It Happened One Night

Quickdraw

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 04/09/2003
Last Updated: 04/09/2003
Status: completed

Harry and Hermione are caught in a terrible storm, discover a very useful gadget, engage in some rather naughty behavior and have a long overdue talk about the future.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

Author's note: Thanks as always to Haggridd, who somehow always manages to make silk purses from the sow's ears I give him.

“IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT”

It was a dark and stormy night…

The wind roared like some enraged demon, blowing snow everywhere—especially behind Harry Potter's round owlish glasses and painfully into his rapidly tearing eyes. Harry looked around but could see nothing but great gnarled black trees and rapidly building snowdrifts. For all they knew Hogwarts might be just over the hill and Hagrid's hut only steps away but they'd never find either in this storm.

“It's no good, Harry!” Even though she was only inches away, Hermione Granger's voice was barely audible through the howling wind. “We've got to find some kind of shelter or we'll freeze to death!”

For the umpteenth time the fierce gale lifted Harry's cloak into the air and nearly yanked it from their grasp. The Invisibility Cloak was great for sneaking around castle corridors unseen, but it simply wasn't designed for blizzard conditions. Nonetheless, it was just about the only protection they had. The storm had appeared without warning and neither of them were wearing any heavy winter clothing. For the umpteenth time, Harry wrapped it around the both of them as best he could and pulled Hermione close. He could feel her shivering and her teeth chattering as her small body tried desperately to draw warmth from his.

"Wait a minute!" Harry exclaimed as he felt around the pocket of his robes. Luckily it was still there. Where had he found the darned thing, anyway? It was only slightly wider than his hand, and looked like a handle that had fallen off its cupboard. His spectacles were glazing over with ice and he could just barely read the inscription:

ATTACH TO LARGE VERTICAL SURFACE AND SPEAK INCANTATION.

“What on Earth is it, Harry?” Hermione yelled hoarsely.

“It's supposed to be an emergency shelter!” Harry pushed the object against the trunk of the nearest tree. Amazingly, it stuck to the bark like a magnet on a refrigerator. Squinting through the ice crystals on his glasses and the blowing snow, he struggled to read the incantation:

“Cur gallina per viam transire maluit?”

The surface of the tree around the handle began to liquefy. Harry and Hermione watched in awe as it reformed itself into a large wooden door whose surface had the same texture as the surrounding tree bark, making it look as if it had been built into the tree in the first place. As soon as the door solidified Harry grabbed the handle, pulled it open and hustled Hermione inside. The howling wind threatened to tear the newly formed door off of its newly formed hinges but somehow Harry managed to shut it.

Taking his wand from his pocket, “Ut in altera parte viae ambularet.!” he ordered, and the door locked securely behind them.

It took a moment for their eyes to become adjusted to the dim light. Wherever they were, it was definitely more pleasant than remaining outside. That they were standing in a room which couldn't possibly fit inside the tree wasn't all that surprising. Such physics-defying stunts were fairly common in the magical world. What astonished them was the rather eccentric décor. It looked more than anything like a small one-room London flat. There was a fireplace with a nice warm fire already going. Two big overstuffed armchairs with hand-crocheted antimacassars protecting their arms and backs were ready for anyone who might want to sit down and toast a marshmallow or have a cup of tea. Along one wall there was a sink, a couple of cupboards, (no doubt stocked with goodies), a small refrigerator and an old-fashioned gas stove with a kettle of hot water already boiling. A large console radio stood in one corner softly playing Big Band music. It sounded like Frank Sinatra:

Those fingers in my hair,

That sly come hither stare,

That strips my conscience bare,

It's witchcraft,

At the far end of the room stood a large brass bed covered by an enormous hand-made quilt. A second door near the bed evidently led to a bathroom. Everything in the room, including the frilly lampshades and the flowered wallpaper looked as if it were made in the 1940's. “Cozy” was the word that came to mind. Harry thought it the sort of place someone's old Granny would live in. Hermione thought how perfect it would be for a pair of newlyweds just starting out.

“We'd better get these wet things off before we catch pneumonia!” Harry hung his Invisibility Cloak on the small wooden clothes rack by the fireplace to dry, then began peeling off his sopping school robes and his blazer. Hermione was still trying to control her chattering teeth. Harry got up from his seat by the fire and quickly started pulling her out of her robes. At first Hermione looked as if she were going to slap him for being so forward, but she was shivering too hard to argue. Harry got the first few layers of clothing off her then sat her down on the bed. Their fifth year at Hogwarts had brought about some very interesting changes in Hermione Granger, and most of them were visible through her wet slip. Harry did his best to appear as if he weren't looking.

And I've got no defense for it,

The heat is too intense for it,

What good would common sense for it do?

He was gathering up the big old quilt with the intention of wrapping it around her shoulders when she leaned over and snuggled up against his side, wrapping her arms around his waist, almost instinctively seeking out the warmth of his body. Harry took the quilt and wrapped it around them both, gently kissed the top of her head and gave her a comforting squeeze. Hermione sighed contentedly through her still-chattering teeth. For a long time they just sat there, warming each other. Eventually Hermione's shivering subsided, but neither one of them was in any great hurry to move. Somehow it had become quite warm enough for the both of them.

'Cause it's witchcraft, wicked witchcraft,

And although, I know, it's strictly taboo,

It was Hermione who finally took the initiative. She craned her neck and kissed him on the cheek. When Harry turned to see what she was up to, she nailed him right on the lips. To a neutral observer, no doubt this would have appeared to be the most awkward, childish, unromantic kiss in the whole history of lovemaking, but as far as Harry and Hermione were concerned, they were Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr in From Here To Eternity. (Hermione had conjured up the film in the Gryffindor Common Room one night and even talked Harry and Ron into sitting through it. Ron fell asleep and Harry did his best to pretend he wasn't interested in all that “mushy stuff”, but wound up taking at least three cold showers that night.)

Harry's ears were burning from the sudden surge in his blood pressure. His heart threatened to beat its way right out of his chest. He could feel Hermione's hands begin to wander up and down his back, finally tugging at his shirttails in order to reach bare skin. Before he knew it, his own hands began to wander as well.

When you arouse the need in me,

“Hermione…?” Harry's voice seemed troubled. She could see the reticence in his eyes, but as her hands wandered farther in her exploration, she became aware of the great conflict between Harry's mind and his body. She began kissing him on his neck, working her way up to his mouth.

My heart says `yes indeed' in me,

“What's is it Harry,” she asked gently. “Don't you want me?” Whatever Harry was going to say next was lost when their mouths met once more. “Tell me what's wrong.”

Proceed with what you're leading me to,

“There's nothing wrong,” he whispered as a tear trickled down his cheek, “nothing at all.” Whatever battle had been going on inside him was clearly over, and Harry had surrendered unconditionally.

It's such an ancient pitch,

But one I wouldn't switch,

'Cause there's no nicer witch than you.

*****

Doris Day's voice echoed through their dreams.

You sigh, the song begins, you speak and I hear violins,

It's magic.

Hermione awoke with a contented sigh. She'd never slept so peacefully in her entire life. No nightmares about Professor Snape. No anxieties about her grades. Just a warm, satisfied feeling that went all the way down to her toes. She smiled when she realized that she'd been sleeping in Harry's arms.

The stars desert the skies and rush to nestle in your eyes,

It's magic.

For a long time she just watched him sleep and played the evening's events over again in her mind. Harry's gentleness had surprised her. She had mentally prepared herself for the kind of crude, uncomfortable, selfish groping the other girls at school described when they talked about their sexual experiences—but that wasn't Harry. Like so many “first times”, it was tentative and awkward; not quite knowing which way to tilt heads when kissing, wondering where it was and wasn't permissible to touch. And yet, it was so much more than that…

Without a golden wand or mystic charms,

Fantastic things begin when I am in your arms

Hermione heaved a sigh, remembering all the wonderful little heart-to-heart talks she'd had with her mother. How would she ever break the news that all her sage advice to her daughter about “abstinence” and “saving herself” had all gone right out the window because of Harry?

Dear Mum,

School is going well. Got top marks in arithmancy.

By the way, I'm sleeping with Harry Potter…

A little too direct. Hermione thought as she pictured the poor woman dropping dead of a heart attack. Well, after all Mum, you did tell me that I should save myself for the right man—and I think you'll agree when you get to know him that Harry is definitely the right man.

She must have dozed off for a little while, because when she awoke, Harry was staring at the ceiling with a troubled expression.

“Harry? Is there something wrong?”

“Not with you.” Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her. “Last night was… wonderful!”

It seemed like such a corny thing to say, but he said it with such total sincerity that Hermione almost wanted to cry.

“You were pretty wonderful yourself,” she returned the kiss. “But something's bothering you.”

“I've got a lot on my mind,” Harry shrugged. “Got that big term paper due for Trelawney… Snape's breathing down my neck as usual… Plus we've got the big match against Slytherin coming up.” He caressed her cheek. Along with a great deal of love, Hermione detected a hint of sadness in Harry's eyes. It was as if he were making a memory—soaking in every detail of this moment of happiness—afraid it would be their last.

“You know me” he sighed, trying to sound nonchalant. “I'm not truly happy unless I've got something to worry about.” He could tell that Hermione wasn't going to be satisfied by that answer.

“Rubbish. Remember who you're talking to. This is Hermione. I can read you like Hogwarts: A History! Her lips curled into a mischievous grin. “What's the matter, Potter?” she teased trying to draw him out, “Afraid you might have gotten in over your head? Afraid there might be a little Harry Potter in the oven?” Pulling back the covers, she took his hand and placed it on her bare stomach.

“Or a bossy little know-it-all Hermione?” The mental image of miniature versions of themselves sent them both into fits of giggles.

“It would serve you right, you know!” she said as they recovered. “Seducing innocent young school girls like that! There ought to be a law!”

“I'm not the one with the reputation as a `Scarlet Woman',” Harry reminded her, getting a punch in the arm for his trouble. His tone was suddenly more serious. “I guess we both could've exercised a bit more self control.”

“I'm a big girl, Harry,” she reassured him. “I knew what I was doing. Mind you, Mum and Dad wouldn't exactly be thrilled if I got pregnant before I had graduated from Hogwarts, but I bet they'd come around the first time they got to hold their grandchild—after the shotgun wedding, of course.” The dour expression returned to Harry's face. “I'm only teasing, Harry! You know I'd never do that to you. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey would give me a `Morning After' potion if I really—“

“It's not that,” Harry smiled, gently rubbing her belly, “A baby I could deal with. In fact, the idea of making a baby with you has a certain appeal to it.” His tone was suddenly very serious. “I just wish that were the only thing we had to worry about. I know one thing for sure,” he said with a look of grim determination in his eyes, “My son isn't going to grow up in a cupboard under the Dursley's stairs because his father wasn't there to protect him.”

“Our daughter,” Hermione corrected, “is going to grow up with a father and a mother! And God help anyone who--!” Harry's face was ashen. That's when it suddenly hit her; Harry's parents must have felt exactly the same way. They had vowed that no one and nothing would ever be allowed to harm their precious baby. They had succeeded; it was true. Their son had survived, but at the cost of both their lives. Not only had he been left an orphan, he had been condemned to a life of utter misery at the hands of the Dursleys.

Now it was all becoming clear. Hermione propped herself up on one elbow and looked Harry right in the eye. “That's what's been bothering you,” she sighed. “Now that we're lovers, you're afraid it will make me a bigger target for You Know Who. Is that it?”

“I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you!”

“And just how do you think I'd feel if something happened to you?” she shot back, “It works both ways, you know!”

“Hermione…!”

“Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter,” she said sternly, “I love you and I want to be at your side.”

“And I love you, but--!”

“No `buts', Harry! I understand the risks! I know that as long as he's on the loose, none of us are safe. I also know that every time you've come up against him, you've beaten him--even when you were a helpless infant in your mother's arms! Just imagine the fight he'll have on his hands if he tries to take on the two of us together!”

She saw it in his eyes. That's what my parents thought.

“Harry…” She reached over to dab a tear out of his eye. “Sooner or later Voldemort will try to kill me—I know that—and it's entirely possible that he'll succeed. It's also possible that a lorry could run me down or I could fall into a sewer or catch some horrible tropical disease. Even with magic, there are never any guarantees in this life, my darling. You take your chances just climbing out of bed every morning.”

“I was just so angry at myself!” Harry admitted, “I knew I could be putting you in danger, but I need you so much… I guess I was just too selfish to push you away.”

“Well, I guess that makes two of us.” She tousled his hair with her fingers. “Remember, I've known who and what you were ever since we first met. If I'd been worried about the dangers of standing too close to `The Boy Who Lived' you'd have seen the last of me ages ago!” That got a little bit of a smile out of him. “Suppose you had managed to say `no' to me last night and something had happened to one of us anyway? You know how Malfoy is always going on about Mudbloods. I'd be a target whether we had been lovers or not! Worst of all, we wouldn't even have the wonderful memories of everything we shared last night! Now that would be a real tragedy.” She drew Harry close and cradled him in her arms. “None of us really knows what the future will bring,” she said softly, “but we can't live our lives cowering in fear. All we can do is to carry on as if there will be a future for us. I have to believe that you and I will be raising a whole house full of bespectacled little Harrys and bossy little know-it-all Hermiones long after You Know Who is nothing more than an unpleasant memory! Otherwise what's the point? We might as well just shoot ourselves right now and get it over with!”

For a long time they just lay there, holding on to each other as tightly as they could.

The radio continued to play softy:

I'm wild again, beguiled again,

A whimpering, simpering child again,

Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I

“I'll make you a deal,” Harry finally said, “If you'll promise to extra careful from now on, I'll promise to try and not be such a worrier.”

“If solemnly swear that I absolutely won't get myself killed,” she said, trying not to giggle, “can we please stop talking about it and start making some more memories?”

A huge grin spread across Harry's face as he drew her into a kiss.

Neither of them had particularly noticed the old-fashioned rotary telephone sitting on the end table next to the bed until it started ringing. Nor were they at all certain it had been there the whole time. Being the closest, Harry reached over and picked it up.

“Mister Potter?” came the unmistakably oily voice from the other end.

“Professor Snape?” Harry stammered.

Instinctively, Hermione pulled the sheets up to cover herself.

“May one assume that Miss Granger is with you?”

“Yes, Professor…one may.” Harry hoped his voice didn't sound as guilty to Snape as it did to him. “Did you want to speak to her…?” Hermione was frantically shaking her head “no” and waving her hands.

“I have no doubt that you find Ms. Granger's voice more blissful than a choir of the Heavenly Hosts, Mr. Potter,” he sneered, “But I'm sure I shall survive without hearing it. Is there anyone else in the shelter with you?”

“No, Professor. Just us.”

“How cozy.”

“—Everyone seems to be accounted for,” Professor McGonagall's voice interrupted. “There were nearly a hundred students caught outside the castle when Mr. Longbottom's little snowstorm blew up. Forty of them ended up in one shelter, poor dears!”

“Hang on!” Harry said incredulously, “You mean Neville cooked up that blizzard?”.

“I never would have thought the lad had it in him,” Snape replied with a strange air of satisfaction.

“He is soooo dead!” Hermione muttered under her breath. “I'm going turn him into a fly and feed him to that bloody toad of his!”

“Isn't it lucky you happened to hand out those Emergency Shelters to all your classes, yesterday?” McGonagall said. Snape's grunted reply was unintelligible.

Harry slapped his forehead. That was where he'd gotten the shelter! Like everyone else in class that day, he had barely been paying attention while Snape was droning on about “weather potions” and “extra credit coursework”. He glanced over at Hermione's robe drying by the fireplace. A second shelter had fallen out of one of the pockets onto the floor, forgotten. Snape, of all persons, had saved their lives.

Harry couldn't quite make out what was being said, but someone else was talking to Snape. “Who in the name of Salazar Slytherin do you think I'm talking to now?” he was growling to someone on the other end, “Who else? It's Potter and Granger. They've conveniently managed to get a shelter all to themselves.” There was a long pause. “Of course they're up to something! They're always up to something! Just like the Weasley boy and Miss Brown! They were so busy studying `comparative anatomy' that they almost didn't hear the other students begging to be let in!”

Poor Ron, thought Harry, so near and yet so far. For their friends' sakes Harry hoped that Ron and Lavender weren't in the shelter with forty students crammed into it.

“I'll bet you a thousand galleons that Potter and Granger have spent the entire evening disgracing the good name of—” Whoever Snape was talking to apparently lost patience at that point. When he got back on the line he seemed a bit more humble, if no less resentful. He was obviously repeating what he had been told. “Apparently, Professor Dumbledore is going to give everyone who was trapped outside an excused absence for their little adventure. He suggests that everyone simply stay put for the night. He and Professor Conklin from Elemental Manipulation have been working on the problem and he thinks they can clear things up enough for you to find your way back to the school by lunchtime. In the interim,” Snape's voice was dripping with distain, “I'm sure you and Miss Granger can find some way of amusing yourselves.”

“Whatever you say, Professor…” Harry sighed dreamily. Hermione had begun kissing her way down his chest. As the Potions master hung up the phone in disgust, they could hear the radio once more…

...let me live `neath your spell.

Do do, that voodoo that you do so well

*****

Harry turned the Invisibility Cloak inside out and wrapped it around both their shoulders once more as he and Hermione stepped outside. As predicted, the storm began to subside around lunchtime. The winds had died down and now the snow was drifting down gently, in a soft lacy powder.

The doorway disappeared as Harry removed the Emergency Shelter handle from the tree and stuck it in his pocket. He wondered if it could be reused. That might be a nice way for he and Hermione to get a bit of privacy now and again.

Neither of them said much as they made their way back to Hogwarts. They both knew it wouldn't take long for tongues to start wagging. Even those who hadn't heard about their little adventure would be able to deduce from they way they now behaved around each other that they had been intimate. Somehow Harry wasn't bothered. The positives of the situation definitely outweighed the negatives.

Harry also realized that Hermione was right about one thing: There weren't any guarantees. All they could do was carry on as if they really had a future together.

The rest was out of their hands.

THE END

"Witchcraft" Coleman/Leigh

“It's Magic” Words by Sammy Cahn, Music by Jule Styne

“Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” by Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart

“You Do Something To Me” Music and Lyrics by Cole Porter