Chapter 8

November 2001

"Not Ginny, you. I should have picked you."

The words had tumbled out of Harry's mouth before he could consider what they meant, but they hadn't felt wrong on his tongue. And as they hung heavy in the air around him, he never got the urge to take them back.

But what, exactly, did they mean? There had never been a decision point back at Hogwarts, a moment when he was choosing between Ginny and Hermione. Hermione had never been an option for Harry. She was Ron's - as early as fourth year; Ron had made that clear.

And Hermione had never liked Harry like that. And what's more, he'd never liked her like that, had he? But now…

He was letting his brain fly away from him. This was mad. That's not even what Hermione had meant by her words.

Not Ron, you.

She wasn't talking about wanting to be with Harry. She wanted him to stay here tonight, that was it. She probably didn't want to share a bed with her ex-boyfriend. But as soon as Harry had heard those words, he'd twisted them into much more than they were. What was wrong with him?

Just then, the ex-boyfriend in question popped his head into the bedroom and whispered, "Psst."

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked back and saw Ron cock his head toward the main room. Harry turned back to Hermione and gently extricated his hand from hers. She shifted, but stayed asleep, and he carefully climbed out of bed and went to join Ron in the kitchen.

"How is she?" Ron asked.

Harry leaned against the kitchen counter, across from Ron. "She's doing well. She calmed down after about an hour, then went to sleep."

Then she said she wanted me, not you, he added in his head. Stop! You have no idea what she meant by that!

Ron sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. "What triggered it? Do you know?"

Harry nodded. "We went to Malfoy Manor."

"What?! You brought her there? What were you thinking?"

"First off - she brought me. Second, I had no idea she had panic attacks like that. Maybe if you'd told me about this, I would have known better," Harry said defensively.

Ron sighed and leaned back against the fridge. "No, you're right, sorry. You didn't know. Shit. Why did she want to go back there?"

Harry shrugged. "To face what happened that night, I guess. The house looks completely different on the inside, I told you that, and she was doing well, then lost it near the end. I don't know what set it off, but I got her out of there as quickly as I could."

Harry dropped his eyes and started playing with a napkin that had been thrown haphazardly on the counter. He was picking at a loose thread, wearing a dark expression, and Ron was pretty sure he knew what Harry was thinking.

Ron leaned forward on the counter again and placed his hand on the napkin, causing Harry to look up at him. "Don't blame yourself," Ron said softly. "Not for taking her there tonight, and not for what happened to her there during the war, either."

Harry's lip started to quiver. He bit it and swallowed heavily, focusing on the refrigerator behind Ron as he blinked back tears.

"You're blaming yourself," Ron continued. "You're thinking that if we hadn't come with you, it never would have happened. You need to let that go. Her life would be loads worse right now if you hadn't saved the day and we needed to go through that nightmare to win. You know that."

Harry took a shaky breath and moved his gaze to the napkin Ron was still resting his hand on. "She told me about her three triggers, for her panic attacks," Harry said to the napkin.

Ron sighed. "And you're feeling guilty about that, too. Aren't you?"

Harry looked up at him and nodded slowly. "I'm so sorry I did that to you two. I didn't know another way. But if it had been reversed and I had to carry that image in my mind…" Just picturing Hermione or Ron dead was giving Harry anxiety.

Ron conjured a glass of water and placed it on the counter in front of Harry. Harry downed it in one gulp, then gripped the edge of the counter, bracing himself as he dropped his head. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Fuck is right," Ron said with a dark laugh. He leaned back against the fridge and watched Harry, looking for signs that he was spiraling into a panic attack of his own, but he seemed okay. "Sometimes, I think watching you two suffer in the aftermath of the war is worse than the actual war was, at least for me. Mostly because it feels like there's nothing I can do to help."

Harry looked up at Ron and shook his head. "Are you mad? I would have never made it through that first year if not for you and you were brilliant with Hermione tonight. I called because she asked me to. I asked her what she needed and offered to do anything to help her and she asked for you."

And I was jealous, Harry added in his mind. I still sort of am, because I'm an absolute wanker.

"Heh. Well, that feels good but shit, if I'm being honest, I'm relieved you know about Hermione now. It can't just be me helping her with this, especially since we're not together anymore."

"Yeah. How often does it happen?"

"Not often. Once every few months. The last one was in May, so she had a good run there."

"Huh." Harry wished they'd never gone to Malfoy Manor. He should have known better.

"You know what really gets me?" Ron asked after a while. His voice was muffled since he was rubbing his face with his hands.

"What?"

"It's been years since it all ended and we won. But this is still going on for her, for both of you. And - I don't know - it's not fucking fair. She's so strong, but even she is affected. After all that crap she put up with growing up, and her parents, and the shit she's still dealing with at work, she deserves to be happy, you know?"

Harry nodded. There was nothing he could add to that. Ron's eyes were wet and he wiped them quickly with the back of his hand, then let out a sigh. Harry's stomach turned and he had to look away from Ron.

Harry knew, as clearly as he knew that Ron still loved Hermione deeply (even though they were no longer together), that if Harry's strange bedroom-confession ever came to anything and something happened between him and Hermione, it would kill Ron.

"How was the meeting?" Harry asked.

Ron welcomed the change in conversation. "Oh, good, actually. He's going to help us. I have a meeting first thing in the morning to debrief for Robards and the team. I should probably prepare for it, but I guess I'll be winging it, since I need to stay here tonight."

"No, go. I'll stay. Like you said, she should get used to someone besides you." Ron gave him a look of consternation. "Just so - uh - there's a backup," Harry added hastily.

Ron didn't like the idea of Harry sleeping over with Hermione. His mind rejected it as soon as Harry brought it up. But before he declined Harry's offer, he reconsidered. This wasn't just any bloke, this was Harry, and Ron was just acting like a protective boyfriend - a role he no longer occupied. Plus, if Harry stayed, he wouldn't have to explain all this to Lucy later.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess it will be less awkward if it's you, won't it?" Ron replied.

No. Not really, Harry thought, but he said aloud, "Yeah. Sure."

"Send a Patronus if you need me," Ron already had his robes and shoes back on and was heading for the door.

"I will. And - uh - congrats on landing that informant. I know you were working on him for months."

Ron's ears reddened slightly as he waved away the compliment. The next moment he was out the door. Harry heard him reapplying the locking charms and wards on the front door, before Disapparating.

When Harry returned to Hermione's room, he paused in the doorway and watched her sleep. She was in the same position he'd left her, on her side facing the spot he'd been occupying with her hands outstretched in front of her.

There was a loud bang outside her window, a car backfiring, perhaps, and Harry flinched. Hermione did too and he cursed himself for forgetting to apply a Silencing Charm. She looked around, eyes wide, but calmed when she saw him standing in the door.

"Are you leaving?" Even though her voice was groggy from sleep, he could detect an edge of panic there. "You promised to be here when I woke up."

"I was just saying bye to Ron," he reassured, resuming his spot on the bed.

When Harry looked back at Hermione, she was smirking at him. "What?" he asked.

"You don't have to sleep fully dressed, on top of the covers. If you make yourself more comfortable, I won't tell the reporters at Witch Weekly."

Make yourself more comfortable. Those words had a noticeable effect on Harry and he could feel himself harden slightly. He pulled his knees up so she wouldn't notice.

What the fuck is wrong with you? Now is not the time for this!

He took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand, then started rubbing his face with his hands.

You're attracted to her. You see that, right?

Shut up!

Now, he was a nutter. There were warring voices in his head and he'd also completely lost control of his body; like a fucking teenager. Bloody hell.

"Harry?"

Harry opened his hands slightly, but didn't drop them from his face, and looked at Hermione through the gaps in his fingers. "Yeah?"

"I'm not trying to proposition you or anything, I just meant, like, you can take your shirt off, and maybe your belt. I feel bad making you sleep over and don't want you to have a terrible night's sleep. I know we've never like - shared a bed - but obviously it's not like that and-"

"It's fine, really." Harry started unbuttoning his shirt, just to get her to stop talking about propositioning him, and bed sharing, and him taking his clothes off. Plus, he had an undershirt on, so it wasn't a big deal. He placed his shirt on the floor next to him and turned to look back at Hermione.

She was propped up on her elbow, watching him curiously. "You're being weird. Things won't be weird now between us, will they?"

They definitely will be, but not because I saw you have a panic attack. "Of course not." He sighed and took his belt off, which he threw on top of his shirt, then his socks, which he placed in his shoes on the floor. He held his arms out as if to say, Better? She smiled and nodded.

Harry closed the door with a wave of his wand and cast a Silencing Charm on the window. The room was completely dark now except for a few slivers of moonlight coming in through the crack between the curtains and the window. He climbed under the covers and turned to face Hermione.

"How was Ron?" Hermione whispered. "Did his meeting go well?"

Harry nodded and began to explain the case Ron was working on, and why the informant was so important. But he was only two sentences in when Hermione fell asleep again. She was obviously exhausted. Harry guessed it was all those bursts of magic that had drained her of energy.

He reached out a tentative hand and moved away a lock of hair that had fallen onto her face. Then he traced his fingers down her arm and stopped when he reached her forearm. The scars Bellatrix had given her were illuminated by a shard of moonlight. Harry shuddered.

He could clearly recall her screams from that night. He remembered they'd caused him physical pain at the time. He turned onto his back and pressed his palms into his eyes.

His mind drifted back to her words from earlier: Not Ron. You.

Those had caused a whole different kind of pain. A deep, longing ache in his heart, in the spot where the pain from his parents' death and the loss of Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, and Fred lived. It was the pain of desperately wanting someone you couldn't have.

And to protect himself from that pain - from adding yet another person to that long list of people who he'd loved and lost - Harry's mind started lying to his heart.

I know it feels like you like her, but you don't. These feelings are a coping mechanism, something you invented to help yourself move on from Ginny. You do love Hermione and she loves you, but it's NOT romantic.

But I'm physically attracted to her, another voice countered. There's no denying that.

The logical part of his mind, the part trying to protect him, had an excuse for this. It argued that he'd spent so much time with Hermione lately, acting like her boyfriend, that he'd tricked his body into thinking it was true.

You so badly want someone to love you, someone who can give you a family, and you twisted your relationship with your best friend to fit that, the voice continued.

Maybe he did do all that: distort their relationship into what he'd needed it to be, but now that he recognized it, what was he supposed to do? He wasn't going to stop seeing her. He loved spending time with her and more than that, they were helping each other, weren't they?

Ron's voice came into his mind, then. "After all that crap she put up with growing up, and her parents and the shit she's still dealing with at work, she deserves to be happy, you know?"

Harry nodded, even though no one was there to see it. He turned to face Hermione and by then, his eyes had finally adjusted enough to the dark that he could make out the familiar contours of her face. He picked up one of her curls and started twirling it around his finger.

She deserved to be happy and Harry was getting in the way of that, wasn't he?

Ron's voice echoed in his mind again. "Since you're with her all the time, everyone's convinced you're dating. It's keeping other blokes from asking her out."

Harry let out a long sigh. He knew what he had to do. He had to talk to Hermione about all of this. Not his feelings, of course, or his embarrassing reactions to mildly suggestive words and situations, but the rest of it.

He needed to explain how neither of them were going to be able to truly move on from their break-ups unless they stopped pretending to be a couple - but he'd use better words than that. Then, if Harry really wanted to find another girlfriend, he'd actually have to go looking for one. It was highly unlikely one was going to fall into his lap.

Hermione sat in your lap for hours tonight and it was perfect.

Stop! Tears sprang into Harry's eyes and rubbed them away, violently. He needed to figure out how to turn that bloody voice off.

Hermione twitched and let out a small moan, causing Harry to turn back toward her. She was wincing and he wondered if she was having a nightmare. He began stroking her cheek gently with the back of his hand and before long, her expression turned calm again and she was sleeping peacefully.

He didn't stop touching her, however. He laid on his side, relishing this rare moment of intimacy, which he knew could never happen again. His brain continued to tell him that all of this was fake, listing out a litany of logical arguments - one right after the other - while his heart pounded hard in protest.

Several hours later, Hermione was awoken by a shout. It took her brain several moments to figure out what was going on. Why was she wearing jeans? Why was she on the wrong side of the bed? Why was Harry here with her? And most importantly, why was he yelling?

She sat up and grabbed her wand from the nightstand, then muttered "Lumos," and turned to face Harry. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and his eyes were moving rapidly behind his eyelids. He was moving side to side, as if trying to shake someone off, and shouting loudly. His words were muddled and she could barely make them out.

"Not her...or him...take me! No..! Stop..! Need a way out!"

Hermione placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder and shook him. "Harry!"

He grabbed her wrist and twisted it painfully, causing her to cry out and drop her wand. He was on top of her the next moment and his eyes were open now, wide with terror. She saw realization pass across his face, and he jumped off of her. "Fuck! Sorry. I - fuck!"

He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione picked up her wand, then crept out of the bed and pressed her ear against the bathroom door. She could hear Harry retching violently inside and her heart fell. She'd been so concerned for herself; she hadn't stopped to consider the effect of their trip to Malfoy Manor on Harry.

He'd said he was fine after his last visit, but had he been dealing with nightmares afterwards? She remembered him looking tired the next day, maybe that was why. She summoned his wand from the nightstand and sighed heavily, resting her head against the closed door.

When the retching sounds stopped and she heard the toilet flush, she inched the door open. Harry was sitting on the tile floor with his knees pulled up and his forehead pressed against his legs. Hermione could tell by the slight shaking of his shoulders that he was sobbing.

Harry was trying to regain control himself while his mind raced. He'd hurt Hermione. Fuck. That was not okay. He should go right back out there and check on her, then heal her, if she needed it. But he was too embarrassed.

What had he been thinking, staying here with her? He was the absolute worst person to provide emotional support. He was a fucking mess.

Just then, he felt a gentle hand on the top of his arm and his heart sank. She was here. Dammit.

Harry laid his head on the cold glass of the shower behind him, but kept his eyes closed. His sobs had subsided, but tears were still streaming down his face. He felt Hermione place his wand in his hand.

"I brought you this. So you could wash your mouth, and maybe conjure a glass of water." Harry felt her drape a warm, wet cloth over the same hand. "And this."

Harry nodded, then, with his eyes still closed, spread the washcloth over his palms and buried his face in it. It was warm, and soft, and felt lovely and he wished he could melt under it and ooze away without having to face Hermione. He wiped away the tears and sweat and when he was finished, finally chanced a look at Hermione.

She was sitting with her back against the shower glass, looking forward at the sink, probably trying to give him some privacy. He applied a quick cleaning charm on his mouth, conjured a glass of water, drained it, then vanished the glass and tossed the washcloth into the sink.

Hermione finally turned to face him and even in the low light, and with his vision blurred, he could see the concern in her eyes. Tears sprang into his eyes again. "Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

She shook her head.

He held his hand out to her, palm up. His intention was clear, but Hermione hesitated, and Harry knew that meant she'd been lying about being hurt. He shook his hand and she reluctantly placed her wrist on it.

Harry picked up his wand and cast a floating light above them. He saw her wrist was red and there were already bruises starting to form in the shape of his fingers. It was the same arm with the scars from Bellatrix. His stomach twisted and his mouth filled with bile.

He took a deep breath, then pressed the tip of his wand to her wrist and healed the injury. When he was finished, he placed his wand on the ground and laid his head against the glass again, trying, and failing, to keep the tears from falling.

Hermione's heart broke as she watched Harry crying in front of her. Her wrist was fine, but she knew he wasn't in a place to listen to reassurances right now. So, she did the only other thing she could think of and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm thinking that maybe going to Malfoy Manor wasn't a good idea," she said in a soft voice.

Harry let out a dark laugh. "No kidding."

They were quiet again, and Hermione wrapped a tentative arm around Harry's chest. She was glad when he covered it with his own arm, instead of trying to push her away. After a few more moments of silence, Harry whispered, "You said that night wasn't your worst memory from the war."

Hermione hummed.

"It was mine."

"What?" Hermione picked her head up and Harry shifted back a little, pulling out of her grasp.

Harry had been trying to put some distance between them, but now that he was looking at her again, he couldn't help himself from raising his hand and cupping her cheek.

"I thought you were dying," he explained. "I was sure I was going to have to hear them kill you and I couldn't - " He broke off. He knew he should stop touching her, should back away, but instead, he started caressing her cheek with his thumb.

Hermione raised her hand to Harry's hand and curled her fingers around it. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, she wondered if he could feel it.

They regarded each other for several seconds, sitting on the cold tile, in the dark, quiet bathroom. Then, the logical part of Harry's mind finally won out and took control of his body. He dropped his hand from her face and resumed his earlier position, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his forehead on his knees.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. Ron should have been the one to stay with you. I'll go call him now."

Hermione placed a hand on Harry's back. "No. You're staying here tonight. If you want to call Ron for you, go ahead, but I don't need him here."

Harry turned his head to look at her. "Hermione, I'm a mess. I don't know what help I was thinking I could provide."

"All you have to do is be here," she argued.

That's all she'd ever done for him and it had been everything.

Harry nodded reluctantly, then, before his logical mind took over again and forced him to go home, Harry stood up and held his hand out for Hermione. She picked up his wand, which he'd left on the floor, and let him pull her to her feet. She followed Harry back into the room, placed their wands on the nightstand, and climbed back into bed.

This was the third time they found themselves in this position, facing each other on their sides, in the dark.

"All of my instincts are telling me to leave," he whispered. "I could have another nightmare and-"

"If that happens, I'd rather you be here, than alone at Grimmauld Place."

"I can handle nightmares alone. I do it all the time," Harry countered.

"Yeah, and I can handle panic attacks alone, too. But it sucks. We're both strong and completely capable of taking care of ourselves, but isn't it just better to give in and let someone else help sometimes?"

Harry nodded, then started tracing patterns on her wrist (the one he'd hurt) with his fingertips. Hermione could tell by the look on his face that he was still beating himself up for that very minor injury.

"Harry. You're here tonight because I asked you to stay. And this very small injury, which is now completely healed, hasn't made me regret my earlier request in the slightest. Okay?"

Harry nodded again.

Hermione smiled at having won another argument, then shifted onto her back. "Okay, we should sleep now."

"Okay," he whispered.

Harry fell asleep first. When Hermione noticed his breathing had slowed, she turned and watched him sleep. He was still facing her. She was happy to see that he looked peaceful now, his expression free of all the anguish from before.

She reached out a hand and traced a finger along his jawline. His lips turned up slightly in response, which was incredibly sweet. She'd never seen him without glasses for this long - just here and there when he took them off to clean them. It was surprisingly intimate.

More intimate than sharing a bed with him? a voice in her mind teased. Damn, if Ginny could see them now. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She could worry about that in the morning.

She fell asleep like that, facing Harry, with one hand outstretched, just inches away from his.

When Harry awoke the next morning, Hermione was watching him. He squinted his eyes and on closer inspection, he saw she wasn't watching him, just facing him as she stared off into the distance. She was lying on her side with her head resting on her elbow, her hair billowing out around her.

She looked beautiful in the soft morning light and he almost opened his mouth to tell her but caught himself. He had to stop doing that. He'd decided last night to stop acting like her boyfriend. Would her next boyfriend tell her she was beautiful? He better, otherwise Harry would hex him. In a very, just-friends, non-jealous, non-possessive way, of course.

Bloody hell. He needed time to get his thoughts in order before facing her. Harry wished he'd been the one to wake up first. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep for a few more moments, trying to settle his thoughts.

A lot had happened last night. First, he'd convinced himself he liked Hermione. Then, he figured out it wasn't real, just a convenient coping mechanism. He'd been hurting from his break-up with Ginny and instead of dealing with that pain, had transferred all those feelings to Hermione, then turned her into a girlfriend to fill the void in his heart left by Ginny.

But it wasn't fair to Hermione. She was trying to move on from her own breakup and Harry was getting in the way of that.

And then he'd had an embarrassing nightmare and attacked her when she'd tried to help him. Fucking hell. His chest clenched and he wanted to push that memory away, but let it sit in his mind for a few seconds. Did it change anything about his fake feelings for Hermione? Or about the decision he'd made to put more distance between them? No. It was just an unfortunate event he wished he could forget.

He went back to thinking about Hermione and how he'd agreed to talk to her about their relationship today. Most of his thoughts and feelings were a giant mess in his mind, but that part, talking to her, felt right. She was so intuitive that she may have already seen what Harry was doing and perhaps she'd know how they could fix it.

But as he thought more about it, his stomach turned. It was going to be really embarrassing and she'd get another glimpse into how pathetic he was. All he really wanted to do was go home and hide, but he was an adult, which means he had to do mature things, like have honest, adult conversations with other adults.

Damn. He was pretty sure real adults didn't spend so much time trying to remember what adults were supposed to do in any given situation, or trying to convince themselves that they were, in fact, adults. Adult was a weird word. Adult. Why did it sound like 'a dolt?' Okay, Harry. This train of thought has devolved.

Luckily, Hermione's voice cut into his thoughts, just then. "I know you're awake."

Harry opened one eye and saw her in the same position as before, but she was focusing on him now. "Is there anything you don't know?"

"There is not." She smiled softly.

"Watching people sleep is creepy," he whispered as he smiled back at her, turning on his side to face her. It was a hypocritical statement, since he'd watched her sleep a lot the night before, but she didn't know that.

"First, we've established that you weren't sleeping. Second, I wasn't watching you sleep, my mind was wandering and I happened to be turned in your direction. And finally, I've seen you sleep before. We shared a tent for months."

"It was creepy then and it's still creepy," he retorted.

She pushed his shoulder, then said in a more serious tone. "Thanks for staying."

He nodded, then caught her wrist and inspected it. "How is this? Does it feel okay?"

She pulled it out of his grasp. "It's fine. Stop beating yourself up about it."

"And you. How are you feeling?" His eyes were scanning her face and she wondered how well he could see it without his glasses. "I know I messed with your sleep a bit and-"

"Also, fine," she cut in. "I feel great, actually. What about you?"

He shrugged. "A little embarrassed. Well, a lot embarrassed."

She smiled again. "I happen to know exactly how you feel."

They were quiet for a while, then Hermione said, "I was thinking."

"Shocker."

She smiled. "Anyway. I said last night going to Malfoy Manor was a bad idea, but, I don't know, maybe everything just feels different in the daylight, but I think it was good for me. I feel lighter."

"Well, you lost about a pound of water in tears," Harry quipped.

Hermione let out a laugh. "Yeah. Kudos by the way. You have become much better at dealing with pathetic, crying witches."

"You're not so bad with pathetic, crying wizards."

She gave him a sad smile and they fell into silence again. Hermione was wondering where they were supposed to go from here. She'd completely fallen apart in front of him, sat on his lap crying for hours, pathetically begged him to stay the night, then helped him with a nightmare. Even for the two of them, it was a bit much.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Last night was a lot, yeah?"

"No kidding."

"Can we just acknowledge that, then agree to move on and not talk about it anymore? At least not for a while."

Harry's brow furrowed. He was thinking about the conversation he'd planned to have with her later and trying to determine if agreeing to this would preclude him from talking about any of that. But no, they could discuss their oddly close relationship without talking about last night, and he was just as eager as she was to put it all behind them.

He gave her a small smile. "I like that plan. Starting now?"

"Three, two, one...now!"

Harry's smile widened. He reached over to the nightstand for his glasses and put them back on. "I've been meaning to tell you something. This bed is incredibly comfortable." He moved onto his back and stretched out his arms and legs. "This is ten times better than my bed. How did you do that? Some sort of charm?"

Hermione got out of the bed and walked to Harry's side. "Sit up."

"No. I'm too comfortable."

"If you want to see the secret of the comfortable bed, you need to sit up."

He sighed. "Fine."

When he was sitting up on the bed, Hermione pulled the sheets off the bottom corner and pointed to a thick piece of foam on top of the mattress. "This is a Muggle mattress pad. I tried loads of cushioning spells to try to get the bed just right when I bought it, but sometimes the Muggle way is easier. I'll get you one."

"You don't have to do that. Tell me where to find them and I'll get one myself."

She waved him away and walked to the bathroom. He heard the tap running and when she came back into the room, she was brushing her teeth.

"It's not a big deal," she said, her words garbled since she had a toothbrush in her mouth.

Harry gave her a look that said, What is wrong with you?

"What?" she asked.

"We were in the middle of a conversation here and you just left to brush your teeth."

She shrugged and disappeared back into the bathroom. He heard the tap again and when she reappeared a minute later, the toothbrush was gone and she was smiling widely. "I hate the way my mouth feels in the morning, I always have to brush my teeth as soon as I get up."

"I don't remember that."

"Well, yeah, he couldn't afford the luxury of toothbrushes and toothpaste, so I had to use a mouth cleaning spell," she twisted her face in disgust. "I think that was one of the most traumatic parts of the Horcrux hunt for me."

Harry shook his head. "I think you're the only witch who still brushes her teeth."

"That can't be true."

"Okay. The only witch I know."

Hermione nodded and sat on the bed, pulling her legs up. "That's probably true. Anyway. I'll pick up your mattress pad today. Then you, too, can have a very comfortable bed."

"At least tell me how much it is so I can pay you back."

She clicked her tongue in protest. "I know that scarf cost you a fortune." She paused and waited for him to deny it, but he didn't. "So, this is the least I can do, consider it an early Christmas present."

"Fine," he grumbled. "What else are you doing today, besides buying mattress pads?"

Hermione shrugged. "I should go talk to Ron and let him know I'm alive and well."

Harry nodded. "He told me he has a meeting this morning, then they'll probably take a few hours after to plan out their next course of action. But he'll probably be available around lunch."

"You're not on this case?"

Harry shook his head.

"Okay, good to know about Ron. I have a few things I need to do, anyway. I was going to make potions tomorrow and need to stop at the Apothecary, first. Then the mattress pad, of course. What about you?"

"I have no plans. Maybe fly later if the weather's clear. Can I tag along to the Apothecary? I need a few ingredients too."

"You do? I thought you were the type to buy all your potions."

This was true, but Harry needed a reason to be with Hermione today, so he could have that adult conversation. He just shrugged.

"Oh, right. I forgot you were a potions genius," she said sarcastically.

Harry pushed Hermione over and she squealed, catching herself before she fell off the bed. She lunged at Harry and he fell backward on her bed, then casually folded his arms behind his head.

"Great retaliation," he teased. "Forcing me to lie on your comfortable bed again."

She looked around for a wand, then spotted both of them on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. Harry saw what she intended and they both dove for the wands at the same time. Harry was closer but when he reached his arm out, Hermione pulled it back with all her strength. Then she wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and tried to pull him back, too.

Harry Summoned both wands with wandless magic, then turned Hermione over and pinned her to the bed, holding the wands to her neck. "Why did you try to overpower me physically? Rookie mistake."

She pouted. "Well, we're not all trained as Aurors. Can you get off me?"

Better suggestion. How about I get off with you?

Fucking hell, don't be a pervert. You need to have that adult conversation. Just do it now. You said you would.

Not now, when they were joking and back to normal. Plus, it wasn't a good conversation to have while he was straddling her on her bed. Later, after the Apothecary.

"Well?" Hermione shifted under him and crossed her arms over her chest.

Harry started tapping both wands against his chin and tried to look casual. "I'm thinking of which hex to use."

She ticked the inside of his thigh and inched out from under him while he squirmed. But he'd pulled the wands close to his chest so she couldn't grab hers back. Damn, he did have good reflexes.

"Nice try," Harry said once he'd recovered. He was sitting up on his knees on the bed, pointing both wands at her now.

She let out a laugh. This whole thing was ridiculous, but also, exactly what they'd needed to get over the heaviness of the night before. She tried to scowl, but her smile kept breaking through.

"Fine, you win," she announced. "For the record, I think you might spend too much time with Teddy, because you are a child."

"Says the person who sticks out her tongue every time she can't think of a good rebuttal."

Hermione stuck her tongue out and Harry laughed. He handed her her wand and she snatched it back quickly.

Harry climbed out of her bed and started putting his shirt back on. "I just need to get a quick shower and change," he said as he buttoned up his shirt, then grabbed his belt. "How much time do you need?"

"Thirty minutes." She went to the window and looked outside. "Let's meet at your place, then we can walk to Diagon Alley. It looks like it's going to be clear today."

Harry smiled inwardly. He liked this about Hermione. She never needed long to get ready and she loved being outside almost as much as he did.

No. You're not allowed to like things about Hermione, anymore. It's not real, remember? You need to stop this.

Harry let out a long sigh. That conversation they were going to have later today was going to suck.

A/N: Continued thanks to my awesome beta reader, Lancashire Witch. Thank you all for your continued support of this story and the lovely comments, they really brighten up my day.