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: All of this was waiting to get out after the last chapter ended. I actually got emotional writing some parts of this chapter, especially when Harry's reflecting with Hermione amongst one of the largest family-oriented holidays. I'm very pleased with the outcome, and I hope you enjoy chapter eight.
***
Chapter Eight ~ Family
Hermione's form fit to my jigsaw piece. She twisted on me, having picked her up out of the car. She fell asleep on the way home. I probably would have done the same; but alas, I drove. Not such a good combination. My knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel. My head was motionless to the point where my neck began to sore. I was stiff, replaying what had happened over and over, and over again in my head.
The moment Ron stopped talking, his wand at the ready, I wish I knew what he was thinking. I could only guess the worst possible scenario. My scar itched, memories I could only remember because of my imagination rose from the murky depths of their repression. A wand directed at me when I was but an infant. The wand grew green at the tip, and then shielded by my mother who died saving me. I thought I saw faint green on Ron's wand; but, I hoped for the sake of him that that was just my vivid imagination. I couldn't think of Ron, my best mate for years, succumbing to commit homicide, to murder me.
Katie called what could be considered the magical world's police department. People in black-and-blue cloaks apparated to investigate what had happened from the Ministry's Improper Use of Magic division. The squad of men and women took each of us individually and asked questions. Very formal, they were, and very direct. I told them what went down, and when asked for more information regarding Ron's motivation, I told them about Hermione's past. Then, I told them about our relationship. The officer took down everything I said by hand, another separate notepad flopping in the air with a Quick-Note quill scratching away.
I looked over at Hermione. I'd taken her a blanket from Ginny's house and given it to her. The blanket wrapped around her shoulders and fell, brushing the ground. Her eyes were locked on the female Ministry officer buzzing her with questions. I'd catch Hermione nod, or shake her head, tears still evident on her stained cheeks. Ginny and Neville were asked if they wanted to press charges against Ron. I remember Ginny's face, liquid approaching the ducts to streak along her nose, gaze toward Neville and shake her head.
When appropriate, I rushed to Hermione's side and grabbed her, pulling her to me. I didn't want to leave her side and felt the need to run even as the Ministry officer interrogated me further. She slipped the blanket around me as much as she could, my arms wrapping around her torso. I embraced her, not wanting to give her up. She lightly kissed my chin, and then burrowed her face into my chest. Ron spewed tears, his emotions clear and audible. He kept repeating the word, "No," and saying things like, "I wish I'd never done it!" Carried off by two officers, Ron was handcuffed, secured, had a binding enchantment put on him and disappeared with the rest of the investigation crew.
I didn't want to see him disappear with them, my face like Hermione's hidden. I smelled of her hair and heard the popping noise of the eight Ministry employees leave our environment. I kept her warm as it drew bitter cold, and finally lifted my head when I knew they had gone. I heard Ginny crying, drifting away from us. Neville took her into the house, leaving Hermione and me alone where it all began and ended.
I took one slow step at a time up the staircase. Hermione hadn't so much of budged other than her arms tightening around my neck. Her legs were around my waist and my hands carried her under them in support. I set my car keys down on my desk after entering our bedroom. To think, as I went to lay Hermione down, gazing at the ticking clock, only two more hours until the sun rose to start a brand new day. I wondered if we were going to make it to her folks for Christmas dinner…yeah, we had to, sleepy or not. Though, her parents would probably understand if we had not. They're sensible people.
I laid my beautiful woman down on the bed, taking the sheets and pulling at them to slip her in. I had to retract her arms, as they were really, really taut to my neck. I smiled when she didn't want to let go, her eyes opening and closing. She realized where we were and who was doing the tugging. She grinned at me and let go, shifting into the mattress.
I went to the other side of the bed after observing her get comfortable, taking up a pillow and wrapping her arms around it. I sat down on the edge, the bed springs squeaking under my weight. I crossed my legs and began untying my shoes, flipping to the other when I'd gotten one off. My mind and body was exhausted, not caring one way or the other about anything else. I didn't care if I had slacks on or my socks after my shoes. I took my glasses off and laid them on the nightstand which had the telephone. I leaned across Hermione to do so, and when I came back began untying her shoes as well. Gently, I slipped her right little foot out and then the next, glancing toward her every-so-often to make sure she was all right.
I removed her socks, shoving them inside her shoes and placing them beside mine on the floor. I crawled back over to her. My hand glided across her leg, upward, to her hip and waist. I bent down and kissed her cheek, nudging my nose against her to rouse her awake for just a second. She made a "Mmn…" noise, a cue for me to ask quietly:
"Do you want me to remove these?" I lightly patted her black leather belt. "Are you comfy?"
"Mmn…," she breathed through her nose. Her eyes never opened, but she flipped over on her back and tried to yank down her jeans. She was having a hard time getting them off, her thumbs inside. Of course she would with her belt and all still on.
"Hold on…," I smiled, whispering to her softly. I began undoing her leather belt, pulling the extra part of the clasp outward and sliding it from her hips. Her hands had stopped moving, her arms rising to the pillow where she laid them relaxed above her head. She turned her face into the cotton material, looking content as I pried the button on her jeans from its hole and let down her zipper.
I lightly tugged at her hips, and then slid under her rear with my hands. Her lithe body jostled some from my careful actions. I had to catch her yellow-and-navy striped underwear from coming down with her jeans, pulling them back up to her hips. Around her thighs I went until I had the jeans off her knees and shimmied from her feet. I sat back and folded them perfectly straight and set them aside. Hermione rolled over toward me on her side and clasped at the bed with her hand. She lay on her hair, her hair everywhere about her, and nuzzled into the pillow.
I lowered to her. I kissed her upper arm, her bare shoulder, her jaw line and then her forehead. She smiled and gripped lightly into the mattress with her nails, portions of the bed sheeting caught in her hand. I bent to her ear and asked, grazing my nose against her earlobe, "Anything else, my sweet?"
She grinned slightly, having heard me but succumbed to our exhaustion after saying in a whisper, "…just you."
My heart grew three times. My smile quadrupled in size. I caressed her bare shoulder again, moved back into my sitting position and pulled my shirt off. I leaned over the bed to turn the lamp down and off. I rolled right back over, grasped the sheets, the quilt, the comforter in my fingers and wrapped around my tired out, treasured Hermione.
***
I don't think I made it a second into sleep. A piercing noise struck me and I all at once bolted up. The telephone shook with its ring. I didn't know what to expect, dreading the worse. I maneuvered myself over Hermione conscientiously, to not hit her in the blackness. The sun hadn't risen, so I knew I hadn't been under the sheets for long. I wished I could see the clock, my eyes fuzzy from lack of eyesight and sleep. I grabbed the phone before it could wake Hermione up more and placed the cold receiver to my ear.
I didn't hear anything on the other end the second I held it. I cleared my throat and said, "Hello?"
I heard breathing on the other end. I heard what I thought was crying. "…Harry?"
"Ginny?" It was Ginny. It hadn't been but an hour or so since we left her. My heart sank to my stomach. My mind and voice grew in haste. "What's wrong?"
"They-they-," Ginny stuttered, trying to get the words out. She'd been crying.
"Ginny, calm down," I insisted. "What's wrong?"
"The M-Ministry just called me to tell me they've," Ginny heaved into the phone. I heard her begin to cry again. "They've put R-R-Ron in to be hospitalized! For ob-observation!"
I breathed in and let the air out slowly. I closed my eyes, "Gin, where are you?"
"I'm-I'm s-s-sitting on the f-fl-floor in our k-k-kitchen…," I could barely make what she was saying out. "I-I don't know what to do, Harry!"
I sighed. It hurt me to hear her upset. It hurt me to hear Ron had to be hospitalized…even though it was probably for the best. "Where's Neville? Does he know where you are?"
"No…," Ginny whispered into the phone. "He's sleeping…I couldn't wake him up…I'm sorry…"
I sighed again. I could feel the onset of tears in my eyes. She was torn to pieces. "Gin," I said softly to her. "Gin, here's what I want you to do…okay?"
"Uh huh…," she sniffled through the phone.
"Go back upstairs, get in bed with Neville, and go to sleep, hun…," I lowered my head and felt of my temples. "Everything will be fine…Hermione and I are here, all the time, day or night…okay?"
Ginny sucked in miniature breaths. I could tell her chest was rising and falling at an abnormal rate. "Uh huh…okay…you guys are so good to me…you're so good to me, Harry…"
I felt Hermione lightly grip my wrist. She was awake and listening, or so I thought. Her grip lessened after every passing tick of the clock. I whispered back to Ginny, "All right…are you getting up now?"
I heard movement around the phone, her breathing getting far and near, "Yeah…I'm getting up off the f-floor…"
"Okay, hun…," I glanced over at Hermione, her silhouette shown against me in the night. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was serene. She must have fallen back asleep with her hand around mine. I thought I heard Ginny about to hang up when I called out for her, "Gin."
"Good night, Harry…," she sniffled again. "…and, thank you…for everything…"
"I love you."
I could hear her smile through her tears behind the phone, "I love you, too, Harry…Merry Christmas you guys…"
"Merry Christmas…," I announced silently. "Get some sleep, and have fun tomorrow…today."
"You, too," Ginny's breathing had lightened since the beginning. "Have fun at the Granger's. Save some food for me…"
"Will do," I smiled. "Sweet dreams."
"Sweet dreams, Harry…"
I rolled back over Hermione, vigilant to not wake her. When the phone set back on its base, I took my place back alongside my sleepy lover. I pulled the sheets to my neck and wrapped my figure around hers. I heard her sigh against me, her hands and arms feeling of me. She caressed my chin, and then my lips briefly before saying in her drowsy state, "…I love you so much."
***
Hermione hit the snooze on the alarm when it went off. She hit again. And, again. And, again. Finally, her exhausted state-of-mind knocked the machine off the stand. The electronics came crashing to the floor-and that definitely woke us up. She lifted before I did. I squinted my eyes open in the shiny room, the sun having risen over the horizon. I shifted around her, as she sat stretching, to see the clock. Nine-ish…when we were supposed to be awake at least by eight. We received roughly five hours of sleep; though, not entirely complete. We moved a lot in the night, and at one point she kicked me unknowingly. She was sound asleep at the time. She must have been having nightmares…I know I did. Ron with his wand on loop in my brain. I don't think I'd ever lose that memory.
I lay back on the pillow. Hermione sat where she ended up after the alarm fell. She put her hands on her face and ran her fingers across her eyes. Her hands fastened together, her fingers interlocked. She raised her arms, the ochre shirt lifting to leave behind her bare sides. My fingers crept their way slowly towards her back. My fingers were cold, and she sucked in a breath. She flicked her head to the side and grinned at me, the indent along her back my road. The feel of her body, in just my minimal touch, already warmed my hand.
She picked the sheet up as she rolled over on me. Her figure formed against the left side of mine, our feet together beneath the sheets. She grazed the bottom of my foot with her toes, bringing a grin to my lips. Tucking loosening strands of hair behind her left ear, she leaned down and met me mouth-to-mouth. She kissed just below my bottom lip, to my chin, alongside my Adam's apple, and then rested at my clavicle. She tilted back up and set her gorgeous brown eyes upon me. My hands moved their way up her back, folding her shirt as they went. My thumbs getting to her backside, before the rest of my hands, made her shiver and she arched herself. She closed her eyes a moment as I wrapped myself around her warmth.
She took the front part of my hair and combed it back into the pillow, her nails lightly scratching at my head, "…You're so cold…"
"You left me…," I watched her eyes wander away. She blinked upward, and I could feel her thumb grazing my lightning bolt scar. She only did that when something she was thinking became negative, a nightmare. She was probably thinking about last night, earlier this morning, and what came to fruition in that split second of time. I gripped into her softness and shook her against me. She finally looked back down at me after lingering her gaze on the infamous symbol, "Hey…"
I could tell her emotions were running wild. Her eyes became glossed over, but she smiled at me nonetheless. "Hey…"
"Merry Christmas…," I said, briefly kissing her tender lips. "I think Santa Claus came last night. I think he may have left you some presents under the tree."
"Really…," she laughed a little, retreating from her depressing state. She caressed my mouth and whispered, "Even though I've been a naughty girl this year?"
"Well," I whispered, too, her eyes on my mouth as I spoke. "I've been quite the naughty one, too…"
"Maybe Santa didn't get the memo?" she smiled and kissed me again.
"Hm…maybe…," my hands explored her middle, moving north to her upper back, bumping over her brassiere strap. I smirked and stopped in my tracks. She was in the process of fidgeting from my feel when she halted, too. We both gave each other a look, a grin, when I said hastily, "I'll race you!"
"You're so going down!" Hermione leaped from the bed, two bounces at a time. I heard her feet hit the floor and step quickly to the dresser. My bare feet stuck to the wood as I picked one up and set one down, running helter-skelter out the entry, turning the knob and tossing the door aside.
"Hey!!" Hermione yelled back at me. I was already halfway down the hall when I came back to see her hopping on one foot. One of her legs had gone into a pair of striped silk pajama pants while the other tried to mimic but got stuck midway. I laughed at her jumping towards me, falling into the bed. "That's not fair! It's cold!"
"I'm cold, too!" I ran my hand along my naked chest. Goosebumps had formed, the chilly atmosphere perking me up.
Hermione's foot slid into the pant leg. She pointed beyond me, "Oh my God! It's Elvis! He's alive after all!"
"What?" Confused, I whipped around to hear, and then see Hermione rush on by me. I put my hand to my face and shut my eyes. Did I actually just fall for that bit? "I'm so going to get you…"
Hermione looked back at me coming, bumbling down the stairs on a mission. She was midway to the lower floor, past the second when she shrieked. Maniacal laughter throttled my voice, picking up my pace. If one were to have heard us, it would have sounded like many more feet trampling the stairs than four. I got to the ground level and snarled, my Hermione's eyes wide. She stepped backwards, giggling uncontrollably.
I didn't bother lighting the fire at that very moment. The Christmas tree could wait, too. My eyes never leaved her, approaching my prey. She wasn't watching where she was going, caught in the moment, and bumped into a recliner. When she glanced down, I pounced before she could comprehend. I grabbed her and picked her up, falling into the rug under the dim fireplace. She squealed and wiggled in my grasp. I held her against the floor and mangled her, my teeth gently gnawing at parts of her. I never left marks, though, playfully biting at her neck and shoulder, her arm, and then I lifted her shirt and blew lightly at her abdomen. That made her squirm the most, twisting and turning, but I had her quite firm to the floor.
I gradually loosened my grip as I kissed the part above her belly button. I slipped the tip of my tongue out and traced a line up one side of her navel and down the other. My hands held her sides, and I felt hers gripping at my hair. I glanced up to see her neck stretching, the hollow of her throat exposed, and her head tilted back. Her eyes were closed and she grinned happily, her hair in a mess all over the rug.
I heard her deeply inhale once more as I gave nice, long licks along her smooth stomach. I smashed my face into her unyielding tummy, my mouth at her navel where I caressed. Using my nose as a pencil of sorts, I drew a line from her belly button, hitting the ledge and rim of her shirt beneath her chest, between her breasts, and to her neck. Her eyes fluttered and she moaned at my light touches. I broke away from her, her eyes immediately blinking to life, and kissed her hard. She pushed my face into her, using the back of my head in response. Her tongue pierced the crease of my mouth to get at my own.
My lower body ground into her, her legs having wrapped my torso. Hermione released our kiss to catch her breath. Instantly, my mouth, my tongue, went to her slender neck. I needed her. Can you be more than aroused? I was more than aroused. She had to have known I was more than aroused. In any way, shape, or form, if I were to get off her and walk around normally, people would know how aroused I was. I grinded my hips into her once more, making her body shove into the carpet. She gasped, and I heard the inevitable:
"Wait, wait…," She breathed heavily. Even she had a difficult time controlling. The problem with me, I surmised with a laugh, was the ability to want to procreate. As if it was scientific and not Hermione, her hot little body and mind always enticing me with every one of her lovable quirks. After a while, I think she could sneeze and I'd notice in that particular way. I loved her, and wanted-badly-to make love to her.
I immediately began the process of thinking about Dolores Umbridge in a thong. My nose was bent against her neck, my mouth halted on her throat. I felt my heart racing, my chest heaving. I felt her exposed tummy rise and fall at an incredible rate along my own. I felt her fingers untangle gradually from my hair, but still lay amongst the tufts. I opened my eyes to see Hermione's still closed. She was also in the process of controlling herself, her breathing slowing down.
"I'm sorry," I said apologetically, grazing my nose on her cheek. I peck-kissed her cheek bone. "It's just very hard to not want to make love to you every bleeding second of the day."
"You don't have anything to be sorry for," she finally breathed, her eyes still closed. "I'm just strange, I guess. Any other girl out there would immediately shed their clothes and shag your brains out with the snap of your fingers."
"I never wanted `any other girl'," I interjected, grinning against her cheek. "I want you. If you want to wait until you're ready, I'm more than willing to do so. I'll never make you feel like you need to do it just because I want to."
I kissed her cheek once more, "The ball is in your court, baby."
Hermione rolled her head to me and slowly opened those gorgeous, brown eyes, "I love you so much." She tilted her head up to kiss me.
I responded to her lips, and then chased her throat to kiss her there again. I smiled when she did and lifted from the centre of her body. I held my hand to her, on my knees, and waited to lift her up from the floor, "Let's see what Santa got you."
She giggled, grabbing my hand as I pulled her to her knees. I stood up and watched her stand right along with me, brushing her backside off with her hands. I started over towards the fireplace and got hold of a log. Hermione wandered over toward our Christmas tree. The white lights glittered the silver garland when she plugged the chord in. The tree we got was real, and lush with dark shades of green. We made popcorn garland as well, together, for an experience which hung in an on-off pattern with the purchased garland. An angel holding a candle lit the top of the triangular, seven feet tall holiday plant.
I'd gotten the wood burning when I turned back around to see her divvying the presents. She organized them on sides by which they were for, a line of four on my end and a line of five boxes on her end. She scratched the side of her head and glanced at me.
"I thought you said you were buying four!"
I smiled and plopped down on the rug. She'd gone to the sofa and sat. I leaned between her legs when I approached, opening them for me with my back against the edge of the furniture. My gifts were on the floor and hers were piled by her thigh. I tilted my head back in the niche her body created, "I found something else when you and Ginny went out to lunch that day."
"But, you wrote on the note posted on the fridge that you went over to their house to play pool with Neville." She looked down, our faces turned in opposites.
I laughed through my nose, "Where would the surprise be if I wrote in the note, `Went shopping for another Christmas present I think you might love, baby, be back later.'?"
Hermione made a pouty face, "But, now I feel bad…"
"Well," my eyes wandered to her gifts. "You can always give me one and I'll put it up until your birthday next year."
"No!" Her voice went high, and then she giggled.
I smirked, "That's what I thought. Besides, you said something the other day that made me think about you when I went to the store. One of those spur-of-the-moment deals."
Her eyes lit up, "What did I say?!"
"Open the green-and-red striped box and you'll see."
Hermione looked over, chose the very same box I spoke of, but stopped. She floated it over the rest and laid it down at the far end, "…I think I'll save that one for last."
"Saving the best for last?" I chuckled, observing how excited she was at my surprise gift. She may even have gotten goosebumps.
Hermione nodded, "Exactly."
Her warm hand rested on the side of my cheek, "Let's open them together-starting with the biggest of course!"
I snickered, dropping my head back down and hearing her from behind unwrap the crinkly Christmas paper. In my grip a square-like structure and heavy. I placed it on my lap and tore into the "Happy Holidays" wrapping. She started laughing, and I started laughing too. I held up the literature box-set of `Moonlight,' the series we've been reading together to see her hold up the box-set I bought for her.
She smirked at me and lowered to kiss the top of my head, "I love it."
"Great minds think alike?"
"Sexy minds think alike," she giggled.
"I love it too, baby," I couldn't get to her face quick enough, Hermione lifting back erect. Instead, I caressed the inside of her right thigh nearby. "I can finally start on Breaking Dusk."
"Don't you dare tell me what happens in Full Moon…," I heard her hands going at another gift, the wrapping paper shredding. "I just finished Moonlight."
"I won't, I won't," I smiled, a gift in my grip. I tore the paper down one side to reveal a small grey box. I saw the word "Rolex" written in white cursive on the front and my eyes lit up. I popped open the hinge to see a silvery, male watch gleaming from our Christmas lights. The clock was set to our time already with tinier, individual clocks within the larger time piece. I laughed out loud, amazed. "Hermione…!"
"Do you like it?" Hermione had lowered to my shoulder and peeked to see me marvel at the Rolex. I took it from its sleeve and rotated the watch in my hand. "I hope it fits."
"Where did you get the money for this, baby?" It's not like Hermione had an abundant cash flow like I did, having been given tons by my parents. Her bank account suffered far, far sooner than mine did which is why I fought to pay for everything when we would go out. She started musing over the idea of working, and I'd try and persuade her out of the thought-at least for now.
"Never you mind that…," I felt her warm breath against my neck and then felt her lips upon the spot. She nuzzled into the curve made from my throat to my shoulder.
I reached around and ran my fingers through her hair, "It's absolutely gorgeous…" I set it back in its box and carefully laid it down. "I'll have it on when we go over to your folks. It's brilliant, thank you."
She set her chin on my shoulder, "And, thank you for the vinyl record of The Beatles' White Album." She smiled, "I can't even wonder how long it took you to find a copy. I've tried, you know."
I shook my head, "Yeah, I know-I hunted that record down for weeks."
"How much did you-" She started to ask and I put my hand on her face. I laughed when I saw her scrunch her brow.
"Your happiness is all that matters to me." I felt her back in the crook of my neck. She kissed me, bringing a chill to my spine. I felt her leave me, a cool draft puncturing the warm aura she left behind. She'd gone back up to retrieve another.
I unwrapped my third gift. I held in my hands a box of cologne, a special collection from Calvin Klein for the millennium. I smiled and patted the top of her foot to hear a squeal come out from her. "Oh my God!"
I twisted my waist to catch her holding up one of the six band-related tank tops I found whilst shopping. The one she held up pictured Joan Jett with fake, white and grey paint splatters with the words, "Misspent Youth" in red. The few more in her lap held statements and band member pictures of The Beatles, Sex Pistols, Foreigner, Twisted Sister, and Duran Duran.
My eyes went wide when I saw her grab the bottom edge of her ochre shirt and yank the apparel from her body. My focus went to her breasts, a yellow-and-navy striped strapless-bra exposed against her pale complexion. My concern for detail aimed right at the spot where both sides of her bra cups met. A navy blue bow the size of a knut was placed right in the centre. I couldn't help but notice, too, the round contour of the naked portion of her breasts above the brassiere cover. I'd seen Hermione in her bra before many times, but she never ceased to amaze me. I've held her while we slept tons, like little grapefruits they are, just large enough for my hands.
I couldn't help but my mesmerized by how her navel danced as she shimmied the Joan Jett's "Misspent Youth" black tank over her head. I heard her push her head through the hole, and her arms in through sockets, the fabric giving a little pull as it stretched. I couldn't resist, reaching in to poke her tummy. I gave her tummy a rub with my palm and absolutely loved how comfortable she was with me, allowing me full access of her body without ever flinching to see what I was up to. Trust.
I freed my hand when she tugged the tank down. I placed my chin on her knee and gazed up at her, and how the tank fit so very close to her form. I only wished she wasn't wearing that damn brassiere as I could see its shape underneath the top, the top being just that tight on her body.
Hermione adjusted herself and reached behind her back to flip the tag down inside her shirt. She grinned, taking trapped strands of hair and letting them fall amongst her brand new shirt, "How do I look? Good?"
"You're perfect," I stated without a doubt. My eyes drew lines around her curves, doubling back up from her front and gently across the slim trim of her sides. I kissed her knee. "Absolutely perfect."
"Thank you, love." She leaned down and met me as I lifted my chin off her knee. She kissed me briefly through a smile. She nudged the tip of her nose against mine and giggled, bouncing back to the sofa in the midst of collecting another gift.
I turned my attention to the following gift in my lineup. I took the next, set it in my lap, and rummaged through the wrapper paper. I heard her gasp, and I grinned, waiting for the reaction.
"Oh my goodness!" she squeaked. I leaned my head against her leg and listened. "I've needed new guitar picks for the longest time! Oh, oh…Harry…and they're made of lignum vitae, oh, these must have been expensive!"
"You're so very welcome," I ran my cheek along her thigh. This new gift wasn't so much an object; rather, I pulled a parchment from the cardboard box it was in. I slid my thumb through the lip to open it up and procured the contents. My eyes read the fanciful quill-written words:
Congratulations, and thank you for ordering the annual subscription for the Magical Sports Channel. We've tuned your television with our proper enchantments and on this day, December 25th, 1999, until December 25th, 2000, you will have all the benefits of our services including the Magical Sports Illustrated mailed to you every month. You will also be the first to see premiere games including the Quidditch World Cup preliminaries and the Official Quidditch World Cup Tournament.
"Hey," I'd tilted my head back, smiling, my strewn, black locks all over her thighs. She was in the middle of opening a present when she gazed at me.
"I thought if we didn't go to the games this year that you'd like to watch it on TV," she grinned, her cinnamon-brown irises on me.
"Come here," with my head laid back she maneuvered down to me. I slipped my free hand inside her hair, my other still clasping the MSC letter. My lips did the talking, tasting her for the minute before breaking away. "You're absolutely wonderful, do you know that?"
"Anything," I saw her, and then felt her hand roam over my chest. She lightly massaged my pectorals, and then patted the muscle. She nudged the bridge of her nose against me, kissing me once more. "Anything for my man."
I twisted me body so I sat on my knees in front of her. Having gone through my pile of Christmas gifts, I wanted to watch her finish. Plus, as I smiled and she gave me a wondering look, I had one hidden, up my sleeve for the last. One, I would think, would make her so very happy. I'd been thinking about this a lot and finally went to the Ministry to straighten the red-tape out. I waited as she pried a large folder-type book from its wrappings.
Hermione opened it up slowly to see images, some moving and some not. Gently she felt the page she stopped on, having flipped through one after the other. She let her fingers, the pads of them, stroke the page. She looked at me after closing her eyes, and I could tell she could cry at any moment; but, they were tears of pleasure rather than sadness.
"It's a scrapbook…," I noticed her hand on a picture of us from after the Yule Ball our fourth year. We'd taken a few without Ron. We were joyful, acting severely innocent. I had my arm around her waist looking a bit unaware, naive some could say, and bloody scared because Hermione…Hermione felt good that night. She smelled good, too. Hermione, on the other hand, her maturity times ten was greatly relaxed with her arms around me. We made a face to the camera and then laughed, turning to look at each other.
"Harry…"
"I hoped it wasn't too, you know…," I motioned towards the scrapbook. "Self-indulgent. I found a few photos from our days together and cropped them in there. There are even blank pages at the end for more if you ever wanted."
"I love it," she exclaimed, a tear trickling down her cheek.
"Aww…," I embraced her around the middle.
Hermione put her arms around me and hugged me tight, "I love it and I love you. The best present I've ever gotten-ever. I'll cherish this forever."
"I didn't know how many more pictures the mirror in the room could take," I laughed some, seeing her smile too. Any picture she'd taken with her digital camera she'd slide into the frame of any mirror she could find. The master bedroom mirror was crammed full of pictures of us, of her, of me that she'd captured. She even put a picture of us from our trip to the beach on the mirror in the bathroom. Every time I stepped out of the shower, I could see her smiling, beautiful face and her arms wrapped, pulling me to her in the shot. "Though…"
Hermione sniffled, wiping away some tears from underneath her eyes and smearing a little of her obsidian eyeliner in the process.
"I think I have one more present that could possibly trump that," I smirked. "Or I hope, seeing as that's the best present you've ever gotten."
Hermione glanced up at the ceiling and laughed, "I don't know how much larger my heart can grow for you without bursting out of my chest. I love you so much."
I laughed, "Don't go bursting yet. I need you around for another hundred years or more."
Hermione smirked, a blackish tear being pushed away with her fingers, "I'll be here. Right beside you, always, forever."
I leaned in between her legs, my hands on her hips, and kissed her mouth. With our release I stayed in my spot, our lips near each other and said quietly to her, "Want to know what it is?"
"Of course," she said back just as quiet.
"If my home were really normal, I'd have given you a key a long, long, long time ago," I smiled hearing her still sniffling. "Two weeks ago I went to the Ministry's Security Division and asked them to make you my Secret Keeper. I want you to have complete access to everything. Anything and everything…I love you that much."
I paused, and then began again, "So…here's my key."
Hermione pushed everything aside. She grabbed me and kissed me hard. She led me by feel, lifting me as I stood. I dropped to one knee, and then to my other, on the sofa. I lay down on her, my hands going to her sides to hike her shirt up. I really should have gotten her those tummy shirts and save me some time getting to her lovely, smooth skin.
Her knees tightened around me, and she moaned into our kiss. I felt her hot tongue lick mine, my hands slipping up her abdomen, across the hills that were her chest, and moved my hands to cradle her head. She softly gyrated against me in our passion, and I smiled, my body grinding into every silken crevice.
***
"Do you think they'll like it?" I carried a vase of lilies and pink roses in one hand while opening the door for Hermione. We pulled up in front of her parent's house in south London, a rural area with lots of land. Because her mother and father were dentists, their home looked a little more than middle class. The grand entryway of their home had columns decorated with natural, green garland and red bows. White lights were strung along the wrap-around white porch connecting to a built-in garage.
Hermione's entire family was here. I parked behind a light blue Chevy Cobalt and next to a forest-green Kia. Around us were two other cars and a minivan I didn't recognize. Hermione stepped out of the car with her parent's gifts clutched to her chest. She flipped her hair to one side, the window blowing strands erratically into her face.
"They'll love it," she smiled when I shut the door behind her. "And the tools you bought daddy he'll go crazy over."
I watched my woman from behind as we made our way up the steps to the large stained-oak doors. Ovals were cut in their centre with broken panels of glass in a variety of colors. The glass was misty, murky for privacy. Hermione fixed her pink feminine blazer jacket, metal-studded wristbands on her wrists reflected the white home around us. A white-gold necklace hung loosely from her neck, jiggling alongside a black t-shirt she wore under the blazer. A gush of wind would pick the tail of the jacket up, revealing the lining and its velvety blackness. Dark, severely dark blue jeans clung to her hips. One would have to get extremely close to recognize their blue hue or else they'd think they were a black pair. A few holes were cut across the knees and her legs, tapering down to a pink-and-black version of Converse shoes.
She touched the doorbell and I heard movement from the inside. She glanced at me. I'd gone a little stiff, my muscles tense under a soft, black turtle neck. I couldn't slip my hands in my dark blue jeans or I would have, like a safety blanket. My hands held the Christmas-wrapped tool box and the vase of flora. The sky grew overcast, a spread of grey as if the earth were draped in one, big sheet of dull cloud. The world was just a tad warmer from last night, but I could still see my breath wispy white when I would breathe.
"I love you," Hermione grinned, brushing her arm along mine. She probably would have held my arm if it wasn't for the presents in her arms. "Don't be so tense."
"I've only met your parents a few times," my mind, of course, thought of every bad possibility that could and probably would happen. I'm Harry Potter after all. "The last time I met them we were in Hogwarts, and now we're-"
"Together," she stated with a smirk. "They know we are-relax."
I paid attention to how bright her eyes were, especially against her black liner. I inhaled a deep breath, "All righty."
I said it to comfort her, really. I tried to put on my best face and posture, but when the door opened and I saw her mother-Emilie Granger-my body became rigid again.
Emilie Granger looked strikingly identical to Hermione in practically every way possible. From her figure to how she smiled at us, to the way she moved to the certain spec of white shining in her eyes all reminded me of my girl. Though, Emilie was older with a bit of bag under her eye from age. Two distinct features offset her from the rest of the world, making her unique just as Hermione's brilliant mind did for her.
Even though Emilie had similar coloured hair as her daughter, the right side of her body was affected by albinism I believe it was. A streak of white hair, with no pigmentation at all, went from her front bangs all the way to the back. From the strip of discolored hair, if one would trace a line from the front of her hair downward, her right eye lay in the path. Her right eye wasn't brown like her left. Her right eye colour was cherry red. She'd been this way since she was born. Hermione had told me this years ago when I first met them in Diagon Alley during Lockhart's book signing. Like her daughter's amazing intelligence and sheer, natural beauty, that's what made Emilie her own being. Everything else about her resembled her daughter; and, if it's true the daughter turns into her mother, I'd be rightfully satisfied for years to come. Emilie was stunning.
Frederick Granger, her father, was also abnormally handsome. Intimidating, he was, in the category. With a chiseled jaw and a subtle five o'clock shadow, he looked as if he stepped right out of GQ magazine. He wore a jade-green vest over a white dress shirt with a crimson tie and a pair of black slacks. He had some sort of paste in his hair, leaving a posed curl to the front. He came up behind his wife at the door when Mrs. Granger's eyes fell on us. She laughed excitedly, her arms open to grab her daughter.
"It's my baby!" Emilie pulled Hermione to her in a big hug and kind of shook her from side-to-side in place. "Merry Christmas, Cupcake! You look so pretty!"
Emilie turned to Frederick behind her with Hermione still in her clutches, "I make one beautiful baby, don't I?"
Frederick grinned at his wife and looked at me next to Hermione. He set his hands out and asked, "Can I help you with those, Harry?"
"Yes, Mr. Granger," I said politely. I handed him the vase of flowers first. "That's for Mrs. Granger for Christmas, sir."
"They're simply gorgeous, Harry!" Emilie went from Hermione to me and gave me a big hug. Her violet cardigan sweater felt velvety against my neck. "And a Merry Christmas to you! How are you doing? Well?"
I squeezed her a little in response, "I'm doing very well. How are you and Mr. Granger?"
With her hands on my shoulders and a smile she said, "We're doing just fine. Just fine. Better now that you're both here with us for the holiday!"
Frederick was taking Hermione's gifts when he reached back to me and shook my hand, "Merry Christmas, son. Come on in out of this blistery weather. I hear it might snow tonight."
"Thank you, sir," Hermione grinned at me as she moved on into the foyer from the door, slipping passed me. I grinned in response and held up my present for Mr. Granger. Frederick glanced at it. "Where should I put this, sir?"
"Put it under the tree, Harry," Frederick closed the door behind us. Emilie was off giggling with Hermione in front of us. I couldn't quite understand what they were saying, but they were talking loud. Their voice echoed in the hall that led to a staircase with two entrances to other rooms on either side.
I peered back at Mr. Granger and said with a grin, "I hope you like this, sir."
He patted my back and loosely embraced my shoulder, "I'm sure I will, son."
Hermione laughed and looked behind her to see me with her father. She looked ecstatic, her mother pulling her into the family room where I could hear the rest of the Granger's inside. When they both entered the den, I heard the gasp and scuffle of feet. Voices grew louder, and I could hear them all greeting Hermione in every sort of manner.
From my right side I heard Mr. Granger state with ease, "It seems by the look on my baby girl's face that you're treating her right, son."
"She's my number one priority, sir," I stated back, confident and content. "She's very special to me."
"I appreciate that, Harry," We were wandering together toward the same den entry as Emilie pulled Hermione into. I awaited, trying not to tense up under Frederick's arm, the inevitable gasp-and-greeting from all the Granger's. They loved me like a son, no doubt, but the stakes were heightened. They knew I now dated their daughter, their granddaughter, their niece, their friend and I hoped I came off for the better than the worse.
***
I relaxed over the course of dinner. I ate a magnificent meal, prepared just right. Stuffing and mashed potato with chicken-flavored gravy, glazed ham and turkey, dinner rolls the size of oranges with melted butter on the crisscrossed tops. Tea and wine were served for beverages. I took wine, like Hermione who sat on my right. I listened to them talk about their work, their life, stories from Christmas's past.
Frederick brought up a fascinating story about Hermione falling face-first into her mash potatoes when she was two. Embarrassing maybe to Hermione, who kept saying "Daddy…" the entire time, but I found it simple interesting. The conclusion ended up being she fell asleep, tired, and zonked out at the dinner table. The family all took turns laughing and Hermione looked over at me blushed with pink. I squeezed her hand, our hands interlocked under the table. She went to hold mine when dinner was finished and never let go.
I met her uncle Paris and aunt Ariel, the people who drove the minivan I'd never seen. Ariel was Emilie's sister. They had just married a year ago and had an infant daughter, Hope, who clung to Ariel. Hermione asked if she could hold Hope and Ariel smiled and said, "Of course, `Mione."
Hermione cradled Hope in her arms. Hope, asleep, gently grabbed onto Hermione's shirt and held it taut. She looked up at everyone and grinned. People who watched sighed. Ariel, pleased, expressed an "Aww…" Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Seeing Hermione nestled with Hope…I felt pure joy on one end of my emotional scale, but fearful on the other end. The way Hermione looked at me was as if she wanted one of her own, and my eyes grew wide.
I actually wanted to kiss her at that very moment, but felt it strongly disapproving towards our surrounding environment. Giving Hermione a child of her own, our own…I hoped was later on down the road. For now, I thought, fooling around and exploring each other was quite enough-and fun, so fun. Oh, so fun indeed. I chuckled to myself. I could see myself as a father…when I was thirty, or older.
The Granger family began to leave the table when Hermione's father spoke up, "Harry."
Hermione had me by the hand and was leading me somewhere. She stopped, I stopped, and I turned around to face Mr. Granger at the head of the table. Emilie took up his plate and kissed his cheek prior to him calling my name. "Yes sir?"
"Do you know what follows after getting me those tools?" We'd opened presents before dinner in case people needed to go home after eating. Mister and Misses Granger had gotten me some shirts. Hermione was in cahoots I later found out over the phone with her mom, telling her my size. I thought it was greatly endearing and thanked them both. Hermione got some books and CDs she wanted, a new sweater and some other apparel following the trend she wore.
"No sir," I said. I felt Hermione's hand lightly lace between my fingers. She was also looking in her father's direction.
"Remember that old '64 Ford Mustang out in the garage I showed you a year ago?"
"Yes sir, it's very pretty."
"Well, the girl needs to get running and I'm going to need some help one of these days," Frederick grinned and started to get up from his seat. "Care to help me when the day comes? That is, if this silly Y2K doesn't happen."
I laughed, "Yes sir. You give me a day and time, and I'll be there."
"Thanks son," he went to grab some food off the table to help the others in cleaning up. "You're a right good young man."
His eyes went between Hermione and me, and flittered to her fingers within mine. He sighed, and said with that certain father-authority tone, "Baby girl."
Hermione's clasp tightened, "Yes daddy?"
"You better keep that boy," Frederick said whilst meandering into the kitchen with two platters of picked-away food in his hands. I heard him whistling as he went.
Hermione smiled and turned her head towards the direction her father went, "Will do, daddy." She then looked at me when he vanished from the dining room and whispered, "Come on…"
Hermione led me outside through a backdoor exit. Her father had built, with his own two hands, a jungle-gym set just for her. As an only child, this was probably one of her parent's way of getting her active so she didn't feel lonely. She had friends growing up, but when she went to Hogwarts she all but lost them year after year as the magical world suffocated the real world. All her energy went to her magical studies when her friends were off in the nearby public school doing "Muggle things". There wasn't much of a connection, and she surely didn't show off her abilities-that's against the rules of that universe.
Hermione sat in the seat of her old blue swing. She twisted around so the rusting chain links looped together and slowly let the tension release. She turned around and around, in a circle, the tips of her shoes digging into the earth below. I squatted in front of her, allowing the momentum of the swing twirl her gradually so she didn't get sick. We chatted small talk. She was ever so pleased of the reception her parent's had of our relationship. Not that she was afraid they'd not let her court me, but the product of having her stay with me and live with me was a whole other ballpark. That, I could tell, could be unnerving for parents, especially for a father and his daughter. Hermione's father would go to the extremes to protect his "baby girl," and he told us today in so many words that he was proud she found someone like me; a gentleman so opposite to how Ron disrespected her.
We hadn't really had a second to ourselves while we were here, either. Not that we didn't want to come to her parent's, especially Hermione as they were her parents, but she wanted to spend some alone time with me. We always wanted our alone time. When the swing came back around straight, my hands still on the chains, she bent into me and kissed me. A loving, sweet kiss. Nothing entirely intimate we'd do behind closed doors. Very innocent and somewhat nostalgic from our first days.
When we pulled our lips away, she had her eyes closed and was left in a genuine smile. She made a "Mm…" noise from her throat and nuzzled against my face enough to send me into a shiver. She blinked open her eyes, "Daddy utterly adores you."
"I love your parents," I smiled and kissed her briefly again. "They're very open and optimistic. I don't think I could trust any guy around my daughter if I had one."
"But you're not just `any guy'," she smirked, nudging the tip of her nose with mine. "You're completely special, and my family sees it. Everyone sees it. I know I saw it a long time ago."
"I'm glad," I moved my hands from the chains and wrapped my arms around her. I didn't put any weight, letting my squatting position gather all of it. I had my arms unconstrained alongside her trim figure. "I'm very glad they accept me."
Hermione nodded at my words and slowly withdrew some. I realized her change in mood when she grew sober. She drew a circle with the toe of her shoe, glancing down at her work and then to me. She asked me, quietly, "…Would your parents have approved of me?"
My heart exploded against my chest. I thought of my mother and my father. Lily and James. They were smiling in my head and nodding as if they heard her and were right here, standing beside us. I gripped her body and embraced her tight. She hugged me tighter, her hands going to my back where she rubbed. I kissed her neck, and then her cheek as I pulled away, my lips in a grin.
"Yes," I said very affirmably. I shook my head gently. "Yes, definitely. They would have, without question, loved you just as I love you. I'm sure if my mum and dad were here they'd give you the biggest, warmest hug."
Hermione tightened back on me, hugging me with all her might. She whispered into my ear after kissing my cheek, "I wish I could have met them. I would have loved to have met them."
"I wish you could have, too," I smiled, my eyes closing to see my mom and dad as happy as happy could get. I saw them embracing Hermione, taking Hermione in like a daughter and accepting her like her parents did with me. They would have loved her unconditionally. "I wish I could show you more than graves…I wish I could see them, too."
I felt the onset of tears. My throat clenched, suppressing my emotions. Hermione filled the holes in my heart and massaged the lacerated portions, the portions that could never really be fixed. Like never seeing my parents on Christmas, or on another holiday, or whenever I wanted to see them and talk to them, hug them and tell them, show them how much I loved them. I went to their gravesite in Godric's Hollow and would bring a fresh bouquet of flowers when the others I brought died. That's all I could do. Hermione went with me several times when I did this, and I told them about her, showed her to them, and I hoped they could see just how amazing she was from Heaven.
"Come on…," I heard her say. She went to get up and I stood to help her out of the swing. She took my hand and walked me back toward the house.
"Where are we going?"
Hermione turned her head to see me as we traipsed up the stairs from the backyard, "Upstairs."
***
If some random Joe were to walk into Hermione's bedroom, they'd immediately think she'd have a complex for three objects of obsession: books, music, and…teddy bears. Her room was littered with stuffed bears with one gigantic bear in the corner beside a desk piled high with literature, quills, and the like from past days of Hogwarts. I could faintly tell the titles of some, one being Hogwarts, A History.
I'd been in her room before and it hadn't really changed. I remembered the various band paraphernalia on the walls, CDs and cassettes scattered everywhere from her love of music. Her room smelled the same with that thick, lush vanilla I'd grown to admire. Her room reminded me of her, my heart, and the warmth wrapped around me on her bed. She took me upstairs to be with me intimately, to cuddle and to sleep. I dozed off a few times, but woke when I heard some strange noise. Hermione, on the other hand, was extremely relaxed. A simple pattern in her breathing, serene and innocent. She had her arms near her chest between her body and mine. I had my arms around her, and we lay on her bed without having turned down the sheets. She had her face positioned beside my neck with my chin propped lightly against her forehead.
I looked at the variety of picture frames and photos lining the mirror of her vanity. Tons of them focused on Ginny and herself from all the way back in our second and third years. It was funny seeing the growth between my beloved and Ginny throughout the years and how they changed from age. My girl had definitely grown from the youth I'd thought had cooties my first year. Now, I wanted those cooties all over me every second of every minute of every day. My eyes lingered on the mirror where Ginny had written in red lipstick in the corner, "Ginny waz here 1995." I remembered that day and relative night as Hermione invited only Ginny to a slumber party the summer holiday between our fourth and fifth year. I played my violin, whining, wanting to see what was so special about a girls-only party. Now, I laughed to myself in thought, I'd probably get a special-special invite to Hermione's slumber party.
I had my hand in Hermione's hair, stroking her head when I heard a knock on the door. Hermione's breathing went from calm and picked up in pace, her figure rolling a bit from my arms. I lay my hand from her hair to her stomach as she stretched and yawned through the words, "It's open."
Emilie's head poked into the room. She gazed between both of us and grinned at our loving scene. She whispered, even though she didn't have to, "Sorry to wake you guys…"
Hermione inhaled, and then sighed, "It's all right, mummy…what's up?"
"Your dad is downstairs with the guitar," she opened the door further letting in light that really brightened the dimly lit room. "You know what that means."
Hermione sighed, stretching again, "I'll be right down there in a minute. Tell daddy to wait before he makes a fool of himself in front of the family…"
Emilie laughed, "I'll be sure to tell him that, Cupcake. Want me to leave the door open?"
I watched Hermione lift from the bed. I followed suit. "Yeah," she said. "We're coming."
"All right, Cupcake, we'll be downstairs when you get there."
Emilie left us. I heard her footsteps soften as she walked away. I could hear, from the newly exposed environment, Hermione's father singing Christmas carols and strumming his guitar. Hermione made a laugh, and turned to look at me behind her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her neck, and then met her mouth with my lips. After a gentle kiss and release she said, contorting her face by her father's trial at singing, "I'd better get down there. He might make ears bleed if I don't."
I snickered, nuzzling into her messy bed-hair, "I'm following you."
Frederick gave up his guitar after a failed attempt at "Jingle Bell Rock". Hermione had plopped down on the sofa beside her father when we'd gotten downstairs. I sat down beside her. The only other people left besides her mum were Paris and Ariel. Her grandparents had left for the night as well as her parent's friends and neighbors. Paris had Hope in his arms where he rocked her asleep. Ariel was curled up beside her husband.
Behind Hermione's father was their humongous fireplace with an orange flame ablaze, warming us from the wintery cold outside. It was snowing as I could tell from a window. The tree, with the colours of the rainbow, sat in the corner of the room. Another Christmas having come and gone in what seemed, in retrospect, like minutes. Frederick sat in an armchair, Emilie alongside him on the armrest. We all sat in a semi-circle around a coffee table with a candle, a platter of Christmas cookies, and a few magazines displayed across the glass top. The three-pronged candle was lit, its flames flickering with all our breaths.
Hermione had her hands around the guitar. She played with the tuning, twisting one dial and then another. "The guitar is way out of tune." She'd strum the guitar, but go again re-tuning.
"You know I was never the artsy-fartsy type," Frederick went from focusing on Hermione to Emilie beside him. "I mean, we went to college to become dentists. Unless someone wants a root canal in the shape of the Mona Lisa, I don't think…"
The room mumbled laughter, and I chuckled as well.
Hermione fingered the chords and nodded her head, satisfied by her workmanship, "There, good as new."
"Sing a Christmas song, Cupcake!" Emilie said, leaning in her seat towards Hermione.
"Sing `White Christmas'," stated Paris from his seat on another sofa. He looked down at rocking little Hope fast asleep. Ariel took a clean rag and wiped around Hope's little mouth of drool. I smiled at the familial affection, and turned to see Hermione still gazing at the guitar.
"Let's not hear another Christmas song, baby girl," Frederick laughed, his elbows on his knees. He was intently focused on his daughter's hands lightly strumming the strings of his guitar. "I've already bloodied enough of them tonight."
"I don't know what to sing then," she looked into her father's eyes.
"What's in your heart right now?" he asked her. "You've always played what's in your heart."
Hermione pulled her legs onto the sofa and sat on them. She peered from the guitar, to me, and back at her father and the rest before returning to his guitar. "I think…," she hit a chord with her thumb, the sound reverberating against the walls and smiled into the firelight. "Yeah…yeah, I think I have something."
Her father sat back in his armchair and watched his daughter begin strumming up a rhythm. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Hermione began humming, her eyes closing as well. I observed my woman with all her magical prowess…without a wand. She flicked her head to the side, her hair falling off her shoulder. She was grinning when she opened her lips to sing, and her emotion poured forth from the lyrics of her heart. Nothing but the sound of her instrument and her lovely, angelic voice resounded throughout the den.
"Someone told me long ago, there's a calm before the storm… I know…," I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was a goddess in her own right. My heart stopped beating and I think my breathing ceased. She had me completely hooked. I loved her. She paused at the beat, and then finished the lyric, "It's been coming for some time."
Frederick was smiling through shut eyes. Emilie was locked on her Cupcake, bobbing her head gently to Hermione's acoustic, but silent beat. Paris and Ariel had their attention on Hermione as well. The light of the fire glinted off Hermione's metal-studded wrist cuffs as they would slide ever-so-gently along her arm when she'd strum the guitar.
"When it's over, so they say…It'll rain a sunny day, I know, shining down like water…," I watched every curve of Hermione's mouth, every little perk of her lip, how she smiled a bit in her song. "I wanna know…have you ever seen the rain?"
I sighed, too fulfilled for words.
"I wanna know…have you ever seen the rain…," Hermione paused to grin, her eyes opening to see her hands plucking the chords perfectly. "Coming down on a sunny day?"
***
Hermione bumped the back of her head on the cabinets. I went to say something, to see if she were okay, but when I left to speak she yanked me right back to her lips. She sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, her legs spread enough for my body to fit between them. I held her waist, her thighs, my fingers pressing hard into them as her tongue circled mine in my mouth. The hairs on my arms stood on end when she'd trace a line along the wall of my mouth with the tip of her tongue and flick at the roof. I groaned and pushed into her front.
Her nails were in my sides. I felt her dig in when I pushed, grinding myself into her. We'd been practically all over each other when we got home from our wonderful, Christmas day. One of those days that couldn't get any better.
I had my hands in her shirt. She tore off her pink blazer to give me better access to her upper body. My hands traced their way across each tiny niche of her ribs until I found the beginnings of her bra. Hermione's hands went from my sides and down to my rear. She grabbed my ass and pulled me into her roughly. I could feel every bit of her through her jeans, and I bet she could feel every bit of me through mine. She tightened her thighs, constricting me against her and the countertop. It's not like I was going anywhere anytime soon.
Hermione tugged at my shirt. I had to pull away from her lips, as much as I didn't want to, to let her unfasten the damn buttons of my dress shirt and undo it from my slacks. She tore it off my shoulders, leaving me bare before her. Her hands went to my chest where she held me, her nails gently clawing into my flesh.
My mouth was back on her, but only for an instant. I tore away her shirt too. I hated that damn thing, and any damn shirt she wore. Always, it got in my way. She raised her arms. I jerked it from her body and threw it back behind me as she did with mine, leaving her necklace to bounce and rest between her exposed cleavage.
My eyes went there, and then my face. My tongue lapped at her chest, my lips caressing the contours her breasts created. She held the back of my head, pulling at my hair. I threw my glasses aside, them getting in the way too. I gripped her firm little ass and drove her into me. She nearly fell off the counter by my strength, having to grab the ledge before she dropped to stay up there. My teeth found the clasp of her brassiere in the middle of her breasts. I bit down on it and pushed my face into her chest, wanting and needing to pull it away.
She began panting by my ear, and moaned, arching her back and pressing herself into me.
The fucking phone. I didn't have time for this. The phone started to ring, and continued to ring. We let it go as I drove Hermione back into me. She clenched her teeth and let out this moan that had me go insane. My hands went to the rim of her jeans and I slid down in them. She was very, very warm…so warm. I pulled her lithe body on me with a tug of her pants. Her hands, and then arms wrapped around my neck. I could feel the cold metal parts of her wristbands against my flushed neck.
I had undone the button of her jeans, and was about to unzip her zipper to tear those off too, when the phone began again. We halted our actions a second, our foreheads together, our noses together. I felt her hot breath against my face. She closed, opened, and then closed her eyes again. She made a noise in her throat out of the sheer annoyance of the bloody telephone and leaned over, stretching to grab it from the wall. The chord pulled as she sat back in front of me. My hands on her stomach, I heard and watched her speak.
She cleared her throat, and said with a bit of exasperation in her tone, "Hello?"
I went to caress her neck with my lips when I felt her hand on my chest. I looked back up at her to see her eyes wide, too wide. I tried to follow her eyes, but she turned some and ran her hand through her hair. She gripped a tuft of her locks and let them fall back on her shoulders.
"What?!" she said, breathlessly. She gazed back to me, and I made a face of curiosity. Then, I saw a tear sparkle in the fluorescent lights of the kitchen and fall to the countertop beneath her. She couldn't speak, and what did come out came out in a squeak, "…What?!"
"What's wrong?" I had to restrain to keep from yanking the phone from her. Why was she crying? What the Hell?!
Hermione dropped the phone, the phone crashing to the counter and off towards the floor. The sound it made, I'd bet a thousand Galleons the plastic shattered. I didn't care. My eyes were intent on her stunned, immobile face. She wrapped her arms back around my neck and cried, her chest heaving against mine. I had my arms around her to hold her and probably said a tad too loud for taste, "Tell me what's going on!"
"Seamus…," she tearfully stuttered close to my ear. "He-He's dead!"
Life pointed at me and laughed. Irony slapped my face. My heart dropped to my feet like a ton of bricks.
Welcome back to reality.
{Inspirations for the Chapter: Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap, especially during the wrap-up after Ron's attempted homicide/ suicide, Ordinary World by Duran Duran which became Ginny's theme during their telephone conversation, Been Waiting (For A Girl Like You) by Foreigner, and Joan Jett's cover of Ever Seen The Rain during Hermione's guitar scene and the discovering of Seamus's passing}
-->