Disclaimer - J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

A/N – Written for Round 2 of the hghpficexchange on LJ. Basically, the receiver wanted to see children, friends becoming more, and a jealous! Harry, and not have an affair-fic, dead Ron or Ginny, and Harry or Hermione going to the other as a last resort. I had fun with this exchange, even if it didn't turn out as I expected.

Harry slumped on to his over stuffed, well worn leather arm chair and sighed softly as he let his head fall back. Staring up at the ceiling, he was sore, tired, and frustrated. I thought my life was supposed to be easier.

Grimacing as his hip flared up again, he tried shifting a little in the chair, trying to ignore the momentary pain. In the Cannons latest match, he had been in chase of the Snitch when a Bludger had struck him hard in the left hip, leaving a nasty bruise behind and a load of pain. Shutting his eyes, he tried to relax despite the throbbing. At the moment, a sore hip was the least of his problems.

Staying with Quidditch, the National Side was preparing for the next European Quidditch Championship. So far, in the Qualifying Rounds, Harry had been firmly entrenched as the second team Seeker, a position he wasn't all that familiar with. While the press and many of the fans were clamoring for him to start, the English Manager stood fast, keeping Harry on the pine. He felt Harry wasn't ready for international competition just yet, and despite the hard work Harry had been putting in at practices, he was still the number two. While he kept his mouth shut, never showing dissention in the ranks, it was quite maddening to be playing second fiddle to a player twice your age, and who, in his opinion, had slipped past his prime.

Then, of course, there was Teddy. Harry smiled as he thought of the little six year old, finally asleep in the one of the bedrooms. Using magic, Harry had been able to vastly expand his small apartment just outside London, into a spacious flat. Whenever Harry's schedule allowed it, and sometimes when it wouldn't, Teddy would spend the weekend with him. He was bound and determined to make sure that Teddy had a far better childhood than he, and secretly Riddle, had had. He loved having his godson around, but trying to take care of a little child was a handful even for the experienced; the little boy seemed to have an endless amount of energy. But this was one thing Harry wouldn't trade.

His biggest headache at the moment was his closest friend. In what was supposed to have been a temporary layover while Hermione found a new flat, she had now been living with him for almost six months. Things had been fine to start, but then things started to change and get awkward. It was like their whole relationship had been thrown upside down, and suddenly there was this pink elephant in the room that both were trying their hardest to ignore.

Then, about a month ago, Victor Krum was transferred from his Central Europe Quidditch League team to the Falmouth Falcons, and thus moved to London. Victor had rapidly become a sore spot for Harry and Hermione, especially as Hermione was helping him find a permanent place as well as with helping him adjust to Britain. What do I care if Victor still fancies Hermione?

He's a decent guy, hell of a Seeker, is probably one of the richest players in the game, and seems to genuinely like Hermione.

So, why does it irritate the hell out of me?

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to push everything out of his mind. All he wanted to do for the next few hours before bed was try to relax.

Reaching over to a small end table next to the chair, Harry lightly fingered the cover to a paperback novel. For years, Harry had hated reading because they only time he did it, it was connected to some kind of work. Hermione would constantly nag he and Ron about reading something other than the Prophet's sports page, and when she moved in with him, Hermione would drag Harry with her on her monthly visits to a Muggle bookstore. On one such visit, to quiet Hermione, he bought a book. While it did sit on his desk for a few weeks, eventually, Harry picked it up and started skimming through it. He grudgingly admitted, once again, Hermione had been right; he just needed to find something to read that piqued is interest.

Feeling too tired to want to read anything, he left the book on the end table and lifted his hand to his glasses. Removing them, he used his other hand to rub his tired eyes.

Maybe it's for the best? he asked himself rhetorically. Hermione was only supposed to stay for just a few weeks. Plus, it's about time Hermione found another serious relationship. She's a great girl, anyone would be lucky to be with her.

Harry let out a slow breath as he suddenly found his stomach churning and every muscle in his back tightening. The thought of another guy, any guy, with Hermione irritated him. He felt stupid for feeling like this, because he was also taking it out on her. Something that made him always feel like a heel afterwards.

Letting his glasses fall onto the end table, Harry stared blankly up at the ceiling. All he wanted to do was sleep, but his mind was still spinning. It seemed like the only thing he could focus on was the fact that Hermione was with Krum right now, and his imagination seemed to be getting carried away with itself.

Growing restless with just sitting there, he swiped his glass up and placed them back on as he got to his feet. Walking, with a slight limp, to the kitchen, he looked at the bottle of Firewhiskey for a moment before getting a simple glass of water. Why am I getting so worked up about this?

Then, in a voice that sounded a lot like Ron's, he answered his own question. Because you fancy her.

Bloody git needs to shut up, Harry snapped, referring to Ron's meddling. It had caught him off guard when Ron had told him that for the first time. Aside from being his best mate, he was Hermione's ex. Ron could also be one of the most jealous people Harry had ever known. But here he was, encouraging the two to get together.

In fact, Ron seemed to be the only one completely immune to Harry's foul moods; most likely because he had been the main target of it for years. Brushing Harry's grumblings aside, he seemed to be enjoying needling Harry about Hermione. You've always taken losing hard, Ron had told Harry, but you usually brush it aside after a day or two. No, I believe at the source of all this is our favorite little bookworm.

Honestly, how can you just look at someone one day, who've you known for so long, and just suddenly fancy her, Harry thought to himself, the same argument he always used against Ron. The problem was, the longer it got, the less he could get himself to completely believe that. Somehow, in a matter of the few months they had been living together, without him realizing it, he knew his relationship with Hermione had changed. What that change had brought, Harry didn't really understand, and that was perhaps the scary part.

As Harry was brooding, he heard the front door of his flat burst open and he silently thanked that he had put a Silencing Charm on Teddy's room. Coming out from the kitchen, he found a disheveled Hermione stumbling into the flat.

"You!" Hermione snapped, trying to point at him, only to have her arm get tangled in her coat. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I can't… Everything was perfect,… He asked-" she sputtered and stuttered over her words. Finally, she threw her hands in the air, stormed over and grabbing Harry's face in her hands, crushed her lips to his in an aggressive kiss.

Finally breaking the kiss off, before Harry could react, she let her hands slide off him. "Bugger," she whispered softly, as her body went limp, as if being deflated.

"Hermione?" Harry finally was able to rasp out, struggling to fight to keep his thoughts clear. It was strange to see Hermione this disheveled, much less this impulsive, and in a way, he liked it.

"Victor asked me out," Hermione finally spoke. "I wanted to answer yes, I tried to answer yes."

The familiar churning sensation returned. Harry tried to stay calm, as the last thing he wanted was an argument. "Hermione, why are you telling me this?"

"I said no… and it's your fault," she accused him, poking him in the chest with a finger.

For a brief moment, Harry stood there with his mouth hanging slightly open. Hermione had just kissed him, and the reactions and feelings from the kiss were fighting against his anger at Hermione accusations. "How is it my fault?" Harry finally blurted out, hotly.

"Because you're the reason I said no!" Hermione then started pacing around, frantically gesturing with her hands. Slowly, her voice and body calmed down. "Everything in my head was telling me to say yes, it was perfect. But… But, there was something nagging me all night.

"Victor wants a piece of furniture, not a partner. He wants something that looks nice when he brings it out, when he wants to bring it out. It's like he wants some pretty little thing to play house with."

Harry's mind was going too fast and in way too many directions. He needed clarity. "How is this my fault? It sounds like it's a problem with Victor."

Hermione stopped, turned, and looked at him with a small smirk. "Because, even if Victor wasn't the way he is, I realized that I'm interested in someone else. We may not always agree on everything, but… I know that he cares for me," she finished with an almost embarrassed smile.

"So, then… the kiss?"

Hermione blushed a little. "A last ditch effort to prove my rational side right," she told him with a soft laugh.

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop grinning. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, another voice joined the conversation.

"You're late," Teddy's tired voice announced as he sort of ambled across the room. "You said you read another chapter of Merlin's Tales," he said as he came up next to Hermione and sleepily leaned against her leg.

"I'm sorry Teddy, I didn't mean to wake you," Hermione practically cooed.

Harry smirked, and rolled his eyes as he snickered under his breath. "You didn't wake him. Knowing him, he's been waiting up for you."

Hermione smiled as she reached down and playfully ruffled his blue hair. "I… lost track of time."

Little Teddy had his surrogate-Aunt Hermione wrapped around his little finger just as well as he did his Godfather. For a brief moment, Harry pictured the Hermione and him with Teddy and another child- theirs. Maybe another boy, or maybe even a daughter.

"Harry," Hermione said, and from her tone, she was repeatedly calling his name. Coming out of his daydream, Hermione glanced down at Teddy. "Don't mind him; I've seen him fall asleep with his eyes open. Usually in class, too." Hermione grinned as Teddy giggled and Harry stuck his tongue out at her.

"How about you go back to bed, and tomorrow I'll not only read you another chapter, but I'll also tell you about the time Harry saved the Philosopher Stone?"

"Hermione," Harry protested. He still wasn't comfortable with the praise he got for what he did during his years at Hogwarts. He felt he wasn't any kind of hero, he was just trying to survive. But seeing Teddy's excited and eager expression, he stopped.

Leading Teddy back to his room, "I'll put Teddy back to bed, and when I came back, we have some things to talk about."

"Uh oh," Teddy said softly, looking back at his godfather.

As Harry started cracking up, Hermione shook her head in disbelief and ushered Teddy a little faster to his room.

About fifteen minutes, and several promises, later, Hermione emerged from Teddy's bedroom and back into the living room. Coming to a stop before the couch, she stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, and shook her head in disbelief.

With his head titled back and mouth open slightly, Harry was sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep.

A little smile appeared on her face as she watched him. He's been so wound up; I didn't think he was sleeping at all. His face looked so tired tonight, I'm surprised he didn't just fall over before now.

Gently, and with a practiced ease, Hermione slipped off Harry's glasses and put them in a safe place. Returning to the couch, she settled down on the other end, and, turning to face him, rested her own head against the back of the couch, and continued to watch the man she fancied sleep.

Ron, of all people, had been nagging her for weeks now to talk to Harry, whining that he was the one that had to deal with him when he got all moody and cranky. She kept saying she'd talk to Harry, but then put it off. It was easy to do after a fight, but it was still in the back of her mind, tugging at her to do something. But tonight, it was finally quiet. Hermione silently thanked her other best friend, and was happy that even though their romance hadn't lasted, they were still close friends.

She never intended to fall for her other best friend, but it finally felt right somehow. Perhaps it was because they had finally broken the ice about it. Or maybe it was because she knew that whatever it was she felt, it was reciprocated. Regardless, for tonight, she was content to just sit there and watch over him.

Sleep now, there's more than enough time to talk later.