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.

Love conquers all - Virgil

***

Chapter Fifty-Five - Love

***

"So, how does it feel to be one of `Briton's greatest'?"

"Well, um," Pulling a leg up onto a sofa, beneath the lights and cameras of McCrady's Corner to advertise Luna's Q, I sifted a hand, my fingers through the fringe of my hair from anxiousness. I was just there-I never saw myself as this bastion of light. I was just a normal person; but, I knew Erin from other interviews, even before she'd gotten her big hit morning show on WNN, so I knew she said this for humour.

"Well, I mean, I have a lovely new bodyguard to help me walk around the streets," With a tense laugh and restlessness, I peered across the set to see a fairly muscular man in a suit. I gave a wave towards Marcus and he smiled and waved back.

"Where's Harry at?"

I'd taken up a cup of coffee an intern left me aside a potted plant, some roses, centred on a round wooden table. I looked towards Erin as she continued, asking, "With all the pictures the media takes of you, he's usually with you. It's almost like you've both joined at the hip!"

I swallowed the sweetened liquid with just a hint of cinnamon. "I left him in bed this morning. We've got quite a busy day planned, and I hope he remembered to take the turkey out of the refrigerator."

Erin laughed, putting a hand to her off-white-coloured business jacket. "The husbands never do seem to remember that, do they? A frozen turkey straight into the oven!"

Behind the sofa Erin and I sat, a huge glass window displayed showing what should have been main street Violet Hill, but instead showed one body to the next, to the next and on it went. The group mobilized maybe two, three, or four people thick. They waved signs which read, "We love you, from Madrid!" to "Marry me, Hermione???" to "Harry + Hermione = 4ever!"

It was all quite flattering, and a little scary.

I waved my hand at them and they all seemed to shout at me; the shout I'd gotten used to over the months, years.

"You have quite the boisterous fans."

"It's sweet," I turned away from them after giving, with what I could humanly do, each of them their own part of my attention. At least with a smile.

I grasped at my grey skinny jeans, wearing a black, short-sleeved tee to accommodate black rubber bracelets, the black eyeliner, and of course, black nail polish.

"The public hasn't seen this sort of attire in a while, love. Is this a statement?"

I shrugged, "Sometimes you just feel like doing something different. The other day I wore heels and a dress. The next some lounge trousers. I say whatever makes you feel good, do it; if it doesn't hurt someone or yourself."

"That's a beautiful way to frame it."

I nodded and looked down at my fingers playing with a bit of fabric.

I glanced up when Erin went onto ask, "So, tell me what happens in the daily life that we don't already know outside of what we'll read in Q."

My eyes shifted from side-to-side. "Quite frankly, I'm boring."

Erin laughed as if she didn't believe me.

"No, really. I'm not joking. The Queen has more interesting days than me."

"So, you don't go anywhere or do anything?"

"Oh, well, me-and Harry-and the rest, we try and live an ordinary life. We do what any other normal people try to do our age when we can afford it and are able; but, it's sometimes hard when we aren't allowed to have just a miniscule amount of intimacy. Like, just the other day, right, Ginny and I are trying to shop downtown here and the bloody media was in our face the entire time. I bet if they could they'd follow us right in the loo."

"I understand some-I mean, I'm not you, so-"

"That's the really odd thing, though. Harry and I, or Ginny and I, or just me, we're really all utterly boring people. We meet our friends and family on weekends. Stop and get fast food once in a while. Maybe catch the cinema when we have nothing else better to do. What of all those bring us to any other height than anyone else?"

"I'm not trying to be rude or anything," I put my hands out to Erin.

"Oh, hun, you're not being the slightest rude to me. I know how it feels."

"We just get asked these same questions over and over again."

"Have you heard about the rumors that you and Ginevra are secretly courting?"

I laugh into my hand. "Oh! But, I thought I was pregnant with Harry's child, or even Ronald's child, or Neville's child! Then again, I was asked if I was anorexic the other day… Wrap your head around that. Is that actually the new `breaking news' of the week for me?"

"There are actual fans of you two out there who say they have factual proof that you and Ginevra are courting."

"Yeah…as much as I love each and everyone one of them," I lift my hand to show the camera the engagement ring on my finger. I would have also showed the cameras the Hippogriff necklace under my shirt, said it a lovely gift for my birthday, but the rumor mill would just continue. "Sorry, guys…"

"Oh… So many hearts dashed."

I gave Erin a light push. "Don't say that! It'll make me feel bad."

"So, what is the one thing Hermione Granger would love to do if she weren't being followed by the paparazzi everywhere?"

I put my hand up. "Wait-are we speaking in third person now?"

Erin laughed. "Oh, just answer the silly question."

"'What is the one thing Erin McCrady would love to do'… Umm," Combing my fingers back through my hair and looking away at some nondescript area, I heard Erin laugh again. I let the brunette locks fall where they may, and then looked back at her with a smile. "I don't know-well, to be honest, nothing. Just absolutely nothing."

"Absolutely nothing?"

"Yeah-just a day where it's me with a good book with no worries, maybe some coffee, a soda, some lemonade."

"And Harry is nowhere to be seen?"

"Exactly," I exaggeratingly nodded. "No! Of course not. He'd be right there, right along with me."

I put my hand to my lips and kissed towards the camera. "Love you!"

I looked again at Erin. "He's most certainly watching. Thanks for putting me on the spot."

"Hahaha…," Erin shifted her note cards, and glanced up to question, "From the portion of your interview with Q we were sent over with, you said the persons you adored more than your mother was Joan Jett and Shade Epsilon?"

"Yeah… Joan, and Shade!" I laughed, looking up at the ceiling. "After everyone puts this `holier-than-thou' stigma on us, me, I for one can say that when I see Shade walk by I am instantly star-struck. We were on the red carpet together and I was nearly frozen stiff. She is absolutely amazing."

"And you wish to imitate?"

"Yes-or something like that. I couldn't do what Shade does. Shade's in a whole other realm than what I could do, just like Jett; but, I can play the electric guitar pretty well. I'm going to Oxford to study music, on holiday right now or I'd be in lesson."

"At this hour?"

"Oh, come on! This is," I put both my hands up and gave them a dazzling shake. "'Hermione Granger'! I can do anything! Remember? Eight AM lessons? Psh-too easy. Mountain trolls? That'll take a while…"

I even got some of the cameramen to laugh.

"There was an article I read somewhere that said that you said you could curl your tongue into a three-leaf clover?"

I pointed at Erin, my arm on the backside of the leather sofa. "You know they say that's a higher step of evolution!"

"I was just about to say that!"

"Now, I'm guessing, everyone wants to see me roll my tongue."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, love."

"Oh, this is nothing compared to the type of circus acts people wish I could perform in front of them."

We both laughed in-synchronization.

I showcased my tongue prowess to the camera.

"And, there you have it." I snickered into my hand.

"Can I just say before we go into a commercial break, for I have a Producer shouting in my ear…"

I laughed, looking away and into the direction I knew held the Producer's box, biting a nail.

"That," Erin picked up. "You are simply the coolest witch I've ever had the pleasure to meet in my years here at WNN."

"Aww…," I went in and gave Erin a hug, and then congratulated her on her success. "McCrady's Corner is doing so well. I remember when you first started here! We were like your second interview…?"

"Hahaha… Somewhat of awkward memories, indeed."

I shared her laughter.

"We should go out for a drink sometime."

I pointed outside. "Want to go now?"

Erin laughed.

I gave my smirk.

"Miss Hermione Granger, everybody!"

I heard some actual clapping in the background, and gave a nervously short laugh, fidgeting.

"I know it's Christmas Eve and all, but could you stay for another commercial break? Will Harry get mad?"

"Yeah-let's do it. He's probably wanted me to stay because the minute I get back I'm going to try and kick him out of the kitchen."

The entire set chuckled.

"Plus, it's ridiculously frigid and wet out there."

"That's not stopping all those adoring people out there."

I smiled, and turned to give the group another wave.

A multitude of screams came and went like a crest along a beach.

Camera A settled on Erin.

"Well folks, we'll be right back with our lovely leading lady after the short break."

Before fading to commercials, the McCrady's Corner theme plays out, a simple, contemporary musical beat, where a camera stays on Hermione as she takes another sip of her coffee, laughs at something Erin says and gives Erin another embrace.

***

"Did you see it all?"

I'd come home to see Harry in control of Christmas Eve dinner. The turkey was basting in the oven, its golden-brown skin vibrant between the black decor of the oven door. For anyone who didn't want turkey slices, he'd begun preparing pigs in a blanket, croissant batter rolled out on a pan in equal length. He'd done the shopping, gotten the knickknacks, some sweets, the ingredients for traditional eggnog including a bottle of Irish rum which sat inside the refrigerator door. Soda and sparkling water were also purchased for anyone who wanted to stay sober.

After setting down the purse, and whatever appendages I could discard, including my shoes, I crept up behind Harry whilst he bent over the oven to check the cooking turkey and embraced him.

"Yes, I did," He motioned over at the silent, black-faced telly with his shoulder. "Turned it off when the show went off because they began talking about rubbish. Thought it better the stereo was on."

In fact, I'd come in hearing 80's hits, namely Madness's single, Our House, to which I'd given a little head bob dance.

"You were hilarious," He said as I observed him carefully rolling the miniature sausages and cheddar cheese slices into the croissant bread.

I smiled, my chin on his right shoulder.

"And, might I add, spot on in a few instances. Couldn't have said it better myself."

The smile growing, I gave a subtle, content moan into a kiss, caressing said shoulder and rubbing my face in his lovely scent.

"Can I try and persuade you to allow me to finish what you've got started there?"

"Oh, you can very well try," mused Harry to himself, chuckling. "But, you'll very well be disappointed."

"Aren't you supposed to wear the trousers in the family?" I asked with a smirk, a snigger.

"Oh! Ouch…," He nudged me with his backside. "If it keeps you from doing these mundane activities, I'll gladly wear the skirt."

I laughed at his irrational banter, and then gave him a swift swat on his bum through his dark jeans. "That's my boy!"

He leapt, not seeing where I had been headed, to his toes. I had given him a hard smack, and I was sure I'd left a mark on his left buttock…and, I was sure he was going to get me for it, too. It didn't take but a half a second for him to stop, to chase me, to capture me in his arms to my struggles, and to begin playfully biting, gnawing wherever he could. He tickled me to death, tossed me to the sofa cushions where he'd brought me and pulled me to him.

I was in tears with laughter. I think, if given a second chance, he'd have taken my jeans down to spank me in retrospect. But instead, put me across his lap, fighting all the way through, and swatted my bum once, twice, a third time. He pushed me down when I tried to get up and swatted me a fourth time. "I'm still stronger than you," he exclaimed, with his smirk, having finally been allowed to turn to my side to see him.

He kept his hand on my bum.

I gave him a curious eye, brow raised. "Are you quite finished?"

"Never," he replied, slipping down to kiss me.

And, when he did, I grabbed him around his neck and wrestled him with every ounce of muscle I had, to be promptly pounced upon. Thrown backwards on the sofa with a soft thump, hands, arms above my head where he held them down, he sniggered, hovering above me.

I struggled to get away.

He smiled at my obvious flailing, failing.

…I finally let out one, generous huff and fell back to the sofa top, the Hippogriff necklace and crucifix chain jingling to an abrupt stop.

"Admit defeat?"

I scowled, albeit through a smile I wished to keep from view. "Not the slightest!"

I snapped at him, playfully.

"Rawr…"

He laughed and lowered, snapping at me just as playful.

I felt his hands around my wrists, like handcuffs, gradually release, his removal, and his shift down. I lay there, in submission, and instantly felt the rush of cool followed by a rush of pure warmth. Harry, taking my tee from the bottom, hiked it upward to unveil my stomach and proceeded to caress its velvety touch. I felt his warm breath on my nude skin, giving me a go, a chill, having to close my eyes and let my hands feel around in his soft chaos of hair.

"So, what are you going to do?" Inquired Harry, lifting from his love.

"Well, I would-"

"You're not going to cook."

"But, I want-"

"End of discussion."

I pouted.

He smiled.

"Then, I'll just go…"

"Go…?" He gave my belly another kiss.

"Take a nap."

"Oh really?"

I shrugged. "You won't let me cook-"

"Nope!"

"Oh, hush…"

He snickered against my stomach.

"I wasn't even going there."

"You won't."

I let out a very tiresome sigh…to hear his laugh.

"Quiet."

"So…," He said, consuming his hysterics. "A nap, you say?"

"Better to be awake for the party. I wouldn't want to be `the hostess that fell asleep before midnight'."

"You did wake up quite early for the interview," Harry agreed.

"Then, it's settled."

"Going upstairs?" He moved with me, moving up to sit.

"Yeah, you don't have to put a stop to the stereo."

He reached for me and I took his hand.

He assisted in my stand.

"Want me to send the butler up with soup and sandwich?" He said in a fairly haughty tone.

I rolled my eyes, acting, "Yes, the butler."

I went to leave him, to meet with the cool mattress sheets, to turn around at the stairs and say, "…The butler does have nice six-pack abs."

Harry gasped, and went to chase me from the dining entryway. "I'll be the `abs' around here!"

"Hahahaa!" Screaming with laughter, I made it to the bedroom with Harry at my heels.

***

I awoke to this drumming noise, albeit in a haze. I really didn't want to get out of bed. I really wanted to keep sleeping. I really wasn't awake, my head deep in the recesses of what could be considered "Harry's" pillow, on "his" side of the bed. Covered in heaps of sheets, quilts, layers of warmth I was so very happily cosy, and happily where I wanted to be.

I remember raising straight from facing down in the pillow, hair affixed to my face, arms wrapped around the pushiness and the rest of me buried in ivory. My eyes squinted, looking around in more light than what I received whilst dozing. The rapping continued, and when my brain finally turned on I plainly noticed the rapping came upon the closed bedroom door. It wasn't a hard progression of knocks, nor was it loud; it was just enough to gently wake someone up, me, however much I didn't want to leave the bed.

I made a grunt. Yes, I was slightly annoyed. Harry rarely-rarely-knocked on the bloody door. Hell-it was our house, our bedroom! He could very well do as he pleased, and did so, but not this time. Or, something. I sat on the side of the bed for the longest time, eyes closed, head down, and when I heard the tap-tap-tapping on the door, I let out, "Honestly! Come in! You don't have to stand there outside the bloody door like a madman!"

I held my head, fingers to my forehead, wiping away loose strands of brown from sticking to my face, my cheek, around my mouth.

I waited for him to open the door…but, he never did.

I let out an exhaustive groan, again, thinking maybe I was a bit harsh, maybe he was a bit stubborn, maybe he was acting odd and I wished he'd just come in and did whatever he needed to do. Bother me, for Christ's sake. If that's what you wanted-come right on in and curl under the sheets with me. You've done it several hundred times before, why the Hell not now?

I got up, the white sheets falling from my form, descending for the left edge towards the floor. I caught my physique in a mirror as I went around, not knowing why I didn't just climb across and step off there. A form of habit from getting off the left side, sleeping on the left side…but, sleeping on the right side. A slight headache formed. I saw me, messy, strewn hair, the collar of the shirt I hadn't taken off slanted, and me, in these hiphugger knickers coloured black with white trim.

I didn't look that bad…besides the hair, the face, how I had this indent along my cheek from the notch in the pillow…

I huffed, seeing, again, the closed door as I went up to it.

Gods Harry… Why close it when we never close it? The door is always open! Why the bloody…

My hand gripping the knob, I turned the cold metal to see within the crack, and just as I went to let loose a scold, primed with a finger pointed and words on the tip of my tongue, a not-so-red-headed stranger appeared.

"Why didn't you ju-Ronald!"

I hid myself.

Not that he had ever seen me in knickers.

Christ, he and Harry probably caught a peek all through Hogwarts.

Men.

But, the simple fact that one, the habitual human reflex, and two, I never just wore knickers around people whether mates or not. I wouldn't approve, and Harry-he really wouldn't approve.

Ron hid his face when he saw me-his act of respect-and turned away as quickly as I closed the door till an inch.

"Sorry-Harry said maybe-"

"It's quite all right. Just got startled," I cut him off, looking at him with a smile through the crack. It's not like he did it on purpose.

"When did you get here?" I asked.

"Well, with you here, and nothing to watch, knowing you were in here waiting for me-I just thought, `Why not go in?'"

"I apologise for not being out there causing a ruckus for you."

He laughed. "It's warmer in here than outside, anyway."

"Yes, let's not have Ronald sick shall we?"

"I'm not going to get ill. Were you asleep?"

"I was-until someone knocked about a thousand times," I snickered, opening the door slightly more when he left my view. He'd backed towards the railing, I presume to give me space.

"I only knocked four times, silly. Little less than a thousand."

"Really?" I scratched my head through the fringe, over the round curvature and let all the capture strands fall about my face. "I could have sworn I heard exactly one thousand."

"Harry said you might be awake. Something around the words of, `She's been in there for a few hours. Might as well check'."

"Where is he?"

"Downstairs."

"Still cooking?"

"I think he's got it all out and is in the process of making everything look pretty."

I let out a chuckle.

"'Look pretty,'" I repeated with another short laugh.

I heard Ronald laugh, too.

"Well, I'll be downstairs to amuse-tell him that, too."

"So, you're the entertainment for tonight, eh?"

I smirked. "I suppose so. Don't know if I'll be any good at it. I'm rather mundane."

"Pfft," I thought I caught an eye roll underneath the curtain of Weasley-red hanging forth from an achromatic handkerchief.

"Got to get changed."

"I saw that. I'll thank Harry later."

"Ha-" Now, I gave the eye roll and sighed. "Just tell him I'll be down in a mo', please."

"By the way," Ronald announced just as I'd shut-closed the bedroom door.

"Yes?" I answered through the wooden structure.

"I hope you like the gift."

***

Prancing downstairs two steps at a time, I arrived at the bottom floor to see one Ronald Weasley and one Harry Potter watching some Quidditch match on the telly. The one Ronald Weasley waved at me, while the other, more guilty, Harry Potter, tried to give it off with one of those innocent looks. Narrowing my eyes, he wasn't going to get away with it.

Bounding across the den, in a direct line passed our magnificently silver-lit living tree, I merely…jumped on him, like a tiger, pounced on him and wrestled him in his chair.

"Oomph!"

I barraged him with stiff pokes. "Don't you `oomph' me! I'm all of a hundred pounds!"

"Oomph!" he said, deliberately doing it again.

I gasped, and pushed on him.

Only to get wound by his arms, securing me tightly and keeping me from moving. The more I struggled, the tighter he became. I hated how he could do this…but, not really. I smirked when he did, and I came in to kiss him. I tilted my head against his and turned to see Ronald. He'd made some sort of noise, like a hacking cough.

"Need a drink, mate? We've got plenty."

"You've got to warn people before you publically display like that. It's gag-worthy."

Harry and I laughed.

"Share some of her with the rest of the world!"

"Nah," Harry looked at me, and then back at Ron. "I just can't do it. She's un-shareable; all mine."

"Aw…," I snuggled up against him, to hear Ronald hack again.

I chuckled into a snort, and then they were laughing at me.

"I'm glad you came, mate."

"Well, I wasn't exactly going to tell you two, `no'."

"I'm glad you've come out of the snow!" I added with Harry's statement.

Ron patted his cloak. "It's rather insulated…but I was growing restless. I didn't want to seem like a big git coming in after your interview this morning, taking away time, being that bugger, the third-wheel. But, I couldn't take it any longer, so-"

"You wouldn't have hurt my feelings."

"Nor mine, and if you need one of us, Ron, just say something."

"It's just…," Ron looked between us, at me, then Harry, and then me without blinking. "Nevermind."

My brow rose, and I shot a glance at Harry.

He shrugged and tightened his hold of me.

I looked back at Ron, saw him look at me askance, and I realised…

…Awkward.

"So!" I went to change the subject…immediately. It's Christmas Eve-no sulking, brooding nonsense. Not right now. "You said you've gotten me a gift?"

Ronald motioned with his leather-gloved hand towards the mountain of presents under the tree. I knew which ones were Harry's, having wrapped them myself; and, I knew those of which Harry was giving me. I saw the one that stood out unlike the others, darker coloured paper and earthier than the gift-giving kind. The paper reminded me of something Hagrid would wrap his gifts with to give to us.

I pried Harry's hands off me, but that didn't stop him from hanging onto my over-sized white shirt. The shirt pulled, the sleeve that hung lower, showing my shoulder, gave tension with the tug and I looked behind to see Harry wink at me. I swatted his hand away, and off, and I heard him chuckle as I skipped over to the Christmas tree. I lowered to the floor and sat Indian-style with Ronald's gift in my hands.

Something went off in the kitchen, a beep from the oven, and Harry left us when I went to ask Ron, "May I?"

"You want to open it now?"

"Can I?"

"You've always been the curious one."

"I want to know what you got me!"

"Fine, fine…," He relaxed on his glove, his hand beneath his chin. He leaned over the armrest to watch me tear open the paper, the tape.

"I can't very well go into a shop and buy something…that's why the paper's crummy."

"Why can't you?"

"It's strictly against protocol," Ron laughed. "How many Aurors do you see shopping for groceries, Hermione?"

I stopped to think. "…I don't actually recall. I'm usually too busy finding what's on my list."

"Haha… You're still `Hermione'."

"I'd like to think so," I grinned. "Wouldn't want to be anyone else."

Ron chuckled.

"How much paper…," Finally, after three sheets of brownish colour, I pulled out…

"I saw when you stepped on your headphones at school and thought you might like these to replace them-if you haven't already, that is. I kept an eye on you with Gin shopping the other day, so if-"

I shut him up-I think he wished to be when he started stumbling over himself. "They're gorgeous."

Pink and black, a new, free-style ear buds; not the staunchly, thick version I'd had. These I could carry around without risk of breaking them. I could even carry them in my pocket!

"You really like them?"

He started doubting me.

Like usual…

"Yes, of course I do!" I climbed off the floor and dusted my black leggings off. "I'd have said if they were horrid."

"No you wouldn't have," He chuckled. "You would have played happy either way."

"You've been around me too long-"

"Years."

I smiled and went to hug him.

He met me halfway.

"Thank you, and I really do like them."

"Well, just-Happy Christmas, Hermione."

"Merry Christmas, Ronald. I'm so very glad you're here with me and Harry for the holidays."

I went to pull away, and I felt him hesitate.

I felt him wanting to…keep me there, not let go, but he did.

And, he knew I felt his want.

"Sorry, I…"

"No, it's-" I felt kind of…bad. I mean, I loved Harry; so, when it happened, I'd almost felt guilty. Guilty of being happy, and Ron-was Ron happy? Was it even my place to do anything? Ask? No…the memories, however slight and compacted they were after Harry changed my life, were there. I just-well, I couldn't deal with it right then. Probably not, ever. Just move along. "Harry."

"What?"

I put my hand over my mouth and stifled a laugh. "He's probably going crazy in the kitchen, what with having so much to do. I haven't been in there since early this morning!"

"Ah…," Ron looked away from me, to the kitchen, and back.

"I think I'm going to go help him," I took hold of the remote control for the television which sat on Harry's chair and offered it to him. "Feel free to watch whatever. We've got everything-unless you wanted to watch Quidditch-to which there's the volume button."

He just sort of…stared blankly at me.

Now I really did feel bad.

I didn't just want to…leave…but, I wanted, and needed, to leave.

He took the remote from my hands. "Thanks, I suppose."

"Don't mention it."

"Want me to come in there and help you two?" He called out after me.

"No, you're the guest! Relax! You're always working! Chill!"

"If you say so…!"

I wiped my brow with the backside of my hand and entered the kitchen. I saw Harry doing something with his back turned to me, stirring with a whisk biscuit batter for the sugar biscuits. I came up beside him and placed my hand on his back to tell him I was there so I didn't startle him. He looked at me and started to say, "No… Go back in there and-"

"I'm in here to help you." My voice came out low, and I annunciated every syllable with precision. I kept my eyes on him steadily…so he could read me.

And he did, like so many other times.

Harry nodded, and asked me to, "Hand me the Christmas cutter patterns and the baking sheet, please?"

"Of course," I replied. But, before walking over to the drawer they were in, I placed my hand once more on his lower back and tip-toed in to peck-kiss him. He smiled at me, knowing all too well what had happened in the den.

***

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

Harry and I watched as Alice held onto Luna, and their synchronized vanish right as they came off the last step before hitting the cemented earth. A cold draft entered in, and I hurriedly crossed my arms. Harry saw this, my action to keep warm, and put his arm around me. He shut us from the outside, and instantly I became that warm.

"Yeah, she'll be fine," I made a small laugh. "I don't think she drinks, Luna."

"You say that like you're better," Harry squeezed me with that arm, walking down the hallway together.

I nudged him with my hip. "I was only saying she got awfully tipsy awfully fast."

"How's that eggnog going with you?"

"I'm still there," I laughed as we turned the corner into the kitchen.

The Christmas music was still going on low, the television off, a fire crackling in the hearth.

I looked over at the Christmas tree aglow, the garland twinkling with the thousand crystal-clear white miniature bulbs.

"She was nice," Harry begun to unwind the buffet.

I went for containers to hold the remaining contents. Everyone seemed to have rather enjoyed a bit of everything, the turkey nearly finished, the pigs in blanket gone, the bowls of sweets gone, and the eggnog sitting empty. Bottles of pop sat at random, a sweet bread roll finished, the pudding but mere scrapings in a plate.

"Who?" We exchanged what we had, giving Harry the Tupperware, and Harry giving me sheets of aluminum foil.

"Alice."

"She's perfect for Luna. Very…aware of Luna."

Harry laughed through his nose, re-organizing the fridge as he knelt inside. "Did you ever find out what happened with Ginny?"

"No," I stood behind Harry with foiled plates, and handed them to him one at a time. "But, I'm sure it had to do with Ronald. The whole `brother-sister' mentality. I don't think they'll ever not fight."

"But, about what though?"

"Do they need a reason?"

Harry shrugged, bending back into the fridge. I'd begun handing him the extra bottles of soda to store. "She went quiet. Hope she's okay."

"I told her we'd go to the cinema tomorrow after seeing mum and dad. She needs it-she's been through a lot-and she got the job at Q."

"Oh really?" Harry stepped out of the fridge and gave me a kiss. I had to stop, to think, to blink, and I smiled. "But, you haven't told me the one thing I wanted to hear from tonight."

He had his fingers under my chin, our eyes as one. "What's that?" I asked, enthralled.

"Was tonight everything you wanted it to be?"

"I was with everyone, my loves, and you-" I kissed him softly, having to stand on toes. "The Love."

"Merry Christmas," he said, giving me shivers.

"Merry Christmas, my love."

I grinned that all knowing grin. I knew I had one more gift upstairs, one that wanted to be revealed, one that wished to be opened tonight before all the rest. One that couldn't sit under the tree.

"You've got this?" I questioned as innocently as I could. Typically I fought to help, so I didn't want any anomaly to present itself on his radar.

"You tired?"

"A little," I caressed him with the lightest of touch. "I'm going to go take a shower."

"I'll be upstairs soon," he kissed me back, just as light, giving me those shivers again. "Take your time."

I smiled and gave him the biggest, most impassionate hug I could.

***

It took all of me not to laugh at myself in the mirror. I'd gone into a nervous habit, brushing and re-brushing my hair for the umpteenth time. I'd come from the shower, a very hot, steamy one. I had to wipe off the remnants to gaze at my reflection, the lingerie I had on and what wasn't there. I couldn't believe how bashful I was making this out to be-it wasn't like Harry hadn't ever seen me naked. Hell, we mated like rabbits. But, I suppose my tomboy ways gave me rosy cheeks, glancing at the flirtatious white babydoll.

The sheer number wasn't lewd by any means. I'd found several items greater in…exposure in my days. I wasn't one to roam the stores to look for something super-sexy. I'd always been the one to just throw anything on that made me feel comfortable. Harry, of course, loved just about anything I had on-or hadn't; so, when I did break the barrier at times, I flustered. I had this… I don't know. Reservations. I wasn't necessarily one of those girls who thought of themselves not pretty; but, I wasn't the one to flaunt it. I was "one of the guys" for so long that maybe, just maybe, that concept drilled itself into my head so much that when I saw myself indisposed on purpose…

Get a hold of yourself! He'll bloody love it if you wore a paper sack!

I gripped the sides of the sink and over analyzed like usual: a flaw in wanting everything to be perfect-perfectionism-the breadth of my neurotic personality. I dried and redid my hair. I fixed and re-fixed the lacey straps, the pleated cups, and the little black bowtie between them. I saw my navel through the transparent wisp of material. I saw my knickers, a string and possibly some cloth; possibly, because there wasn't much there. I saw myself gripping the sides of the sink again and breathed in an incredible sigh.

I think…

I think the pressure of being perfect-

The pressure of being perfect, I think I needed it this way.

I would be Missus Potter in two months.

No, a few weeks.

February fourteenth wasn't so far away from the early hours of December twenty-fifth.

I think I thought that if I somehow mucked everything-

I sighed another long, drawn breath, my eyes passably dilated.

I think he wouldn't love me anymore.

For Christ's sake, Hermione… Right. He'll stop the wedding because you wore lingerie.

Really?

I only want this to be special-maybe he likes me the other way? Maybe he doesn't want-

Just quit thinking…

I shook my head, lock after lock falling as I combed my fingers through my hair. I stared at myself, adjusting, re-adjusting… Maybe I should have told him I was doing this?

And spoil the entire surprise?

I rubbed the spot between my eyes.

Maybe you should have thought about this all before you bought the bloody thing?

I had more than one voice shouting at me in my head.

You're going to get a headache and sabotage the lovely idea.

He probably thinks I've lost it-or sick.

I looked towards the door.

I've been in here for God knows how long.

I'm usually not one of those people who stay in the lavatory for days on end.

He's probably looking at the door.

He's probably coming to the door.

I tensed, waiting for the second when I heard the knock.

"Hermione?" He'd say, concerned.

"Yes?" I'd say, because if I'd so anymore I'd pass out.

"You okay?"

"No, I've literally gone mad because I put on a sexy gift of lingerie to show you."

Really, Hermione?

Gods, quit being so pathetic.

I sighed, lowering my head on my shoulders whilst peering back into the mirror. I saw the Hippogriff necklace. I saw the engagement ring on my finger. I saw everyone-everyone-watching, waiting, holding their breaths for me in a white wedding gown. I was glad daddy was holding me up, walking me down the aisle. I would, absolutely, keel over, swoon. But…Harry… I'd see him. I'd see him smile-his stunning smile, his kind, caring smile, his smile. I saw him-and no other-and I was there, right there with him. Him. Me. He'd take me, forever…

Why am I acting this way?

I shook my head and laughed at myself.

I really am something.

Harry didn't know what he was stepping into-

I smiled at my reflection.

A perfectly imperfect wreck.

I turned and flipped the light off, exiting, opening the door into the bedroom.

His wreck.

I leaned just inside the entryway. I found that curl cover that side of my face, the ying and yang of everything me, as I raised my right arm, my hand above me. Paralleling the straight edge of the frame, I looked across the room, to our bed where Harry lay. A light was on, and he was reading the Quibbler-just where I'd left him. He was already beneath the sheets waiting for me, his glasses on as he gazed through them, flipping to the next crisp page.

The pause was unbearable. I knew it was mere seconds I stood there, but after everything, my mind wrapping like ribbon around the fight of flight defense mechanism, I was on pins and needles. I could feel my heart race, off-rhythm. I could feel each breath, each inhale and exhale, each rise and fall of my chest beneath not much else.

I saw him look over, curious as to why I hadn't left his peripheral from the door. I'd surely join him by now, the alcohol having a sleepy hex from the night. Harry hadn't drunk much-maybe that was my problem? My mind started wandering, quickly removed and altered when our eyes locked, my eyes widening at his. He looked down a second, only to give a second round-really seeing, or trying to see, understand, contemplate, and find his faculties, with what he saw.

The newspaper fell to his lap, and I could see in my fixed peripheral all the scrolling, coloured text. He peered closely in the next second, followed by the tearing off of his glasses in haste.

"Hey," was all I could get out. Not the most alluring comment, but nevertheless gave notion for Harry to smile…that smile.

I smiled, and everything, everything-all worries, the future-melted away.

I was in the moment.

And, in that moment, saw steps, a closing distance, a bounding for the bed he lay on. I crawled to him. He threw the Quibbler to the floor and tossed his glasses from his hand. He took me by my waist when he could, having him immobile, me mobile, agile, feline-esque. He caught me through the unclouded fabric, an opening down the centre, his warm hands clasped to my soft middle. He lifted me with ease, strength, and kicked the sheets down for me to meet him. He sat up with me around him, legs, and knees at his side.

I had his face in my hands, our bodies meshed as one, his support as he held me to him from behind. Our lips melded together. I saw nothing, felt it all, the intensity, the fervor, the passion. I felt him lift me once more, a roll, where he lay me gently back into the mattress softly. I had my legs at his hips loosely, my thigh, my calf running itself down his side. He hovered over me with a kiss, twice, another, scooping me up in his arms to never leave the pink, unyielding flesh.

I had my hands, my fingers, clawing in his hair, his back, his muscles. He lowered, at my neck, my head tilted where I let out this wonderful breath, a sigh, serenity. I had to close my eyes, felt them roll backward, and felt his sensual exploration blind.

***

I lay aside him, satiated, satisfied, gratified-in love, and exhausted in the best possible way. I watched him through heavy eyelids, and Harry not helping me at all, struggling to keep awake if not just to see him one more time before waking up from this all-to-real dream. The sheets were in disarray, sideways, off me in layered piles. Most of me kept indisposed, naked to him. I could smell us. I could taste him. I could feel him, how he lay on his side beside me, his hand rubbing circles on my abdomen.

His eyes would leave mine, to other parts of me, downward, northward, everywhere. I'd close my eyes when he'd do so, only to open them, to see him back with me-and that smile. He made me smile, lazily, groggily, the eggnog catching up with me and my sexual high.

"I love you," he told me. "I'll always love you."

My eyes were closed, but I heard him nonetheless.

I grinned, reopened them but a half-centimetre, and replied with induced sleep, "…I can't wait to…"

I yawned.

"…Be with you, like this, forever." I finished.

He stopped his rub, and when he did, I could sense, feel, and see his heart swell. He maneuvered, carefully, and planted his lips upon my forehead, strands collected every which way from light sweat. He kissed my brow, my cheek, the tip of my nose where I giggled, and then, tenderly, my mouth.

I felt him, his hand, stroke the centre of my stomach, and I sighed, so content, so enamored.

I found him at my throat, at my shoulder, where he caressed…and I found myself falling asleep.

***

This was it.

I couldn't see them. My friends. My family.

"Daddy…"

I said in one breath, having to close my eyes.

…Today was the day.

The day.

"Yes, baby girl?"

I glanced to my left, feeling uneasy, sick to my stomach. "Just don't let me fall."

Daddy had me, arm-in-arm, and I could see tears well up in his eyes for he would be giving me, his daughter, in a beautiful crepe satin and lace wedding dress, away in moments. We were indoors, in our home, just inside so no one, no one could see me, especially Harry.

"Wouldn't ever dream of it," he said, his strength failing to keep a tear from breaching a duct. He made it so he coughed and looked away.

"Are you ready?" he asked, the swell of bells ascending in tune.

I nodded, in a spell, an utterly, awful spell.

"I love you," daddy said as we walked through the curtained doorway and out into the yard.

"I love you, too, daddy," I answered, and turned, to be greeted by hundreds of eyes, a sea of well-dressed forms, of everyone I knew and ever known.

From one side of the aisle to the other, I saw Dean and Oliver, the Weasleys, Mister Weasley, Missus Weasley, George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur Weasley and their tiny ginger, Victoire, in her tiny dress. My eyes fell on the girls, Katie, leaving Quidditch for the day, and Cho with Michael. To a ravishing Alice and Luna Lovegood, her lovely smile falling upon me. To my mother in the front row, first chair, who had been crying, puffy-eyed, and made me start, but willed not to. To Neville, who stood proudly aside Ronald, Harry's best mate, at the front. Ron made a face at me and smirked when our eyes met. I grinned. To Ginny, my girl, my best friend in the entire universe. She flashed me a smile, so happy, so bright, awaiting me as my Maid of Honour opposite the men.

And then…to Harry.

My beloved.

All worries, all-washed away.

My eyes kept on him the rest of the way.

He gave me structure, confidence, love.

Looking at him-there wasn't any other care in the world.

I could take on anything.

His gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous smile…led me to my own, like his, bringing a wave of fresh air, happiness to my unsettled core.

I stepped once more in the lush green grass, blue skies overhead, white rose petals at my feet.

Daddy let go of me…but not before kissing my cheek, giving me one last embrace before I, Hermione Jane Granger, stepped up to Harold James Potter.

"Please repeat after me."

That was the Ministry's Minister.

He was there, but all I could see was Harry.

He took my breath away.

"I, Harold Potter."

"I, Harold Potter."

"Take you, Hermione Granger."

"Take you, Hermione Granger."

"To have and to hold…"

"To have and to hold," he said.

"For better or for worse," I said.

"For richer, for poorer," he said.

"In sickness and in health," I said.

"To love," he said.

"To cherish as long as we both shall live," I said.

"I do."

"I do."

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, Harry…"

Reaching for him, I enclosed my arms, closed my eyes, wrapped around him as he wrapped around me and…

We kissed.

I heard the uproar, the applause, but it was background, white noise.

I was smiling, he smiled, as we kissed.

The sun was warm.

The birds were chirping.

And, when I opened my eyes once more…

…He wasn't there.

The sun wasn't shining.

Thunder clapped in a dark, churning sky.

Rain soaked me to the bone and around me, all around me…

…My friends, family, everyone…

…Lay lifeless…

…Dead…

…And Harry, his body lacerated, blood pouring from gaping wounds…

…Lay at my feet.

He will die.

I heard a voice… My voice?

I was gone.

To say I was shocked, disturbed, out of it…

You know he will die.

The storm didn't hide me, another me, at the opposite end of the wedding aisle, between bodies of family members, those of whom I love.

The other me bore wings of darkest black, eyes and hair of deepest ebon, and skin of palest white.

She stood emotionless, and uttered those words again…

"He will die."

A menacing, serpent-like male-Voldemort-stood obscure behind this…lightless doppelganger; though, I could see his face…

…And, he was grinning.

***

The Quibbler

Prophet Writer, Gus Perwinsky, Dead

Gus Perwinsky, age 57, was found dead this morning in his Newbury flat. A long-time veteran for the Daily Prophet, Prophet Media declined to comment on terms of "severe remorse" over their recently terminated, famed journalist. Mr. Perwinsky took fire over his last article about Steelknuckles, Gringott's Overseer, and the goblin's open hatred of humankind. He'd forewarned in private-gone-public interviews how it wasn't so much coincidence that Mr. Nolpho was being funded by Steelknuckles, and the fact that the Ministry is currently investigating Prophet Media over their assumed status with Death Eaters. The equation doesn't look good for Skeeter and possibly Mr. Nolpho. The Ministry police and Auror team who initially found Mr. Perwinsky concluded that he'd been first tortured with the Cruciatus Curse, apparent nerve damage from medical scans of his body, and then murdered soon after.

As word spread of the deceased journalist, Prophet Media stock fell, but not by a significant amount to warrant worry by shareholders. A spokesperson from the Prophet put out a press release stating, quote, "Prophet Media will bounce back from any loss created by the Kingsley Administration's false accusations". Looks as if Prophet Media is already doing cleanup work without causation. No one has pointed a definitive finger at them…yet.

Meygan Brookes

Writer

P.1

{Author Note: Hello, readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Just a small footnote, the wedding scene was heavily written with Breaking Dawn: Part 1 in mind. I loved the scene in the movie, and as I've hinted at Twilight through this fiction, wanted to display possibly my favourite scene in the entire installment via HHr. Also, for musical inspirations, I listened to a lot of Apologize by One Republic (also with Ginny's chapter). The song is so incredibly real, the lyrics. Flightless Bird, American Mouth - Wedding version, too, as well as some miscellaneous 80's songs (Our House by Madness) and a bit of Christmas tunes to settle the mood}

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