Chapter 5
Hermione loved her room. As soon as she was alone she kicked off her shoes and enjoyed the way her feet melted into the plush carpet. The four-poster bed was perched on a platform and she had let out a girlish giggle as she took a running leap and collapsed onto the feathered comforter. The sheets were satin and the pillows were so soft she practically sunk into them.
After she took a few giddy rolls over the bed, she made herself get up and prance into her private bathroom. "Oh my," she sighed when she saw the oversized marbled Jacuzzi and told herself she'd use that every chance she got.
The shower wasn't too shabby either, with its glass doors and double showerheads. She admired the marbled countertop and the porcelain sink then made her way to the white double doors and her jaw dropped open as she gave the doors a tug.
"Holy crap," she murmured as she walked into the walk-in closet. "It's almost as big as my room back home."
She didn't bring near enough clothes to fill maybe half of the closet, but it still made her actually excited about unpacking. With a wide grin she went to back into the room to grab her bags and a knock on the door erupted as she lifted her bag onto the bed. "Come in."
The door opened and Harry poked his head in. "Hey."
"Hey, Harry," she said as she unzipped her bag.
"Your just now unpacking?" Harry asked as he walked fully into the room and closed the door behind him.
"Yeah, I've been, ooo-ing and ahhing, over my room."
Harry grinned as he walked over to her and stepped up onto the platform. "So you like it?"
"I love it," she said with a laugh as she grabbed her first armful of clothes and walked into the bathroom.
"I'm glad," he said and then noticed her bed. "You're bed's all wrinkled."
"Yeah, I was taking the bed for a little joy ride," she called out from the closet.
An image…a very inappropriate one…flashed through his mind before he could stop it. "Excuse me?" he said as he shook his head clear.
"Oh, nothing," she said waving it off. "I was just rolling all over the bed. I couldn't help myself."
Bloody hell. "Oh."
She just laughed, completely oblivious of Harry's slight flustered look. "I know. It was silly."
He cleared his throat. "Not at all. I'm glad you find it…comfortable."
"More than," she agreed before taking another load over to the closet. "This closet is huge, Harry…far too big for my wardrobe."
Harry grabbed her bag and carried over to the closet so she wouldn't have to go back and forth. "I know it's pretty extreme…you should see mine."
"I can imagine," she said as she hung up a few of her brand new sundresses her mum had bought her on their shopping spree. "Are all the closets this big?"
"Mostly." Harry leaned against the doorjamb as he watched her work. "Your room's a bit bigger than the others."
Hermione paused from packing to lift a brow. "Oh? How'd I manage that?"
Harry grinned. "I drew straws."
Hermione chuckled as she picked up one of her many tank tops she brought and folded them into one of the chest of drawers that was built into the wall. "Of course you did."
He just shrugged. "Seemed fair."
"And who drew the short end?" she asked as she closed the drawer.
"That would be Ronald."
Hermione cracked a grin at him and he grinned right back before both busted out laughing. "Poor Ron."
"Oh, he's fine." Harry rolled his eyes. "His room is far from tiny. He'll live. I just wanted to make sure you girls had the better rooms. Merlin knows your gender packs more shit then mine."
"You're right about that," she sighed as she reached down to grab the last stuff out of her bag. "I'm not as bad as Ginny though, she should have had this closet."
Harry couldn't respond. He was too distracted by the armful of delicates Hermione had just taken out. Harry didn't know if the gentlemen thing to do was to look away, but couldn't seem to do that as he was mesmerized by the pretty silk and lace she was carefully putting away.
Just don't imagine what she would look like in them, he told himself firmly as he swallowed hard at the black, laced knickers she had just folded. Just don't picture her in those black knickers…oh hell…too late.
"Harry, are you okay?"
"What?" he asked, now staring at the ivory satin bra she had dangling in her hands. He shook his head and blinked up at her. "What?"
Hermione's brows furrowed. "I asked if you were okay…you seemed like you were a little out of it."
"Oh. Sorry." His eyes flickered to the bra then quickly adverted. "I was just…er…hmm."
Hermione watched the blush form in his cheeks as he shuffled his feet and looked away. She looked down at her hands then immediately understood. "Oh! Sorry!" She quickly tossed the bra inside and slammed the drawer. "I didn't even think about that."
"It's okay," he said with a nervous laugh as he ran his fingers through his hair. "It just…caught me off guard."
"I bet," she said and then a giggle popped out of her. "Sorry," she said when he lifted a brow, and this time snorted out a laugh. "It's just that…I wasn't thinking and…it's just funny to me how something as harmless as knickers gets boys all flustered."
"Excuse me?" Harry asked clearly insulted. "I was not flustered."
She stopped laughing and gave him a little smirk. "Harry…you were blushing and shuffling your feet like a school boy."
Harry crossed his arms defensively against his chest. "I was not."
Hermione snickered. "Oh, come on. Admit it." She opened the drawer and dangled one of her simple cotton panties. "I bet even these make you all hot and bothered."
"Jeez, Hermione," he said as he knocked her hand aside when she got closer. Now he had a clear, cut picture of her in crisp white knickers. It just wasn't right. "Cut it out, you're killing me here."
She just chuckled as she tossed them back in the drawer. "Okay, I'll give you a break. You boys are so predictable."
"Well, you're not obviously shy about it," he muttered as he felt both relief and disappointment that all her intimates where packed and out of sight.
"Because it's you," she said casually as she ran her fingers through her hair. "I know you don't think of me that way so it's easy to tease you about that kind of stuff."
"Hmm," he pondered. "I honestly don't know whether to be flattered or insulted by that comment."
"Be flattered," she teased as she playfully drilled a finger in his belly before bending down to get the rest of her clothes. "Don't worry, these are just swimsuits."
"Ha, ha," he said dryly but then his eyes bugged out and he reached out to snagged one of her tops. "Bloody hell, Hermione, these are worse! Do they even cover you?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed the red bikini back. "Yes, they do, thank you very much. And don't start that protective crap with me, Harry."
"Protective?" he repeated as he watched her dump her swimsuits in another drawer. "What does that mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean." She closed the drawer then stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. "You're acting like Ron would act if Ginny stepped out in a bikini."
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it firmly when he was stumped. Hermione shooed him aside and walked back into the bedroom. Harry slowly followed with a slight frown as he watched her slide her bag under the bed. Was that it? Was it protectiveness that made him act that way?
He thought about the little red bikini and quickly shook his head. No, it wasn't protectiveness, because if it had been…a part of him wouldn't be anxious to see how she looked in it. And why was that? Why was he all of the sudden imagining her in knickers and bikinis?
It was that stupid image of her rolling in bed, he decided as he rolled his eyes at himself. That was all. And then seeing the sexy underwear and bikinis just triggered his imagination and made it worse. It hardly meant that he felt that way about Hermione…that would be…weird. Wouldn't it? Yes, of course it would…this was Hermione. His best friend. Nothing more. It had been foolish of him to get so worked up about it.
"Harry, come over here," Hermione said as she dragged out a red leather, bound book and then sat on the edge of the bed.
When she gave a friendly pat next to her, he smiled and made his way over and plopped down next to her. "What is that?"
She simply placed the book on his lap and nudged his shoulder, gesturing for him to open it. He opened the book and felt his heart tremble lightly in his chest when he saw the glossy postcard of the New York skyline glued on the page, then below it, was a duplicate of the postcard but it showed his messy, scribbling message he had jotted down over a year ago. "You kept them."
"Of course I did," she said, smiling at him when he looked up at her. "Each page is dedicated to one of your postcards." She watched him he started to flip slowly through the album. "I love this one," she said as she pointed to the picture of the Grand Canyon. "It's so beautiful."
"It was," he said with a soft smile. "I found this nice little rock to sit on and I don't think I moved from it for hours. It was so peaceful. I was writing this postcard to you when I was on that rock."
Hermione shifted back and leaned behind Harry so she could see more clearly over his shoulder. "It was one of your longer messages," she said as she perched her chin on his shoulder and began to read. " `I'm sitting by the Grand Canyon and the atmosphere is incredible. There's magic here. I can feel it. Can't help but wish you were here. You would love this place.' "
"You would have," Harry said as he took another moment to admire the photo. "I planned on coming back eventually." He tilted his head so he could smile at her. "You'll have to come with me next time."
"I'd love it," she said and then sighed when they both turned their attention back to the album. "I'd love to see all these places. You spent a lot of time in the States."
"There was so much I wanted to see," he said as he casually turned the pages. "The mountains, the beach." He tapped the picture of a pod of orcas poking their heads out of the water. "This was when I went up to Alaska and did some whale watching. It was incredible."
"I bet. You were in the States for about six months before you moved down to Mexico."
"That sounds about right," he said as he stopped at the page that held the picture of the coast of Puerto Vallarta. "I rented this place for about three weeks, then made the arrangements to purchase it before I left for Europe. I didn't want it to let it go."
"I'm glad you didn't," she said as she lifted her head to gaze around the room. "I'm already in love with this place."
"Have you been out on the balcony yet?" he asked casually as he flipped his way through to his travels in Europe.
"What?" She gripped his chin and jerked his face towards hers. "I have a balcony?"
"Ow," he winced. "Easy. And yes, you do." He grabbed the hand that was still on his chin and angled his body to gesture behind them. "It's behind those doors…ah…the doors are covered by the curtains, that's why you missed it."
"Oh my god," she murmured then suddenly did a backwards roll onto the other side of the bed, then leaped off the bed and pranced to the double doors.
Harry watched in amusement as she whipped back the curtains, and then squealed in excitement as she did a little happy butt wiggle before opening up the doors. "Wow," was all he could say as he set the album aside to join her. "Excited much?"
"Oh, Harry," she exasperated as she leaned onto the rail and was dazzled by the endless ocean glimmering in the moonlight, entranced by the lazy sound of the surf crashing below. "It's gorgeous…absolutely breathtaking."
"I'm glad you like it," he said with a grin. "That was quite a spectacle you displayed there."
She laughed up at him, the wind whipping around her face. "I know…I just love balconies and love being up high."
Harry lifted a brow. "Really? I remember you being quite scared on the back of Buckbeak."
"Yes, well…Buckbeak wasn't equipped with this nice safety rail," she pointed out as she gave the sturdy railing a friendly pat.
Harry chuckled. "Fair enough."
She smiled as she looked back out to the ocean. "It's going to be hard going back to the real world after being here for two weeks."
"I know," he said as he stuffed his hands in his back pockets as he shifted next to her and stared out. "But it'll be here whenever we want an escape."
She sighed as she leaned against the railing. "That's comforting."
After a moment of silence, Harry gave her a little nudge with his hips. "Thanks for showing me that album…it was fun looking back."
She smiled as she hooked an arm through his. "You're welcome. Thank you for sending them…I was always so excited when I received them."
"I wanted you to know where I was."
She rested her cheek on his arm. "So I wouldn't worry about you?"
His lips curved. "Partly. But mostly because it was comforting to know that you knew where I was…and where I'd been."
"Me, too," she added and then let out a laugh. "I'd have probably gone crazy if I didn't know where you were."
"Looks like you're being the protective one," he teased.
"Maybe," she said with a smile. "Old habits die hard."
He just smiled and together spent a moment of silence looking out into the night. "Well," he finally said and let out a reluctant sigh. He didn't want to go. "I better go downstairs and check on dinner. Make sure Claudia has everything she needs."
Hermione pouted her lips. "Okay," she mumbled as she slowly pulled away. She didn't want him to leave. "So…what's for dinner?" she asked as they walked back into her room and to the door.
"Fajitas."
"Yum."
Harry grinned as he opened the door and then, since it seemed like the think to do, bent down and brushed his lips against her cheek. "I'll see you in a bit."
"Yeah…okay," she managed to say and then watched him walk down the hall and disappear around the corner.
She couldn't help but be a bit surprised at his affections…she was the one that usually initiated any kind of physical contact. Strictly platonic of course. But he had never been the one to reach out like that…unless it was to grab her hand in danger…and then the one time at his parent's grave. That was a moment she'd never forget. She remembered how she felt when he draped an arm around her as they walked away. Although he wasn't one to wear his emotions on his sleeves, she knew that he had needed her. And it felt good to be needed.
And now, when he had leaned down and kissed her cheek, she had felt…loved. Again, strictly platonic, but when it came to love…did it really matter?
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