Chapter 23

Harry and Hermione arrived on the shores of North Berwick their laughter still echoing in their ears. The cottage was located on the coast of the east bay in Scotland. It was lopsided, with a tilted chimney and the duo had to crane their heads to the right to make it appear erect. Although the cottage was dated, with vine riddled brick and stained shutters Harry and Hermione couldn't imagine a place that looked more inviting.

Upon entry Harry immediately thought one thing. How he wished that he had grown up in a house like this. The kitchen was cozy, with mahogany fixtures and a round table fit for five. The living room contained two marvelous bay windows and couches and chairs that looked as if they could swallow you whole. The bedroom was to the left, with rich maroon furnishings. A large king sized bed stood in the center of the room facing an antiquated stone hearth. There was a small bathroom off of the bedroom and Harry chuckled as Hermione's eyes lit up as they eyed the porcelain claw foot tub. While the tent did have a very small bathroom, Harry had somehow managed to hex the shower beyond repair when trying to acquire hot water and they had been bathing in the river for the past few days.

"Go ahead," Harry laughed nudging her towards the bathroom and Hermione smiled eagerly.

Harry walked through the rest of the cottage, exploring the various magical objects thwarting the aging home. He ventured out the front door enjoying the chill of the breeze against his neck. It was beyond peaceful and all that could be heard was the soft sloshing of the waves against the sandy shore and Harry's footsteps as he crunched around the side of the house down towards the water. He removed his shoes sinking his toes into the sand, the unfamiliar sensation tickling the balls of his feet. He fell backwards reveling the moonlight reflected over the water. He had only been to the shore one previous occasion and the memory was tainted with the burial of Dobby along the sandy outskirts of Shell Cottage.

"It's beautiful," Hermione observed joining him in the sand, her hair falling in damp waves past her shoulders.

Harry gulped as he noticed she was wearing only his flannel shirt, her tan legs glistening pallidly in the moonlight.

She turned to Harry, her eyes dancing as she noticed his expression. "What're you thinking?"

"How much I like that shirt," Harry laughed and Hermione slapped his chest playfully.

They kissed like desperate teenagers and in time Harry carried Hermione into the bedroom and made soft sweet love well into the early morning hours.

When Harry awoke the next morning he was stunned to find how late he had slept. He yawned lazily stretching his limbs and glanced around the empty bedroom. He could hear Hermione muttering what sounded like counter curses in the kitchen and with a perplexed expression he emerged into a billowing cloud of smoke.

"Hermione?" he sputtered squinting past the fog.

"These bloody stoves are… not… working properly!" Hermione bellowed in frustration her hair frizzier than normal. She had batter on her cheek and flour managed to spread to every flat surface. There were several broken eggs in the sink and Harry couldn't help the grin slowly creeping onto his face.

"Trying to make… breakfast?" he questioned with a chuckle.

Hermione turned and glared at him causing him to laugh harder and she huffed in annoyance. Acting purely on childish impulse she reached for the scoop in the bag of flower and sent a rocket of white powder hurtling towards Harry's face. A cloud hung in the air for a moment and Hermione burst into hysterics, as Harry emerged covered from the neck up in white powder, his glasses completely opaque.

"You're going to regret that," he said in mock singsong and the food fight that followed was relentless. After eggs, three different kinds of sugar, and nearly all the condiments in the pantry had been used, the pair finally held their hands up in truce struggling to catch their breath.

"That was fun," Hermione giggled as she shook an assortment of powder from her hair, "I've never had a food fight."

"You've never had a food fight?" Harry sounded surprised.

Hermione shook her head, "I wasn't exactly a trouble maker."

"Oh yeah, food fights are so mischievous! The worst! I've heard they have a special wing in Azkaban."

Hermione made a face and wacked Harry playfully on the arm. There hadn't been much time in the last year to be childish and they were both enjoying their newfound innocence.

Neither Harry nor Hermione were terribly good at household spells, but they managed to make it passable after several tries. They showered and dressed their stomachs rumbling and hand in hand made there way into town in search of food. Harry was determined to keep Hermione as far away from the kitchen as possible. They stumbled upon a small café, it was late morning and the breakfast crowd had gone and the pair settled into a small table by the window. It was technically their first date and there was a strange freedom that accompanied being in public together without restraint. They spoke softly, enthralled with each other and their new surroundings. Much to their chagrin the owner, a small man with a thick mustache insisted that breakfast was on the house as long as they promised to come back. Although Harry protested for a moment he eventually tipped the man a few extra pounds andd thanked him profusely.

They spent most of their day exploring North Berwick. They walked lazily along the cobblestone streets enjoying the picturesque village laid out before them. Settling on gelato as an early dinner Hermione accidentally smeared her chocolate cone all over Harry's mouth, beard and nose. With a fire in his eyes Harry had dropped his own cone carelessly to the ground and pressed his lips to hers sharing the mess. With Harry's Henley now drenched in ice cream the pair happily made their way back to Andromeda's cottage.

And this is how their days were spent. They proceeded to loose themselves in each other. Drunk off the absence of expectation and high with the reckless abandon of young love. Whether it was the feel of their skin pressed against each other or the hours of conversation both serious and ludicrous, it was effortless to forget the real world.

On their fourth night in North Berwick Harry and Hermione sat huddled together in a corner booth at a local pub absorbed in silly conversation.

"I'm just saying," Harry breathed out smiling, "the teeth were pretty cute."

"Oh shut up!" Hermione shot him a menacing glare. "If I recall you weren't exactly Prince Charming with your glasses and oversized pants."

Harry opened his mouth in mock surprise, "It's not my fault that my cousin has the build of an ape! And I happen to think I'm very charming."

"Oh yes, extremely charming. How was it you asked Cho to the ball fourth year?" Hermione tapped her finger against her chin, "Oh yes, Ch… Ch… Ch… Cho."

"Alright, alright, you win!" Harry pushed back from the table his stomach tight with laughter. "So I was a bloody idiot. I was barely fourteen! Better than Ron screaming at Fleur!"

Hermione almost laughed, but stopped at the mention of Ron. The realization hit Harry a moment later and he swallowed dryly, "Sorry," he mumbled into his drink.

"I suppose we're going to have to talk about him at some point," Hermione sighed out.

Harry paused, "I know he wrote you."

Hermione nodded silently unsure of what to say and if she was ready to have this conversation with Harry let alone herself.

Part of Harry was desperate to know what the letter had said, but the latter still confirmed that it wasn't his letter to read and that he wasn't ready for that information. "Anyway," he hesitated, "I'm pretty tired, should we get going?"

"Harry…" Hermione sighed.

"I'll go pay." He stood abruptly heading over to the bar as Hermione's unspoken words hung in the air. He knew where avoidance led, it only made the problem bigger, the reconciliation harder, but he wasn't ready to have those difficult conversations that inevitably lay ahead. He was too terrified of those feelings. He was terrified at the likely possibility of losing her.

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair as she leaned back in her seat. The mention of Ron had her sick with the realization of how complicated things would be upon her return. It reminded her how reckless and thoughtless her actions were and how somewhere down the line she would need to make a decision and the sacrifices that came with choosing either one.