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: It's summer! That means it's all about girls, late-nights, sleep, and…girls! Lol! But, seriously, I've been on vacation. I'll be on-and-off again with my writing, but I'll try and write some here and there. Still a ways to go, I keep hope that I can finish without breaking into writer's block in the future.

Also, I had to break what I wrote into two parts. I didn't realize I wrote 50+ pages until tonight when I finished. So, whenever I look over and edit the next part, I'll be uploading.

Thanks for all the reviews while I was away!

***

Chapter Twenty-One - Admit

***

The aroma of melting cheese, fresh vegetables grilling, and chicken teased my nose. The spices, a bit of jalapeno, made my eyes water too. I held the spatula in my hand and prepared to flip over the two pieces of flat bread covering all the warmth of goodies within like ravioli. Harry was in the process of cooking us dinner. I was upstairs, drowning myself with music-really, really loud music. I had my amplifier cranked all the way up and produced a muffliato charm to buffer the boisterous pitches, tone, and melody.

I went at it hard, too, breaking in riffs to break the constant thought of Ginny and Neville. I tried what I'd always done: reading. I read Hogwarts, a History for the umpteenth time. The binding distraught from wear, I flew through the words I read time and time again. I knew every chapter, every quirk of the author, every, single aspect of that book. I knew where the errors were, penciling in and scratching them out to fix them. Second-hand in nature, and because I knew it so well, I'd trail off into thinking of what could happen. I saw Ginny, my best friend, my girl, come onto me. I saw the drug in her hand. I heard her when she kissed me. I heard her words, echoing, ever-echoing.

I hadn't spoken to her the couple days between then and now. I had to…re-adjust. I couldn't just throw myself back into the ring. It's like putting your hand on a burner. You learn quickly that it's hot; don't do that. If I put myself back in the same situation, back in front of Ginny where she could do something else, then… I didn't want to picture it. With such a vivid imagination of mine, I wasn't going there.

Not like she never was going to try and talk to me again. Ha. I didn't want it to be this way, but I needed some time…alone. Harry felt my newly born withdrawal. He went to play with me last night, being flirtatious, being like us, but I stopped him. Then, I felt guilty. Guilty because the damn thing that kept popping up in my mind was Ginny, and Neville, and Ginny, and Neville, and Ginny, and Neville, and Ginny. I couldn't hesitate the thoughts, smash the pattern, the photographs rolling and re-rolling like film celluloid to show me each individual frame per second.

I came downstairs to see Harry with the phone stuck in his ear. He was smiling, so that was a good sign. I didn't know who was on the phone and went on inside when I saw him partially distracted with dinner and partially distracted to whomever was on the other end. He laughed and fumbled with the spatula, the dial on the stove, the chord wrapping around his torso with every pull across the kitchen.

Slipping on behind him, I nabbed the spatula from his hand. He went to take it back from me, switching the receiver to his other ear, but I swatted his hand away. He shook it as if I'd really hit him, his eyes flittering toward the phone as if he were really speaking to someone-making eye contact with them. He laughed once more, my fingers going behind my ear to scoop up lingering hair and tuck it behind the lobe. I gazed at him from the corner of my eye. Harry leaned on the wall and watched me cook, hugging the Bulgarian, black-and-red, "Viktor Krum" jersey on his chest. He propped his black industrial boots one upon the other as he stood observing me. The television in the other room blared its volume, an announcer repeating previous day's Quidditch scores for the preliminaries of the World Cup.

I motioned with my hand, my fingers tapping the same ear the receiver was on, having Harry glance up at me. He chuckled, grinning at me as I turned our Mexican meal over to see him mouth the word, "Gin". My face flicked away from his, my eyes centering on the grill-pan. I doubly made sure my hair was tucked behind my ear, more of a nervous twitch than anything else.

She'd call here…to talk to him?

What?

Oh dear, Lord… This can't be good…

Peeking out the corner of my eyes, I saw him smile and heave into another laugh. He looked at me and rolled his eyes. I hadn't told him a thing. Actually, I did-I lied to him. What was I supposed to do? Really? It would come out…eventually… No, it needed to come out. But, I didn't want it to come out because… Because it's funny, embarrassingly so. She was high-great. Open up that can of worms and let out everything and watch me, Hermione the Know-It-All, screw up their wedding.

Oh, how fun!

"Oh, hey, hey-"

I glanced back at him, Harry's eyes watching me as I flipped the burner lower.

"Did you happen to catch Eudora's game winning save against France? Yeah-"

I fidgeted, fingering the metal-stud wristbands on my arms. Good… they're discussing Quidditch. Not-"Hey, I kissed your fiance!" Fixing the loop of my black-and-red, Bulgarian tie around my neck, I went back to flip over the quesadilla again before turning the burner completely off.

"Yeah-," Harry chuckled, holding his abdomen. "Yeah, Everett's really going to be a star for Britain. She can do things I wish I could have done when I played. Yeah, yeah… It doesn't bother me. I have other plans. Besides, I'll get it all out working at Hogwarts."

Harry looked up at me and smiled.

I held onto the edge of the counter and smiled in reply, letting the countertop balance all my weight. The baggy, black cargo-like pants shifted when I leaned to the left side. It really did look odd, I noted with a smirk, at how large the legs were against my tiny waist. An oversized belt, with a pseudo-metallic plate on the leather's surface, secured to what would want to fall down. No belt equaled no pants.

Harry pointed at my side, getting my whole body in perspective. I twisted to see a black string, probably from the pants, having come off and stay attached to my contrasting, white collar shirt. I had my sleeves up to my shoulders, so when I went to remove the piece and toss it in the rubbish bin, I didn't pull fabric.

"Yeah," Harry began again. "Yeah, she's right here. Yeah-uh huh. Mhmm-beautiful, as always."

I tried to grin, but Ginny popped into my mind and the grin faltered. I wanted them to move away from me as the subject. The further from "Hermione," and subsequent "Ginevra," the better in my book-for now, at least, until I figure out what the Hell I'm doing and what she's doing.

"Right-hey," He looked back at me and stopped. "Did you want to speak to her still? She's come from upstairs."

I waved a hand to get him to let me go from the discussion.

Divert from me, stay away, I'm not here!

He looked at me, his brow scrunched and confused.

"Oh…Oh, wait a minute," Harry coughed into his hand; though, he kept his eyes on me. "That was just a commercial. I thought she'd come downstairs."

Whew…

"No-no, Ginny. Ginny, I'm not fibbing," Harry stepped forward and grabbed the spatula I laid down beside the stove. He started banging the pots and pans around. "Hey-Hey, I've got to go. No! I've got to go… Yes, of course. I love you, too. Yes, yes-I'll tell her. Tomorrow around six-yes, I'm writing it down."

I mimicked in the air as if I were writing something down, being right there and hearing everything that was said. Harry put his hand over his mouth and ushered me to quit with his hand before the weasel was let out of the bag.

"Okay. Okay," Harry's eyes studied mine, especially when I went to look away. "Okay, yes, I'll tell her that. Okay-ow, ow, ow! Burned myself!"

Harry smacked the side of the grill-pan with the spatula.

I went to giggle, but stopped myself, throwing my hands over my mouth.

"Okay-Ow, ow-right, yes, I'm getting ice. She'll see you tomorrow, Gin. Yes, I'll be all right. I'm fine," He rolled his eyes at me. I knew Ginny was now going down the grocery list of things for Harry to take. She loved us… That's what made me so…so timid, anxious, angry. "Okay, right-love you, too."

Harry side-stepped over to the hook, "Talk to you later-Right. Bye."

Harry then flipped around to me, his hands on the edge of the counter. He shook his head, "I don't remember her being so talkative…"

Or, not talkative…

My eyes grazed the floor below me as my head sunk on my shoulder. Harry cleared his throat and eyed me quizzically.

I glanced up at him, antsy, "What?"

"Why didn't you want to talk to her?" He began making his way over to me. He took up the grill-pan and spatula, and cut the quesadilla in half.

"What was it she wanted you to tell me?"

"Oh," Harry focused intently as he slid the spatula under the slightly scorched bread and put one-half on one empty plate, then went onto the other. "Oh, she wanted me to tell you that she loved you."

"Hm…" My eyes fell on Harry's hands and how he so carefully set up our food. I went on ahead and, knowing we'd need beverages at some point, filled up two empty glasses with water from the tap.

Love isn't the half of it…

My mind slipped back into that trance and awoke, suddenly with a jump. Harry had slipped his hand around my back. He flinched when I did, having leaned in to say something but was diverted to ask, "Hermione…"

"Harry…," I mimicked in his concerned tone.

He looked at me with that "Don't-keep-secrets-from-me" look, his eyes peering over his brow, "What did she do?"

"What did who do?" I moved around him, acting oblivious. I wasn't much of an actor, though; Harry caught on quickly and followed me into the den where he watched the beginnings of the QWC. We'd been waiting for Bulgaria, of course, what with our apparel. Supporting Krum against the Netherlands, their third preliminary match up. The previous teams, Portugal and China both fell to the force that was Bulgaria, one of the teams to beat this year. I asked Harry to call me down whenever Bulgaria entered the field, but I'd come down early because I grew hungry.

I knew Harry stared at me. I placed the glasses down on the table between the television and the sofa. I pulled on the ledge to get it closer to us, or where we'd end up, on the cushions. I tucked hair behind my ear, the strands always finding their way off, and continued to portray as if I were enthrallingly busy. I didn't want to look at him, knowing the second I did, I'd crack under the pressure.

I flopped onto the sofa. I heard Harry set the two plates down and fall as well, feeling his weight come down beside me. I felt him begin to slide to me, right along my thigh. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, the flutter of my heart. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, and I wanted to laugh. Mixed up with emotions, I couldn't quite solidify one single version of myself. Hastily, I drew the Oxford Student Manual from a stand beside the armrest I closely lay on. I made it a barrier between Harry and me, wanting, needing him to keep away.

I heard him sigh and reach out for something. Scooting my legs between us from the floor, I made more of that wall. If we weren't who we were, he would have gotten the hint. But, Harry loved me, and would suffice my extraction of him. He pursued me further, dropping the volume of the television down. The announcer continued to describe the previously played games, onto the game between South Africa and Greece, when his voice trailed off by the buttons Harry pushed. I turned my head when I felt Harry bow to me. I heard him sigh again, this time roughly, and push the manual I held firmly down onto my lap. I tried to pull the manual back up, to keep that shield between my emotions and him, but Harry was stronger. He could see me distraught; he could see how I struggled to yank the damn book back in front of me, the faint muscle in my forearms coming to the skin.

Finally, I had to relax. I couldn't fight against him-I wouldn't fight against him. He lowered himself, almost to my lap, to see my eyes. I swished my head to the right and watched the balding wizard discuss with a younger one with Quidditch gear on, the Greek colors of white and blue amongst his sports outfit.

My ears perked to the sound of Harry's voice. His voice was so subtle, so gentle, that it made me want to listen. "…Why have you become so disinterested in me? Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, for whatever I have done, if I-"

I felt tears welling behind my eyelids. My heart became crushed, wrought in a vice of my tearing emotions. Harry halted as I silently interjected his sentence when I came forefront and back to him. A tear trickled down the crevice on the side of my nose and along my cheek. My eyes were large as much as I fought back to hold myself from sobbing.

Harry backed away, his eyes becoming like saucers. He immediately pushed off the sofa we sat on and clicked the television off. He threw the remote back on the table, the smack making the silverware, glasses, and plates shake and clink. He then took his arms and scooped me up in them. He had my legs, underneath me, my arms going to his neck, holding onto him tight. He sat me on his lap and wrapped his arms around me as tight as I held him. My forehead went to his cheek, feeling his strength-he wasn't letting me go, and I didn't want him to let me go. I needed him more than ever.

"Now," Harry shook me in his arms, his tone with that Harry-authority. "I want to know what you're keeping from me and I want to know right now because-damn it, Hermione-I love you-"

I started crying when he said those three words. Of course he loved me, and I loved him with all my heart. I just didn't understand, and if I opened my mouth, I'd potentially create an even bigger problem. On the other hand I didn't want to keep secrets away from the man I was to be wedded.

"You haven't done anything wrong…," I hid my face in the crook of Harry's neck. I wet him with my tears, my eyes, nose, and mouth against his throat. I kissed him where my lips lay because I needed to kiss him.

He squeezed me right through the sheer material of my shirt, gripping my side in response to my kiss. He would have kissed me if I hadn't been hiding. "You've been so distant from me the past few days. Last night I tried playing around and you balled yourself up. I didn't know how to react; it reminded me of the first nights we were together after Ron, and that's not a history I'd want to relive."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…," I coughed into him, continuing to cry. This, all of it, shredded whatever heartstrings I had connecting me to the relationships I created. My world was thrown upside down. I'd thought about it way too much. I let out another breathless, "I'm sorry."

Harry combed his hand through my hair, scratching my head, petting me. He tried to soothe me when I hiccupped. "Hermione," he turned to me and kissed the top of my head. "Calm down, love. Calm down… Don't want to see you back in the hospital."

We became silent as I gradually settled myself. Harry helped, rubbing me down, massaging my back, my shoulder. He kissed my cheek, the only other place he could get to me while I planted my face into his neck. He ran his fingers up my tummy, across my breast and held above my heart. I moved my face from his neck and lay my forehead on his cheek. I felt him gently massage that portion of me along my heart and heard him say just as gentle, "I love you."

"I love you, too…"

"Tell me what's going on… Communicate with me," Harry urged. "Something happened between you and Ginny. Ever since you left her house…well, it's been different between you two. I don't think you've ever declined speaking to her, and you guys have never, at least to my knowledge, fought."

"So, now I'm doubly worried," added Harry at the end.

"…If I talk, I'll ruin everything."

"Ruin everything?" Harry chuckled lightly. "You've saved many a soul from expressing your feelings. And, another thing is for sure, you won't ruin us-if that's the problem."

Harry always had a sense for reading me…

"I'm actually…," Removing my arms from his neck, I lay a bit more comfortably on my man, my loving, warm body, my recliner. I clutched at his Bulgarian jersey and closed my eyes. "It's actually rather embarrassing when I think about it…"

"Do you remember who you're speaking to?" Harry smiled. "I wrote the book on embarrassing moments-try me. Hell, the Prophet finds pleasure in finding them, too; so everyone and their wizard know my faults."

I leaned from his body and opened my eyes. His jades set upon me, never blinking. I studied him, making sure I was ready to reveal exactly what I'd pent up. I felt overwhelmed, high as all my blood rushed to my head. His hand left my heart and fell into my lap where he ran the length of my thigh, coercing me to resume.

I breathed in, closed my eyes and let the breath out. I re-opened them and said within the breath, "Ginny kissed me."

"What's-"

Harry's eyes widened, "Wait-she what?"

I kept still, our eyes locked.

"Like…," he cleared his throat. "…She kissed you? Or, she kissed you?"

"And, that's not even the part that has me worried…"

"Okay… Tell me." It's not like Harry was a homophobe, nor was I, but this was…extra-weird territory. We'd fooled around and "kissed," me and Ginny, with Harry in proximity to see us. But, this time it wasn't like, "Oh, yeah, she kissed me"-and he knew it. He also knew she didn't intend to hurt me, and therefore didn't jump on the phone and down her throat. We were like family…just a really screwed up one right about now.

"I'm afraid of Neville."

Harry cocked a brow and peered on, befuddled, "Why…"

And then, it hit him. I could actually see the light bulb turn on over his head and he tilted his head backward on the sofa. "Oh, man… This is not happening."

"That's what I said…"

He peeked up from his tilt and asked, "She didn't try to…you know…grope you or anything?"

I shook my head frantically, "She just kind of…fell asleep. She's…"

Harry tracked my eyes, making them not fidget much.

"…smoking again."

"Right now," Harry half-smirked. "If I ever had, I'd be gone from reality, too, with all this dropping on us. They're bloody marrying in a month."

I scooted along Harry's stretched body on the backside of the sofa and lay my hand on his chest, "But, that's not an excuse for doing drugs…again."

"No…," Harry shook his head, my head and eyes level to his. "It's never an excuse, you're right. She promised me she'd stop even when we dated."

"Then we have another thing in common…" I half-smirked, too, and nuzzled into his neck. After relieving myself of the weight, I felt much lighter, happier in a way, more open.

Harry reached around me and pulled me closer. "Hey," he said, having me look up from loving his neck, my nose grazing the little scruff of his stubble beard. "Come here."

I smiled for the first time in days and lowered to meet his lips. He grunted in earnest for me to kiss him. I much obliged to meet his needs, my needs, and lingered my wet lips, heavily moistening his own. He nudged me, his lioness, when I released with a grin. His nose under my chin, he kissed at my throat and hugged me tight. I re-wrapped my arms around him and rested upon him, embracing my Harry-bear.

"Now, that's my girl…" He rubbed the back of my head.

I closed my eyes, feeling so much better.

"Next time," he started to scratch my back. I loved when he scratched my back. "Let me be your stress-reliever. Please, tell me-anything and everything, even if it's horrible, I want our lines open."

I nodded, my cheek rubbing into his chest through the silky jersey. I asked softly, "But…what about Neville?"

"Do you really think she meant the…kiss?"

"I don't know…and not knowing that scares me, too."

Harry really knew the places on me to get me utterly relaxed. With one hand scratching the length down the middle of my back, his other massaged my leg, running over my thigh furthest from him. I went limp.

"…Are you still going to the Shade Epsilon concert tomorrow night after all this?"

I shrugged, "I want to… I bought my ticket, and I want to see the other girls. Katie's going to training camp with the British Quidditch Team, and this may be the last time I get to talk to her for a few months…"

"I was thinking…," Harry continued to work his magic. I felt so rested that my body lay languid on him. Like Jello, I just sat still and responded when I needed to back to him. "If you pacified Gin, I could talk to Neville. Poke around, see if I can do…something."

"They're so good together…"

"He really loves her. He tells me all the time."

I sighed.

Of course, he does.

That's why this is all extremely painful.

"Just have fun tomorrow."

"Mhmm…," Thanks to Harry magic-hands, he slipped me into a doze.

I heard him snicker which first roused me back to life, albeit sluggishly, "Are you falling asleep on me?"

"Hm?" Lazily grinning with my eyes closed, I shook my head. "…I'm still awake."

"Your food is getting cold."

My tummy grumbled for the first time in the hour.

***

Warm and content.

Two words that describe spooning with Harry.

He had his arm around me. Inflexible and concentrated, even in his slumber, he had me to him firm. Heated by him, my personal, cozy blanket covered me underneath the sheets. Cradling my left breast, he had continued to worry that my heart underwent a ton of stress. I wouldn't tell him I was under a lot of stress, but I didn't feel bad. I felt pretty good, better when everything was off my back.

Our bodies matched like two perfect puzzle pieces, whenever I'd move a leg or wiggle, I'd bump into him. I loved how close we remained together. He snaked a leg in-between mine when we played footsie in the middle of the night. He wanted his sandwiched between my irrevocably smooth arches. He would take his hand and slide it in an up-and-down pattern, following the hourglass-like shape of my side and how it curved inward. He'd do this, soft at first, but then with more friction, pulling at my pink-and-white plaid button-up night shirt.

I fancied when he was like this. We were reacquainting ourselves with one another, having hurdled over a speed bump in our path. But, Harry was a Leo-and I enjoyed my Leo, the lion. I'll always lean on the fluffy, lovey-dovey side of the coin, though I nearly sought as much pleasure in our biological, animalistic senses than for more of the intellectual. He knew he had me, and I let him have me, gave myself to him. So, when Harry would grip me hard or pull my hair-Merlin, did I like it.

Not that he pulled my hair tonight, but he wasn't gentle-raw enough for me. Amongst twilight sleep, all my sensations doubled, tripled, quadrupled. Harry had me on him from behind, lying in the nook his body created. My head had gone beneath his, slipping on the sheets. His head lay just above mine, his hands roaming rowdily along every contour my figure shaped. He found my pink-and-white checkered panties, well, found them again as his hands had gripped my ass long before they moved to the front from around my waist.

I arched my back into him as I felt his fingers crawl their way under the elastic band holding the undergarment to my hips. His hand glided over the mound, tracing the tiny strip of hair. I gasped when Harry took his time, taking his nail and following the line to my sex. I shifted my legs in a way to allow him more freedom, but all he did was tease me. He'd get close to me, and then pull his fingers away. I'd whimper, and he'd snicker softly at his scheme. He finally touched the beginnings of my outer lips and pulled away again. Whining, wanting, needing him to part me, I grabbed at his hair. My arm was raised above me and bent behind me, my hand curled onto tufts of his messy chaos. I yanked on him while he kissed at my throat, nipping at the flush of my neck. He ran his chin, the bristles of his five o'clock shadow, grazing me to the point of leaving a burn.

He cupped his hand over me below, gaining knowledge at how ready and wet I was. He pressed his thumb on my button, the bundle of nerves, practically the most sensitive portion on my entire form. I bucked into his hand and heard him silently snicker. I felt his finger, just a finger, his middle finger, move into my slit. He didn't go all the way in, slowly circling above the hole-driving me insane in the process.

Harry twisted around to find my mouth. Harry hovered over me, laying on me, his weight upon mine, gently squishing me into the soft mattress. Hungrily, I tasted him and the contents of his mouth. I found his tongue most delightful, managing to pluck the slippery muscle from him to suckle. He grunted and rammed himself against my ass, pushing me further into the bed. I held there as I felt him like a rock on my buttock. I quickly moaned, only to be diverted again to breathe through my nose when he planted him lips back atop my own. He kissed me with intensity, slithering his finger, first the tip, gradually into my warmth.

He flattened me to the bed. Gripping the sheets with the hand not within his hair, I held on tight. I found a rhythm with his finger, the pattern of him moving, pumping at my extremely moistened insides. He started off softly, casually gliding only to the first joint from the tip and then sliding deeper to the middle joint. With happy difficulty, he fought with my tightened walls, small as I was, until he was able to ease in and out. He'd smirk when I'd clamp onto him and push ever-further, to the knuckle, studying my actions and how I'd claw the bed with my nails.

At one point Harry had stopped thrusting his finger. That didn't stop me from rotating my hips and riding his hand while he supported me. He propped his palm against my rear and gently wiggled his finger from the side-to-side as I fucked his hand, horny and too aroused to care. When I had to drop my arm, it stiff from its bending position to the point of hurting, he lightly bit the flesh beneath the cotton-plaid material.

Harry pushed my hair to the side and pushed his face into my cheek. Panting, he took back over stroking me. I felt myself on the edge, my body on the verge of feeling as if I were about to leap off a cliff, free-fall, and splash into an ocean below. He rocked into me, his hand and his body smacking wherever possible to give me as much pleasure as possible. He kissed my cheek, licked my face, feeling his nose flat into the back of my head and in my mess of damp hair.

I arched my back and gripped into the bed until my knuckles were white; my nails digging, nearly ripping the fabric. Something in my brain broke, a dam, flooding my mind like washes of pure, genuine ecstasy. I let go and rolled on my stomach as much as I could with Harry's weight allowing me. I felt his lips near my ear, and then him pull at the lobe when he snagged that part of my between them. He fell into my neck, to my back and bit down on my shoulder when he knew I began to climax. The pain of his teeth in my skin mixed with the sexual pressure relieving the sexual frustration in my core… I wanted him to puncture the skin, to break me, to sink those canines of his farther into my shoulder.

He took his teeth from my shoulder and inched to the pivot of my arm and sunk them back into me. I wished myself naked, bare, his bone to my flesh. The pain pushed me and I fell faster into orgasm. I wrought in positions beneath him on the bed, struggling, shaking. He tried to hold me down, burying himself, his face, into my back, but I gathered some unknown strength and pried myself upward. Harry brushed against me, rubbing his face along my curved back. His face recovered at the nape of my neck once more, his teeth subtle, though grazing against the exposed skin above the pink collar.

He took me out, getting me off-balance by swooping underneath and taking my hands away. He pushed me back into the bed, my face falling into the pillow where I screamed and bit into the feathers. My body, feeling as if it were on fire, began to subside. The flames ceasing as Harry's hand, his finger, slowed in its pace. I grunted into the pillow, my stomach lying on his arm while his hand was still at my crotch. I felt him kiss me, sifting his face in my hair, caressing the top of my head.

My body tingled everywhere.

I lifted my face from the pillow and lay it right back down on my left cheek. I breathed heavily, and smiled, my eyes blinking open just a tad before falling back closed. Harry kept within me for a moment, just having settled inside lazily before I felt him gradually pull out. I arched my back-I couldn't help but moan, nearly going to my knees by how slowly he went, and how that in itself teased the Hell out of me. I had to hide my face in the pillow, my nails clenched into the mattress. Harry, all but out, wriggled the tip of his finger just before his complete removal. My body instantly jolted, bucking into the bed, everything on me having become extra-sensitive thanks to my Leo and his wondrous handiwork.

My hips fell to the bed, my knees buckling. The instant I fell, making the bed slightly bounce by my mass, Harry swatted my ass. I swiveled my neck, withdrawing my face from the pillow to giggle in the atmosphere. My eyes opened briefly to see Harry in the corner move to his bum. He fixed my panties that inevitably bunched up in the sexual process. I sighed into a smile and felt his warm palm gently rub my rear. My eyes closing, I heard the sheets ruffle and pull beside my feet and Harry pull-and-tug them.

The cool sheets gave me instant goosebumps when they touched me, my skin sticky with a thin layer of sweat from heat. I went to move and Harry grabbed me and pulled me to him. I laughed when he tickled me, his fingers dancing their way into and under my shirt to get at my tummy. He slid a leg around mine the moment he snatched me up, encaging me like his wanted prisoner. Completely ravished, I lay there alongside him with a sleepy grin-satisfied.

Harry wasn't satisfied, though; trying to re-capture the breast he released more than a half hour ago. His hand wound around my left breast, he removed himself and fought with the buttons of my night shirt. I jostled by his fast actions, his fingers conflicting with the fasten. He lay behind me and couldn't quite get it undone until I stepped in, assisting in his battle. The moment I unfastened the button, his hand happily moved in and squeezed my breast. His hand firmly cupped to its rounded-shape, he settled in behind me as we spooned. I knew he smiled, snickering through his nose and the breath beating lightly upon the strands of my hair. I smiled, too, my hand finding his around my breast.

***

A marked, whetted noise continuously struck our quiet bedroom. The knifelike piercing shattered whatever dreamscape picturesque in my mind of my man and me making love in some isolated, wintery cabin in the mountains. Yes, it wasn't enough that we made love practically every second of every day. I dreamt of us together, and really, I wouldn't have it any other way. Harry's forever delicious pumpkin spice scent lulled me into this magical dreamscape, so I'd eat the pie and have it, too.

I roused awake. My hand which had left Harry's clutching my breast in the middle of the night, slipped out from underneath the cool of the pillow and across the sheets. I groaned and began finding ways to leave the incessant, rupturing ramble altogether. I felt Harry begin to move as well, my head, my face pushing under the pillow my hand used to lay under. I brought the hand to hold the pillow over my head, the tapping sound muffled; not to mention, it helped in removing whatever bright light came in from the windows.

Harry first squeezed my breast he held, making sure that that was still me-that I was still there beside him-I assumed. Not mattering, it was always a nice to feel a little fondle in the morning to wake me up from Harry. I felt the strength in his grip lessen, cold filtering in-between us when he moved to sit. I probably would have glanced out at him, but sleep overpowered me. I'd fall in-and-out, only breaking from the act when I'd feel Harry or hear Harry.

I felt him slip away, the bed bounding when he removed his weight. The sheets fell to me, having been left alone within them. He trotted over, stumbling really in his on-again and off-again sleep like me. When I heard him trip did I come out of the darkness and into the light, my eyes scouring to see him throughout the brightly lit room. He'd recovered, bracing himself on the window ledge from within the bedroom. Between the time he got out of bed to when I saw him, he had found a pair of his boxers, the ones he tossed off from the night.

Perched on the other side of the windowsill, a pitch black and rather large owl carried within its beak the mail. Around its neck hung the day's issue of the Daily Prophet and our new subscription to The Quibbler on a brown, woolen string. Amongst the delivery subjects, a royal purple pouch swung, open. Harry, procuring wizarding world currency from the nearby desk, pried the pane open to allow the owl to hop on inside. Harry dropped the knuts and sickles within the pouch; without payment, the owl would refuse to give up what it had. The instant Harry paid him, the bird dropped the letters, with one noteworthy manila-looking envelope, and the newspapers into Harry's hands and flew off into the cloudy, dull sky of London.

"What-"

Harry's squinting eyes glanced up at me, "Hm?"

"What is-," Scrambling out of bed, I took off towards Harry who stood there with the papers in his hands. The large manila envelope looked inviting, almost as if finding some long-lost treasure. I couldn't make out the printed emblems and words, but as I grew closer, I nearly jumped.

I snatched the envelope from Harry's hands and he made a laugh, "Why so urgent? We get stuff like that soliciting invites to interviews and photoshoots…etcetera, etcetera…" He yawned.

My eyes couldn't have crept wider-fully awake and aware, reading over the circular emblem with a book and crowns in the center. Along what appeared to be a sash read the words: University of Oxford. Pasted on the front of the envelope:

To - Hermione Jane Granger, 12 Grimmauld Place, London.

"This is it…"

"This is what?" Harry said through another yawn. "…If it's from the Daily Prophet again, throw it out. I don't feel like being harassed by Skeeter today."

I flipped the envelope around and held it up to him. I even shook it to gather his complete, though sleepy, focus. His eyes blinked only once before they grew as wide as mine. I smiled and he did right along with me.

"Does it feel heavy?!" He asked, breathlessly. Harry stepped towards me and put his hand on my hip whilst side-stepping to see the front of the envelope.

I shook it again and glanced up at him. Moving my head from side-to-side, I said, "I don't feel much of anything at all."

"…Is that a good sign?" I could tell Harry was on just as many pins and needles as I stood on. I kept glancing between my lover and the envelope, its closed-flap becoming more and more interesting.

I shrugged. The only thing I knew was that this envelope became the hottest thing ever to be held in my hand. I gulped, letting out pent-up air after. Harry snaked an arm around my waist. My eyes settled on the insignia, my fingers hastily going for the glued tab; but then, I stopped and peered back at Harry. "…What if I wasn't accepted? What if they hated the audition?"

Harry shook his head and leaned in to kiss my forehead, "Then, Oxford lost someone very special. It would be their loss, not yours."

I smiled at Harry and lay my forehead on his lingering kiss.

"Whatever it says in there, I want you to know that I'm very, very-enormously-proud of what my girl has accomplished."

Harry really knew how to soothe my worries. He made every day feel the best for me. I nearly melted when he announced his support, and I did every time. He went to half-hug me, but I dived in for the full embrace. Wrapping around him, my arms tightened amongst his bare waist. He kissed the top of my head while I nestled under his chin.

"You're so very talented," he added at the end. "And, I don't give a damn if anyone else thinks differently."

I kissed where I lay, his throat, and then inched up to caress his lips. When I released, I focused on those genuinely caring, comforting emeralds and grinned albeit in a daze from the rush of everything happening. "I love you," I smiled and Eskimo kissed, nudging my nose to his.

He smirked and loosened his grip of me when I set my feet down on the floor. He watched me as I slowly, yet hectically, grabbed at the flap. I stuck my pinky finger in-between the two pieces and shimmied until a part tore, moving in to separate the fold. I glanced up at him in preparation.

This was it-there really was no turning back.

I'd set all my eggs in one basket. I didn't want to go anywhere else. I wished, in that brief second in time, that what would happen next would be what I'd always pictured-my acceptance letter to what I believed was the most prestigious university in the entire world. I could tune and re-tune my loving craft, and I'd be back in the educational setting of which I utmost enjoyed, basking in what I could obtain intellectually.

I shuddered, literally shuddered, when I felt the stationary between my fingers. Harry felt my shiver and shook me in his arm. "Just remember what I said," he nodded with a smile. "Whatever it says, I'll support your next endeavor one hundred percent. I love you."

I leaned on Harry, the actual and metaphoric support of my life, and slipped out the intensely bleached-white piece of paper with typed, black-ink lettering. I saw the imprinted Oxford insignia in the upper left-hand corner and the salutation at the beginning:

April 22^nd, 2000

Dear Hermione Jane Granger,

It is a great pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted for admission to our renowned College of Music and Arts here at Oxford University this Fall session.

You were chosen from a variety of competitive talent within the largest applicant pool our institution has ever received on record. On behalf of the president, the faculty, and students, we congratulate you on your achievement and welcome you to Oxford…

I was glad I leaned on Harry, prone to faint, the excitement having built and my head feeling light. Harry read over my shoulder, stepping behind me to hug me from the back. I felt him squeeze me to him when he finished, lowering in and flicking my hair away to get at my neck. Planted, I closed my eyes and remained still. I let all the emotion, all the happiness, come over me. I would be going to Oxford in the Fall. I would be doing what I wanted to do with my life. I would have Harry beside me, my rock, my column of utmost foundation-a base to which I could always stand on and be affectionately welcomed, loved.

I tilted my head when he got to a tender, sweet spot. I gasped within my smile and felt him sweep me off my feet. The desk is where he sat me, only a step away. His hands gently plucked the letter from my own and he grinned, my knees, my thighs about him as I sat on the edge.

"I'm laminating the letter," His true ecstatic emotion rang out in his high-pitched tone. "I'm getting a frame and hanging this on the wall!"

I laughed, my hands going to his exposed skin, feeling the muscle as they lay each on either of his side. "Whoa!" I laughed again when he glanced at me whilst hopping on the soles of his feet. "It says at the bottom to bring all paperwork in with the acceptance interview! You may have to hold off on the laminating and framing for a few weeks."

Harry snickered. "Fine," He took up my face, his hands cradling underneath my jaw, and kissed me. He looked into me, staring into those cinnamon brown eyes never ceasing away from him. "I'll wait… But the moment I get the chance, the letter is going on the wall!"

I slid until we touched, front-to-front. I did it hastily, my hands clinching into Harry's sides, my mouth finding his. Harry dropped the letter down on the desk beside us, finding my tongue in need of more attention at the moment. I giggled when he grabbed my ass and held me to him. I wrapped my legs around him, my calves pressed into his bum. Rolling my stomach, my chest into his, I reacted with a moan when our tongues gently lashed, tasting lazily its partner at dawn. We didn't so much as move, my head tilted slightly to one side while his tilted in opposite, just slightly as well. Our noses bumped each other's when we gradually switched positions, his tilt falling to the right while mine went to the left.

Harry slipped away, with a bob of his head, and down to slope of my neck. He buried himself there, my arms wrapping around his neck as I hung on, feeling him pull, push and tug on me. I felt my shirt jerk around, and then gently begin to slacken after each button undid by his fingers. Harry didn't have trouble this morning, face-to-face in the sunlight of the room, his hands knowing what to do and how to do it. Not to mention he could skip one undone button from the night.

My pink-and-white plaid sleep shirt fell away from my shoulder. Harry pushed the cloth to the pivots of my arm and pushed me with his face backward, coming down to get at one of my hardened nipples. My chest was flush with pink, much like the shade of the areola, the supersensitive fragment of me that Harry's hot mouth now covered. Arching my back, I held Harry to me as I felt the suck, his suction drawing that part of me into his mouth. He held me still, his head rocking into my left breast.

Gritting my teeth, I breathed in and let my head fall back. The tip of his tongue grazed me. He pulled within his suction and let go, having my skin snap firm into place. I glanced down at him and he glanced up at me. Our eyes locked for a millisecond, my arms cradling his head, his lips upon the smooth texture of my breast. I first saw him move, and then his arms catch me. His left arm held my arched back, his right arm scooped under my rear as he lifted me straight from the desk. Attached, glued to his body, my legs surrounding him, my arms too, I leaped when he yanked me into the air and came crashing against the bed when he threw me down.

{Inspirations for the Chapter: Not much as I focused mainly on the situation with Ginny, a (sexy) re-connection of our couple afterwards, and Hermione's acceptance to Oxford; but, the next chapter will be full of… Paparazzi. I only hope it owns up to the musical inspiration}

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