10. Sometimes, Treat Me like an Adult

The morning passed slowly, perhaps just so to allow me to think about what had happened the night before. Across the table from me, Harry stirred his coffee, listlessly leafing through the sports section of my Daily Prophet.

We had nothing to say to each other.

It had all started the previous night when Harry, who was visiting me at my parents' house for the week, had come into the kitchen where I was working on a Charms project, and teased me about burning the midnight oil. One thing led to another, and unfortunately, I had snapped at him about his decision not to return to Hogwarts after the war. Once the words had left my mouth, I'd felt absolutely horrible. Harry, however, was not one to let an arguable subject lie, and it had ended in an outright row, leaving me in tears and Harry storming out to the garden for fresh air.

After that, I had hurried up to bed so that I wouldn't have to face him again. Sleep evaded me for the majority of the night, leaving my mind to dwell on the hateful things we had both said. Why couldn't I have just kept my big mouth shut? Hermione Granger, insufferable know-it-all, always has to be right, didn't you know that? Ugh.

Harry cleared his throat, a loud noise in an otherwise silent house, and jarred me back into the sluggish morning. I set down the section of the paper I had been reading, instead opting to stare out the window and watch the downpour. Gray skies, gray mood, everything is just bloody gray today, I thought, noticing how even my sweatshirt matched theme of the day. I picked up the newspaper again, trying to feign interest while I studied my boyfriend out of the corner of my eye.

His eyes were bloodshot as they moved quickly over the page, scanning Quidditch scores and flitting over the commentaries that Ginny so lovingly followed. He looked tired, his face drawn as though he too hadn't slept well after our fight. It was then that I sighed, unwittingly drawing attention to myself. He put down his paper and rubbed his eyes, setting his black-rimmed glasses on the table.

"Hermione?" He said my name cautiously, as though he were unsure of how to proceed.

Telling myself to ignore my wounded pride, I answered. "Yes?"

"Can we… Talk about last night?" Harry still seemed so uncertain about speaking to me. Was I that imposing of a person when I was angry?

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea." I fiddled with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, slightly apprehensive.

Harry took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened last night. I should have realized that what you were working on was important, and I shouldn't have given you grief about it."

I felt heat rush to my face. He thought this was his fault? "Harry," I said, reaching across the table to take his hand in mine. "It wasn't your fault."

He looked at me, perplexed. "It wasn't?"

I almost laughed at his confusion. "No, Harry, I think I'm mostly the one to blame. You were just trying to make me laugh, and I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"But you wouldn't have snapped at me if I hadn't made that smart-ass remark," he pointed out.

"True," I allowed. "But I could have also handled it better."

He smiled my favorite smile, the crooked little grin he gets when something has gone his way. "So since we're mutually at fault then… All is forgiven?"

I smiled back at him. "Yes, I believe it is."

He leaned across the table to kiss me on the lips. "I'm glad," he said, kissing me a second time. "That was torture knowing you were mad at me."

"And to think," I quipped, "that only a few years ago it didn't even faze you."

His face darkened a little at that, but he protested in good humor. "I wasn't really the most considerate of guys when I was sixteen."

"Yes, dear. I was there, I remember it vividly," I deadpanned.

Harry was silent for a moment or two, and then, "Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Well, you just did, but continue," I teased, trying to make him laugh. It didn't work, and I could see that something else was bothering him.

"Are you…" he paused, searching for the right words. "Are you really upset with me for not going back for my NEWTs?"

I bit my lip, trying to decide how to phrase my answer. "I'm not upset with you," I said finally. "I wish you and Ron had come back with me, trust me, it's very strange without you both there, but I understand why you didn't want to." I looked him in the eye, finding deeply buried sadness that hadn't been fully coped with yet.

Harry nodded, unable to articulate anything, but I understood. He leaned across the table to kiss me again, and whispered, "Thank you for understanding."

"Of course," I said, ruffling his already messy hair. "It's my job, love."

He stood after kissing me again, and made his way to the stairs, presumably to go take a shower.

"Harry?" I called after him, smiling to myself at just how attractive he was.

"Yeah?" He turned around to look at me.

"Thanks for treating me like an adult," I said, and meant it. "I'm glad we can talk about our issues."

He walked back over to where I was sitting and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Of course, love," he said. "It's my job."

Words: 943.

A/N: *whew* You've been waiting all summer! Bless you all for sticking with me for so long. You're all wonderful, and I truly value your readership and your input. There's several things left on the list, so don't worry, I'll be around for a while. ;) So just, yeah, thanks for reading, don't forget to review, and if you don't have me on Author Alert, I posted another HHr fic the other day that I think you'll enjoy as well. :)

Happy rest of the summer (I go back to college in two weeks) and toodle-pip!