drink the medicine after eating a half-a-slice of toast. "…I'm sorry I can't send you off, today…"

He stood up and I assisted in putting the robe on him. He tied the cotton belt and curled back in the seat. He withdrew his feet from the floor and had his knees by his chest. The poor thing was still cold.

I took the damp bath towel and tossed it in the hamper. I went right to the dresser beside it and knelt to the floor where the bottom drawer held the linens. I spoke with Harry behind me, "I honestly don't want to go. I don't like leaving you here in the shape you're in alone. Makes me feel guilty…"

I tucked some strands of hair behind my ears and seized matching spread and sheets together in my hands. Pushing off the ground with my knees, I strolled back to the bed and began tugging the wet remnants of Harry off the mattress, comforter and all.

"Don't feel guilty…," He coughed and my eyes went to him the second he sneezed. He took the napkin that the utensils were wrapped in and wiped his nose red. He sounded stuffy as he continued, "…I'll be right here when you get back, and better, too."

"I hope so…" Throwing the damp sheets in with the damp towel, I glided to the nightstand where I left the bedding supplies. I began working on re-establishing the mattress and its comforts. I was leaning down, stretching the linen so it pulled the length of the bed, when I said rather firm, "Because the next step will be a trip to St. Mungo's."

Harry chuckled cloudily, "…I'm not going to St. Mungo's. You'd have to tie me up to get me to go there with all that mess."

"Or," I suggested casually, making it around the bed to straighten the sheet upon the bed-spread. "I can charm up a body-binding enchantment and drag you in there. Either way, it's the next step."

I smirked over at my man and he smiled, dipping the spoon into the cinnamon-and-sugar oatmeal. "It pains me that you're sick," I added at the end.

"I'm sorry…"

I sighed, "You don't have anything to be sorry for, things like this happen all the time. I just don't want it happening to you and watch you suffer the ailments that come with it." My eyes were on the fresh white sheets, trying for exact symmetry to the comforter and the sheets. I went onto new pillow cases.

"The Nyquil has a drowsy side-effect," I had a pillow underneath my chin as I shimmied the covering upward with my hands. "It'll put you to sleep."

"I need some…badly…"

"Mummy gave it to me, and it looked as if you did."

"Thank her for me again…" he coughed.

"I will when you're all well." I smoothed out the pillows after placing the two side-by-side like always. "There."

I checked over my work, and nodded when I'd done everything I needed to, "Good as new."

"Another reason why I love you…," His words ran warm within me. I smiled at him, walking over to the hamper.

I quickly glanced over at the clock to see it flashing almost nine. I didn't have to check-in until ten-ish, so I had time. My eyes wandered back to the hamper beneath me and I took it up in my arms. I turned, pivoting, and saw Harry get up and wander off to the bed. My eyes flicked to the food, it lying half-eaten. The orange juice was gone and the bowl of oatmeal cleaned. He hadn't really touched the bacon and most of the eggs and toast were cleared.

I walked over to the tray with my arms full and eyed Harry as he removed his robe. He folded the material and hung the navy cotton on the nightstand. He coughed as he slid in, his nakedness covered back to his neck.

"Are you finished with breakfast?" I asked as he puffed his pillow. "Want me to take this, too? Or leave it?"

Harry wrapped his arms around the pillow and spoke softly from the side, "I'll take it to the kitchen and rinse the dishes off… Don't worry about it. I may eat some more between now and then."

"Are you sure? I can come back up and get it," I shifted the hamper's weight in my hands. "I'm going down there to toss this stuff in the washer before I leave. I have time."

Harry shook his head, "It's okay… It's fine, really."

I heard him yawn and saw his eyes close, "Have a good day, baby… See you this evening."

My shiny, buckled shoes clopped across the wooden floor. I made my way bedside, to Harry, and set down the hamper. He tried to squint and smiled, nuzzling into the spotless, crisp pillow casing. I slid my left knee onto the bed and scooted around him, my arm moving across the hill that was his back. He tried to pull away, but I got him and smirked.

"Don't-you're going to catch what I have."

I shrugged, "You should have learned by now that that really doesn't bother me whatsoever." I made a light laugh and leaned down to kiss his lips.

He slightly lifted from the pillow, his strength weakened by the sickness and the distributed drug coursing throughout his body, and caressed my lips happily back. He fell to the mattress where I sifted back into the crevice his body created and nudged the tip of my nose against his. Harry chuckled softly, and I smiled, kissing the side of his mouth, and then his cheek. I lingered my kiss on his cheek and said within a purr, "I love you so much…"

"I…love you, too…," I could tell the Nyquil was taking effect. He slurred his words and smirked as his head drifted lower into the softness of the pillow and his eyes drifted gradually to close.

I slid off the bed, took the hamper back in my hands, and quietly tiptoed out of the room.

Harry was out like a light.

***

We weren't allowed to eat in the library.

Between Blake Brown, a fifth year student from Hufflepuff, and Elizabeth Scott, a third year student from Ravenclaw, I'd gone down between classes to get a meal from the Great Hall. The faculty had their own meals prepared during session breaks if they weren't on the clock. A part of the faculty now, I had my name reserved at a seat. Well, not really a reservation, but more of the fact that I could eat with the other teachers. Not that there were many of them, having sat alone mostly since I'd gotten the tutoring job, but I did get to catch up on my reading and enjoy the benefits of being back inside the ornately, stained-glass panes of the Great Hall.

After a quick lunch of tuna fish and chicken noodle, I gathered my belongings, satchel in tow, books and parchment in my arms, and made my way to the library once more. Only a few students roamed the rotating staircases. They were either in class or out enjoying what sun we had on a cloudy day. I had to stop and wait for a staircase to revolve around just before the fourth floor. Two male students, fifth of sixth years by the looks of them, waltzed on passed me as I let them by. They wore their bumblebee colors of black and yellow, and when they buzzed onward, the guy closest to me gave me a wink.

I rolled my eyes. I'd gotten a lot of attention from the males since beginning. Sometimes I'd have to get strict and demand their attention when tutoring-the joys of working with pubescent adolescences. My past personality definitely came from its background. I couldn't understand, at times, why these kids didn't want to bask in the education they so readily had. I'd always find runes or the mythology of the magical world interesting, so I had a difficult time understanding when they'd get off on some off-subject tangent. That, and I didn't have time for it. Tutoring was a booked job. I had one student after the next and could only fit in an hour's worth with one each interval.

I waved at Madam Pince as I made my way back into the library. I'd warmed her stoic, cold persona; the attitude that literally made people quiet in the library. She was intimidating, and practically knew when a student was about to do something they weren't supposed to within the shelves of the library. She smiled at me from behind her reading glasses and desk, a large tome propped in her hand.

Making my way to the desks in the middle of the ground floor, I sat at my usually seat on the end of one bench and began taking out the parchment and books, notes from the previous day's work. I checked the watch in my bag and shifted so I sat on my left foot, tucking hair behind my ear. Low rumbling of chatter was all that was heard throughout the library. Every now and then someone would laugh, and Madam Pince would shush them.

As I waited on the next student, I doodled with a pen in the corner of my loose leaf. I held my chin in my left hand and gradually left the paper to smile at the photograph of me and Harry taken at the beach. One of my favorite pictures captured of us. How I pulled him into the frame, and how he grinned against my cheek, was too adorable. I sighed, and was abruptly broken from my daydream by a bunch of loud Slytherin. I scrunched my nose up and waited for Madam Pince's, "Shh!"

"Shh!" came from behind me. I glanced around to see the elderly woman put her finger across her lips.

The blonde Slytherin, tall and broad shouldered, blew a kiss at Madam Pince. He flicked his head at the other burly boys around him, dressed in Quidditch gear and bumped knuckles, "I'll catch you guys in an hour. Don't let Pruitt back on that broom. He'll just fuck it up."

"I hear ya," said a dark-headed boy, bumping knuckles with the blonde. "Later."

"Yeah," The blonde made one of those Slytherin, "up-to-no-good" smiles. "Later you lot."

He came right up to the edge of the table when he climbed on the bench. The pads of his Quidditch attire bent as he leaned forward and held out his hand, "Why…," he winked at me. "Hello there, sweet cheeks. What a fine and glorious day today is?"

I let out an annoyed sigh and held out my hand, "Your essay."

The blonde took my hand, and went to kiss the top of it. I immediately pulled it back from him. "No!" I scolded, wagging my finger at him. "I want you to behave yourself this time, Xavier."

"Aw…," His baby-blue eyes affixed to me. His red lips curled and he went to sift his hand through his spiky, short hair. "You're just so fun, Grang-"

"Hermione." I interjected, editing his phrase aloud. "Or, Miss Granger."

He grinned and set his gloved hands beneath his chin, "You make it so fun to play with you. It's cute."

I laid my hand palm up and ushered the words, "Your essay, Xavier. I want to see what Professor Mackay thought of your work for Muggle Studies after our last discussion."

"Oh," Xavier kept the grin on his face and leaned down to rummage through his school bag. The bag's surface was littered with stickers, buttons, and patches all supporting the Falmouth Falcons. "Oh, I'll think you'll like it, Grang-"

"Miiiissss Granger…," he concluded, handing me a rather large scroll of parchment.

I went to take it and he held it firm. I didn't fight him for it and merely settled my eyes sternly on him on the other side of the table.

"What?" He asked, playing it cool. "There it is! You wanted to see it so badly, right?"

"…Give it to me," I took in a breath and let it out. The last time I fell for this "tug-of-war," I'd come out of it nearly falling backward on the floor after he let go.

"Isn't that breaching some sort of student-faculty contract, Miss Granger?" He winked at me and let go. I took the essay up in my hands and began unraveling its circular shape. "I mean, it is a hidden contract…and, you are, what? Nineteen? That's only a year below-"

"You failed." I huffed, reading the scribbled red ink assortment against the black ink of Xavier's handwriting. I glanced up at him in disgust. "I have never, ever, seen a grade of a nine!"

"Are you sure it's not ninety?" Xavier gazed at his nails and went to polish them. "Maybe you're mistaken? A cute head like yours can only hold so-"

I slammed the scroll down on the table hard, and realized soon afterward that I'd gotten the attention of Madam Pince. I smiled sweetly at her when she eyed me curiously, and then swiftly turned to see Xavier grinning. "No-it's a nine. N-i-n-e. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, NINE."

Xavier picked up when I finished, sarcastically mocking, "Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen?"

I let out another huff of frustration. I began to slide some pieces of literature out of my bag, textbooks specifically for Muggle Studies, when I heard Xavier let out a gasp at first, and then a laugh.

"You've got to be serious, right?"

I cocked a brow, my teeth together, "You wanted tutoring, didn't you?"

A pair of girls walked behind me and giggled when Xavier gave them a wave and a kiss. My eyes went back to Xavier, and then to the girls, following his eyesight straight to their bums. I put my hands over my face and let them slip across my features slowly.

"You know," he began. "A cutie like you shouldn't squash their face up like that. Makes you look like a pig, and that's not so attractive now, is it?"

I massaged the sides of my head, my temples, and slowly inhaled and exhaled.

He gives me such a headache.

"And anyway," He moved, and I saw him lean toward me across the table. "What do Muggles know?"

He smirked, and my jaw locked, teeth grinding. He knew who I was, he knew I was Muggle-born-Hell, everyone knew I was Muggle-born. The Prophet wouldn't let that one slip. I tried not to allow him to get a rise out of me, but he knew the buttons. He reminded me of another blonde Slytherin ass I unfortunately became acquainted a few years ago. To clinch the memory, I awaited the day Xavier called me a "Mudblood," but he hadn't-yet. If that day occurred, he'd never get help from me; that'd be the end of that. I'll take on children to a point, but when it comes to derogatory name-calling, that's where I draw the line. I'd give him to Josephine; she worked wonders with immature delinquents like this.

"For your information, without Muggles, tons of what you benefit from wouldn't even exist-that is, you'd obviously know this if you ever cracked that book open of yours!"

"Wait…," Xavier dug back around in his bag and procured the same textbook I had in front of me. "You mean this thing?"

He blew off a thick layer of dust.

"Point proven," I added, shaking my head.

He dropped the book on the table, having it smack and echo along the bookshelves. From somewhere, I heard Madam Pince shout, "Quiet!"

"Hey…," Xavier gradually pulled the essay from my hands. He set his eyes on me and didn't blink once. "Do you know what would be fun?"

"Actually seeing you pass for once?" I crossed my arms over my chest and stared on.

Xavier crumpled the essay in his leather gloves and tossed it hastily in his bag. He came back to me and bent over the table. "Actually," Xavier reached to touch me and I backed off. "I was thinking you and I could meet under the bleachers after practice…that would be fun."

He wriggled his brows.

I shot straight up, his focus moving upward. He kept that sly grin on his face whilst I shoved one thing into my bag after another. I took up the strap and shook the belongings to settle and put the strap along one shoulder, having it secure to my chest. Lifting one leg, then the other, I went to walk away, but said before leaving, "Improve the personality, and then maybe we can improve your work-habits. Don't come back to me for help-not like you want any, anyway."

I started to leave and Xavier yelled after me, "Hermione! Don't leave me!!"

My eyes went wide, and I stopped to slowly turn to see the whole library looking in the direction of Xavier and me. Xavier was on his knees, crawling towards me with his hands balled-up. He pleaded, "Please! Hermione! My dog ate my homework! I wanted that last treacle tart! I overslept! I had gas!"

He'd crawled right on over to me. I, honestly, had no bloody idea what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. Embarrassing, it was, and when I looked up every bloody person-including Madam Pince-stared at us. I stared back, but horrified. "Get up, Xavier!" I said low, through gritted teeth.

"You're the only one who ever believed in me!" Xavier shouted at my feet. He looked up at the ceiling. "Why!? Why cruel world!?"

I looked between him and the crowd gathering and smiled weakly.

"My kitten died! I lost my pencil!" Xavier cried out. "My mother beats me! I want the world to know that I'm sorry! I'm sorry!!"

"Xavier…," I tried to keep the front up, playing as if this didn't bug me, but it bugged the Hell out of me. "Get! Up!"

"I'M SORRY!!"

I glanced over at Madam Pince who now had her hands on her hips. Red-in-the-face, wrinkles taut, she looked pissed-and who wouldn't be in this position?

Xavier gasped, drawing in a deep breath to start another "I'M SORRY!", but I finally grabbed him. I took him by the sleeve, grasped tightly the fabric, and grabbed his shirt collar and dragged him to his feet. He smiled at me when he stood and brushed himself off all casually. I tilted my head and shook it, leaning in to whisper with authority, "Follow me, Taylor?"

"With pleasure!" He turned to wave at the gathering, but I yanked him away before he could take a bow.

I didn't pull him far from the library, just leading him outside the entrance. I pushed him around and pushed on him again. I pointed my finger at him, my lips in a line. My eyes were narrowed and I said, slowly, really making sure he heard every, single word out of my mouth, "Never again, do you hear me? Never again."

"Ask Professor Mackay to find someone else to tutor you. I'm done," I ended, swishing to my left to walk away.

I caught his smile, his evil, Slytherin smirk, before I moved. He called out to me, nonchalant, "So…this time next week good for you?!"

***

"Let me just say, McDonald, that in reviewing your work I do agree with you on the subject of Magical Law, but I disagree with what you say here. In paragraph seventeen you say…"

Walking the corridors to go home, I began to slow down to hear the debate going on in the auditorium ahead of me. The vocals of the two men discussing Magical Theorem broke what silence would have been there. The hallways weren't jam-packed as they had been mere minutes ago. With the students either sitting and eating dinner within the Great Hall or going back to their respective Houses, the passages weren't bustling. I gradually made my way to the double-doors unabated with my bag over my shoulder.

I peeked in at the two elderly men with parchment sitting on stools at the bottom of the concaved auditorium. Students were scattered about the benches and aisles, eagerly listening, taking notes, or, because some professors were giving extra credit, there just to get that bit of a grade bump. Soliciting just inside, my focus was intent on the billowing robes and gruff voices beneath long, flowing white beards.

"What I don't understand, Crea, is the definition you give "magic" here. It's out of place, either that or I'm missing the metaphor you're trying to give to clarify your thesis. Certainly, you mustn't think that magic created-"

I lost my concentration when two Ravenclaw girls shuffled inside and took a seat. I grinned, and moved on in behind them. I picked a row, slipped between a guy jotting on paper and his stuff at the end, and made my way to an empty area. I sat quickly and took up the foldable desk in the armrest. I placed my bag between my legs on the floor and propped my elbows on the newly acquired surface. I peered on at the brilliant, challenging debate and wished this had all been here when I was around. I could see myself skipping, literally skipping the halls to get to each and every open forum. I'd miss eating or whatever if that was a problem.

I sighed and crossed my legs, scooting back in my seat. I laid my chin on my hands and continued to watch the thrilling casework of the two wizards.

"You know, McDonald, that that evidence is clearly…well, it's unmistakably brilliant. I absolutely love the deduction between Magic Law and Magic Reality," the wizard, Crea, in dark plum robes turned out to the audience. "Before we move on from the subject of Magic Law and the basis of Magic Reality, does anyone have any questions?"

In the front row, right in front of the two Merlins-in-action, a hand hastily shot up before Crea could finish. I looked down and-well, the sight of brown, bushy hair was all I could see above a Hogwarts insignia jumper. Book upon book, and parchment with quill, stacked high on her desk.

***

"I'm so, so sorry…," I'd come from downstairs. I felt bad. Really, really bad. The forum heightened in its debate when the bushy-haired girl fought to state her claim against Crea's thesis. Then, I became utterly enthralled in their conclusions to Magic Realism within the Muggle Society, and how Muggles help in the creative process. I'd lost complete track of time, and ran home to meet with my sick lover.

He was still in bed when I got back. The tray was gone from this morning, and I used the tray to take up a dinner of steak and vegetable soup with toast. I wanted to get those vitamins and protein in Harry to recover his strength, to get better. I felt like a horrible fiance-terrible, bad, distasteful-for forgetting him. Harry had gone over with me when I apologized profusely. He accepted them with a smile, but I couldn't get away with it.

If only he'd yell at me-or something. I felt…bad, like I let him down.

"Apology accepted…again…," He smiled from the bed, his arms wrapped around a pillow. He looked at me as I strolled into the master bedroom and shut the door behind me. At the entrance, I started to slide my shoes off, unbuckling them in mid-air. "You don't have to keep saying sorry. I mailed off that letter of recommendation the Professor wrote to Oxford, by the way…"

I dropped both shoes at the door and glided over to the lavatory, and more importantly, the mirror. Starting to pull at my tie, and then my shirt, I exclaimed in a breath, "Aw… Harry, thank you. But, I feel like a lousy fiance…forgetting my baby like that…"

"…You didn't forget about me, stop it," He still had a drug in him, sounding tired, his words elongating when they shouldn't. "I'm glad you're not just going to work and coming home. You can have a life too, you know…"

Tossing my tie on the desk, I resumed unbuttoning the white collared shirt. I felt the cool atmosphere hit my warm, bare skin when at last they were all undone. I pried the bracelets and wrist cuffs from my wrists and set them atop the dresser along with some of my others. I swiftly went to his side, bedside, where I could see his naked back and shoulders. The sheets weren't pulled up all the way-he'd said he'd gotten hot. I touched his backside, sitting down on the ledge to rub him.

"When did you last take the Nyquil?"

"About an hour ago…," Harry turned to meet me, his cheeks switching to its opposite position on the pillow case. He grinned at me, his eyes closing, "Before you came home."

My fingers followed the indent in his back, the lean muscle that protruded slightly. Slowly, I crept up on the mattress. His eyes tried to follow me until he couldn't any longer. I slid my light mass on him, straddling. I pulled my skirt back when it got in the way, and then tore away my shirt when it fell on him. I gently massaged Harry's shoulder, his back, the pads of my fingers pushing into his skin and grazing the length toward my hips.

He laid still. He'd moan when I'd work at a spot, my hands giving him a loving rub down. He felt a little warm, not-normal-warm. I leaned down against him, the front part of my bra squishing into his smooth, hard flesh. "Are you cold?" I whispered into his hair.

He shook his head and removed his right arm from around the pillow. He let it slip to catch my side, squeezing me in reply before he spoke into the pillow, "…Feeling pretty good…"

I grinned, my hands still massaging into Harry's shoulders after my bow. I whispered again, "Want to flip around so I can get the front side, too? Or, is this good enough?"

I stood on my knees as I felt Harry move, giving him room to turn. I watched my man with a smile raise on his arms and hop to his other side, his head and all the messy hair hitting the pillow once more. I gazed down at his body, the pectorals, his little pink nipples and the black, soft hair between them. I saw his thin trail of black going from his navel as I lowered back to his body, to remain in straddle-stance, pulling at the sheets which twisted up in his roll. As I glanced behind me to gather the sheet in adjustment, I couldn't help but notice Harry, his northern region, and how his patch of black pubic hair encircled his semi-erect manhood.

I grinned-it was there, you know? Of course it was. I nearly started to rationalize why I lingered my gaze on him, uncircumcised and beautiful with the head partially covered by his foreskin. Then, I realized-wait a minute-why? I think I thought it wasn't right, or something, what with Harry being ill and all. But, when I swiveled back around to meet his gaze, he smiled. He knew what I'd been staring at as if I'd seen the single, most finest piece of sculpture ever created on planet earth-my Adonis.

You're his fiance for crying out loud!

How many times have you seen him now…?

"Well…," I kept grinning, tucking tufts of hair over my ears. I blushed. "Looks like you're feeling better."

Harry chuckled and slipped his hands to my stomach. He fingered my belly button, grazing lightly his fingers across the surface of my skin. He made me gasp, and then I giggled. "Still feeling a little high…" he said.

"That's to be expected…," I moved my hands behind my back and felt of the fastening. Harry's fingers danced their way along the tiny breadth of my tummy, feeling of me as I did to him. I felt the brassiere loosen, the shoulder straps falling to my arms. Harry quickly reached behind me and caught my hands in assisting. Stretching my arms upward, I bent them behind my head at the elbows and felt the bra begin to fall from my figure. I watched as Harry carefully pulled the cups off of my breast and snakily shifted the garment from my body.

I sighed in relief.

The feel of bra to no bra…after an exhaustive day…

Amazing.

Truly.

I sighed again when Harry took to where he left off, a hand sliding down between my breasts, following a slight crevice down my body to my navel. I let a subtle moan escape from my lips and wriggled under Harry's touch. He snickered when my breasts, firm as they were, jiggled by my quick movement. He reached back to them and gently cupped their weight. I smirked, my arms still bent behind my head, and rolled my hips into Harry's abdomen. My breasts jiggle once more in his hands.

I snickered, too, and slipped my arms down.

Such a man…

I smirked.

My hands met Harry's chest, feeling of his hair, his pectoral muscles. I rocked into him, making him grunt in his lazy smile. I leaned down to him, my nose scrunched at the adorable expression of happiness of Harry's face, and nipped his nose. He bit at me, my body jerking back, and I giggled.

"This would probably be a bad time to ask if your day went well?" My face lingered less than an inch from his, smirking. My eyes followed his lips, how he moved his mouth to speak. "That is, besides the forum and that guy hitting on you for the umpteenth time…"

My smirk collapsed against his lips when I kissed him tenderly. I kissed the side of his mouth, and then his chin as he added, "You'd think the bloke would get a hint by the ring…"

I laughed through my nose and peck-kissed the tip of Harry's nose. He was smiling, a sarcastic twang in his tone.

"Want me to go down there and have a word with him?"

I shook my head and laughed, moving into kiss him when I felt something extra-furry, extra-fluffy pounce. Thunder had cracked, rain beating on the window panes around the bedroom. A storm with a cold front was moving on through our area, bring with it a tremendous amount of active weather. I lifted to peek, but knew what it was-who it was-the orange fur ball curling up beside my knee and alongside Harry's bare side.

Crookshanks wasn't allowed in the bed with us, but between my attention now completely on Harry and the mix of stormy weather, my poor kitty's life at the moment was utterly dismal. But, I had to be stern or he wouldn't learn. "Crookshanks!" I rose to sit on Harry's stomach, his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into the elastic band of my black skirt. "Down off the bed!"

Crookshanks yawned at me and meowed. He flicked his tail to hit Harry.

"Aw…," Harry scratched under Crookshanks's left ear, making the Kneazle purr and tilt into his fingers. Only Harry could touch him intimately like this without being, well, clawed to death to put it simply. Only one other person could get away with it and that was his mistress: me. "Is Hermione being mean to you?"

I lightly smacked Harry's arm.

He chuckled, and said looking up at me, "He gave me his undivided attention while you were gone today."

"Aw…," I bent from my straddle of Harry to nuzzle Crookshanks. He purred and swished his tail. "What a good boy!"

Harry made a laugh, and as I climbed back atop my lover, he smirked. His fingers still scratched Crookshanks's ear.

"What?" I asked, my hands going to Harry's shoulders as I felt his free hand trying to slide under my ass. I shifted up to allow him to feel of me, and he tugged on my black tights to sit down on his hand. He held a buttock, his fingers in the crease of my bum. I gave him a gentle rocking into of his hand, and Harry looked on rather pleased.

"When you brought him in the other night when it rained," Harry laughed. Obviously, something undid in his mind. "Well, during our fuck, you made this noise when you came that made him tilt his head to the side. It was rather…"

Harry sighed, "Priceless-hilarious."

"He watched us?" I smiled, and my eyes went a bit wide.

"The entire time," Harry was beside himself with a smirk. "Right up there on the desk. Never took his beady eyes off us. He probably didn't know what was going on."

Harry let out a loud laugh, patting Crookshanks's head.

I gasped and roughly pet my kitty, "You little voyeur!"

Crookshanks leaned his head back and meowed.

"He knows his mistress was enjoying herself," Harry snickered and winked at me. I shook my head and rolled my eyes, scratching my kitty's back.

"But, I didn't know he'd turn out to be such a peeping tom-cat!"

"Does this constitute as…," I glanced over at Harry, and he followed his silence by saying, "'Playing with your pussy'?"

I gasped and smacked him on his shoulder, "Harry!"

I gasped again and he laughed, "And I suppose that now I'm playing with my `pussy'?"

"Do you play with your `pussy' often?" He said it so formal, but broke into laughter when I rolled my eyes at him.

"Such a man…," I released Crookshanks and floated above Harry until I laid on him, my forehead alongside his jaw. "You're better, no denying that fact."

Harry coughed into his fist in an obvious attempt to denounce what I'd said. Such a fake cough. I lightly patted his cheek and he smiled. I kissed the cheek I hit, and then the other, before kissing his mouth. He grabbed my ass with both of his hands and gave my right buttock a swat. I grinned on his lips and kissed him harder. "I'm still high," he proclaimed when we moved our mouths away. "…from the medicine."

"How are you feeling besides high?" I slid up to put my hand on his forehead. He felt rather warm, but his jade green eyes said something different when I gazed back into them. I asked, knowing the general thoughts going through his mind, "What was your temperature? Did you check it recently?"

"Ninety-nine point eight."

He turned me on. Everything about him turned me on. But, the fact is that he has a fever, however a mild one…still, a fever. I sighed and said softly, "No fun tonight…," I lay my head back in the niche of his throat.

"Oh, yes fun-tonight," he argued.

"I'm not going to get you sicker than you already are," I rebutted. "Your fever has come down."

"I'm feeling fine, honestly…," he chuckled and rubbed my ass. His fingers slipped into the crevice and I pushed into him from his touch. He found the beginnings of me, the soft between my legs, and immediately my hips bucked into him. I could tell my skin was flush, heat rising from those certain points on my figure that screamed absolute sex. He knew I was horny, and he even made a "Mm…," when he knew it. "And…"

I lifted from his body and stared hungrily down at him. We hadn't fucked or fooled around during the days he'd been sick, and like any craving habit, my body needed and wanted to be made love to by Harry. I glanced behind me, knowing right where he lay, to see his impressive erection pointing towards me like a compass. I flicked back to ask in his quiet manner, "And?"

"…You can do another check of my temperature." Harry flashed a smile and gave me a suggestive wink.

I tilted my head to the side and laughed, peering at how dilated his eyes were and how sparkly his emerald gaze was.

I thought, plastering that smirk-of-smirks on my face, about his "thermometer".

"What about your whole, `Don't kiss me-Don't hug me' deal?"

He shrugged, "You haven't gotten sick yet."

I nodded with the smirk, "Point and match."

"Crookshanks!"

He meowed and stretched against my leg.

"Off the bed! Now!"

Harry yanked me down on him, and my body collided with his with a smack. Crookshanks all but jumped out of his fur and hissed at us. I laughed, kissing Harry when he hurriedly found my lips. His hands gripped my rear and pushed me into him. My hands were around his face, in his hair, his shoulder, neck-anywhere I could I could find while my eyes shut closed.

Harry flipped us over and shot up. He grabbed the band of my skirt and jostled me around on the mattress. He hastily unfastened and let it go, slipping his curved fingers into the rim of my panties, my tights, and the cotton fabric of my pleated skirt. He cleared me of them, pulling them from my legs and off, tossing them to the floor somewhere. My legs fell, spread when they landed, Harry having taken my clothes off from above my head. I smirked when I saw, waiting, Harry's erection jerk from side-to-side by his quick removal of my clothes.

He was on his knees, his eyes returning from having thrown my bottoms off, when he pointed behind him and snickered. "Take a looksie there," he said in a grin, coming down and lowering between my legs. I went up as Harry came down and saw Crookshanks, yet again, watching us like a peeper.

"Crookshanks!" I pointed at him, and then to the floor. "Down! Naughty kitty!"

Crookshanks slouched and meowed. I pointed to him again and the floor once more before the cat actually flew from atop the dresser drawers. He meowed in dislike, but I meant it. I wasn't going to condition him into watching us fuck every, single solitary time. Gave me the creeps knowing that my cat found pleasure, or whatever was in his feline psychology, in observing us go at it biologically.

I made sure to take note of when Crookshanks curled up in his kitty bed in the corner of the room beside our shoes before laying back down on the mattress. Harry had been around me the entire time I got onto my Kneazle, grinning away at the stinker and his peeping ways. He laughed and kissed me, sliding on me whilst I tightened my thighs around him.

"Maybe he's making sure I do it right?" Harry laughed and nudged my nose with his. He kissed my mouth and I giggled.

I laced my fingers in with his above my head and said, the tips of our noses remaining together, "Such a dirty ol' cat…"

Harry leaned his head to the side and chuckled. I leaned my head to his and quickly found him, taking his lips up with mine to kiss him with intensity. Our tongues tapped as one, touching, the moment I felt him press into me. I arched my back, my head going into the pillow, my eyes closed. My legs wrapped around him and ever-so-gently he stretched my wetness with his girth. He pulled forth from me halfway only to plow right back into me, right to the hilt, our bodies slapping each others.

A groan rolled from my throat and off the tip of my tongue. In exasperation, I exhaled and grabbed him by force and pushed his lips back on mine.

I missed him so much.

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