A LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE
CHAPTER 7
Theo and Hermione were currently experiencing a blissful lie-in, considering it was a Sunday, wrapped up in comfortable blankets, moving from their little cocoon only to gather food and change the channel on the magnificent flat screen that adorned the greater part of their north-wall.
They'd done up their flat with great care, and it truly reflected how alike they were, down to the no-nonsense but oh-so-sophisticated grey and white décor. They'd handpicked everything there was in the house, and Hermione had never known how interested she could be in these things. Four years later, they were left with a chic and modern apartment, but one that didn't look too cold to be lived in.
She was startled when Theo suddenly switched off the telly.
'Hey,' he said, and his tone caught her off-guard. 'Can I ask you something?'
She grew concerned, because her normally carefree boyfriend both sounded and looked like a far-cry from his normal jovial self. A dark shadow clouded his features, and she noticed a lingering storm in his eyes, like he had something very important to say, but didn't quite know how to broach the subject.
'What is it, sweetheart?' she asked, mirroring him by sitting up in bed, letting the sheets pool at her waist. 'You don't look that good.'
He sighed and ran a hand through his thick brown curls, leaving them sticking up in the air in a manner that was poles apart his current disposition.
'Do you really want to marry me?'
To say that she was taken aback would be the understatement of the century. Theo, as she knew him, was anything but doubtful, especially of himself. Even at his worst, there was a certain cocky confidence about him, one she assumed all Slytherins picked up as soon as they stepped into those bleary dungeons. They had to be smart enough to survive the snake pit, the devil's lair, and if they doubted themselves, they'd be nothing but misfits. An easy confidence that never bordered on arrogance, Theo was a shining example of a self-confident man in the truest sense.
'Why would you even say something like that?' Hermione asked in return, gripping his chin so that he was now facing her. 'I swear to Merlin Theo, this is so not like you. If you want me to tell you that I love you, just ask me to do it, and I will. This roundabout way is foreign, coming from you.'
Hurt and anger flashed through his eyes, and he bit back, 'No, I don't want you to tell me that you love me, I know that you do. I'm asking you a question, and I want a direct answer.'
'Yes,' she said, and it was the simplest thing she could imagine.
'Then marry me.'
'What-'
'No, I really mean it. Fine I popped the question, fine you said yes. But you do realise that it's been eight months now, don't you? And we're nowhere near even deciding when we want to actually do the thing. So, that's what I'm saying, Hermione. You normally take charge of everything. If you haven't done it till now, you obviously must not want to.'
She had nothing to say to that. He continued. 'Let's pick a date. Let's pick a date today itself. And not something two years down the line. Next month. I don't want to delay this any further. Others may not have a problem with this long engagement bull, but I sure do. I want you, Hermione, and I want you as my wife, as someone I can spend the rest of my life with. And I don't want to waste another second.'
Hermione bit her lip. Theo was right; she did take charge of everything. And she would be lying if she said that she hadn't even once thought about their marriage, because she had, and that too, countless times. But she'd also had something else playing in her mind, something she hadn't shared with anyone up until now.
'Theo, honey, I do want to marry you. It's just that... it can't be next month.'
'Why, though, Hermione? Give me one good reason.'
'Because,' she said, taking a deep breath, 'I want to run for Minister.'
'Okay, first of all, that's a shitty as fuck idea, and it's the shittiest fucking idea you've ever had,' Draco said, motioning for the bartender to send them another round of whatever strong alcohol combination it was that they'd been drinking for the past ten minutes. It was foul and rancid, but it was typical Draco, so Ron had complied, gulping down shots as Draco berated him for saying yes to Padma.
'Well, I know that this isn't exactly the best idea, but honestly, give me a better one if you can?'
'Um, for starters, you can ask her to deal with her problems on her own, and dance the merry fuck away from you?' Draco retorted spicily, thumping him on the shoulder. 'I mean, do you really think no one's going to ever find out about your sham marriage?'
'Her grandmother is about eighty or ninety years old, Draco. And she's a Muggle. So, no offense to anyone, but I don't really think it's going to last very long. I mean, we can just pretend to be engaged and who knows, maybe she'll pass away in the middle of it all. Quick, mess-free break-up, and voila! Ronald Weasley is single again.'
Draco rolled his eyes. 'God, I wish Harry were here to knock some sense into you, because I for one always fail to. What, pray tell, will you do, if Padma's grandmom chances upon some weird book about Indian Tantric Rituals? And she miraculously heals? What'll you do then? Not get married? Pretend to be engaged for ten years? Your entire plan, as well as your brains, is filled with loopholes, Weasley. And I'm calling you out on your bullshit.'
'Well, we can pretend as if we've eloped, or whatever. I just know that for now, my decision is helping Padma a great deal, so if that causes me any inconvenience, like shopping for linens with her mother or whatever, then so be it. At least she won't have to get saddled off to some guy she doesn't even like anymore.'
Draco scoffed. He knew his friend's history with beautiful women all too well. 'And what'll you do to save yourself from falling in love with her?'
Ron had no reply to that.
Harry gasped for breath, as Pansy's hands pushed his head down, her nails leaving marks on his scalp. He would be lying if he said that sex with Pansy was anything less than amazing. She was fiery, saucy; and always open to trying new things in bed. He just felt energized around her, and gone was the heavy lethargy that came from the long hours spent examining patients in a medical environment.
His mouth trailed up her bare stomach, skimmed her breasts, and reached her throat, where he paused to begin a languid exploration of where exactly she would moan, and where exactly she would throw her head up to the sky in reckless abandon.
But the blasted doorbell had to ring.
'The blasted doorbell,' he huffed, as she pulled him down for passionate kisses. He bit her lower lip and she purred, purred, actually purred for him, and he had half a mind to let whoever it was keep ringing.
But the intrusion was a bit much after a point, and he had to pull away, hastily put on his pants, and adjust himself, all while scampering to the door, half-naked, smelling of her delicious scent. The way he saw it, the faster he was done with it, the faster he could go back to her.
He grumbled and opened the door, and was greeted by Mary, hand paused mid-wave as she took in his appearance. Her rosy lips formed an acknowledging 'O' and he wished that he'd had the patience to put on a few more clothes.
'Ahem,' she cleared her throat awkwardly. 'It seems that I've interrupted something.'
Harry blushed a deep red.
'But, um, I just wanted to see if you could help me with assembling my shelf? Like there's a new one, and I have to assemble it, but I've been failing miserably so far.'
'Oh. Um, I really wish I could, but I'm actually caught up with a bit of a... thing, at the moment? I'll, uh, come around tomorrow, eh?'
And he all but shut the door on her face, wanting her to leave as fast as she could. Not only had his time with Pansy been ruined, but now his mother's friend had seen him in his underwear pants and she'd probably also correctly guessed what he'd been up to.
He re-entered his bedroom in record time, to find, with dismay, that Pansy sat on the bed, fully dressed, examining her fingernails.
He sat down beside her with a thud, and she looked up and smiled.
'So…' he asked. 'I guess there's no way we can go back to what we were doing before, could we?'
She laughed, then shook her head.
'So the moment's ruined?'
She giggled, 'Yes, Harry, the moment is definitely ruined.'
He sighed. She moved in closer.
'But I'm free for the rest of the day.'
His face lit up like a Christmas tree.
'Well, then, Ms. Parkinson, let me show you what Harry Potter does on a Sunday.'
A/N - Thanks to all those who read and reviewed the previous chapters. I know this update is really late, but i'd sort of lost inspo because of lack of feedback, and i considered giving up on the story again, before deciding that i would just go ahead and write another chapter for myself, no matter if no one was reading it.
Thank you for your patience.
~Shen
