Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Bear with me, please. It's been forever since I last wrote an HP fic (in my defense, I was writing 4 children's books, lol), but this morning, I heard "Big girls cry" by Sia and felt a H/Hr scene. Hope I'm not too rusty and still manage to catch your attention! A songfic in seven parts for you, guys.

Big girls cry

Chapter 1: Tough girl

* * *

Tough girl
In the fast lane
No time for love
No time for hate
No drama no time
For games
Tough girl
Whose soul aches

* * *

Geez, I don't even remember the last time I had a good time, thought Hermione as she opened the door to her rather big flat in London. It had been a really, really long day, where assholes seemed even more asshole-ish than usual, and she just wanted to get a drink with friends and pretend they only existed within the walls of the Ministry.

-Fat chance - she told herself- with Ron in his latest Hermione hate-fest, Ginny across the ocean and Harry… where could he be. Oh, I really need to make new friends. And I need to stop talking to myself.

She finally managed to get the door opened and didn't even wait for the door to close completely before she kicked off her shoes and dropped her briefcase right on the spot. She raised her eyes to appraise her little piece of quiet in an otherwise crazy city. When had she become the messy one?, she wondered. -Guess eight years of relationship with mister `I could care less if you can't find your stuff, I know where I left mine' and four years of marriage to mister `I don't know when I'll be back' did that to you.

She sighed and started to pick clothes and shoes and books from the living room and stopped mid-crouch when she noticed a lump of… something stirring on her couch. Her DA instincts kicking in even after all this time, she whipped out her wand and cast a stunning spell at the invader. The flash of light caught the lump dead centre, and she approached, adrenaline making her senses extra sharp… to catch the smell of damp ground and wood polish. She let out a breath: -Harry! What are you doing here?

Hermione came closer to her childhood friend, ready to cast the reviving spell, but then saw the dark circles under his eyes, and the half-healed cuts and bruises. She frowned: -What did you do? -she asked the air and watched him. Even if he wasn't sleeping, she was pretty sure he could use the rest. Looking around, Hermione found a stray blanket and covered him after stretching his body on the couch; it certainly was big enough. Removing his glasses, she brushed a strand of unruly jet-black hair from his forehead and couldn't help caressing his face, her hand gliding down with a sigh; a familiar and confusing ache settling back on her chest. The reminiscence, however, was short-lived because not two seconds passed before she found herself hitting the floor, with the tip of Harry's wand at her neck.

-Harry, stop! -she bellowed, using her knee as leverage to free herself-, you're the one trespassing.

-Damn, `Mione! What the hell with the stunning?

-Well, something moved in the dark. I acted -she said, surprised he'd been able to shake her stunner so fast.

Harry was up in a second and offered Hermione a hand. He started rubbing his neck and then his groin. -That hurt, you know?

-That was the point. What are you doing here anyway? And what happened to you? You look terrible.

Harry opened his mouth a couple of times and then closed it again. -I had nowhere else to go. My flat was… never mind.

-Was what? And why does it seem that you haven't slept in days.

-Because I haven't.

-Meaning?

-I just… a mission went bad. And they located my flat.

-Fuck.

-Yeah, that.

-Let me heal those for you -she motioned for the sofa and Harry followed as she worked on him-. Seems you barely made it out. I'm surprised you didn't splinch yourself. And how did you get in?

-Key under the disillusioned plant.

-You're good.

-My job -he said curtly, and Hermione thought she heard some bitterness behind.

-Drink? -she asked and moved to the bar without waiting for a response. She knew this mood and knew what he needed.

-Munch? -he responded and walked to the kitchen, knowing where everything was.

Almost to the second, they were back on the couch, each with their boon. They looked at each other and laughed. So many years… they thought in unison without the other knowing.

-Why are you really here? -asked Hermione, almost a whisper, after a while of sharing in silence.

-I told you, I didn't have…

-… anywhere to go -she interrupted before he finished-. You could've gone to a safe house.

-I don't… I… -he stuttered for a while and then let out a breath- I missed you.

-You saw me last week.

-At the lawyer's office.

-Harry, we agreed. It's not sustainable. We're not compatible.

-You know that's not true.

-Our jobs are not compatible with our marriage -she clarified.

-But I can… we can…

-Can, can… how many times did we say that? We can't, Harry. You know that as well as I do. We have responsibilities we can't shirk.

-Fuck responsibilities, please!

Hermione started to respond but swallowed instead, her eyes shining with unshed tears. -Please let's not do this again. It's too painful.

He took her by the arms, the agony in his eyes evident. -We love each other, isn't that enough?

-You know it's not. We've seen it's not. Our jobs are too important. Especially in this times. They're more important.

He started to speak again, but then pursed his lips. His gorgeous, ravishing lips. -We don't even know them.

Hermione took his hand. -No, we don't know every wizard in Britain. But does it really make a difference? To you? To me?

He ran his hands through his hair, knowing she was right, and then caressed her cheek with his thumb. -You're so beautiful. I love you so much.

She had to look up to prevent tears from falling and placed her hand over his. -I love you too, Harry. But we can't keep doing this. It's not healthy.

Harry nodded and extended his other hand, to her waist. -No. No, it's not -he pulled her closer as Hermione put her palm on his chest, to push him away. She looked up and found herself drowning on his emerald eyes.

Before either could have time to think on what they'd both decided a few months ago, they found each other grasping for shirts, pants, underwear and anything that stood in the way of their bodies being closer together, like drowning men fighting for oxygen.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

-->