Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

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

Author Note: I always wanted to see the scenes in Book 4 where Hermione helps Harry throughout the Triwizard Tournament on screen. I guess that's why I've written the scene for the longest time in the majority of my fics. Also, I'd always thought Viktor would continue his love interest for Hermione long after Book 7, that Luna would continue her father's work at The Quibbler, and that Professor McGonagall became Headmistress of Hogwarts. - My favorite part of the chapter is the end.

***

Chapter Three ~ Aftermath

The heat from the rising run gradually evaporated the London morning fog. Taking the long, scenic route, I met up with random patches through the park across the street and onto the sidewalk beyond. The early risers had already begun the day. I passed a newspaper boy who drove by on his bicycle, tossed an elastic-bound paper at a flat's door, and take off to the next. I had to cross a few streets, pushing the button to change the signal, giving me a breathing second.

I'd never run so hard. Then again, I never had so much to think about in a split second. Have you ever had the feeling as if you were going to get sick, but couldn't? Where everything in your core told you that things were going to change? My life was going to change. I knew my life was going to change. The inevitable turned my stomach, gave me butterflies. The butterflies were having a fit, and so was I.

Would I be shallow or egotistical to want her to stay? Maybe persuade her? The up-and-go way I handled the situation…no, it was better that way. I'd take my consequences for it. I was ready. I felt a confrontation with Ron on the horizon. The confrontation today, more than likely, as I'd hope Hermione would give the a-okay to take her things from the Weasley's and move back in with her folks…or, with me.

I tried fighting my bias; but, really, I didn't want to. I wanted her, Hermione, to be in my life and no one else's. She deserved far, far better than Ron-spoken perfectly by Ginny. Could I be that person? Could I be the person who could take care of her as she should be? I was ready for that challenge, and I had an audience cheering me on from the stands. However, all of it, every single bit, felt overwhelming. As I turned into Worthington's General, I felt a little woozy. Even Mr. Worthington could see it in how I acted, coming up to the register and placing the few morning perishables on the counter.

"Good morning, Mr. Worthington," I greeted the graying, wrinkled elderly man. He sat, just like every time I've been in here, on a rickety stool that looked as if it had seen more days than old Mr. Worthington.

"Well, good morning, Mr. Potter!" he greeted back in his usual jolliness. He took a better look at me as I reached for my wallet. "You don't look so good this morning. What's troubling you, boy?"

He began ringing up the goods. I took out the exact change and held it ready as I said, "Being nineteen."

Mr. Worthington let out a muffled laugh behind his thick, salt-and-pepper moustache, "You have a long way to go before you start feeling an age, young man. Enjoy life while you can, believe me. Time slips away faster than the ocean tides."

I handed him the money and took up the paper sack he'd put the majority of the food in. He then handed me a separate one and noted, "Your eggs and bread are in this one."

"Thank you," I placed both the sacks between me and my chest. "Have a good day, Mr. Worthington."

"You too, Mr. Potter."

Walking back was the preferred way; walking gave me more time to think. As I passed back through the suburbs of northwest London, I thought about the past. I thought about what would have turned out if I would have taken Hermione, courted her, instead of Ron. What if my arms were the ones around her? My lips upon hers? My soul bound to her? Would my life be different? Of course, my life would be different; but, would it be different for the better?

Did Fate somehow keep me back until this time? Did Fate do this on purpose? Was this Fate telling me I had a chance, at least a little, or was this Ginny wrapped around in my head? She had a way of getting into me, that's for sure.

Gosh…everything I'd let go came rushing back. One memory crept happily in my mind and settled itself quite comfortably there. As I sauntered with my goods in hand, I remembered…

"Someone's gunning for me, Hermione," I said, standing straight with my wand pointed toward a bookcase. We'd been at this all night. The Triwizard Tournament was tomorrow, and I was ill-prepared. My nerves were shot and I'd gone weak in the knees, paranoid.

Hermione sat in a corner sofa, pouring over several large books of spells we'd previously tried and tried, and tried. We tried everything in the book, anything, to have an upper-hand if anyone or anything tried to harm me. She gazed up at me through her curvy bangs. "No one is after you, Harry. I promise. Dumbledore, and McGonagall, and the people from the Ministry are all here. Nothing can get passed. They'll be in the stands."

Just hearing her try to sooth me dropped my paranoia several notches. I steadied myself, eyed the bookcase, and cleared my throat. "What's next?"

"Try accio again," she yawned.

I glanced at her, her hand over her mouth, "But, I did this one already."

"I have a feeling it'll come in handy, that's all," she yawned again. "Trust me."

Focusing back on the bookshelf, I raised my wand and recited, "Accio book!"

The bookcase shook for a few second; then, all at once, a novel-sized piece of literature flew out at me. I caught the book when it plopped straight into my arms and laughed, peering down at the upside-down cover, "Yeah, I think I have that one down."

I was fixing the book, to make it aesthetically pleasing, when I'd noticed the silence. "Hermione?"

I turned toward the crimson and gold sofa, "Hermione?"

I found her sound asleep. Her arm cradled her head while her other nestled against her sweater-clad chest. She'd set aside the books, her lithe figure giving enough birth between the edge and her to place them there without having one fall off. She looked like Gulliver amongst the Lilliputian houses made of stacked magical tomes. I would have taken her up to her room was it not for the blasted charm, specifically put into place to not let us boys go up there.

I glanced up at the clock and noticed the hour hand closing in on the four. We'd been at this since ten, yesterday. I sighed. She was so good to me. I remembered collapsing down beside her and remembered leaning back against the arm of the sofa. I couldn't put myself to wake her, so I relaxed into sleep right there on the floor of the Gryffindor Commons.

The streetlights were out when I got back to my curb. I made sure, as I did every day, to be vigilant to my surroundings. I hadn't been on purpose, the following night, but I didn't want it to become ritual. People who aren't used to people disappearing in front of their eyes do talk, and talk spreads fast in both worlds. I wouldn't want my name to appear on the headlines here anymore than I did over there.

As I slowly approached, I looked both ways, every way, until I knew the coast was clear and plunged into the middle between buildings eleven and thirteen. Sure enough, the door appeared as well did my flat and I entered. I wasn't sure what to expect when I closed the door behind me. I checked a clock on the wall, which we'd previously refurbished when the Order was here those years ago, to see the time.

"Seven fifty-two," I repeated after a tick of the clock. I switched my bags around and headed into the kitchen to find one beautiful soul sitting at the dining room table.

Hermione had been reading a paper I presumed to be the Daily Prophet as I hadn't quite secured a way to get the London Times here…what with the obvious. She'd been rather involved when I interrupted, eyes secure to the pages and people moving between photographs. Hermione was leaned forward in the chair, her legs curled underneath her rear and her arms crossed at the table's edge. To my interruption, she glanced up and beamed a quiet grin at me as I entered to get to the kitchen counter.

"H-Hey," She'd also caught me off guard. I would have expected Ginny, or Neville, before her. Not that I wasn't pleasantly surprised, grinning. "Good morning, sunshine."

Hermione smiled one of those addicting smiles and tucked the hair that had gotten in her face from gazing over the Daily Prophet, "Good morning. Sorry to frighten you like that, I thought I'd-"

"No, no," I began, setting down my sacks and noticing, from the corner of my eye, Hermione shift right up from her seat. "You didn't frighten me. Pleasantly surprised is more like it."

Hermione smirked, standing next to me, as she took hold of the smaller sack holding the bread and eggs. I couldn't help but notice she'd changed from her pajamas to a stunning plum-and-black number; the black being one of those small, feminine vests that hug the body just to the rib, and some blue jeans with her Converse's. She peeked into the bag and looked up at me, "Did you want these out here or in the refrigerator?"

She'd already glided to the bread basket to deposit the whole wheat loaf when I replied, "You can leave the eggs out here. I was thinking omelettes and toast."

"Mm…," she reached into the sack and carefully placed the egg tray on the counter by the stove. "That does sound good. Like cheese?"

I had the refrigerator open, placing in some fish and vegetables I'd picked up in their orderly spots inside, "I have some ham, or bell pepper, tomato…"

"Hand me something and I'll start cutting." I heard the drawer to the utensil pull out, the metals clinging together.

I looked over the door of the refrigerator, "I've got it. Go read the newspaper."

Hermione didn't look at me. She did, however, have that smirk on her face. She laid out a knife and went for my cutting board. After positioning one after the other, I noticed her coming around me and slipping right on aside me in the niche I'd created. She bent down level to me and sized me up with that crazily beautiful smirk of hers.

With her left hand, she reached in and took hold of the bell pepper, tomato, and onion. With her right, she tapped the tip of my nose, "I'm going to help you."

I flicked the tip of hers playfully, "I have it."

She placed on a shocked face, her grin widening, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"Well then…" I heard her put back the vegetables, my eyes still focused on her. That's when it happened. She reached out and grabbed my side closest to her with her fingertips. I jolted up, laughing, feeling her grasp my other side and begin to tickle at once. "We'll just see about that, mister!"

Strength over strength, I slipped around and out of her grasp to wrap around her waist. An eye for an eye, she was just as ticklish if not more, and easier. With a slide of my hands, I'd gripped lightly onto her slender waist and felt the satiny fabric verses the plum-coloured cotton button-up.

I had her from behind. She squirmed in my arms. Hermione the possessed, a giggle-fit erupted from her lithe figure. I had her just where I wanted her. Even when her little pleads would come and go, I continued. For a moment, I didn't remember we were standing in my kitchen. I didn't even remember why I started tickling. Everything just fit for that moment; the tiniest hint of vanilla on her soft skin animated through the air surrounding me, wrapping me in an invisible embrace.

If Ginny hadn't have cleared her throat extremely audibly, I'd have continued until we'd exhausted ourselves probably. When I looked up at Ginny, I had Hermione in my arms, around her middle, standing straight up-caught-with her backside on me. A part of me flashed just as quick as Ginny's smile to not want to stop holding her; but, the reaction hit and I quickly slipped away my arms. Hermione stood there for a moment, looking back at me as if to say something, but glanced toward Ginny.

"Go on," urged Ginny in a chuckle. "Don't stop what you were doing just because we were strolling on through now."

Hermione lowered her head a little, shot a glance in my direction and smirked. She backed around and grabbed the vegetables again, walking over to the cutting board. I think I was in a trance. I watched Hermione first, stared at her as she went into the fridge and out again, how she moved, before noticing Ginny again. Ginny's expression, of course, hadn't changed. Neville stood behind her looking confused, having stepped around the corner midway between everything.

"Good morning, Ginny," I scraped together at last. I bent back into the refrigerator and grabbed the hunk of ham. When I closed the door, I looked back over at her and said casually, "We decided on omelettes and toast this morning."

I don't know why, but something in my mind told me to give Hermione more than enough room between me and her body as I moved around to grab another knife from the drawer. When I'd gotten back to the hunk of ham, I heard Ginny sigh, "I certainly saw something other than eggs breaking in here."

I glanced at Ginny again and saw Hermione shoot an askance look at her. I couldn't see what she did, but whatever it was made Ginny's smile widen and Hermione's cheek blush with rose.

"Ginny," I started. "Could you and Neville hand me the plates and cups over the in the cupboard? You guys know where they are."

Halfway through slicing the ham a quarter-inch thick, I found Ginny in between Hermione and me. She looked from her, to me, and back again. She smiled, and winked in my direction whilst leaning over the stove to flick the burner on `high'. "We're not staying," she placed a hand on my back. "We have other arrangements scheduled."

"We did?" asked Neville from the doorway. "When did we-"

"YES…," Ginny said aloud, wandering back over to Neville. She grabbed his shirt and began tugging him toward the exit. "We did…remember?"

"Uhm…," Neville looked back at me and shrugged. "I guess?"

I noticed Hermione had stopped chopping up the vegetables, as I did with the ham. Our eyes followed Ginny pull Neville from the doorway and out of sight. My ears followed their footsteps to the main door. I found myself rooted to the stop, watching Hermione swish back to the vegetables and begin again on them. I followed suit, looking as if I was busy as I continued to search for where Ginny and Neville were in the house.

"We'll talk to you guys later, okay?" shouted Ginny from the hallway.

"Okay, see ya!" I said that a little louder than I should, making Hermione laugh while turning the vegetable slices around to further dice them up.

"Have fun, kids," murmured Neville. I felt heat flicker to my cheeks, embarrassed. I heard the door of the flat open and close, leaving silence behind where Ginny and Neville once stood.

I glanced over at Hermione from the corner of my eye and found her doing the same. We both stifled a laugh, trying heartily to immerse ourselves in the monotony of our cutting pursuit. Quietness lingered after a while, just the sound of our knives hitting the cutting board, and the tick of the grandfather clock in the den. I laughed to break the silence. Hermione nearly jumped beside me, turning to see what had happened.

"What?" she smiled.

"Nothing." I smiled, looking at the cubed ham before me.

"You know, I was just thinking…," Hermione began.

I tilted my head around to see her looking around below her, "Yes?"

"Weren't your pots and pans down here?" She pointed just below her near the oven.

"Yeah, that's where they are."

"Gotcha," she lowered herself into a squat and opened the sliding drawer beneath the oven to procure a medium-large wok-type pan. When she stood up, placing the pan on the burner, she slipped on beside me. She looked at my hands, the knife cutting into the meat, and breathed, "…I was just thinking that I hadn't done any of this in a while."

I looked at her and immediately her eyes found me. "What hadn't you done in a while?"

"Cook," she slid her hands into her back jean pockets. "Like this."

"Ah, yeah," I nodded. The Weasley's were very, very magic-oriented in every way. "Sorry about all the manual labor."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," she gently bumped me with her hip. I grinned. "Besides…it's refreshing, and it reminds me of home. Waking up with my mom, or dad, and cooking right there with them side-by-side, just like this."

"The Dursley's didn't allow me to do magic, which you know all about," I set the knife down and reached for a few eggs. "So, moving back into doing things without magic I'd guess was smoother in a way…I mean, if I'd had lived with the Weasley's-"

"Here," Hermione reached for one of the eggs in my hand. I let her slide it out carefully and begin to break it against the pan behind the one I'd already broken. "Let me help."

She broke the yoke and all into the pan and let it sizzle right next to mine. "…and, yeah…I got sort of used to it, I guess." She laughed a little, looking up at me. "Got pretty gluttonous, I suppose."

"I'd have gotten used to it, too. No big deal." I smiled at her. I let my hand slip to the upper arch of her back and rubbed it a little. I saw her close her eyes in a blink and re-open them. "I'm glad the atmosphere reminds you of home. It's pleasing. Step to the right one step…"

She did so, allowing me to take the spatula off its hook on the wall and turn down the heat on the burner. I dropped a few more eggs into the pan and motioned for her to toss in the vegetables. She slipped back out her hands from her pockets, picked up the cutting board and knife and assembled her mixture with the ham. We synchronized our stuffs when it hit me.

"We forgot something."

"The cheese! Little bugger…" Hermione danced on behind me and back to the fridge. She bent inside and called out, "Cheddar, Monterey…Blue Cheese?"

"You're call. Whichever you want, I'm good with," I stirred the egg with the meats and veggies, turning the burner down some more in the process. "Could you grab the-"

"Butter?" she was already back around to my right side.

I smiled, "Yes, and thank you."

She handed me the cheddar at which I broke of a piece to put into the mix. "You're quite welcome," she added.

She left me to meander over to the bread basket. I couldn't help but watch her walk, move; it brought me back to those days after she stayed in my mind. I couldn't believe something so angelic could sustain what Fate had dealt me. My life had been rough, but this magnificent woman always stuck right by me. In this light, I just could not believe such a fragile creature as her could come out of it. I guess, in a way, I'm glad I hadn't exactly thought of her as the fragile flower I see her now…for I'd have fought her to stay far, far away from the war against Voldemort.

Hermione came back to me and noticed my stare. She slowed down her motion, placing two slices of bread into the toaster, and gazed right back, "What?"

I had to think of something fast. I didn't know if saying, `I was just comparing you to a fragile flower' would cut it. Instead, I said, moving my hand to her hair, "You've got a little piece of something in your hair."

I pretended to take it out; although, nothing was ever there.

"Oh…"

I turned back to the pan. I was glad she couldn't read minds for mine, right now, repeated the word `moron' several thousand times. I was so involved in assessing the damage when I felt something, startling me just a tad, when I realized the feeling was a waft of hair grazing my exposed arm. I felt a slight weight on my shoulder, and then felt arms around my chest enough she didn't disrupt my ability to cook. I found her head inclined on my shoulder and heard her sigh.

I closed my eyes a little, just taking the warm feeling in before I spoke. "Something wrong?"

I felt her hair first, and then her head shake. "No, not at all. Not at all."

I reached up with my free hand and rubbed the smooth arm of Hermione. She moved again, her hair escaping from my arm, leaving a gentle waft of cool air in its wake. I turned to see nothing but the top of her head, her forehead against my shoulder and what I thought to believe the tip of her nose just touching.

"You're so good to me, Harry…"

I gulped. I didn't know what to say or how to act. I literally stopped my continuous flipping motion of the omelette and let my other hand hold stationary on her arm.

Hermione inhaled, and then sighed, "…Why are you so good to me?"

Because I love you.

"…Because you're my best friend," I stated softly. My heart wrenched when my brain picked the safe-route. I didn't want to screw anything up, especially with…us.

Hermione stood in silence. The pop and sizzle of the egg was all that I could hear. I grew tired of the nothingness, and was about to say something-anything-when I felt her rub her forehead along my shoulder and say almost disappointingly, "…best friend."

***

Not one time during our breakfast did the noticeable elephant get talked about, I guess he either shrunk or left the room while we had a big laugh in reminiscing. We talk about the days of Hogwarts in length. The first time we walked through the doors. The first time at Hogsmeade, and the subsequent delinquencies there that had us in front of McGonagall. How complete children we were, running around oblivious, without heartache or regret. The sun seemed to always shine.

We talked of our friends and where they were, or where we thought they were. Seamus had followed his father's footsteps; a Muggle, too, in metal construction and odd jobs around London. Lee Jordan went onto bigger and better things after Potterwatch, now a radio correspondent for the Daily Prophet's new rival: The Quibbler. Luna, also, fell into working for The Quibbler like her deceased father. She's become the main editor, oddly enough, and always throws in her unusual twists on current events.

Hermione wrote to McGonagall, now the Headmistress of Hogwarts. She kept up with the professor and, especially, the new classes they were teaching after rebuilding from the War. She also continued to write Viktor Krum, who went on from Durmstrang's leading Seeker to become the Bulgarian's official Seeker. He'd written her several times, she said, asking her to come and visit him in Bulgaria.

"He even wrote numerous times that he'd fund the complete trip, get me special event seats for their matches, and even Box seats for the World Cup soon," Hermione shook her head. "I know he likes me, but I don't want to lead him on. I decline his invites…I hope that doesn't hurt him. He's a good friend."

I smirked, seeing the image of Viktor following Hermione around like a puppy our fourth year. He hadn't changed.

As we washed the dishes-Hermione worked her way into taking over drying them after I asked her not to-I finally had to let out the elephant. I needed to know a course to take. My mind was buzzing, and I think in moment of our conversation I went a bit crazy after analyzing and analyzing what should and could be done. Of course, it didn't help that it was never discussed. Not that I wanted to bring up Ron-I didn't at all-but I need to know.

When Hermione had gotten done telling me about a new bookstore that she heard opened in Diagon Alley, I thought this was as good of a time as any other. I began to speak casually:

"So…what's on the agenda for today?"

Hermione had been drying one of the larger plates, turning it clockwise in her hand and pinching the glass-like material with the cloth. She halted for a second, gazing at the plate, and gradually lifted it to the spot in the cupboard.

I stopped as well, the dish in my hand dripping soap suds back into the frothy pool of warm water below. Sighing, I glanced to her and back at the faucet. I flipped the nozzle to wash away the lines and handed the plate unhurriedly to Hermione. My hand stayed in mid-air for the longest time. Hermione, her hands clenching the edge of the counter, just stood there without a word.

"Hey…," I put the plate down on the counter and wiped my hands on a paper towel. Tossing the wet paper behind me to the bin, I slid my hand onto Hermione's shoulder. "Whatever you do, anything at all, I'll be right there with you. One hundred percent. No questions asked."

She didn't say a word. I began to think she'd struck rigor mortis. My hand went from her shoulder, to her left hand. Her face instantly went to me in response and I could tell emotions were building behind her stoic facade.

"Better yet…," I tried to calm her. "…I should ask if you even want to…leave…You know you can stay here with me for as long as you want. Never think I'd ever throw you out, or put you in a situation where you'd be alone or hurt. Never going to happen."

Moving her head back, she faced the kitchen wall again and stood as still as a statue.

"Hermione…," everything about the sudden change in her atmosphere hurt me. My heart tore at her clearly lacerated soul. Between her head and her heart…I couldn't even understand what she was going through. If I could, I'd have taken all the pain she felt away and given it to me instead.

I twisted towards her, making her look back at me. I slipped my arms around her and pulled her away from her attachment, away from the counter. Her muscles were stiff, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. All I could do in the moment is what I did. I held her. I held her close.

I could feel her trying to sustain from the feeling. I could feel her repress the urge to break. Her chest heaved at random against my own, and she finally hid her face within me. Gliding upward, I laid a gentle kiss atop her head before stroking her hair-anything I could think of to soothe her.

That's when I heard her, and it startled me. After so many minutes of silence, the crackle of her voice in restraint from falling rang out quietly into my chest:

"…will you go there with me?"

"Absolutely," I stated firmly, my hand cradling her head. "Or I could go there and get your things and bring them back here, or maybe to your folks if that's what you want."

"…could I stay here?" her words muffled against the fabric of my shirt. "At least for a little while longer?"

"You can stay here and leave here at any time you want," continuously, I sifted my fingers through her hair like a comb. "No questions asked."

I felt the warmth of her breath filter right through the cotton, and onto my chest. The sudden waft brought goosebumps and a chill up my spine. She said something that I couldn't quite make out, rubbing her nose, the front of her face, into my left pectoral. She exhaled warmly again and shifted in my arms.

"What was that?" I asked curiously.

Hermione pushed away from me and stood straight, erect. She placed her arms around my neck, her hands having been on my arms, and balanced some on her tiptoes. I didn't know what to expect, those large, cinnamon-brown doe eyes staring straight into me. I smiled, confused, trying to make sense of her intent stare when she acted. She went to my left side and lightly peck-kissed my cheek.

Electricity coursed up and down my body, pin-pointing various regions from head to toe and leaving the hair standing. I let my eyes close, and when I went to re-open them, felt her nestled between her arm and my throat. The heaving had subsided considerably, her body relaxed.

***

I'll try and spell out what came first: the chicken or the egg. From the beginning to the end, it all was a blur. From the moment we stepped onto the Weasley's soil, apparating, to the moment we stepped back onto the small walkway to my flat came and went like one big woosh of wind.

The first problem began soon after we'd exited my room there. I had the least to carry out and thought it best to go ahead and grab my minimal belongings I had left. I set them at the base of the stairs, ready to go, and sent Hermione and Ginny up to get her stuff. That's when Neville came rushing in from the front of the house to tell me Ron had gotten back.

"But, I thought you guys said he wouldn't be back until later on tonight?" I protested, heading up the stairs two at a time. Neville was behind me in pursuit. "I thought you said he was working with George at the shop?"

"Beats me why he's here," I rounded the corner and picked up my pace into Hermione's bedroom. Hermione was on her knees, folding some clothes, and Ginny was on the other side of the room placing things on hangers and setting them on the bed. They both flicked their heads back on our fast approach through the doorway. Neville continued, "I noticed the clock downstairs point Ron from work to home, and heard the apparation snap outside. His is pretty loud, so I'm almost certain that's him."

"You didn't see him in the yard?"

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Ginny, halting her once-over of one of Hermione's various shirts on a hanger. "Ron's here?"

"Yeah, hun," answered Neville. "At least the clock said so."

"The clock never lies," Ginny set down the shirt on top of a pile of them. She started hastily zipping up an opened suitcase. "Damn George letting him off so early. We should have had hours before he was due home."

My eyes locked onto Hermione who sat on the floor with the folded clothes in her lap. Her focus was intent back to me, and jumped some when the front door slammed. Molly was outside tending her garden. She probably told Ron who was here, and Ron made one and one fit together. He probably saw the luggage at the bottom of the stairs now.

Plodding footsteps started up to us.

"I'll deal with him," Ginny said starkly. She stomped on by me and thrust the hanged shirt into my hands. She yanked Neville with her.

As she left with Neville, she closed shut the door behind. My focus went from Ginny's disappearing form to Hermione. Hermione pulled herself off the floor, using the dresser as a crux, and glided across the room to the bed. I followed right to her and stood next to her, placing the shirts in the pile and hooking my finger around the metal.

"Is this all of it?"

"I just need to grab a few more things from the bathroom and put them in there," she pointed out a smaller, black leather case overflowing with hygiene products.

I couldn't make out which way the footsteps were going now. Sometimes they went up, sometimes they went down. I heard muted rumblings of a loud discussion below, but couldn't make out here nor there of what was being said. All I knew was the increase in volume from both parties.

"Hurry up in there," I called out to Hermione with urgency. "We still need to get out passed the gate to leave."

"I'm coming, I'm coming…," repeated Hermione, scuffled back across the rug with a few slim boxes amongst her fingertips. She pushed them into the leather case.

I grasped the heavier pieces, throwing one over my shoulder and carrying two more medium-sized, but heavy, satchels in my other hand. I glanced back, making my way to the door, to see her take up the rest in her hands and hastily follow behind me. I took a deep breath and paused. I reached for the doorknob and turned, "Ready?"

"Ready as ever."

"If he says anything or starts in on you, ignore him and keep going. I'll take care of it," I opened the door and a flood of yelling, and screaming, ejected from the fresh gap. I nodded forward, "Stay in front of me so I can see you and keep walking. Neville's down there to pick up your other things."

Hermione shook her head and slipped by me and into the small hallway. The hallway would have been bigger, save for a wardrobe and a half of Hermione's personal belongings decreasing the width. I heard Ron's voice as clear as day shout something nasty at Ginny.

"Get out of my way you blooming munter!"

"Who the Hell are you calling a `munter', you grotty ass!"

"Ronald," I heard Neville boom. "Don't call my fiance names! I don't care if she's your sister."

"You're so bloody gormless, Ron," laughed Ginny in a screechy tone. "I don't see how you can even pick up a lass, let alone have one touch you!"

"Both of you's can go to Hell!"

Hermione and I had made it to the inevitable turn. One more step and we were at the base. She looked back at me, and I could see her emotions evolving. I stepped up behind her and urged her on with a, "Don't look, just go. Make it out the door. I'm right behind you."

I think she tried to smile, but came out poker-faced and straight. I noticed her feet move quicker, a jaunt by the corner, ducking though we were in plain view of the scene and its players. Neville had the rest of Hermione's bags when he saw Hermione push around the other side, heading towards the dining area. He scooted on off in front of her, like a motorcade, with me at her rear.

"Come on, Gin," ushered Neville.

Ginny screamed, "Harry!"

I flipped around to see Ron coming up fast. I didn't know how to react. I dropped Hermione's things around me and saw Ron push me back. I stumbled into the wall, and as if in slow-motion, twisted back around to see Ron's fist. My head jerked to the side, the entire weight, knuckle and all, ramming into my jaw. A faint irony taste developed within my mouth soon afterwards.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" shouted Ron. I saw his fist came back at me, his body holding me up against the wall. In reflex, I grabbed Ron and tackled him backward.

Hermione screamed, "Stop it!"

"Neville!!" yelled Ginny. The sound of several heavy weights dropped in the room all at once.

Ron was heavier than me, bigger with fat, but I made up for it with lean muscle. The force of my tackle tripped Ron up. Our bodies tangled up in the Weasley's sofa and down we went into the coffee table. A crack, and then a slam onto the floor. The table went down, its legs snapping in half underneath us.

I was never really the violent type. But everything, seeing everything, hearing Ron verbally bully Hermione, berate her genius and beauty...I had my arm raised in the before I knew it and my fist collided with Ron's face. Someone grabbed me from behind and yanked me away. It had to have been Neville, as I tried to see, but saw Ron leap back as soon as I was off. He jumped into the air and came crashing down on me and Neville.

I rolled to the floor and caught myself. I went to turn over, to get up, but felt the strike against my face again. My glasses flew off and broke, the glass shattering on the wood under me. I couldn't see, the world becoming blurry. I had my body turned around, disoriented, when I saw the red-headed blur in my vision and the weight of him on me. He came crashing back down and knocked my head to the side.

"Stop it, please!" Hermione shrieked. I heard her crying somewhere near me. "Stop it!!!"

I heard Molly's voice enter into the picture. I couldn't make heads or tails from where, but I could taste the blood and the pain in my head.

"Oh, in Heaven's name! What the Hell is going on here?!?!"

I felt Ron's weight come off me in a hurry, and heard Neville shout, "Get off him, asshole!" I thought I saw Neville's shape pulling Ron back and toss him to the floor. I heard Ron thud when he hit the wooden ground.

***

I inhaled sharply. We were back at Number Twelve. Home. Neville had helped pick me up off the floor after Molly ordered us to leave. Consequence. She had Ron by the ear, too, and ordered him to his room. I could walk fine, a few stumbles here and there, but Neville held me at his shoulder. He picked up a few pieces of luggage, as well as Ginny, and assisted us passed the gate. Hermione side-apparated us both here.

Now, I lay sprawled across the sofa in the den. Hermione sat in front of me on the floor and was having fun torturing me. She found the first-aid kit and dabbed hydrogen peroxide on my cuts and bruises. Each time an open sore was touched by the lightly damp cotton ball, I winced. Hermione would make a face when I did. She'd blow cool air on the spot, alleviating much of the prickly-pain the peroxide left.

"Just one more…," I felt her dab at a spot above my right brow. I clenched my teeth and grimaced. Quickly, she blew her lovely, cool air, "I'm sorry…"

I had my eyes closed. My right arm was behind my head, my hand languid. My left arm at my side, my long-sleeved T contorted to the pull. I felt the chilly room atmosphere against the small exposed portion of my abdomen. But, I didn't care. I sighed, feeling Hermione fidget.

My eyes lingered open a smidgen to see what she was doing. All I could see in my motionless state was her plum shirt and black vest. She was so close to me, that now I could identify that the vest wasn't strictly black, but had small pin-stripes of grey. I smelled her vanilla scent and shut my eyes again, feeling her soft fingers examine the brow.

"…Are you sure we shouldn't go to the hospital?" I heard something tear. She'd been putting tiny splint band-aids over the cuts, and knew this was just the same. "I don't want these to scar your face…"

"No, I'll be fine," I breathed. Hermione applied the band-aid, my skin tightening up where she laid the adhesive. "Where'd Ginny and Neville put your things?"

I heard Hermione crumple up the wrapper and sit back down on her knees, "Everything's in the guest bedroom. I'm not going to take over your home."

I blinked my eyes open for a brief second to see her, "You know you could have my bed if you want. It's bigger, more room." I smiled.

I could feel the ripening of my brow as it began to swell. I shut my eyes again, but not before seeing Hermione smile, and her move back up. I felt her hand on my arm, and then on my side, "Don't move too much," she stroked my hair from front to back. "Rest. You've done more than enough for me."

I inhaled more of her vanilla aroma, Hermione around me. I felt her against me and had to glance to see her positioning along the sofa, perpendicular to my form. She gently laid some of her weight on me, part of her chest on my own. I went to readjust and her stroking of my hair stopped.

"Am I hurting you?"

I shook my head and grinned, "Nope." I closed my eyes. "Just moving around a little."

I felt her move in. The warmth of her aura toward me, and then that strong sweet vanilla made me inhale, take it in. The softness of her lips caressed my forehead where a bruise had appeared. She went on to the side of my nose, my cheek in several places, and then under my jaw. I tilted my head up as she caressed my jaw line twice, and scooted up to my brow, her fingers lazily wrapped in tufts of my hair.

I had to grin. She was kissing my boo-boo's and making them feel hundreds of times better.

"…Feel better?" How she said it, I knew she was grinning too.

"Very much…"

"What about…," she traced the pad of her fingertip across my bottom lip where it had been split. Her slowness made me tingle. "Here?"

"That hurts the most."

She chuckled lightly.

With my eyes closed, I picked up those extra-sensory sensations. The touch, her silky, smooth lips were just the perfect wetness and temperature when she placed them on mine. She tasted so sweet; a ripe peach, enticing my lips to move to her accord. She released in her brevity of the kiss, leaving me momentarily stunned by how warm her mouth was, and now isolated, how cold my lips were without hers. She kissed the side of my mouth. She kissed the top lip, and then the bottom where the majority of the split occurred. She kissed my cheek, my cheek bone, and then my forehead before lifting away.

I knew she felt my chest rise and fall. How my breathing became slightly rapid, and my heartbeat, too, while she caressed my lacerations. I had to look at her, and I did. She smiled at me, and said, "How was that? Better?"

Right then and there, I could have been shot and near-death. Nothing hurt. Not one bit of me felt pain. In fact, quite the opposite. I pushed myself to her, in the small breadth of space between us, and found her lips again. I caught her off-guard, happily, as she smiled into my response.

I fell back to the sofa, having kissed her, for better or worse. The conversation with myself this morning came back to me. Everything was changing, and these were the steps. Hermione blinked, her eyes wide and with a smirk. All I could do was watch her, see how she reacted as I was once again…paranoid, neurotic. She wanted me to kiss her, or at least…I thought so. I was overcome with joy quickly when I saw her lower her head, her forehead touching my chin lightly, and felt warm breath escape her lips and wash against my throat.

***

Hermione. Is. Limber. She had her legs bent and curled in a way which resembled a contortionist, or a cat. I stared at her from the corner of my eye, to my right, when she stuck her hand back into the potato chip bowl between us and crunched down on another Lays. She had her Nintendo 64 controller secured in her hand. I don't think a hair could slip between her skin and the plastic of the remote.

She lounged in an Army-type get-up. Her little body in these two-times-too-large cargo pants. They were camouflaged with black, grey, and white splotches along her legs. A black belt had to hold the pants up as they could easily have slipped…not that I'd have complained. From large to small, her lithe figure was showcased in a tank top, just tight enough to reveal her feminine form. My eyes began to linger on that-how she'd grown-when her laughter broke my trance.

"Did you see that!?" she smirked and looked over at me. "That was me!"

"What?" I looked back over at the television, where our go-karts were split screened, to see hers on full throttle and mine spinning out of control. "Wait, what just happened?"

"You slipped on my banana peel!" she laughed, her eyes returning intent to the gaming.

I smirked, "I'll get you…where are you?"

"I'm too far ahead! You can't catch me!"

"Are you sure about that?" Mario, my go-kart driver, picked up one of those first place-seeking shells from the randomizer. I laughed a little. Who might be in first place?

"What was that?!" Princess Peach, her driver, suddenly spun out of control and landed in the water. Peach was stunned as I heard Hermione jiggle her joystick hectically.

"Hahaha…," I zoomed right on passed her, as well as four others, pushing her to sixth. "Who's in first place now?"

"I knew that was you!" Hermione wiggled toward me and pushed my side. I leaned to my left and wobbled back like a pendulum. "Meanie-you're not supposed to hit girls!"

"Crap!"

"Hehe," she stifled a giggle. Bowser had shot a red turtle shell causing me to spin out. Peach drove on by. I thought she even waved in spite. "Karma!"

"Rah-I'll get you!" I took my hand off the controller to lightly push on Hermione. She mimicked me, swaying a bit like a pendulum on the sofa. "Just you wait!"

"Noooope!" the victory music rang out. I looked at her screen below and saw Peach dancing in her go-kart. I turned to see Hermione all smug-looking. She smirked and tilted her chin up, "T'is my mad skills."

I scoffed, "Mad skills…" Smiling, I pushed on her again. She went farther out, this time, even though I'd pushed on her easy and she came back to bump me with her shoulder.

She glanced at the screen, piercing her lips as to not make a laugh, and looked back at me, "Ehh…third place. You'll do better next time."

Exaggerating a gasp, I continued to take Hermione's cinnamon brown eyes in, "Miss Ego, huh?"

She lightly pounded on her chest with her fist, and did a peace sign with her eyes in a slight squint, "That's how I roll!"

I tried, I really did, to not laugh. I put my lips together and really did try, but failed as I busted out with laughter. "What?! Hahaha…wow. All right, you and your `mad skills'. I am in awe. Such awe. Teach me these skills, Master."

I playfully bowed before her.

Hermione patted the top of my head, "All in good time, Padawan. All in good time."

Briskly, midway into a bow, I reached for Hermione's mid-section and caught her in her Jedi role-play. Her controller went down, as well as mine did, and she went backward against the sofa. I followed her, tickling her as she wiggled around laughing. Extremely easy to tickle, I found all her little sweet spots thanks to the grey, ribbed material that stuck nicely to her small waist. I caught her just under her ribs and wouldn't let go.

"Master?!" I watched her body squirm. Her knee bumped into my side as I halfway fell on her. She moved too quickly, I had to act or she'd get out of my tickle-contraption. "Master, what's wrong?! Is this laughing gas?! The enemy!"

"H-H-Harry!" I felt her leg rub against me as her hands grappled around my arms. She wasn't so much trying to push me away; rather, it felt like she was holding me. "Stop! I can't breathe!"

"Mm…," My fingers frolicked along her petite frame. "I don't know…this could be a trick. Is this secretly a training session, Master?"

Hermione tilted her head back and let out such a giggle-fit that it made me smirk, her dark brunette hair chaotically twirling around the shape of her face and on the smoothness of her neck. She made laughing so damn attractive. I kept it up for a few more seconds, the tiny creature below me fidgeting, and then gradually lessened the onslaught.

Hermione dropped down into the plush of the sofa. Her hair kind of poofed outward against the reclining arm. I leaned my weight on my right arm, which balanced me between her and the backside, and took up her right hand on my arm. I carefully put her palm to my lips and kissed her as she watched on with that smirk.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Hermione went to lean her head back, but met the vision of the sofa arm instead. She looked up at me, "I can't see the clock. Late, I'm guessing."

"Mhmm," I let her hand go, watching her slip it to her chest with a lingering stare. "It's like three o'clock-late. Aren't you tired?"

She shook her head the best she could, "Nope. Are you?"

"I'm slowly getting there…"

"You want to play one more game?" she asked, her eyes never leaving me. "Or, do you want to call it a night?"

"You'll win," I stated, lifting off her with my arms and sitting back in my previous position. I took hold of the controller which dropped to the floor in our tussle.

"Probably," she replied, fixing her hair and shirt. She twisted around to find the controller lodged in the seat cushion. She looked at me with that smug smirk.

"You…" I grinned at her. "Exploiting my weaknesses…"

"Which ones?" she laughed. I observed her lie back against the sofa. She scooted to me, so her behind touched my thigh, and laid her legs across my lap. She set her controller on her flat abdomen and gazed from the television screen, and then to me.

I cleared my throat, "Right…so…"

She laughed.

I immediately noticed her warmth on me. She was so incredibly warm. A little furnace. My mind got warped in her warmth and left earth for a while; but, eventually I re-focused on the game's menu screen.

I smirked at her, "I'm going to pick that ice race you hate so much."

She gaped, "Fine-I'll just beat you there, too!"

Four minutes later, my plan…didn't work. Princess Peach crossed the finish line in first place. Mario…well, Mario finished fifth. Of course, Hermione was grinning from ear-to-ear when I met back with her. Her little smug look.

"Thought you could try and tickle my feet halfway through the race, eh?" she laughed, the light in her dark eyes sparkling.

I leaned back against the sofa, placing the controller on my left side. I swiveled my neck to the right to see her staring up at me. I smiled, "Effort for trying?"

"You tried," she beamed.

I shook my head, smiling, "Mad skills?"

Hermione placed her controller on her stomach, balled a fist, and lightly pounded her chest with puckered lips. She mimicked a rapper-tone, "Mad skills, baby."

I turned my head to the other side and laughed. My hand went to the place just above her knee when I came back to her eyes. I squeezed her lower thigh gently, grabbed lots of fabric as well, "What am I going to do with you?"

Hermione took the N64 controller from her stomach and leaned down to place it on the floor. When she rose back up, she moved her arms behind her head and shrugged her shoulders. She looked pleased, and in thought. I just wondered if she was thinking around the same things as I was thinking. I smiled at the thought and poked the middle of her tummy with my free hand.

"That was `one more game'," I stated, yawning too.

"Aw…," she stretched out like a cat across me and yawned too. She picked up her legs and swung them around to the floor. "Yep, that was one."

I watched her get up and stretch again, her arms pulling over her head. I couldn't help but look when her skin appeared. Her shirt lifted just off of the rim of her camouflaged cargos and her white skin exposed in contrast to the darker hues of her attire. I noticed the starting of her spine, and how it made and indent in her back, as well as how the pants fit her. Her small hips rounded out the top and only really became baggy halfway down her thighs.

Good. Gracious.

Hermione turned to look at me, and reached out her hand. I took it and she helped me up off the sofa with an "Umph!"

"Skilled and strong…," I mused out loud. I'd gone over to the television and clicked it off, as well as the gaming console. I shifted back to see her. She still stood near the sofa. "I better watch out now."

"Oh yeah," she giggled. She put her arm out to flex. "Look at these big guns."

Her extra-feminine arm barely, if any at all, lifted. I laughed on my way over to her to examine her flex, "Oh yeah," I nodded my head. I put my hand around her arm's complete circumference. "Definitely need to watch my back."

She laughed, "All right, mister, I want to see what I have to watch out for."

I pulled at the sleeve of my shirt to get it farther toward my shoulder. I lifted my right arm at a ninety degree angle and flexed. I wasn't hugely muscular; lean and tone, and easily two and a half times larger than Hermione's. She put her hand to her chin. She squinted, looking as if she were really scrutinizing my arm, and nodded.

"Yeah," she reached out and gripped my arm. Her hand couldn't hold the circumference as much as she tried. She did become very interested in a line the muscle formed near the bottom of my arm. She traced it with her finger, and she felt extremely good. She took her eyes off my arm and laid them back on me. Nodding exaggeratingly, she said, "Oh yeah, definitely watch your back."

I rolled my eyes and slipped my arm around the back of her neck. I pulled her to me and began walking towards the staircase. She laughed as I did so, smiling as we went from floor one to floor two. With her arm loosely around my torso, at the landing of the second floor we stopped. The guest bedroom was down the hallway.

I looked past her at the door to her room, and then at her who kept her eyes on me. I slipped my arms from her neck, to her waist, where my hands held her frame. She stepped to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and embraced me tightly. My hands slid to her back, my fingers finding that indent I found when her shirt came up. Our noses touched, and then her lips met mine for an ever-so-light kiss.

We remained vertical for a while after she kissed me. Her arms were tight around my neck; my hands back on her waist. Gradually, I felt her strength fall, her arms loosen and slide against my skin. She looked up at me, and smiled. Suddenly, I rush of awkwardness settled around me. Like I had absolutely missed something. I know what I wanted to do…but, I couldn't read her mind. All I could do was stare into her; and then, she moved away from me, backing from my grip and starting down the hallway.

"Good night," her wave lingered in the air. She glanced down at the floor, tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear and moved into the doorway.

Hermione clasped the frame of the door and kept her head out, and part of her body. This was why I was blundering. I was rooted right to my spot, alone, and all I could do was think. Her and I created a connection. Whether that connection had come into fruition back in Hogwarts, or after, maybe through our dozens of letters, or right now at this very second I didn't know. All I knew was me, myself, I found my soul cold. As far away as she went, it felt like a part of me was being strung out like taffy-and I didn't want it to snap.

But, of course, my brain persuaded the safe route:

"Um…," I scratched the back of my head, glanced at the floor and back at her. She held a half grin. "Good night."

I blurted the last part out and, frantically, raced up the stairs to my room feeling like an utter fool.

***

I don't remember if the intense cold, settling atmosphere or my door squeaking that woke me up. I remembered my feet were chilled to the bone to the point of hurting, and my hand trying to find another blanket to cover me.

That's when I realized I wasn't alone. The squeaking of the door wasn't my imagination. A faintly shadowed silhouette stood near the door, shutting it to, I supposed. I'd already laid back down when I raised my head. The poor aspect about the situation was I couldn't make heads nor tails, my vision smeared in black splotches. I turned to grab my glasses, hearing footsteps of my intruder.

My glasses on, I shook back around to see a light shine upon the porcelain skin of the delectable sort. The female figure wandered right over to me, her feet gently prodding the chilly wooden floor. I must have been ignorant to not realize the woman walking toward me was Hermione, the only other person in the house. But, the white-glow of her skin made her form ethereal, from a whole other world. A world that made my breathing cease.

The last second, when her knees were level with the bed and she pulled back the sheets, I became greatly aware of how sparse she was in the clothing department. She'd taken off her baggy cargos, and what was obvious because of the contrast became even more obvious afterward. I saw the slight length from hip-to-hip, hidden by her bloomers, and the ivory hue of her legs.

Hermione glided in between the sheets, pushing the rest behind her as she came right to me. I lay there, my elbow supporting my weight, not knowing really how to react. Her emanating heat quelled against me. I looked down to see her bundling up in the incline my body made in the bed. She peered back at me, quilt and all to her neck, her hair in chaos behind her. That's when I observed the twinge, her puffy red eyes-she'd been crying. Words could not express the wave of emotion that struck my core when I saw the angel in tears.

"…Can I sleep here with you?" Hermione whispered. I heard her voice crack, and how she said it nearly sounded like she thought I'd throw her out.

My heart exploded.

I pulled the sheets and all over my shoulder and slipped right along beside her. I placed my arm securely about her body, my frame to hers. She wasn't ever leaving me.

I looked at her in the darkness. All I could follow was the slight light glinting from her eyes as she lay, looking at me, she on the edge of her pillow and me on my edge. Face-to-face. I felt it right to kiss her, my core melting around her. I set my lips lightly on hers; her lips dry. I kissed her cheek, her chin, and her neck before going back to her lips. I held my gaze on her when I released, my head falling back beside hers on the pillow.

"You don't ever have to ask me that again," I stated firmly, my heart racing on high. I pulled her right to me, giving my warmth to her as much as I could. Her body had been tense, but relaxed in my arms. She lowered her forehead onto my clavicle, her hands alongside my bare chest, the pads of her fingertips gently gripping my skin.

{Inspirations for the Chapter: With many shifts of action, tons - World I Know by Collective Soul, Complicated by Avril Lavigne, Violet Hour by Sea Wolf, Slow Life by Grizzly Bear, and more}

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