Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

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

Author Note: While brainstorming ideas for the fic, I didn't want to isolate too much canon. I do realize JKR wrote HG; but, I felt their "relationship" as trite and undeserved. Thusly, I wrote Harry and Ginny as having recognized their relationship as such. But, from their ashes, per se, a strong friendship built. I also wanted the characters as victims of change, growing in maturity whether they follow what we may or may not consider "good" or "bad" paths. We learn from our mistakes.

***

Chapter Two ~ Neurotic

I heard the shower head kick on and the water begin to flow through the pipes. I stood at the door to my room. I'd given her space. Privacy, I didn't know if she needed it or not. Safest bet, I thought, would be to leave her on her own for the time being. Give her time. Give me time. What the Hell was I doing?

There had been so little time between what had happened and meandering from my closed doorway down the staircase. I'd thought about it ever since I'd taken her up here and sat her down. I didn't know what to say then, either. Figures. Again, I felt so much like Shakespeare's Hamlet. On one hand, I pondered, step by step down the stairs, they were together. Ron and Hermione are…were…are together. My involvement will have a lasting effect on anything that came in the future. This all will have put stress on our friendship; moreso with Ron than Hermione, as she'd given me a tight squeeze around my neck just before leaving my room to her.

On the other hand, Ron was utterly terrible to her. Horrifying, really, and beyond words even my imagination could come up with. I'd seen them bicker back and forth before. But, this? This was an outrage. Hermione has taken her own time to help us, in any way possible, for years. When Ron began courting her, he should have known how unbelievably good she is. How much she cared about him, me, everyone. She didn't deserve what I'd witnessed. When I think about it all now, the entirety of the night, Ginny was right: Hermione needed to be out of that scenario and into a better one.

My emotions ran high. I've never really expressed how I felt for her. Hermione, so close, up stairs-the thought of the proximity made my heart beat a little bit faster. I'd gone from being "friendly, with a place for Hermione in my heart" to "protector, with an even larger place for Hermione in my heart." The secret, even if the secret wasn't that much of one, was going to be evident. It had to be evident. My actions were the evidence.

I must be naive. I must be. Either that, or I'm beginning to get paranoid. As I thought on and on, I began to realize that this all could have been a set up. Ginny probably had a sixth sense about my inner feelings. She probably knew how I felt for Hermione, and knew I'd come to her aid, regardless of what she told me. I just needed a little push in that direction. But, for what consequence? I've damaged me and Ron's relationship. I've created something between Hermione and I that was now blatantly more apparent than ever before in our trio's history. Duo…?

Ginny's voice, from her earlier visits to now, flooded my mind. Everything that was talked about, every little detail, every little verbal push, pierced my mind into the beginnings of a headache. Then, the voice grew. The voice echoed and I found the voice difficult to differentiate between inside me and around me. That's when I realized…Ginny was really talking inside my home!

My fireplace settled some in the tray of charcoal bits. I drew closer to the echoes of Ginny, moving toward the back of the sofa before the arched brickwork.

"Harry James!" my fireplace rang out. "Harry James, you better be home, damn it!"

I bent down on my knees and looked into the fire. I found the scene somewhat hilarious. There, within the tray, the charcoal had derived the facial features of Ginny with utmost distortion. I could see her eyes, but they were a tad inverted. Her nose was crooked and her mouth was parted on one side.

I laughed a little into coughing on purpose to hide my enjoyment. "I'm here, quiet down. You'll wake up my neighbors."

"You know as well as I do that your neighbors can't hear us! And, don't you quiet me Harry James!" the distorted face fell in places as the angry Ginny barked. Pieces of her left cheek fell off the tray. "Do you know the worry you caused me? You had me in a total fit! I ran out there in the rain and called for you, and Hermione, and nothing! You could have been lying in a ditch somewhere!"

"All right, all right," I tried to settle down the fireplaced-Ginny. "We're here, we're fine, safe and sound."

"Where's my girl at? Is she there or did you take her back to her folks?"

"Yeah, she's here." I glanced up at the ceiling and heard the shower continuing to run in my silence. "She's in the shower, probably relaxing. I gave her my room for the night and she accepted."

"Oh, so she's staying there then with you?"

"That's what I'm guessing. I'm not going to throw her out, and if she says she'd rather go back to her folk's home in lower London, I'll take her there myself."

"I'm feeling a bit better now that I know where you guys are, and that my girl's in your hands." I heard Ginny move away from her fireplace. I stared at the motionless charcoal for a minute and decided the conversation was over. A little abrupt, I thought, but as I shifted to get up the fireplace blazed back to life.

"Sorry about that, Harry," Ginny said. Her tone was less frantic. "Neville was asking me something."

"What'd he ask?"

"If you guys were safe. You know, he gets worried like I do when friends disappear."

I smiled at the compassion, "Tell him thanks for me."

"Hey," Ginny started. "Could I come over there?"

"What about your mum and dad?"

"Neville will write a note, or I will, whatever." I saw the fireplace burn out and then strike back with life. "He's writing the note right now for me. He's such a sweetheart."

"What about Ron?" I felt inclined to ask the obvious, but at the second, I bordered on "couldn't have cared less".

"That he's an ass?" she asked rhetorically. "We knew that already."

I smirked a little, "I meant, what happened after I bolted for Hermione? Did he do or say anything?"

"Harry," I could tell by her voice Ginny was getting impatient. "Open up your Floo, Neville and I are ready."

"Fine," I sighed, rising from my sitting position. I put my hands inside my grey, dry sweat pants and peered down at the fireplace. "Let me go get my wand."

As I turned the corner of the sofa, it hit me. I pivoted around to the fireplace to see the charcoal still burning. "Ginny."

"Harry, hurry up I'm getting antsy sitting here."

"Do you think it would be better if we did all this tomorrow or tomorrow night? I mean, she's been through a lot tonight. Why not let her relax? She was horribly distraught, as she ought to be. I know I am."

"Harry," Ginny sighed a little, flames sparking from where the charcoals aligned to form her mouth. "Dear, I love you, but Hermione is feeling extremely vulnerable right now. Leaving her alone right now isn't good. We need to keep her mind off of everything."

"And, besides," Ginny ended after a brief pause. "She needs me. I know it. Call it the, `female instinct'."

Ginny was right. "Hold on."

I turned around to go back up the flight of stairs to hear Ginny once more say, "Hurry up, slowpoke."

At the end of the stairs, I tiptoed down the hallway to the door of my room. I stood there a moment, and then lightly tapped on the wood with my knuckle. I waited for an answer. I closed my eyes, hearing the shower running on full blast, and exhaled some pent up air. Slowly, I turned the knob.

"Hermione?" I didn't open the door all the way, just a crack. I leaned into the breach and asked again, "Hermione?"

The shower became louder the further I opened the door. I peeked my head inside to see an empty room. The door to the lavatory was still shut, a white light angled out from the inch or so exposed at the bottom. I noticed Hermione's wet pajamas draped over the desk chair as I slid open a drawer to get my wand. I glanced at them again. For some reason I felt if I touched them or moved them that that would be an infiltration of privacy…or something. But, as with my own wet clothes, I put them in the laundry room to be washed and dried with the rest of whatever was in there.

Before gathering them, I tiptoed over to the lavatory door as careful as I could. I probably looked like a moron. This was Hermione. This was my beloved friend…but, she was more than that. I wanted to treat her with the utmost respect, so I probably pushed it a little in my actions. Everything was very confusing to me, and I felt a little high come over me when I tapped on the door between her and me.

She'd been moving, or doing something, but suddenly stopped.

"Y-Yes?"

"Hey," I paused and then began again. "Sorry to disturb you."

"It's fine," I thought I heard the shower curtain being pulled and her voice became clearer. "Am I taking too long? Sorry I've been in here for-"

"No, no, it's cool. Stay in there as long as you need," I stuttered some. I closed my eyes. "I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind me taking up your pajamas to wash and dry with the rest? Mine are already down in the laundry room."

"You don't have to do that, Harry. I'll wash and dry them. Don't be bothered with them."

"But, I want to."

"Really, don't bother with them. I'll get it."

"I'm taking them down there when I leave the room."

"Always so stubborn."

I smiled at the way she said that, "Always."

She paused and I hesitated. Maybe I'd gotten the wrong message? Maybe she meant it another way? Maybe I-

"Thank you," she called out in her sweet voice, interrupting my newly neurotic personality.

"You're-," I began, stuttering a tad. "You're welcome. And hey-"

I heard her pause.

"Hey, Ginny wants to come over here," I stated. "Would that be all right with you? If not, I told her to come tomorrow, or whenever you felt like seeing people."

Hermione paused again. The shower curtain must have been still open because her voice wasn't muffled. "Yeah…yeah, it's okay with me. Are they coming now?"

"By Floo," I looked over at Hermione's clothes. "Do you want me to ask her about grabbing some clean clothes for you, or anything else for that matter?"

"Yeah, and uhm…," Hermione stopped and started. "…and, uhm, some of my female stuff, too, please. That would be great."

"Yeah, okay," My eyes went wide at Hermione and her `female stuff'. Not like I was ten years old, just the simple fact that I wasn't speaking to Hermione the little girl, but Hermione the fully-fledged woman. "I'm going back down now. Stay in there as long as you need."

"Thank you, Harry." Again, a chilly tingle rode my spine through her sweet voice.

The shower curtain pulled back to its original position. I'd gone back over to the desk chair where her muddy pajamas lay curled over the backside. I picked up first her shirt, and stopped. I wasn't used to picking up…panties, and there were hers laying neatly between her shirt and her pajama bottoms. My photogenic memory instantly flashed a mental picture of them as if my biological, male need willed it so. I was powerless to halt my eyes. The design felt sexier than what I'd picture Hermione wearing. Not that I thought she wore white, and white, and white-but, a black little number with a small white lace trim?

Egads.

I felt like I was gazing at the biggest archeological find in human history. What do you do with it? How do you pick it up? What if I made a mistake? Do I dust it off first? Wait a minute-grow up, Harry! For goodness sakes…I leaned over to retrieve it. The soft material felt silky smooth under my fingertips.

Wow.

I shook my head. Come back to earth, Harry. She's going to come out right now and think you're a pervert, or something. Be an adult, they're just underwear…just a Hell of a lot smoother and softer than anything you've ever touched.

I placed her panties in between the shirt and pants, across my arm, and set off downstairs. My wand was securely in my pocket. I felt it move and jostle as I walked past the den area, holding the fireplace, and went to the laundry to drop off her garments. Seeing hers, there with mine, looked like a mismatch of two worlds, but felt really, really good at the same time.

I crossed back into the den to meet Ginny ring out:

"Finally."

I pulled my wand out and slid the tip across a section of the brickwork arch above the fireplace. "She needs clothes and some…`female stuff'."

"Got them," Ginny made a tiny laugh through her nose. "Like I said, call it the, `female instinct'."

"Or," I made marks in the brick as if writing a language only I understood within them. "You can call it, `knowing she'd need some stuff to stay over here'. I'd have happily given her my shirts to wear, but I think my boxers would have swallowed her."

"She probably wouldn't have cared."

"She'd need a belt to go with it to keep them up. She would have cared."

"Quit being naive."

"What does that mean?"

Ginny sighed, "Nothing, just hurry up, damn."

"Don't give me anything to hope for," I said, having made marks throughout the framed fireplace architecture. "She's technically still with Ron. I'm the one who muddied this all up bringing her here."

"Because we all wanted her to stay with that little git, right?" Ginny breathed. "Besides, get with the program. You two are a freaking cute match. Why she ever went with my brother is beyond me. Believe me, I've asked her."

I scraped a few more lines into the fireplace when I heard Ginny again, "You know, I could have been over there fifteen minutes ago…but, no…who's the Secret Keeper of Number Twelve again?"

"…Ron."

"And, why not moi?"

"Because up until now," I set my wand down back in my pocket and stepped back from the fireplace. I crossed my arms and looked at the messed up face of Ginny. "Shit hadn't hit the fan. Anyway, the Floo is ready. Come on."

"We're coming, we're coming," Ginny laughed. "God! Hold your horses!"

I rolled my eyes. Before me sat a normal, typical Victorian-style fireplace. Such a fireplace would be expected in a flat as this; but, not as the architecture stretched wide like an opening mouth. The flaming charcoal ceased and spread out. The tray began to shake as well did the wall surrounding. The small trinkets and pictures I had on the mantle shook, too, the mantle bending out horizontally and vertically at once to accommodate the growing hole.

The three foot gap quadrupled in size. Mere seconds passed, a smoky residue of a greenish hue bellowed out from the hole and out sprang a feminine hand, then an arm, a body and Ginny's head to complete her figure. Neville followed suit behind her, his body appearing in stages from hand to head. Both stepped out from the fireplace, their matching pajamas and robes on. The bottoms of their robes swayed to-and-fro as the fireplace all at once sucked back into place.

Ginny shivered and looked back behind her at Neville, "You'd think, after all the times I was dragged to Diagon Alley by mom, I'd be more used to that. The pulling feeling still gives me the creeps."

Ginny looked at me standing in front of them and leaped. She switched the bag she held in her hand to her left as her right arm wrapped around my neck. She whispered into my ear, audibly enough for Neville to hear, "I never did tell you thanks for getting her out of there."

"Yeah, well…," I looked from Ginny's bouncing red hair beside my cheek to Neville. "What else were you expecting me to do?"

Ginny backed away from me, but kept her eyes locked and smiled, "Exactly what I expected. The hero for the heroine of the story, to live happily, ever after."

"And, in the process," I stuck my hands back in my pockets. "Getting shit from Ron? You know it's going to happen."

"Ron can go to Hell," Ginny stated bluntly. "He probably feels like he's in one right now, anyway."

"What?"

Neville wandered over to a nearby armchair and flopped down in it and yawned, "He's probably going to have a black eye in the morning, thanks to her."

"What?!"

Neville put his hands up, "I didn't do it!" Then, pointed at Ginny who looked smug with herself.

"He got in my way, so I socked him one."

I backed up and flopped, like Neville had, into the sofa behind me. I pulled my glasses up and ran my hand down the length of my face. "You hit him?"

"I asked him as plain as day to remove himself from my sight. And, when he asked `Well, what are you going to do?'," Ginny mimicked her brother's voice. "Pop! Knocked a little light out of him and said, `What she should have done!'"

Ginny turned on her heel to Neville, "And I hit his big nose, not his eye."

Neville put his hands up again and looked away, as if to not take part in any of it.

Ginny glanced back at me, "And, if momma wants to gripe at me for smacking him good, I'll be happy to explain the situation in its entirety. Not like I need to, anyway. She hears the crap as much as I do."

She pointed between her and Neville, "We do."

"Oh boy…"

Ginny peered up at the ceiling. The water had been running since she got here, too. She pointed up above her, the black canvas bag shifting from one hand to the next. "I'm guessing that's her?"

I nodded, still rubbing my eyes with my fingertips while holding my glasses steady with my other hand. "She's in my room. The door should be unlocked unless she locked it after I went in there."

Ginny kept her eyes focused above her as if trying to channel something between her and Hermione. I watched her leave Neville and I, swinging the black canvas bag over her right shoulder and traipsing up the first set of stairs and onto the next. I looked over at Neville who, for the first time, resembled the epitome of exhaustion. He yawned, and I caught it, yawning as well.

"They'll be up there all night," he said, stating the obvious. "I hope you don't mind us staying here, too."

"Nah," I shook my head and began to rub my eyes again. I had the onset of another headache. "It's fine. Take the guest bedroom. You know where it is."

"We can sleep wherever, man," Neville tried to persuade. "You know that. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Take the guest bedroom, really," I said in response, now with both my hands on my face. My palms felt the growing stubble along my cheek and jaw.

"Where are you going to sleep?"

I sighed, "Right where I'm sitting."

"You sure? I mean-"

"Yeah," I exhaled some more of that pent up air; this time, for a reason far opposite than the last. "I'm sure."

***

Have you ever had the feeling, when you're asleep, that you're falling? You fall, and fall, and fall, and you never seem to hit the bottom until you realize-you've fallen off the sofa. That's what woke me up. I heard the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Whilst pulling myself off the floor, the clock began its chime six consecutive times.

I sucked in some air through my nose and scratched the back of my head. "Six o'clock," I repeated after the grandfather clock stopped. "Guess I should just start the day…great."

Just like yesterday, I didn't know what to expect today. One day you're waking up completely in a different world, and within the next twenty-four hours, your world has completely changed. I felt flip-flopped, and older, turned on my head. I fished for my glasses in the dark and found them atop the side table where I put them. I slipped them on and began to run at least a preliminary grocery list of what I had and needed to do today.

For starters, a fire would be nice. The cold, stiff air could catch someone out of breath if they weren't used to it. The flame had died in the fireplace through the night, leaving the atmosphere brittle and icy, especially to my bare feet. Two years ago, I would have easily picked up my wand and cast incendio. Instead, I got down on my knees and did it the Muggle way-how I'd taught myself to do-by bringing the pre-cut logs beside the niche in the wall to the tray, and manually igniting the logs with my hands.

With the fire lit, I began step two. Induced by all the commotion last night, I'd forgotten to turn the washer on for the clothes. That led to the kid-like memory of staring at awe at what I considered Hermione's "work of art." I laughed at myself, how embarrassing if she would have ever caught my just staring like an imbecile at her under garments. I probably would have died, I kidded, if I found both her panties and her bra…which led to a most interesting image in my mind.

Check one, warmth. Check two, clean and dry clothes for both of us. Check three…crap. My running shoes were where? Upstairs. In what room? Mine, of course. I stepped to the landing at the base of the stairs and looked up, hearing nothing but silence. And who is asleep in my room? Hermione. I thought about it for a moment, there at the first step. My shoes weren't that far into the room. I could just slip quietly inside, grab them, and slip back out just as quiet. Easy.

I needed some time to myself. That was, in essence, why I'd begun running in the first place. I needed to work out everything I'd ever thought of and seen. Picture a dying man, Dumbledore, and witnessing his murder. Tell me that don't play deep with one's mind after a while. So, I jogged every morning to isolate myself, or repress, just a little bit further from once I came. Not that I wanted to forget. Never did I want to forget. But, I'm only human after all; I need a release.

I also thought of Hermione.

I touched the coolness of the doorknob of my room. For a brief second, I thought the knob wouldn't turn. That she'd have locked it. I lock it when I'm sleeping. But, I twisted the circular metal easily and the door slid right in. Slowly, I told myself, no sound. I peeked into the room and saw…dark red hair sprawled all over my pillows. What?

I didn't see Hermione until I was closer to the bed. I tiptoed around the foot, moving toward my shoes but eyeing the scene before me curiously. I felt like a spy, laughing a little in my head; a spy into the curious world of women from the other side of the fence. They were bundled up together within the sheets and thick quilt. Ginny had her arms around Hermione in a constant embrace. Hermione had her head somewhat under Ginny's chin, but tilted up onto the pillow for a small breathing area between Ginny's throat and her face. Most of Hermione was covered in her hair or Ginny's, or the quilt wrapped to her neck. At least she looked peaceful.

Of course, I wasn't really looking at where I was going at the time. I was more inclined at looking at the intimate scene rather than my feet. In this case my leg, as I ran right into my desk chair making the legs scoot across the wooden floor. I grabbed the chair as quickly as I could, to keep it from falling, and bent down to scoop of my shoes when I heard the rustled breathing and moving from the bed.

Damn it.

I glanced over, tiptoeing as quickly back toward the door as I could, but saw Ginny's form move. With her hair in a sleepy tangle, she inhaled and blinked her eyes at me, "Harry?"

I flinched, and whispered, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

Ginny inhaled again audibly and yawned, "No, no it's okay…" She looked around, as she leaned up, but stopped halfway. She squinted at me.

"Gosh, what time is it?"

"A little after six," I replied in a breath.

"Six?!" she whispered in astonishment. "What are you doing up at six o'clock in the morning?"

I raised my shoes in my right hand to show her the pair. I pointed at them, "Forgot them last night to jog this morning."

"You're crazy," Ginny shook her head. "Utterly insane. You're the only person I know who would wake up at this bloody hour."

"Well, I was up," I slowly approached the bed. Coming to the edge, I bent down a level just low enough to see Hermione on the other side of Ginny. Making a notion toward Hermione with my head, I asked, "How is she?"

"We did our thing last night," Ginny glanced over at the still-dreaming Hermione curled around her and back at me. "And, I think we're slowly getting somewhere. At least she realizes she can do better. Much better. Better by a mile."

Instinctively, I moved my hand around Ginny to touch Hermione. I pulled away some of that hair around her gorgeous face and tucked the loose, darkened brunette strands behind her ear. I didn't look at Ginny, keeping my focus intently on the serene features of Hermione, when I said softly, "Wonderful."

I saw Ginny's stomach sink slightly under her jade night top, and then she exhaled a breath. When I glanced up at her, finally, her gaze and smirk bugged me. As if she knew something I didn't, or at least her pierced lips showcased her not wanting to expose her thoughts.

"What?"

"Would you like to switch places with me?" Ginny said through a thick grin. She began to lift further from the bed when I stopped her.

I shook my head and stood up in my spot, "Don't move her, and you get some sleep, too."

"I don't think she'd mind the switch."

"Um…," I didn't know how to respond. "…Okay?"

Ginny fell back against the pillow. The pillow poofed outward by her slight weight, her crimson coloured hair falling everywhere. She made a tiny laugh and looked at me, "Harry, stay just the way you are-please. You're so freaking cute, and that gets the girl's attention the most. All of them, Mr. Bachelor, especially…"

Ginny pointed over at Hermione, "…That one."

I just smiled and rolled my eyes.

"And, besides," Ginny continued in her whisper. "I couldn't switch places with you, anyway. For two reasons."

"…Which are?"

"One," Ginny put a protective arm back around Hermione. "Hoes over bros."

I put my hand over my mouth, and played along as if she were really teaching my something insightful; but, was secretly laughing. She was exaggerating, and smiling, so she was being ridiculous for a reason. I widened my eyes, and said through a stifled laugh, "Oh, okay. The second?"

"And second…" Ginny lingered her gaze at me for a while and then spoke, "She has my arm pretty good. I can't feel it! We're talking pins and needles here."

I let an audible laugh escape, but caught it back, "Ah, those would be a problem."

"Exactly," grinned Ginny. "Glad we're on the same page."

"Will you and Neville be staying for breakfast?" My internal, weekly list had bolded a stop at the marketplace. I needed fresh eggs and milk even before all of this went down.

"And not give you two some `private time'?" Ginny played shock.

"Come on, Gin…," I rolled my eyes once more. "I'm being serious."

"I'm being serious!" she laughed. "Hm…but the moment you two look like you're getting cozy…we're out of here!"

I turned on my heel and began strolling back towards the door, "I'm leaving now, Gin. I'll be back in an hour or so."

I looked back as I shut the door behind me. I pointed at Hermione, Ginny still eyeing me leave, "Take care of her while I'm gone."

Ginny put on her best Queen Elizabethan wave as I softly closed shut the door. The last image, looking on through the slowly decreasing vision of my room, was Ginny slipping back through the sheets, under the quilt, and around Hermione.

{Inspirations for the Chapter: Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve, especially when writing Harry's wavering "neurosis"}

-->