Chapter four

Humping like rabbits

(AN: a few reminders)

This is not actually an HP-HG ship, although it starts out that way

Warning (one): Unbridled butchery of the King's English is a common facet of this writer's modis operendi and I have also been rightfully accused of: - gross punctuation and grammar errors, obscene ramblings on tangents that distract from the main plot and repeating already stated facts and plot points over and over.

Warning (two); I will pick and choose items from JKR last two books as it suits my fancy, and disregard other bits of cannon just as easily.

Author's disclaimer: This story is based in the world created by J. K. Rowling, she owns all legal rights to the characters, setting, etc. - I am merely borrowing the contents of the JKR world for my own amusement and that of my readers. In other words…her characters…my plot…savvy?

Warning (three) this is the Mione slag chapter, although please note there is something 'off' about her actions

Okay – roll film

OoOoOoOo

Slowly, still sobbing, she stood up and washed her face on the sink, thinking about Ron, about her regrets and the feelings, if any - - that she still had for him. For how long had she been in love with him? For how many years had she longed to make love to him. She remembered fondly their first kiss, after Slughorn's Christmas party; she recalled how on fire her body felt - - how much she wanted to lose her maidenhead that very night, only to have Ron put the brakes on, to protect her reputation – he had said.

"Nice-girls don't put-out on the first date, Luv; besides - - don't you think I should break up with Lavender first?" he'd said in a display of his well-known humorous wit. The very next morning after a terrible argument - Ron had broken up with Miss Brown, openly confessing his feeling for a blushing red Hermione.

He'd gotten smacked across the face for his trouble - then turning on a Knut and in front everyone in the Great Hall he had loudly asked Hermione to be his girlfriend. It had been the happiest moment in her life - even if her girlishly-giggling reaction caused several people to chuckle, including Harry. Several overloud – "IT'S ABOUT TIME" could also be heard from three of the four house tables

And after so much longing, so much waiting for the boy she adored to confess his love; she had thrown it all away a mere fortnight later - when Harry had casually offered to provide what Ron had declined to do - - after being Ron's official girlfriend for so short a time, she had suddenly found her-self desperately wanting to explore the physical side of love.

Whereas, poor naïve Ron had thought that - - at seventeen years-of-age that they weren't ready for the possible responsibly of an unplanned child. As if she didn't already know two dozen contraceptive charms and jinxes. He knew she did and said so, but still hadn't wanted to rush things - - although they were both of age he'd wanted to wait until they were further along in their relationship.

Harry, on the other hand - - during a chat with Hermione during the Christmas holiday the both spent that year at the Burrow - when they were discussing her and Ron finally becoming a couple - - had out of nowhere - casually admitted his craving the same kind of intense sexual experiences that Hermione had secretly longed for. Fearing death at any moment he said that he was determined to not die a virgin. As Ginny had said no-way to sex - especially as long as their relationship remained secret - -an understandable attitude really, from a girl that wanted the bragging rights of being the Chosen One's girlfriend. Out of sheer frustration Harry had blurted-out his intention to seek-out – a no-string attached shag with a prostitute in London during the holiday. Strangely, Hermione found the idea of meaningless sex irresistible - especially without the promise of Marriage first restrictions that the more moralistic Ron was heavily hinting at.

Even Harry later admitted that all he'd wanted was to get laid and never imagined in his wildest dreams that prim and proper Hermione - would take him up on such a recklessly crazy idea. But as a hated Muggleborn and fearing death during the war herself …Hermione had yielded with unusual ease to Harry's casual idea of an emotion-free one-night-stand in Mr. Weasley's shed at three in the morning. And who safer to give her virginity to than the friend for whom she had never felt anything more than sisterly love.

What she could not come to grips with - - even now, was how she had ignored her own - - two feet firmly planted on the ground, common sense approach to life and just let it happen - - at the Burrow, on a broken down couch surrounded by Arthurs collection of electric plugs and Muggle du-dad's - - on Boxing Day, no less. Because it was a betrayal on many levels, her boyfriend for one and his parents hospitality for another.

Even she admitted to herself - that 'doing-it' especially with brother-figure - - was way out of character for her - - she wasn't normally the type of girl that did one night stands - - even with a close friends - - or so she had thought at the time. And yet when the opportunity came along, she had eagerly jumped at the chance. That in itself should have set off warning bells in her conscious – but oddly – it hadn't.

And of course it wasn't just that one night; once they started - - it was hard to stop. It was amazing that Ron hadn't caught them in the act - - considering the risks they'd taken at the Burrow over that holiday. And then back at Hogwarts - - during an affair that stretched on and off - - in secret and at random times and places, all but right in front of Ron's and his all too trusting back - - from late December to mid-June. All the Quidditch matches Ron played in; all the practices he and Ginny attended with neither of them ever wondering why there 'significant others' weren't there - - they never questioned what Harry and I were doing - - while they were in the air.

It was only now in Febuary, while remembering the events of second half of last term that the odd manner in which they so casually fell into the habit of havening meaningless - unbridled sex," came into question. As emotions weren't a part of what they were doing - they felt no unease that they were openly cheating on the people they - even then - during post shag cuddling - professed to love. Actually boasting how their new experience would make things better with the Weasley they'd settle down with - - someday. It all seemed so unreal now, as if their entire tryst was all part of an oddly hazy teenage wet-dream...

Sex in between classes - sex in the Prefect bath - sex so often that they'd finally grew careless enough to get caught in-the-act by a stunned speechless Ginny - - no less? And then all hell broke loose a mere twenty-four hours before Dumbledore funeral. Harry's relationship with Ginny had been extra discrete and behind the scenes – allegedly for her safety - so the only one who had to be publicly dumped had been Ron and of course he had not taken the kiss-off very well.

And now a mere fourteen months after Ron's original confession of love - - eighteen-year-old Hermione's ill-advised sexual tryst with seventeen-year-old Harry was over. After eight months of living openly in sin with Harry after school - - she could barely stand to be in the same tent with him. Was she then, once again, back in love with Ron? She honestly didn't know. In Hermione's ever logical mind she and Harry may have just confused teenage lust with real mature love - - a-lot of overly-randy teenagers do that.

How could any girl at her age - know what real love was … did Ron know? It hurt her pride to even think it - - but she kind-of thought he did. He had turned down a quick-shag in favor of the long term, which had to mean something maturity wise? But just the idea that Ron could be more mature than her in anything – had been a huge stunner for Hermione. Ron who couldn't resist sweets and yet he'd been willing to give up instant gratification sexually for long term happiness - - and as she now suspected, had also declined Lavender in the same way.

Sweet Merlin, she had mucked-up big time. Not all that popular with boys in general; or her female dorm-room peers - - for that matter. Without her close-association with Harry could she have attracted a man like, Ron - - on her own merits? Would Krum have asked her to the Yule Ball without her being a part of Potter's inner circle?

Her only chance at finding romance now - - was after they succeed in their mission; simply survive the war and have a go at starting over with someone new. But considering her track-record with boys so far, success in love seemed rather unlikely. And even if she did try, would her 'I'm always right' attitude make getting a new boyfriend, any easier? In a school with her limited experience - - with Ron being the sole exception - - males didn't normally make passes with bookworms who were loads smarter than they were. So Hermione seriously doubted that the adult - - after-work pub-scene - - would be any kinder to know-it-all birds.

Would Ron let her chat him-up again, and try to mend what they once had - - if she apologized hard enough? Would he'd want to even see her, or them, ever again, - - probably not?

Sighing, and looking horrible, eyes bloodshot, her face gaunt, her expression sad and feeling depressed, she exited the bathroom. Harry was already up, preparing tea in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said, without looking at her.

"Morning, Harry," she answered, getting her clothes and changing into them.

"There is left-over rabbit from last night for breakfast," he commented apologetically. "Do you want it? It's not much - a few bites really?"

"No, Harry. You gave me the best part of last night's dinner," she said, without a glance at him. "You need food more than I do."

"Are you sure?" he asked, concerned, gazing at her. "I think you need it more, Hermione. I can count your ribs underneath the jumper you're wearing. You look pale and tired. Is it everything OK?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, everything's just fine, Harry," she answered, looking at him and forcing a smile. "You eat the rabbit – after all you caught it - and after that we'll pack up. I think we should pay a call on a local grocer. I have a few pounds left and we could get a few tins." It was a lie. Nothing was fine, they were almost penniless and she was hungry almost starving - - and they both knew it. Harry continued staring at her while she put her trainers on.

"We can share the rabbit."

"It was an undercooked semi-raw tiny rabbit - just eat it," Hermione ordered, with a tone that resembled the bossy tone she had used so effectively with Ron at school, during happier days.

Harry didn't like her tone, instead he glared at her in defiance - - mumbled something under his breath that probably wasn't a compliment; but otherwise didn't reply, he just poured two mugs of tea for them both. She joined him at the table and they drank in silence, like they usually did, before beginning to pack to leave for yet another location.

"We should go to the southwest of the country," commented Hermione without true interest. "It will be a bit warmer and less chance of running into Snatchers."

"Good idea," said Harry dispassionately.

Hermione began to pack everything inside her bag. He put her hand inside to take-out her winter cloak - and as she did she touched a small wooden frame, knowing instantly that it was a Muggle picture of her and Ron taken at her parents' home, two years ago. The one and only gift Ron had given her as her boyfriend - as a Christmas present - - during the same holiday she had first slept with Harry.

In spite of the betrayal it represented - she had always carried it with her, for it was the one and only Muggle photograph with just her and Ron in it – all the others had Harry in them and most where magical, which meant they moved. As expected - since the break-up, the image of Ron in each and every one of the magical ones had walked out of the frame – never to return. In every photo album Hermione had, going back to first year, Ron's magical image had also walked off. She didn't know how the images had known what she had done, but not knowing hadn't lessened the feeling of abandonment.

So she didn't open her photo albums anymore and she'd kept the Muggle photo within reach because it had become her most prized possession. And she would take it out whenever she and Harry had a row, and sat not-speaking at opposite ends of the tent - and stare at it as a reminder of - - more innocent, times? Sometimes she'd catch Harry with the Marauders map spread out on the dining table, staring like a cobra at the names – looking for someone. Hermione knew Harry was looking for Ginny's name, in a futile attempt to stay close to her. Harry still worried about not seeing any Weasley names on the map this term. He hadn't said anything to Hermione but each night in January he'd stare at the map for hours - looking for her name. Because none of his pictures of Ginny had been Muggle and Harry didn't have a single image of hers to cry over

Since 'Godric's Hallow' Hermione had cried buckets over that picture - stung by the mistakes in judgment on her part had lost for her - perhaps the only opportunity she'd ever have at everlasting romantic happiness. She felt more tears swelling in her eyes, just by touching the frame and turned round, so Harry couldn't see them.

"Hermione, I'm going outside for a minute," he announced. "I want to check the traps to see if we've caught another rabbit. Can you finish packing up in here?"

"Yeah, no problem," she agreed, putting her cloak on.

Harry nodded and exited the tent. Hermione was putting her cloak on when she heard him yell in surprise and fear. Startled, she wheeled round and clutched her wand firmly in her hand - ran out of the tent, ready to fight. She joined Harry, who was standing unarmed at the entrance, looking astonished at a man dressed completely in a white hooded robe sitting on a garden bench facing the tent entrance. At his feet were four bulging rucksacks, filled to overflowing with cans of food. The man wearing the cloak, hearing Hermione come out slowly reached up with both hands; one to pull back the hood and the other to pull off the ski-mask so that Harry and Hermione could see his face.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, unable to believe what she was seeing.

The man looked at them, and said with no emotion whatsoever, "top of the morning, Potter - - Granger. How are you both on this fine… first of February?"

End chapter