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: I'll never write "Rowling," but this chapter's sort of a throwback to past behaviors of our beloved characters entangled inside my plot. They're outside their element and can let their hair down, so to speak. I hope you'll enjoy the allusions and other points of interest for Harry and Hermione.

Also, I'm aware of the "Americanization," being American (and of British-heritage for more of Life's irony). For instance, the height discussed in the chapter isn't in centimeters. But, I could also see half if not most of my readers rushing to Google as I did to convert American-measurements to European. I don't feel the "Americanization" is taking away from the message(s) I want to give and so will continue to use Britishisms when applicable.

***

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Break

***

Overall, the Slytherin's lost almost 500 House points between the time they entered the Hospital Wing and exiting by Prefect-escort. I wasn't aware of these events, having passed out due to over-exerting myself. Hagrid had rightfully taken me to a bed close to Harry for he would have gotten up and reinjured himself if it happened any other way.

Madam Pomfrey did her magic to get me back to awareness.

Thankfully, her diagnosis was based upon stress. Stress had made me swoon; but, it still startled Harry, and the rest of the eyes around. The Gryffindor squad, Harry's groupies, and Hagrid all waited with bated breath to see me stir. Breathing a sigh of relief, they saw me turn my head to the right, and then the left, upright on a pillow. Madam Pomfrey had put a blanket over me, to take the chill off from my saddened clothes, and as I awoke I felt her warm hand rubbing the cool of my forehead.

It felt like mum.

It even sounded like mum when I heard her yell back at Harry to stay in bed, that all was right and it wasn't worth cracking any more ribs to see a healthy me.

Just an exhausted me.

Hagrid left after giving first me a warm bear hug, and then my partner in the bed over. He did so lightly on purpose, for his hugs were always breath-takingly tight. He told us he was setting off to speak with Kris Keles in hopes of fully understanding the meaning of Slytherin's flippant attitude toward their elders.

They were obviously trying to get a rise out of everyone.

Harry never took his eyes off me. We were less than a few feet across from each other. When Madam Pomfrey left me after laying a lukewarm cloth along the forehead she touched, I glanced over at Harry who was more on his side now, not listening to a word Madam Pomfrey said when she told him to stay still. He smiled at me when I did, giving him more reasons not to be worried-for he would worry.

It wasn't a lie, either. I felt better and my chest wasn't tingly.

Madam Pomfrey came back soon enough with a chunk of chocolate for me. She wasn't offering me candy so much as she was giving me medication. Much like with the Dementors, chocolate helps aid in many forms of uneasiness, or unhappiness, or in my case all of the above. She broke the chunk up into little pieces and handed me one at a time with pumpkin juice. By this time the group of Gryffindor onlookers had thinned, leaving us various well wishes to get better.

A student came in needing the professional help of our nurse-at-hand. Madam Pomfrey, seeing me in higher spirits, left to tend to him. This allowed Harry and me to be alone in our separate, isolated area.

"Life just keeps sending and sending more of an incentive to get us out of here," he smirked that charming smirk of his which followed onto me like a bug. I smiled and stretched out the length of the hospital bed. I caught Harry staring at me with that smug little smirk when I let my head fall back his way, my right arm elevated above.

I closed my eyes and took the short, light nap I needed.

Professor McGonagall woke me up soon after. She offered her condolences, asking if she could do anything for me or Harry. I just shook my head, and that's when she told me she thought it'd be best if I took the remaining weeks off from tutoring. With only three weeks left of school, I'd like for my knowledge to serve the students here; but, between everything that had happened, I didn't try and persuade anything differently.

"Both of you will be getting compensated for the next three weeks," she spoke between our beds, her hand holding the edge of mine while she looked between Harry and me.

"Professor, I need to be here for Madam Hooch."

"Don't argue with me, Harry," she spoke with that authority we knew so often. "You're welcome to start the new school year with us in the Fall. I'm not having you take a leave because I don't want you here."

She glanced over at me and smiled behind her spectacles.

"I want both of you here," She turned back to Harry. "But, this is what I think is best. Besides, I believe I heard from Madam Hooch you were taking this week for a vacation?"

Harry went to sit up on his elbow and flinched, gritting his teeth.

"Harry…," I pushed myself off the hospital bed and leapt off the side.

Harry put his hand up at me and breathed audibly, "I'm fine. It's fine."

"Rubbish! Now," I made him stop which was, in retrospect, a bit funny to see such a smaller me halt Harry who was two-times my size. "Stop."

I had my hands on his shoulder and arm, but of course he tried to swipe them off, "Hermione, I'm not a vegetable. This isn't anything compared to what has been done to me."

"Harry James Potter!" I watched him shuffling around, and with each shift of his weight he proceeded to grunt in obvious pain. He was shirtless, his hand on the side where the bludger first hit him. The Quidditch ball had cracked a few ribs, but hadn't broken anything-thanks to the padding everyone on the pitch had to wear. If the pads hadn't been worn down, he probably wouldn't have had anything cracked at all.

Madam Pomfrey had given him a dose of a bone-mending potion, a hint of what was given him his second year. She had also wrapped him in the same sort of bandage horizontally around his chest, like his on his head, to keep everything tight.

He laughed a little through his nose when he had finally done what he wanted to do, sitting on the edge of the bed facing Minerva. He saw me, my hands on my hips, glaring at him for being such a stubborn man. He could have easily exacerbated his injury, and for what? Hard-headedness?

"Is this our first fight?" his banter was playful, and it made me roll my eyes and sigh.

I flicked my head to the side, for he made a funny face to break my stare, and I shook it. My hair, now dry, swayed in its crazily-frayed state. "No…," I stepped closer to his bedside, my hips colliding with the edge to support me from falling over. A hand to his chest, I kissed him lightly and respectfully for I knew the Professor was upon us.

Within our quick kiss, I heard him say, "I want to fight with you."

"I'll be sure to jot that down in my notebook," I exclaimed in a key low enough for just Harry to hear.

I went to embrace Harry, sliding my arms underneath his arms, inside the empty pockets his appendages created only to hear him do another grunt when I got close.

"What was that?" I jumped back, blinking at him. "Did I catch you? I'm-"

He grinned mischievously and laughed at my reaction, "Nah, I'm messing with you."

I squinted. "You… That's not funny!"

Harry continued his laughter and pulled me to him, embracing me like I wanted. I couldn't stay mad at him, my Har-bear, hairy bear-Harry bear with his messy black locks and chest hair. He was so warm, my forehead on the curve of his neck as I hugged him lightly. Minerva coughed a little to get our attention. I swiveled a step around, my forehead now on Harry's cheek, and saw that the Professor had stepped further away.

"Have a restful vacation, you two. Best of wishes Miss Granger at Oxford next Fall and I'll see you back here in September, Mister Potter."

"You too, Professor," we said in harmony together.

McGonagall said something briefly to Madam Pomfrey, who sat behind a desk at the entrance, on her way out. She waved at us before disappearing from the hospital wing.

***

We got to our secluded island, Nirvana, that night. Because it was so late, and the dues Fate gave to us earlier, we headed straight for bed. I did take in the achromatic decor-scheme as we headed upstairs: the plush white carpeting, the white sofa, chairs, and shelves of the kitchen. The walls were also painted white with crystal-flecks if one turned askance in the light. The amenities of comfort were all there, set up and displayed for our invitation including a fruit basket on an adorable tiny oak coffee table with crooked legs.

We took a shower where I helped redress Harry in his bandages and clean the wounded area surrounding his eye. He couldn't open it, swollen but not bleeding as much since Madam Pomfrey put the first ointment-and-bandage on. The ointment was goopy, and it smelled just as awful as when I first smelled it back at Hogwarts. Harry sat on the loo and I could feel him tense even though he put his best face on. I had to tilt his head back while applying the bandage and he just smiled at me.

I smiled too, especially when he put his hands on my hips. He squeezed me and slid both his index fingers into my feminine, black and pink polka-dotted boxers. He let his fingers curl around the elastic rim and had it snap back on my hip when I went to wash my hands. I made a swat at him after I exhaled a gasp. He smirked at me, his lip rising in a way that evidently let it known he'd done what he'd done on purpose.

He winked at me and I played coy, turning my full attention on the water gushing out on my soapy hands.

I saw him gather himself up, as he had to slowly, and stand from my peripheral. I wasn't going to tell him to stop this time, knowing quite well he was coming right over to me. That probably was selfish, or whatever, but he'd have done it anyway regardless of where he roamed. And, sure enough, the moment I went to grab a nearby hand towel he had his hands on my slender love-handles. He traced the ribbed texture of my tank top as he slid his fingers up and down from the starting of my ribcage, descending back to the elastic.

I took a step back into his warm aura and watched him watch me in the mirror. I let my subconscious work the hand towel as I dried off, my eyes on Harry, his lips closing in on the nape of my exposed neck. His lips were like an electrical charge to my body. Every hair stood on end. I had to close my eyes, a hand leaving the towel I held to hold the side of his face as he caressed a line along my skin.

I inhaled sharply when he grazed the tip of his nose up into the hair cascading down my back. He nudged me and nuzzled me, smelling me as he let his hand roam along my abdomen. I thought of all the pros and cons of the situation, a habit built into me. There were tons of pros with not so many cons, but the cons were larger. I was fearful Harry would get a little friskier than his body could handle and he'd be in bed longer than the forty-eight hours Madam Pomfrey intended.

I don't know how I opened my eyes, Harry nibbling on that sweet spot behind my ear. My eyes weren't fully open, but I saw him and his reflection in the mirror through the locks of hair that ultimately got in front of my right eye. I made a quick gasp when he started using his tongue and patted the arm above my stomach which held me to him from behind.

"Harry…"

He didn't so much as hear me nor stop, continuing back down my neck with the fat of his tongue. Some voice inside my head wondered why I even cared about him over-doing it. He made me close my eyes again, but they snapped back open that lazy centimeter.

I reached up with my other hand to lightly pat the side of his cheek.

"Ha-" He softly bit my neck. The voice inside my head wanted to hit me with a baseball bat for trying to stop this core-tingling sensation. I shook out of it and tried saying his name again.

"Harry," it came out low and raspy.

I didn't think he heard me until he responded with a, "…Mm?"

I wasn't tired anymore, but it was best he slept.

"Love, I don't think-"

"Don't think," he mumbled beside my neck.

"But, your ribs, I-" The side of my head nudged into his as he moved his lips under my jaw.

As much as it was utter insanity to pull away from the love of my lover, I just had to-call me a loon.

Harry looked at me when I did so, leaning away from him as I eyed him too. Through the mirror we stared at one another in silence before he asked, "Was I-?"

"Oh. Oh, no," I shook my head. He thought he'd done something wrong. Far, far, far from it. I watched him, and then felt him kiss me atop my head. "I don't want you to strain yourself."

"Strain myself doing what?" He asked that rhetorically high-pitched, and with a grin. He wrapped his arms further around my torso, tightening his grip. I held onto his forearms.

I rolled my eyes, or eye to him as that hair still covered my right side. "You're just awful, you know that?"

"And you're annoyingly beautiful," his left cheek was against the side of my head. "My sexy, little minx."

He dropped from my sight in the reflection, but I felt him back on my neck. I tapped those toned forearms of his which stayed stationary around my figure and I heard him laugh afterward. He came back to my vision, the jade green eye of his looking back at me, and smiled as he laid his chin on my right shoulder.

"I would have paid galleons to see what you would have done to that Xavier bloke," he caressed my shoulder. "All five foot, three-"

"And a half!" I interrupted.

"Shortie."

Harry smiled, "It still would have been hilarious seeing you take out almost a foot more… But, then again, I'd have to kick his ass the moment he fought back."

"Let's not talk about him or anything else," I said this fast and meant it. I ran the pads of my fingers along the line where his forearm muscle protruded. "Just us."

"Right," He kissed my cheek. "Nothing else but us. That's the rule."

"Mhmm…"

He suddenly let me go, ushering in all this cold air I didn't want. I followed him by turning when he left and observed him walking backwards out of the lavatory. He reached out for me, palm up and open. I placed my hands in his and had him walk me slowly toward the king-sized four-poster bed, the sheets and cases white, the comforter also carrying the colour-pattern. I could see all around us, the walls all clear windows out to the ocean. The entire house was built without exterior, opaque walls. Even the entrance-and-exit doors were translucid. The darkness sparkled with the moonlight and the stars beyond. The trees and the shrubbery tossed in a noiseless wind.

Pointing my finger at him, I wagged it firmly.

Through that same devilish smile, Harry asked all innocently, "What?"

"You know what, mister…" I stated, having him climb backward onto the soft mattress and pulling me along with him.

He winked at me, and I followed him into the sheets.

***

Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

Yawning, I took my cheek off the pectoral I laid on. I didn't want to leave Harry's chest, my arms encompassing his broad, young manly form. I rubbed my cheek against his chest, rolled over and squished my nose upon his skin. The alarm wasn't going to shut itself off, wishing I'd put some charm on it now, but in retrospect was glad it didn't just shut off. I'd have continued sleeping and what must be done needed to be done.

He smelled so good, too. No cologne, just the scent of being natural, and clean, and pumpkin.

He had his arm around me, holding me as I held him. After our heavy petting playtime we had curled against each other. His other hand, his arm was put underneath the pillow above his head. It was four in the morning, and I didn't wish to wake him before I had to. It wasn't like he was going anywhere anyway, zonked from a side-effect of the bone-mending potion. Becoming drowsy was probably a good effect, too, what with his ribs setting quicker than the normal, Muggle-way. That couldn't feel good.

After the fourth set of beeps I finally got up. I had to raise his left arm from me and set it on his stomach. He had to sleep on his back, a direction from Madam Pomfrey. Another direction was to clean and apply the ointment to his eye every six hours. I'd taken that part for myself, and Harry couldn't argue. I wouldn't let him argue, so he kept quiet while I did the job.

I felt it the least I could do with the situation.

Scooting bedside on my bum, I ceased the beeping before stretching off into a walk towards the lavatory. I yawned again, the moonlight guiding a path toward the cabinets holding the medication. Adjusting my boxers, having been bunched up in uncomfortable places from our play, I heard a pop in my elbow as I stretched both my arms forward, breeching the rectangular arch of the bathroom. I didn't so much as turn a light on, quietly opening and shutting to get what I needed, until I came back to Harry's side of the bed. Then, I reached under his nightstand's lamp and pulled on the string to flip on the light.

He looked so peaceful, even though he was rather beaten. How I'd left him the sheets were off his left side, his right side the area where the bludger first slammed into him still clothed. I was cautious to lay on the left side of him. I could see the tight bandage around his torso.

My knees were against the edge, and then I rebalanced my weight to fall gently to one side. With an ever-so-light bounce beside Harry, I quietly tore into the package the new bandage was in. I didn't dare open the jar of ointment. No one should smell that stuff until they had to. Placing the pad of cloth in my lap, I used my right hand to wake him. Slowly he stirred in his sleep, my palm, my fingers following his jaw.

I bent down and kissed him, my hand moving to his chest. He was coming to, leaving the land of slumber for this reality. I called out his name, "Harry," in whisper and he peeked open to see me in a drastically changed position.

He smiled nevertheless.

"Hey…," I heard the sleep in his tone. He breathed in deep, rubbing the uncovered eye with the hand that was under the pillow. "Is it that time again?"

"Mhmm," answering through closed lips. "Your favorite time."

"The only time where you get to see my best side," Harry started up on his elbows while I wrung out a warm, wet cloth into a bowl I'd set on the stand.

Rotating my waist, I came to him with said cloth. He'd already begun removing the bandage from his eye himself and I assisted in gathering the rest and placing it aside.

"My comedian," I said, scooting closer to him as he tilted his head back. This became habitual, having done this twice.

"How'd you think I'd fair to the Prophet if I suddenly became, `Potter: Comedian Boy Wonder'?" He laughed as I dabbed the old ointment goo away.

"It wouldn't end well," I laughed along with him, soaking up clean warm water in the cloth and wiping away the rest from his left eye. There wasn't any blood to be shown on the cloth, to my relief, but the bruise was still there and severely purplish-black. From the bridge of Harry's nose, to his upper cheek, to his eyebrow encircled the trace of the spherical bludger.

He tried to open his eye, but he couldn't quite make it work. The bruise had tightened the skin. This was a symptom of recovery, except for a laceration that hadn't gone away on his brow. I feared that would become another scar.

We were in silence for a moment, Harry following me with his uninjured eye as I'd dunk the cloth back in the water where it'd make a soft sloshing sound before reapplying it back on the injured eye. I'd cleared all the past medicine when he spoke up to me again with a, "How do I look? Still unbelievably dashing?"

He was obviously poking fun at the scene. I wish he wouldn't make light of the scenario, but he asked in such a ludicrous fashion with that charming smirk that I answered in all sincerity, "Beautiful."

I had the ointment jar in my hands and flinched at the smell when I uncorked the bottle. An old onion was what came to mind or a really wet dog.

He hadn't said anything after his joking question, hearing the honest voice of mine.

He was the same Harry I fell in love with and nothing could change that feeling. If somewhere in that question he actually thought I'd think differently of him. Like, in a way, he was feeling me out to see if he could find a hint of dissatisfaction; but alas, there was none. I was deeply, and utterly, satisfied. I hoped he realized this in that part that may or may not have been seeing if I were not.

I called this the male ego.

"Does that sting?" I saw him wince through that strong, male attitude. He didn't have to be so overly tough in front of me. I knew it burned like Hell when I applied it.

"No," but he winced again, the tip of my finger dabbing carefully the closed eyelid. I had to get the ointment between the eyelid, too, as well as the little pink area in the corner closest to the nose. Painstakingly vigilant to his every move, the tension he tried so hard to contain I could see and feel.

"Okay, maybe a little," Harry confessed. "Only when you have to lift up the eyelid and it's mostly with that pulling sensation. Hurts beneath that bone under my eyebrow."

He pointed at the area affected.

"Aw…," I leaned over him and kissed him. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be more conscientious."

I ran my left hand, the hand that hadn't touched the ointment, and its fingers through Harry's hair from front to back. Kissing his lips, he smiled which led me to smile. "I love you," I faintly said to him.

I peck-kissed the side of his mouth before rising back up on my behind.

His grin followed my grin.

I could tell he wanted to get back to sleep, or at least the potion told him so. I applied the new bandage on his eye and gave him a nod. His elbows slid southward until he was on his back, reaching up to bend the pillow for more comforted elevation. I took up the waste, the dirty water in the bowl alongside the washcloth and pulled the light's string to click. The bulb went off and we were both left back in nature's nightly shine. White across the floor, the moon continued to gleam my path back into the lavatory where I threw what needed to be thrown away and rinsed out the bowl. With my hands under the water, I went ahead and washed them too.

Discreet with my movements, I didn't want to wake him up. I began to tiptoe back to bed when I saw Harry's head pop up from the mattress. Surprised, I hastily said in whisper, halfway back to the bed sheets, "I thought you'd gone back to sleep?"

"I'm waiting on you," he replied in the same soft whisper.

"I'm coming," How could anyone resist not smiling? "I'm coming…"

I picked up speed when I knew he was awake and slipped back into the sheets. I pulled them up to my shoulders, my hands crawling the spread to find Harry's warmth. I found his inviting body and curled back around it. My mouth found his as well, lips-to-lips as we kissed without a sound. My left leg slowly wound its way around Harry's left. My cold toes touched the underside of his foot, making Harry shuffle it away. I giggled, grazing the tip of my nose along his as I guided my mouth back on his.

His arm had me, and I simply loved the feeling of it-the feeling of being "his". His arm wasn't massive, but it wasn't thin either. He made me feel safe, safer than I'd ever felt before, reminiscent to all those years beside him. He pulled me closer, to the point where I practically lay atop him. His fingers had found the arch of my back, the indentation of my spine. My sense of touch was heightened hundred-fold, the hairs on my skin erect by his digits I felt.

He was so…tender with me. So, attentive to my body, my soul, and how they both responded to his. I perceived the growing intensity of the communication, the slight tingle growing into heated loins. I heard my breath pick up, and then had to pick myself up. The sheet surrounding us fell off my shoulder and down to my hips. My right arm supported me as I left him less than a foot away, my left hand on his bare chest.

I smiled this extremely goofy smile.

If he hadn't been so injured-

"What?" he asked. The moonlight yielded enough light on us to see him, the difference in our skin hues apparent. The pale of mine nearly glowed while his was much more subtle.

He started up by his elbows, shifting his weight from one side to the next. The mattress gave in when he leaned and pushed back when he subsided until he was at my height.

I had to look away.

My heart was palpitating fast.

I hadn't enough time to calm my breathing pace, so even more of my aroused state was evident.

I'd become bashful, moreso because I had conflicting ideas of making love to my damaged fiance. I could easily cause those areas of him more distress, namely his healing ribcage.

He was nearsighted without his glasses, so he had to come closer to me. I felt his warmish breath, and that didn't help me at all.

"Wow…," he said it so softly a chill ran along my spine.

It made me look at him.

He sat up on his bum and took his hand to lift those strands of hair that always found their way in front of my eye. Briefly I felt him on my soft skin, and within the brevity I found myself leaning into his touch, my cheek following his fingertip's direction.

He was looking at me in such a way…

"Hermione…"

"Harry…," My voice raspy, I swallowed hard, hard enough for him to hear it.

The tension could be cut with a knife.

Our eyes were locked.

"…You are the most gorgeous, most brilliant…," his voice faltered, his fingertips tracing the curve of my cheek, my jaw, my neck, my arm. "In the moonlight your skin is so…you are so…"

He electrified me.

He took up my face in his hands and kissed me so softly that I lingered, eyes closed, farther into him as if never to escape the passion he'd given me in that one, single caress.

When he tried to release, I didn't want to. I took my arms and wrapped them carefully about his neck like a snare, a trap to keep him near me. I didn't realize I had moaned, lips placed upon Harry's own. His hands had left my face, now set firmly on my slender waist. He hadn't the time to mess with my tank top, wanting as I wanted him to feel my skin. He moved gradually, conscious to his actions that I knew he wasn't fully recovered. The potion was made to hasten, but not of unearthly haste.

The thought invaded my swirling, love-toxic mind and I came to a halt.

He felt me stop, his hands having pushed the cotton fabric of my shirt towards my breast.

"You're not going to hurt me, Hermione," our eyesight intertwined, he read me telepathically in that single second I stopped as if our very souls were just as inseparable.

His voice produced this treble, this wonderful base, this cacophony of knowing he wanted me like I wanted him through sound.

Harry spread in me like a fever.

With his strength he raised me right off the bed and easily sat me straddle on his lap. He kissed me first, and then had me point my arms to the sky as he pulled away my shirt. My hair fell in chaos when he met me once more, his lips pushed on mine, a slight moan escaping from my own. He had me around my torso, his fingers firm in the arch of my back facing toward the indent he so loved to find.

Nude now from the hips up one could vividly see how ethereal my skin had taken on with the light cascading from the moon: a white, glossy sheen like porcelain-flawless. I tilted my head back as Harry caressed the hollow of my throat, moving southward through the cleavage of my breast. My body fell back in its arch, utterly primed by every peck of Harry's warm mouth.

My hands were pulling lightly at his messy hair from behind. He could hear my breathing as much as I did, taking sharp, subtle gasps when he lingered on the roundness of my breasts. He bent as far down as he could whilst sitting, finding my abdomen as it retracted, recoiling to the graze of his moistened mouth.

He pulled me back to him so I sat parallel, vertical like him, and laid me down on him as he methodically dipped back onto the bed. My hands, steady on his broad shoulders, now found themselves back in his unruly hair.

I sighed in faultless delight, smelling the pumpkin spice scent on his naked skin, Harry's mouth caressing at my throat.

***

It was like stepping off cloud and onto another.

I had never been in a place such as this: so open, so appealing because it was different. I could see the white sand beach of our island off in the distance. My feet sank into the fluffed carpet, downy to the sole. My fingertips grazed the granite countertop of the sink in the lavatory, its gloss illuminated by the sunlight filtering in from everywhere. The shower was also made of granite, the black flecks almost invisible from afar. A transparent door slid horizontally, shielding the exterior from the water I'd turned on.

Harry had already been in here before me. He told me he'd do the dressings, inflexible to any argument thereafter. I'd watched him from the bed, where he ordered me to stay within and continue sleeping. He never so much as bothered to find his boxers, having been strewn on the floor from the early morning hours. I kept my eyes on him, my head statuesque on a pillow, and observed his bare-naked walk. I peeked at everything I could, whatever parts of his physique he allowed me to see on his way to the shower.

He was so damn good-looking, especially after sex.

I shifted under the sheets like a perky school girl and laughed into the pillow at myself.

He didn't shut the door all the way, leaving a crack open. When I heard the water flick on, I eased back into my slumber.

He was still in the lavatory when I stepped into my own shower. He watched me strip off the shirt of his I wore to stumble about before getting in. It wasn't so much as I was embarrassed about anything; it was just still a little weird to be so exposed to the world even though we were completely alone. There was a mind-numbing charm on the place that wouldn't allow anyone but the travel agency to know where we were unless we allowed it.

I hadn't buttoned the shirt, so it was only a matter of letting the shoulders fall and pulling the sleeves away. I dropped the shirt into a hamper, as well as our night-clothes, and was struck by the pressure of the hot water.

I gave Harry a little wink on the way in to see him staring dumbfounded at me with his toothbrush stuck out the corner of his mouth. He smirked when I winked at him and started again with the brush against his teeth. The shower door was clouded, but it wasn't enough not to see what materialized if one looked. I could see Harry, too, but not entirely the same way. I couldn't tell if he was turned or not; though, I could see the white towel contrasted beside his tanner skin.

I had turned on a stereo in the master bathroom for ambiance music. I put on one of the variety of CDs I'd brought with me. Finding one of the Beatles fall into my hands, it wasn't a question to pop it in and hit play. The music wasn't loud, but loud enough to be heard in the lavatory with the door open.

Halfway through my shower, the fall of the water on my hair as I leaned to the side to rinse out the suds, my hands scratching my scalp and sifting through the thick strand with my fingernails, I started singing along with the song echoing in our compartment. There wasn't a Lennon or McCartney song that didn't come catchy to me, and so I hadn't realized I'd begun to sing until I heard Harry humming with my vocal.

"Nothing you can know that isn't known," Harry piped in with as my backup with a:

"Ohh…"

"Nothing you can see that isn't shown," I had my eyes closed, letting the shower rinse off the remaining soap stuck my body. I'd come in close, my hands on the black-and-white swirl of granite near the crystal-clear shower knobs.

"Ohh…," Harry had part of his hand in his mouth during the beginning, flossing.

"Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be," Sliding my hands around the knobs, I was about to shut the water off and step out whilst singing, "It's easy," when a burst of cold streamed quickly out of the shower head.

This prompted first my eyes opening wide, a step backward, the knobs flicking off, and the door having pulled open by my hand to glare at Harry who looked all innocent. Well, he wasn't exactly looking at me, more of a side-stare with a grin.

He'd turned the faucet on and off.

I heard it under the waterfall-like noise of the shower, so there wasn't any way he could get away with it.

With my left hand on the edge of the shower door, my right on the complemented lining of the stall, my wet hair dripped on the floor while my head peeked out. The water coming off me was easily soaked up by a plush white rug beneath, stretching all the way to the door.

Harry couldn't keep his face straight at all, and gave his innocence away in a laugh. I scrunched my face up at him and stuck my tongue out. Dropping the used floss out in a rubbish bin, he then stepped back to take up a towel and came at me with it opened. He drove my hair into a mess, drying those dark brunette locks to their natural cinnamon colour. The towel was warm when it brushed at my skin, and Harry himself even warmer as he wrapped me up in cotton. I slipped the extra part inside the ledge the towel created against me upon my chest, feeling Harry's firm hands drop to my waist.

He squeezed me, our eyes gazing into each other's. I lifted on the soles of my feet and put my arms around his neck. I squeezed him, ushering him to wrap his hands, and arms, further to surround my entire lithe form. I went to meet him with a kiss and halted, seeing him starting to meet me, too. We made a laugh in tandem, tilting our heads to their opposite sides and meshed out noses together. He kissed me softly, and I as well, letting our lips merely sit upon its equal.

When we released, I mimicked Lennon's voice in repeating to Harry, our eyes still settled on each other and me on the tips of my toes, "Love is all you need."

Harry fell into McCartney's role, saying back, "Love is all you need."

I tapped the tip-top of Harry's nose, leaving his neck with my right arm to do so with my right hand, smiling with him as I said in sing-song, "Love is all you need."

I had to hang onto his shoulder with my right hand as Harry lifted me straight off the plush rug with a kiss, his vocal muttered but continuing our lengthy stanza of, "Love is all you need."

Giggling, our noses pushing against one another's, I breathed into a sigh of, "Love is all you need…"

***

You'd think the white theme of our private villa would become over-bearing amidst the lighting of the sun. But, it was more different than I thought. How they built the house that sat nearly in the center of the island, the sun could never make it inside unless directed in those advantageous points of the home. Only in the early morning or at dusk did we see the sunlight, and then the home was most beautiful.

At dawn and at dusk this sepia-like colour basked itself throughout.

The sun was setting. We had slept in, staying in or around the bedroom almost the entire day. I made us something to eat, a little throwback to his love of combining favorite foods of white, peppered gravy and sausage atop a heaping of mashed potatoes. Being a stickler of vegetables, I prepared steamed broccoli on the side all the while Harry complained about me at the door:

"You're on vacation," he said, propping himself on the ledge of the door frame. His eyes followed me about the kitchen, going to and from the stove over to one of the coolest contraptions I'd ever saw, a food reciprocator or something that could be compared to a vanishing cabinet that sent us our rations and their beverages. Write what we wanted on a list beside the cabinet, have the cabinet closed, open the cabinet after a few seconds and there it was-wrapped and everything. Nothing pre-prepared, but I wouldn't want that anyway; I wanted to fix Harry his meals and vice versa.

I glanced at him quick, but returned to rummaging inside a utensil drawer. "And, you're not?" I retorted.

"Baby, I can do thi-" I noticed him coming in behind me from my side and I hastily stretched my hand out to him, finger pointing back behind him.

"No. No, you're not," I said it with governing weight, something that made Harry stop in his tracks. "I'll bring it to you on the sofa. I'm quite capable of fixing your dinner. Now-"

I'd pulled out a big wooden spoon and began stirring the gravy. "Go rest, I said."

"Yes. Ma'am." He blew a raspberry of dislike, but I wasn't going to give into my position.

I waved at him, a notion for him to turn around and go back, but saw him insist in coming over. "Harry…" I flicked the switch to decrease the heat of the stove when I felt his aura through mine.

"I'm going, I'm going…," He stood behind me, peeking over my shoulder at my hands going from one pot to the next. He put his hands on my hips and gently rubbed up along the curve of my waist, to the underside of my arms, and back down to my hips. Curling his fingers into the black leather belt securely holding the red-and-black plaid shirt over my dark blue jeans, he nuzzled himself into the crook of my neck.

His face hid in my mahogany tresses.

I heard him smell me and I smiled, feeling him kiss me while my eyes were steady on the broccoli. I didn't want them to burn.

He then swatted my bum and left me with a, "Rawr."

I giggled through my nose, perking up to the noise of him wondering back into the living space. The kitchen was open with a bar space facing towards the sofa and television. Harry plopped down on it and soon the television came on with one of our many movie channels tuned in.

I served Harry as I said I would on the sofa. I reclined on the side that wasn't injured, albeit to Harry saying he was, "Fine." I still didn't want to exacerbate the injury by having any weight-even if it was light like me-on him for any length of time. We ate mostly in silence, piping in with a laugh at some absurd joke the comedian said on the television or a comment on the parallels to the plot as Austin Powers spoofed James Bond.

Harry had his left arm around me, his right handling his fork. When I finished, placing my plate on the table between us and the film, Harry had me back. He put his arm over my left shoulder and held me along my chest and down around the opposite side. I held his arm with my hands, stroking him, the sleeves on the collared shirt her wore up around his elbows. He left the top four or so buttons unfastened, moving downward from his clavicle. My collared, plaid shirt was also open, but not as unbuttoned as Harry's. My shirt lay open enough, though, for his arm to peel back the collar and lay expose my smooth skin unintentionally.

I couldn't have cared less. I loved feeling his warmness against my skin. My eyes on the screen, my head nestled in the arch created by his arm and body, I was snuggled and feeling much better than twenty-four hours ago. It was funny to realize that it only had been that long since all the stress. My knees were bent, more or less, towards my body. Harry had given me the rest of the white leather sofa to stretch out on.

Harry's heartbeat began to slowly drown the sound of the movie shown, and slowly I found myself comfortable with a full tummy and surrounded by my lovably nurturing warm Har-bear. Harry set the heel of his foot on the coffee table in front of us, relaxing himself. I think I zoned out, closing my eyes for just a second in bliss amongst the sepia-tone of the household when I felt my right hand leave Harry's arm. He had taken it carefully and kissed lightly the back of my hand, the black rubber bracelets falling towards the middle of my arm from my wrist. He kissed every one of my knuckles, atop the detail of the bone which slightly stuck out. He began kissing my fingers, the slight height of them to my fingernails.

I had envisioned when I was but a youth how it would feel to be so loved and so cared for by a man. I thought my first ruined that hopeful dream because, as they say, first impressions last a lifetime. But Harry… Harry rekindled that young girl's desire.

I could feel the engagement ring upon my finger, and the feeling felt devotedly wonderful.

I'm thankful for every day I have with him, my most passionate lover.

***

Planning in advance is sort of my forte.

That night, as we got ready for bed, I thought to change into my workout clothes for the next morning: a simple get-up of military-grade green cargos and a black sports bra. Stepping out of the lavatory after a quick brush of my hair and teeth, I saw Harry sitting on the side of the bed. How he gazed at me at first was normal. I mean, he smiles, he does a little wink that makes me sigh and smile too, but he lingered far more than that on me. As I drew closer, I had to ask as curiosity became the best of me:

"What's the matter?"

"I think--," He paused, ironically, in thought. His eye left me for a nanosecond, but was back. "No-I know I want this-"

He pointed at the bandage over his left eye.

"I want this off." He ended.

"But, Madam Pomfrey said to keep it on for forty-eight hours," I had my hands on my hips. I didn't like the sound of this whatsoever. I wanted to follow the rules, and those rules protected Harry which made it my utmost importance to keep to them. "So, I-I don't think so."

I shook my head.

"Hermione," How he looked back at me, and how he said my name made me stop again. I was heading towards my side of the bed. "You can either help me or not. But, this thing's coming off tonight whether Madam Pomfrey, or you, like it or not. It smells and it itches like the powder in those wonky joke bombs they sell at the Weasley's magic shop."

I made a sound of dislike.

"You're serious?"

"Deathly," he returned, swiveling on his bum so he had more of a direct line of sight.

"And," I sighed. "There's no way I can persuade you not?"

"Mm," He whistled, and then made this popping noise inside his cheek. "No. It's coming off."

"Fine, fine, fine, Harry James--," I retraced my steps back into the lavatory to get the cleaned bowl and a washcloth. The ointment needed to be wiped away. My voice echoed in the bathroom as I called out to him in the bedroom. "I swear to Merlin if your eye gets infected later on…"

I murmured under my breath as I came back to the bed, the bowl with warm water. "Always…never fails…always gets his way…I swear to Merlin…"

Harry, on the other hand, continued his grin all the way until I sat side-saddle on the edge of the bed closest to his bandaged eye. "Hey," he said as I dunked the cloth in the water to begin soaking. My hands were about to tend to the tape holding the bandage on.

"What?" I was perturbed, to say the least, so my voice came out a bit on the harsher side of the fence.

My eyes were upon his, and closed briefly as he kissed me.

"I love you," he stated with confidence, his signature smile on his face. My eyes were open once more, and my ears were listening to him. He'd reawakened that attention. He kept his right eye steady on me as I went to peel the tape off the side of his face. "My eye won't become infect. Trust me. I'll keep on it and the slightest turn I'll make sure to bandage it back and put that rancid-smelling goo back on my eye. Deal?"

I felt his hand, and then his fingers scratch at my nude abdomen.

He was very good at what he did best: get his way.

I sighed the word, "…Deal," and had the bandage off. Gently, I caressed the socket with the warm washcloth. The white cloth immediately took the yellow colour as I stroked the skin to reveal the dark hue of the bruise beneath. I wrung the cloth out and began again, making sure to be delicate as I had Harry tilt to the side to see if I'd gotten all the ointment from the nooks and crannies.

I could see him try to blink. He was persistent when I gave him the green light, a nod, my approval that it was okay to go ahead with what he had in mind.

I could tell after a short while he was getting frustrated. The eye looked less swollen and much better than ever, but the eyelid itself still didn't want to function. He moved his head down, and I saw him begin to try and pry the eyelid open manually-with his hand. This, I had to stop.

"Harry," I started, putting my hands on his to pulling them away. "Harry, you're only going to make it worse. Stop."

It wasn't like I wasn't there. Then again, I didn't use much of any strength to get him to stop when I tried pulling.

"Stop. Stop-stop!"

"I almost have it…," Damn, was he hard-headed. I loved his persistence and courage, but sometimes you have to think twice and I could see him making it bleed like it had when he was brought into the hospital wing. "If only I could get-OUCH!"

"Harry!"

He shook his head from side-to-side so feverously I knew he was in pain. I didn't know what to do in that second. He was rubbing his face and shaking his head. His hair was tossing about and he made this awful groan. I think I went to…try to console him by rubbing his head, or something, but he surprised me when he suddenly stopped. And, when he did stop, he slowly gazed up at me.

He blinked, which is what I noticed first, both eyes.

He did it again, and he smiled.

I made a gasping sound of joy and clapped my hands together.

That's when I saw his eye so opposite in colour to his unaffected one: red, bloody red.

It wasn't bleeding, but the white had turned so darkly sanguine that, if it hadn't been for his jade-green iris and the darker, black pupil, I'd have guessed his entire eye had turned black. He saw me staring, and immediately said, "…Still my old handsome self?"

He tried to joke.

I didn't know to laugh or to cry.

He didn't look horrible, he was still my Harry, it was just the adding in my head that caught up to me. I added the scenarios that made this happen: his crimson eye, the bruise in its proximity, and the evident scar across the brow.

I started to tear up, rippling water flooding my vision.

My chest started to heave.

Harry caught me in a way: his arms encompassing me, my forehead against his cheek. I didn't want to cry, but couldn't help but cry. I wasn't the most emotionally stable person anymore. I think I could have taken on anything prior to a year or so ago, but now I'd be a messy, distraught ball of stress.

"Oh…Hermione, now, come on," Harry ran his hand along my cheek to soothe me. "It's not that bad, really. Hey! At least I can see, right? Well, better with glasses…"

He took the bowl from my lap and set it on the nightstand behind me. Through tears, and stutters of breath, I made out the words, "Stop-It's not a time for joking around… This is serious!"

"Oh…," He lifted me with him as he lay back against the bed. I had my arms around him by this point, my head buried into the crook of his neck, my chest rising and falling upon his own. He massaged my spine, against the upper and lower portions of my back, following the lines my figure created. "Look at it this way, my love," he breathed. "I can still see. I thought for a moment there I wouldn't be able to, but miracles happen."

His hands, his words-Harry-he had a knack for calming me down in my most of emotional states. I don't think anyone else on this earth could, not even my own folks; not like Harry, anyway. I could feel myself becoming lighter in his arms, and that I loved. I closed my eyes and smelled of him, his pumpkin pie scent richly therapeutic. My breathing evened and my chest settled.

"Yeah…," his voice was gentle beside my ear. I believe he was gazing up at the ceiling as I rested on my left side. I couldn't see him, my face still in hiding. "Yeah… It's all going to be okay… What else did you want to do while we're here?"

I knew he was trying to change the subject, and I fell for it on purpose. "Anything if it involves being with you…," my own voice came out in a near-whisper.

Harry laughed through his nose, his body shaking against mine for that tiny moment. "All right," he said softly. "Sounds good to me."

We laid in silence for a while, the lamp at his bedside keeping us illuminated. Harry continued to rub me, lulling me into my comfort zone. He startled me, having gone in-and-out of the beginnings of sleep, when he stated again so softly:

"Don't you worry about a thing… Everything's brilliant."

I nodded my head, entangled in the reinsured safety of Harry, the tip of my nose grazing his jaw lightly.

I heard him laugh again, and I smiled, a bit of a laugh coming out of my own closed lips.

I fell into sleep beside my warm Har-bear feeling secure.

{Inspirations for the chapter: McCartney, Lennon, and the Beatles. Most, if not all, the music I listened to came off the soundtrack from their film, Magical Mystery Tour (which was the CD Hermione pulls from her collection, not named in the fiction) with most notably, "All You Need Is Love," sung by our two. My original intention was for them to sing "Hello, Goodbye," but I felt it had less of an impact than what I chose in the end. Also, the villa at Nirvana is an allusion to the decor of Lennon's house in his "Imagine" video. I wanted to portray clouds, the sky, their "Heaven"}

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