Disclaimer: I own nothing!
A/N: I haven't given up on my other two stories; this is just a story to get back into writing. It's a bit different than what I normally produce. Chapters will be longer and more frequent.
Hermione brushed her hair mechanically, only half-listening to what Ron was saying. He was going on about something that had happened at work, and Hermione found that she just couldn't focus on her boyfriend's story. However, she did catch the last part.
"So, yeah, we're expected to be at his house at seven for dinner tonight." Ron finished taking off his Auror uniform and headed towards the bathroom to get a shower, acting as if he hadn't just flipped her evening upside down.
"Ronald! We're expected where at seven?" Ron stopped in his tracks and turned, confused.
"Harry's. It's Gin's birthday, and he's cooking. He even convinced Mum to let him do the cake. I just said all of this two minutes ago. Weren't you listening?"
Ginny's birthday. Bollocks. "I was, but I've had a long day. Mind's not quite caught up with my ears."
Ron grinned. "Aye, you can't say that too often, I expect. I'mma catch a shower before we head over; you want to join?"
"No, you go ahead. I just need to brush out my hair and put on some more makeup." Hermione turned back to her mirror, frustrated. She had been zoning out on Ron's stories more and more lately, and she couldn't shake the feeling. It was as if she was in a daze, and she had no idea how to break out of it.
What she did know was that she was nowhere near where she wanted to be by age 21. She had just finished up her apprenticeship with McGonagall, acquired her Masters in Transfiguration, and was working on a second Masters in Potions. Her professional life was right on track, and she couldn't be happier with it. Her personal life, however…
Ron was a dear man who treated her well. He was just...well...safe. Every day was the same routine with the man she had been with for almost three years: wake up, cook breakfast, go to work, come home, cook dinner, read a while, then go to bed. Sex was even planned ahead of time. Normally, a routine would be preferable for Hermione, but she had expected a bit more in her romantic endeavours when she was younger. Ron was the only man she had ever been with, and while she loved him, she needed something...else.
"Harry! Are you even listening to me?" Ginny ran her wand over her hair, smoothing it out before their company arrived. Her fiance stared off into the distance, distracted by a rogue raven flying by the window. "Hello? Harry Potter!"
Harry winced and turned to Ginny, aware that he had been in his own mind. Again. It had been happening more and more lately, yet he had no idea why. He had a good life with Ginny, had been accepted by the Weasleys even more readily since the war, if that was possible. His friendships with Ron and Hermione were still strong, and his career as an Auror was speeding along nicely. Why didn't he feel content, though?
"Sorry, Ginny. Long day, I guess."
Ginny sighed. "Seems like every day is long these days." She turned back to her mirror. "Why the sudden dinner party tonight? Thought my birthday was just going to be me and you this year."
Harry shrugged. "I just felt like doing it, love. No reason. Are you upset?"
"No, just curious."
"Gin, I just felt like doing something different. We haven't seen Hermione and Ron in a good while, and this way, your mum can have a night off to enjoy being with you. You'll have all your other family up this weekend at the Burrow, so I wanted tonight to be a fun, relaxing dinner for us." In truth, Harry had spent so many nights alone with Ginny that he craved more socialization.
Ginny looked at Harry skeptically, but finally nodded. "Okay, love. Thank you. Now, what are we having?"
Later that night, Harry and Ginny's table was full, even though only six people sat around it. Molly wiped her mouth with a grin on her face.
"Oh my, Harry! I'll say this much: Ginny is a lucky girl to have found someone who can cook as well as this! This was wonderful!"
"Too right, mate!" Ron slapped Harry on the shoulder. "Why did you never cook for us when we shared that flat? Hell, why did you allow Hermione to almost poison us on the hunt? We'd have eaten much better had you been at the fire!" Ron laughed, never noticing Hermione's flushed face. Harry cleared his throat and stood.
"Um, right! Ha," he laughed uncomfortably. "Hermione, would you help me clear the table while the Weasleys retire to the sitting room?" Hermione, knowing what her friend was doing, nodded and began clearing the table by hand.
"Dear," Molly began somewhat condescendingly, "why don't you use your wand, and you and Harry can just join us now?"
Harry answered for her. "Mum, Hermione and I enjoy doing dishes by hand. It's kinda therapeutic at times." Molly huffed a bit then shrugged. She picked up her tea and followed her husband and children to the more comfortable seats in the living room.
In the kitchen, Hermione put her stack of dishes beside the sink and sighed. "I just don't know, Harry. Will I ever be enough for that woman?"
Harry's eyebrows rose a bit. He knew Molly was overbearing, but he hadn't realized that Hermione was having trouble with it. "Well, maybe it'll get better once Ron gets off his arse and asks you to marry him." He sat his dishes beside Hermione's and started the water, adding soap as the sink filled. "She just worries about Ron more than she does the others."
Hermione shook her head, never looking up. "That's not what I meant. She's been on me again about my work at the Ministry. Apparently, I can't work and be a proper wife to Ron."
"Hey, that's not true." Harry stopped the water and moved to his friend. "Molly loves you."
"I know she does. But does love equal acceptance into the family? Besides…"
Harry reached over and began rubbing her shoulder just as she was about to open her mouth again. Instead of another complaint, a slight moan escaped. The tension she was feeling instantly began ebbing. "Right there, Harry. Merlin…"
Harry, though, froze. He and Hermione hugged, even kissed on the cheek, regularly, but nothing that resembled what had just emerged from her mouth had ever passed his ears.
He loved it.
Gingerly, he reached up and put his right hand on her other shoulder, and as soon as he began kneading her muscle, Hermione leaned back into the touch and purred like Crookshanks.
"This feels heavenly, Harry. I never even realized how stressed I actually am."
The two stood there for a few more moments before they simultaneously realized how long they had been in the kitchen. Hermione made an off-handed joke about Harry quitting his day job to be a masseuse; then the two set the dishes to wash themselves before joining the Weasleys in the sitting room.
Neither felt the need to explain themselves. After all, there was nothing to explain. Nothing at all.