Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Author's Note: I am in the process of editing all posted chapters. It seems that auto-correct was enabled for some reason while writing the majority of chapters, leading to many strange errors. Feel free to let me know if I miss any, otherwise I am sure I will locate them eventually.

Chapter 4:

My Fire

Harry came awake, once again frustrated by not knowing what time it was. For all he could tell it was 3 A.M. or 9. He did know though that from years of conditioning by the Dursleys he had almost always woken early to begin breakfast. Determining that it was better to just get up and worry about the time later, which was a pun in itself, Harry climbed out of bed and stretched. This was not a Hogwarts bed, but most certainly was the mattress comfortable. He pulled up the sheets and covers to the pillow then found his cane on the bedside table. Trailing it along the floor before him, Harry moved in the direction of the door and followed the wall until he came upon the handle. Thankfully the door was quiet when it opened, adding the feeling of a more recently built and wealthy home. He crossed the hall and came to Hermione's door which was closed, so it was likely early. That was fine then, it would give him some time to explore.

Turning to go, Harry placed a hand on her door and paused, head lowered, wishing only to hear her breathe, or a rustle of the sheets. She was everything to him now, part dependency, part freedom. Everything within him lit up when she was around, both with joy and sexual energy. It was like she lit his body on fire with energy and emotion that he could neither understand or control. Without her it was dark. Plain and simple.

He stepped forward leaving behind the one room that glowed in his heart and cautiously felt the ground with his cane in search of the top step. Every section of the journey was a new challenge that allowed him to congratulate himself on upon completion. The stairs, maneuvering around the sitting room furniture and finding the dining room; entering the kitchen and exploring all sides of it, terrified that he would accidentally knock something over and wake everyone up. Harry set his cane against the door frame and examined his surroundings. He was pleased to discover that the kitchen layout was rather simple and well arranged for him to navigate and locate what he needed easily. He found the teapot sitting beside the stove and decided to start with something simple. Filling it was easy, he discovered that if he stuck his finger in the opening he would be able to feel when it was nearly full, and to his satisfaction, he could also hear a difference in pitch as the water filled the container. He would certainly be experimenting more with sound since it was clearly more helpful than it seemed. Harry would take nothing for granted in this new world of his.

Since the stove was cool, Harry was able to place the teapot by touch and spin the dial to the appropriate level. Congratulations were in order, but first he had to get the food started. Chopping vegetables was easier than he would have thought. Yes he nearly cut himself on several occasions, but it was really the same process, just with more risk and physical touching. Cracking the eggs was as easy as ever. After his years of training, he could do it in his sleep. He placed the frying pan on an unused burner and got it heating up, then he froze with the bowl of egg mixture hovering over the pan. How was he supposed to find the edge of the pan so he didn't miss? How was he supposed to know when it was done? How was he supposed to do any of this without burning either himself or the house down.

Harry stepped back, away from the stove just as the tea began to whistle. His hands were shaking and he wasn't sure what to do. It was too much, too much. It didn't matter how skilled he was, he didn't know how to do everything this way. Yes he could learn, but who was he to think he could just get up and start breakfast without knowing anything about how to do it without vision. He was an arrogant berk, that's what he was.

The burner knob clicked and the tea stopped its whistle. A hand touched his shoulder making him jump and nearly drop the bowl.

"It seems like you know your way around the kitchen son. Why don't we do it together and I can help you where you need it alright?"

It was Simon Granger. Harry felt both relieved and embarrassed. Had the man been watching him? His cheeks began to burn and Harry ducked his head.

"Sorry sir, I…"

"Harry?"

"Y-yes sir?"

"You have nothing to be ashamed of alright? I was coming down to start breakfast myself when you came out in to the hall. I made the decision not to interrupt you because honestly its important to know what you are comfortable with, both for me to know and yourself. I can say honestly son that you are going to do wonderfully. You have a lot of comfort with the kitchen as it is, we just have to build on that."

"Thank you sir."

"Keep calling me sir and I'll tell Hermione on you."

Harry smiled. Yes, he rather liked the Grangers.

Together, he and Simon worked out some tactics to tackle the stove, such as using the oven mitts to allow him to feel the pan and a fork to allow him to test his food as it cooked. Harry did already have a lot of knowledge about cooking it was just translating it in to the new senses. And all the while he and Simon talked and joked, sipping their tea. Ruth came down not long after the full English was finished and they talked some more about making the kitchen more manageable for him. Both of them were displeased to learn just how conditioned he was and determined that he was allowed to cook for everyone when he wanted, but certainly not every meal and he had to let Simon cook his famous pancakes every so often. They were welcoming and pleasant, and clearly very intelligent. The only thing that distressed him was some of the terminology they used when discussing the effects the Dursleys had had on him, but he knew they didn't mean it to hurt him, so he determined to later look up the meanings.

It was while cutting up his sausage with some difficulty that he felt the change. It was as if he had sensed the presence and his heart had decided to dance for her. Behind him in the entrance to the sitting room, he heard a breath in through her nose and a subsequent quiet yawn. He stood, and fought his chair away to get around it.

"Mmm, good morning. That smells lovely." Her voice was thick with sleep, and it was beautiful. Harry stepped towards her and took Hermione in to his arms squeezing his groggy girlfriend to him. She was in a night gown, her curly hair loose and every inch of her radiated the scent of Hermione. It was impossible to lay in one position all night covered by the sheets and not carry your natural smell more strongly. Lavender mixed with the scent of her flesh and she felt so delicate in his arms, so frail.

"Good morning. I missed you." He whispered it in to her neck, rocking Hermione as she returned the embrace with equal urgency.

"I missed you too. That was too long."

And it was true, that was the longest they had been apart since their first kiss, and it had been hard. His entire being was warming up again, as if he were standing by a fire in the winter. Everything else was cold, and Hermione was his warmth. Even as he held her, his heart cried out in glory and pain, like a stretched muscle tearing so it could grow stronger. The center of Harry's world was within his grasp, and Hermione was it. Everything else disappeared in that moment and nothing else mattered but the angel he held.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm," a trembling yawn, "Well enough, but I missed you. It's not the same. Who made breakfast?"

"Your da…"

"Actually," her father broke in, "Harry made breakfast, I only helped with a couple things. He's rather good Hermione, definitely a keeper."

"That's my line darling." Ruth chimed in.

"Ah, right you are love."

Even in their tight embrace Hermione turned her head towards him, "Did you really?"

Harry blushed but she separated just enough to put her lips to his. He breathed her in through his nose as she held his mouth to her's and all uncertainty melted away. She was proud of him, and she loved him. Seconds later, at a cough from her father, they broke the kiss and Hermione pressed her forehead to his.

"You're going to be brilliant, you know that. You can do anything you want to, I know you can. I love you Harry."

The intimacy of the moment burned through him, and it was all because of her. "I love you too. You're my fire, you know that? Everything is warmed and brighter with you here. I can do it, but you're the reason why."

That earned him another searing kiss and this time Hermione ignored her parents. Breakfast could wait.

**GITLOH**

Hermione was proud of her father. Whatever his reasons, he could have been upset with Harry for dating his daughter, and yet he was instead pleasant and very accepting of Harry's disability. He was more than she could have ever asked for, and she vowed to herself that her daddy was never to be neglected by her.

Considering how much she knew Harry hated discussions about himself, he was very receptive and even thankful when they discussed the services her parents had arranged for him. The following day a representative of the government services for those with visual difficulties would come to meet Harry and assess him. She was as eager for him to learn braille as he was, and Hermione was curious to see just how the cane was to be properly used. He seemed less eager for the orientation and mobility instruction than she had expected though. At least he wanted to learn to read again, that was worth something, especially to her.

Today though they would be going shopping for clothes. Harry was in desperate need of new garments and he knew it. When he grimaced at the prospect of shopping all day, only a kiss made him feel better. So she held them randsome and told him that if he was good all day he could have more.

The satisfied smirk he gave her afterwards was rather disconcerting however and no amount of interrogation got him to admit to its source. She might just have bitten off more than she could chew there, but it was too late now.

For years, her home had been inhabited by only the three of them, and now with Harry added to the mix, it amazingly felt no different. That was wrong to say however for it was of course different. She considered his immediate affect on her family as they talked in the car on the way to the shopping center. If anything he made it better.

For the sake of accuracy, which Hermione demanded of herself, he made it no less cohesive. She was raised an only child and had always had her parents' full attention. With Harry there was no deviation from their love or parenting. He made them whole, as if something had been missing without anyone noticing. She might not have believed it possible mere months ago if someone had told her that Harry was integral to her family; that he could be a part of it without anyone batting an eye, without anyone uncertain just how to involve him.

But now, seeing the proof as they meandered through the stores, taking great enjoyment from describing everything to him, from the random passers by or forcing him in to various dressing rooms, she could see just how true it was. He belonged with her, he belonged with her parents, they all belonged together. How else could one explain away such a seamless joining. She knew he had won his way in to their hearts the night before, but if anything drove it home, it was what happened just after lunch.

Loaded down with what shopping had been completed, without allowing Harry to pay a dime for it, much to his gracious frustration, her parents led the way down the line of shops to the next clothing store, intent on getting him some formal wear. Arm linked with her's, Harry was telling her about the time he had vanished a wall of glass on his cousin, when she smelled them. Just ahead was a bookstore, and the aroma of the pages was calling to her. Hermione gripped him tighter and squealed as she tugged him ahead of her parents.

"Oooooh, let's see what they have! Really quick I promise."

Suddenly Harry swung around her and pulled her in to a tight embrace, nearly falling over as he pulled them to a stop, chuckling.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she growled as she attempted to extricate herself. Her parents halted beside them clearly interested to see how this went for him.

"Well," he began, that evil smirk returning to his face. "Since you saw fit to withhold even a kiss from me until the day is done, I don't see why you should be rewarded for your cruelty by purchasing books. What would you say sir?"

Her mouth was open in shock and Hermione turned pleading eyes to her father who was trying not to laugh himself. "Seems like a serious offense what she did. An eye for an eye they say. Leaves everyone half blind, but since you're entirely so, I should think you would understand fully the concept. So, I should think that you have determined a perfect punishment for the rebellious child, don't you?"

Harry nodded in his direction before turning back to Hermione. "Yes sir, I would be happy to ensure that your daughter has her cruel side trained right out of her. Come on then love, we have clothes to buy. Wouldn't want to fail my test by missing valuable shopping time now would I?"

He began sweeping his cane ahead of him in the general direction they had been heading while guiding her by the arm.

Yes, she certainly had bitten off more than she could chew.

Both of her parents were laughing now and so in a last desperate attempt to get what she wanted Hermione caught Harry up as he had to her and placed a very long and intense kiss to his lips, one hand holding his head to her's. When she separated, he was panting a little with a giant bloody grin on his face.

"Can I buy a book now?"

He laughed silently and placed his forehead to her's, cupping her cheek.

"Many. You may buy many books now."

Giggling like a child she ignored his bad grammar and hurried in to the bookstore, the others trailing behind her. She'd lost a battle, but the war would be won by her and her alone. And her father would pay for that one too. But first, a nice romance novel or seven would suffice to prove her literary dominance over the lot of the self-satisfied prats.

It did make one thing very clear to Hermione though. She would have to marry that boy someday.

Following, she noted silently but happily that her parents rarely called him Harry anymore, instead they used words like son, or dear. Pet names for children. She had to use the washroom to get a moment to compose herself once she noticed the trend. Could they really be that accepting of him so quickly?

He had called her his Fire. He couldn't see and yet he made her feel beautiful. He was intelligent in his own right and yet he made her feel brilliant. Harry was the kindest person she knew, and yet he made her feel like an angel.

He made her begin to love herself. Through the self dislike she had heaped upon herself during primary school. Past the image of a plain ugly girl who only liked books rather than people.

Harry made Hermione feel like she was worth it.

His fire.

He had said she brought warmth and light to his world.

If only he knew just how much brighter her own universe had become with him in it.

And easier, it was always better when your boyfriend carried the ten books you purchased out of spite for you. He was a good sport though, he didn't complain once and only smiled the whole while. God she loved him.

**GITLOH**

God he loved her, but now he knew never to try teaching Hermione a lesson. It wasn't worth it.

After getting back from the store, Hermione had insisted that they do some of their summer homework which consisted of her sitting in his lap to make sure she was close enough so he could clearly hear her read the transfiguration text to him. Of course she wasn't entirely comfortable so she had to keep shifting her bum.

Women were just plain evil.

His job was to brush her hair. The entire time. Even though his arm hurt after about three pages. Girls did this every day?

Yup, he'd lost. Big time.

Maybe he could come up with a battle plan with her father in the next day or two. Simon Granger had set up an appointment for him to take a look at Harry's teeth. Considering Harry had never been to a dentist, he thought it would be interesting and maybe a good time to plot against the evil girlfriend. He hadn't been able to figure out why Hermione had started giggling when her dad told him about the appointment.

Women were evil. And weird. No one should have that much power. It was wrong, plain wrong.

**GITLOH**

Author's Note

To answer the question of Harry's recovery of his vision. It is in bad taste for any writer or author to set rules and then break them, it sets a bad precedent and makes them unreliable as an author. If a loophole can be found then fine, but in this case there is none. Magic can not repair his vision and as a result his body has entirely cut off the effort to see again, as a result of the magic. No loopholes here. Even if he had a nonmagical operation to restore his pupils, his body has broken the pathways it would need to utilize it.

Nope, phoenix tears won't help either.

Also, if I suddenly gave him his vision back it would make the entire story a waste, kind of like ending something with "and it was all a dream" heck no, I have standards.

*Chapter Updated: 3rd December, 2018

Elise