Disclaimer: I own nothing. Deal with it.
Author's Note: I… have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this. Honestly. Rated for citrusy content both explicit and implied.
Time is like a dream
And now for a time you are mine
Let's hold fast to the dream
That tastes and sparkles like wine
Interlude ~ Timi Yuro
Hermione Granger stood in front of a plain wooden door, her mouth set in a grim slash of determination. Tonight she would end it and redeem herself. Fishing out her key, she opened the door.
"You're late."
Hermione looked up to see a grinning Harry standing in the doorway, his arms folded. She bit her lip, steeling herself.
"No, I'm not. Harry, we need to talk."
"Oh?" The salacious smirk never left his face as he walked up to her, taking her coat off and tossing it carelessly onto the rack. "Talk, you say?" She giggled girlishly in spite of herself as he ran her fingers through her bushy hair on the flimsy pretext of removing her hat. "Okay, let's talk about why you were late."
A little small talk can't hurt, thought Hermione. He's so adorable when he smiles like that. A small smile lit up her face.
"Well, it was snowing outside," Hermione said in mock defiance. It was true; some snowflakes still clung to her bushy tresses, melting instantly on Harry's fingers. "You know how London traffic is when it's snowing."
"Indeed."
Harry stepped away, disappearing into the kitchen of the tiny flat and appearing a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"You should have taken the Floo." Seating himself on the couch, he uncorked the bottle with a flick of his wrist, pouring a little wine into their glasses.
The light-hearted mood had evaporated; she remained where she was, fidgeting nervously with the sleeve of her blouse. "Harry, stop. We can't do this anymore."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's just a drink, 'Mione. Sit." He patted the seat invitingly. Hermione sat reluctantly next to him, taking her glass.
"You haven't answered my question," he said over the rim of his glass. "Why didn't you take the Floo?"
She sighed. "Well, I did come from my parents' place. They'd have a fit if I jumped into their fireplace."
He laughed and drained his wine in one gulp.
"True." Harry leaned back comfortably into the plush back of the couch, one arm draped casually around the top behind her head. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of glasses and the sloshing of wine poured out. Hermione kept drinking, gathering her courage. She needed to be strong, her rehearsed speech playing over and again in her head.
"I missed you so much." Harry's intense emerald eyes were focused on Hermione's face as he broke the peaceful atmosphere. She looked away, her heart in her throat.
"Harry. This is wrong. We both know it, and yet..." He shifted closer, placing a hand on her thigh. She made no move to push it away, her attention fixed on the wine. Clearing her throat, she tried to continue but the words died in her mouth.
"What's wrong about being in love?" Harry's voice was low, made husky by evident desire. The very sound of it was eliciting a response from her traitorous body; she could feel the growing wetness between her legs.
Hermione's heart raced in her chest, uncomfortable both by the proximity of their bodies and her knowledge of what would happen next. "Harry… We can't…"
Harry nuzzled her cheek, his warm breath playing against the sensitive skin of her neck. "Hermione," he muttered.
A shiver ran down her spine. The passion, the need, the… longing in his voice was palpable and it was all she could do to prevent herself from melting there and then.
How is it possible for me to tell him when I… want this as well?
Hermione felt the wineglass being gently eased from her hand. "I think we've both had enough to drink," he chided playfully, setting the goblet on the low table along with his. Harry leaned in dangerously close, his next words coming in barely a whisper. "I'm already drunk on you."
She was going to push him away when a hand glided around her neck, taking her jaw and turning her face to his. Slowly, he captured her lips with his own, pressing them to hers in a light, chaste kiss. Hermione's eyelids fluttered closed, overcome by the sensations filling her body. All rational thought fled her mind as she drowned in pleasure, her hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.
Harry's tongue ran against her lower lip, teasing her. She parted her mouth for him, allowing him access, her own tongue entering his mouth. Emboldened by the depth of the kiss, Hermione's hands entangled themselves in Harry's hair, feeling the silky strands in her fingers. His own hands were all over her body, one roaming around her lower back, splayed there as he held her to him while the other cradled her face. Hermione heard a faint moan and was slightly embarrassed to realize it had come from her.
He broke away from her, panting and rested his forehead against hers. "Hermione… I love you," he gasped, staring deep into her brown eyes, his green ones clouded with passion. "I love you so much."
"Harry…" As she stared back at him, she found it suddenly impossible not to answer him truthfully. "I… love you too."
The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a smile as he leaned towards her. Scooping her into his arms in one fluid movement, he continued to devour her lips as they staggered towards the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he eased her down on her back. Harry remained on top of her, propping himself up on his arms and looked down at his flushed lover.
"'Mione… do you want this?"
Her answer was to reach up and pull his face down to hers. Laughing softly, he trailed kisses down her jaw and neck, his hands running up and down her sides. Hermione arched against him, her fingers fisting in his hair.
"Yes… Do you?"
She fumbled with his belt as he took off her blouse and unhooking her bra with a speed which suggested he had done it many times before. Hermione moaned again, taking his face in her hands to kiss him forcefully.
"I want this… more than anything."
***************************************************************************************************************
Harry awoke suddenly to find his arms empty. Hermione stood a little way from the bed, already half-dressed. Her hair was still damp from the bath.
"Hermione?" He sat up, the blanket falling away from his torso.
"I have to go," she said flatly, not meeting his eyes, busying herself with her top. "Ron and the children will be wondering where I am."
"Yeah. So will Ginny and the boys." Harry slid from the bed, disappearing into the bathroom to shower.
When she heard the sound of the water running, Hermione sank down on the bed as the memories of last night came back vividly. Guilt gnawed at her insides as she thought of her family.
It was wrong of her, of both of them to be doing this. What had started as a drunken fling at a party years ago had become something much more. When they were both sober, Harry and Hermione had both realized they were in love but it was too late: they were already married. For Ron and Ginny's sakes, they had remained together with their respective spouses but kept up the affair.
Hermione had come to Harry last night to end it but had been too weak. She loved him too much.
Harry came out, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist to find her crying, her face in her hands. "Hey," he said softly, putting an arm around her shoulders, pressing her face to his chest. Hermione clung to him, crying harder even as she drew comfort from his embrace. "It's okay. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you last night."
He cupped her face in both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.
"I love you, Harry," she sobbed. "But I also love Ron. I… I don't want to hurt him but we can't go on like this."
"Shhhh," he soothed her, brushing her fringe. "I know, 'Mione. I love Ginny too."
"This is wrong, Harry Potter, and you know it." She pushed his hands away, standing up. "We both know it. It's not fair to Ron and Ginny and our children." Hermione stared at him, firming her trembling lip. "I don't want to see you again, Harry."
He bowed his head, acknowledging the truth of her words but at the same time, selfishly refusing to let her go.
"Is there no other way? I'm in love with you, and I know that you're in love with me too."
A few more tears fell from Hermione's eyes, staining her blouse and she dabbed angrily at them. "Please don't say that, Harry."
He exhaled heavily, stooping to pick up his clothes and dress himself. Leaving him, Hermione went outside and took her coat and hat.
As she paused in front of the door, Hermione turned her head to see him standing in the doorway just as he had last night. Only this time, instead of confident and assured, he leaned against the frame, looking empty and disconsolate. His eyes spoke volumes to her, begging her not to leave. Hardening her heart, she looked coldly back at him.
"Goodbye, Harry," she muttered, turning her face away so he would not see her cry. Opening the door, she slipped out, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Once out of his sight, she took out her wand and Disapparated, Apparating almost immediately on the doorstep of her own house. The house she shared with Ron and their two toddlers Rose and Hugo.
When she opened the door, she was greeted by loud cries of "Mummy! Mummy's home!" Hermione forced a smile as the children latched on to her legs, squealing happily. Ron emerged from the back of the house, beaming.
"Morning, 'Mione," he said, kissing her forehead. "Lots of work last night?"
She bit her lip, nodding a yes.
He smiled, picking up a toddler in each arm. "Bloody hell, I swear, those gits overwork you."
The toddlers shrieked loudly, pointing at their father. "Daddy said a bad word!"
Ron groaned and laughed. "Okay, Daddy's naughty. Come along, kids, Mummy's tired. Daddy will fix breakfast, okay?" He strode off to the kitchen, the noisy cheers of Rose and Hugo following him.
As though in a dream, she took off her coat and hat and went upstairs to their bedroom. She did not deserve to have such an understanding husband, a warm and loving family who trusted her so much not to question her. All the more evil she was for carrying on such a torrid affair.
Hermione curled up on top of the sheets, not bothering to slide under the covers. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, staining the pillow.
She had ended it with Harry. She knew she should be happy that she had her loving family and no one knew about the affair.
So why do I feel so broken inside?