A/N: Sigh...I've always been an R/Hr shipper, yet this plot bunny's been
bugging me for the longest time. It's not one ship or the other, really,
until the very end. I've never written an H/H fic before (I don't think I
will after this one unless I get another plot bunny), so please forgive me
if anything in their relationship sounds off or OOC or anything.
Suggestions are always welcome!
Disclaimer: All characters, etc., belong to JK Rowling.
Chapter 1: Calm Before the Storm
The wind blew softly through the open window, causing the curtains in the small bedroom and ruffling the already messy hair of one Harry Potter. He raised an eyelid cautiously, wincing as the sun glared into his face. Grumbling, he slid out of bed, trying not to disturb the petite figure sleeping beside him. "Forgot to shut this last night, I s'pose..." He shut the window quickly, shivering as the cold hit his boxer-clad body.
"What are you doing out of bed?" A soft voice inquired.
Turning, Harry watched as his fiancee ran her hands through her brown curls tiredly. "Had to shut the window; it was getting cold." He yawned suddenly, but quickly shoved his fatigue to the side. "Besides, it's seven o'clock. Had to get up anyway."
Hermione threw off the covers, crossing the room. Harry smiled again as she wrapped her arms around him, sighing softly. "I wish we didn't have to go today."
"Am I hearing right? Hermione Granger not wanting to go to work?"
Her grip tightened a bit before she loosened up, laughing a little. "You know what I mean. Besides, there's the whole wedding thing to plan; I'll be meeting Mum for lunch again to discuss things."
He kissed her forehead. "How long will it be until you're legally mine?"
"A month. And I don't belong to you. We belong to each other."
"Ah...I forgot about your feministic tendencies."
"Shush." She slipped out of his grasp, grinning. "I'm going to go take a shower."
Harry grabbed a jumper hanging from a peg behind the door, pulling it on. The rest of the house was quiet as he passed the individual rooms by. The hallways were lined with photographs, some of their subjects still resting against their frames, heads bobbing in sleep. The kitchen was full of Muggle appliances; Hermione wasn't into cooking and consequently they existed on mostly microwaved food and other simple fare. Not that he complained about that.
Pushing open the glass sliding door, Harry's feet found themselves on the smooth wooden planks of the outside patio. He leaned on the small fence, elbows slightly digging into the aged birchwood. The view from there was amazing, rows and rows of grass and trees; the hill country they had picked to live in was still untamed, still wild, but there was a peaceful element in it. Living so far away from the city was a little inconvenient, but Harry and Hermione loved it all the same. He paused in his train of thought, letting the cold air creep through his rumpled clothes and invigorate his senses before coming back inside.
After a quick shower, he found himself sitting across the table from an alert Hermione, eating his way through bacon and eggs. The comfortable rustle of newspaper and the clink of silverware against their simply- designed plates made for a tranquil, everyday morning.
"Pass me the sports page, love." The corresponding paper was haphazardly tossed at him; she was currently deeply immersed in the editorials and therefore was oblivious to most anything.
Harry's brow furrowed as he scanned the league standings. "There must be a misprint."
"What are you talking about? There's never a misprint." She gave him a strange look before returning to her own reading.
"No, look: the Chudley Cannons are in the top five. That's impossible." He shoved the papers into her face. "It hasn't happened for a few hundred years and I don't think a bunch of rookie players is going to change that."
Hermione gave the paper a passing glance. "You forget that Ron's assistant coach. Remember his chess strategies? I'm sure it's all explainable." She laughed as Harry gave a look that suggested she had sprouted an extra head. "What? Oh, come on. They can't be that bad."
"It's the Cannons, Hermione. The Cannons wouldn't have a chance against any team ever." He shrugged suddenly. "Say, why don't we drop by Ron's tonight? I'm sure he has a good explanation."
Her tone suddenly became frosty as she replied, "Ron and I aren't speaking, remember?" He sighed. Despite the fact that they were all in their middle twenties, his two best friends continued to fight like cats and dogs. It had always irked him at Hogwarts, but now, more often than not, he was resigned to sit by and watch, analyzing with Fred and George if they were at the Weasleys'.
"Come off it, love. You two aren't sixteen anymore; its time this bickering stops."
"'Not sixteen' indeed. I wasn't the one who got his eyebrows singed off playing Exploding Snap last week."
"I wasn't the one laughing myself silly about it."
She shrugged, warm brown eyes playing into piercing green ones. "Either way, I suppose we should go. He's just broken up with Lavender again, and I'm willing to forgive him if he's willing to-"
"Forgive you?" His hopes were squashed as she replied,
"No. I'm willing to forgive him if he's willing to admit that he's wrong."
He rolled his eyes as they both stood, sending their plates to the sink. "Well, I'm off."
"Meet us for lunch?"
"Erm..."
Laughing, she drew closer. "I understand. I'll deal with Mum alone." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him softly. "Have a good day."
"You too." They shared another kiss, a deeper one this time. That was followed by another, and then another, each increasing in intensity. Pulling away reluctantly, Harry pulled his wand out of his back pocket. "We'd better get going. Love you."
"Love you too."
As they disapparated, they didn't know this would be the last completely peaceful morning either of them would ever have for a long time.
A/N: I ABHOR Ron/Lavender, but couldn't really think of anyone else to put him up with, so there you go. Sorry that it's kinda short. Be nice and review! Please?
Disclaimer: All characters, etc., belong to JK Rowling.
Chapter 1: Calm Before the Storm
The wind blew softly through the open window, causing the curtains in the small bedroom and ruffling the already messy hair of one Harry Potter. He raised an eyelid cautiously, wincing as the sun glared into his face. Grumbling, he slid out of bed, trying not to disturb the petite figure sleeping beside him. "Forgot to shut this last night, I s'pose..." He shut the window quickly, shivering as the cold hit his boxer-clad body.
"What are you doing out of bed?" A soft voice inquired.
Turning, Harry watched as his fiancee ran her hands through her brown curls tiredly. "Had to shut the window; it was getting cold." He yawned suddenly, but quickly shoved his fatigue to the side. "Besides, it's seven o'clock. Had to get up anyway."
Hermione threw off the covers, crossing the room. Harry smiled again as she wrapped her arms around him, sighing softly. "I wish we didn't have to go today."
"Am I hearing right? Hermione Granger not wanting to go to work?"
Her grip tightened a bit before she loosened up, laughing a little. "You know what I mean. Besides, there's the whole wedding thing to plan; I'll be meeting Mum for lunch again to discuss things."
He kissed her forehead. "How long will it be until you're legally mine?"
"A month. And I don't belong to you. We belong to each other."
"Ah...I forgot about your feministic tendencies."
"Shush." She slipped out of his grasp, grinning. "I'm going to go take a shower."
Harry grabbed a jumper hanging from a peg behind the door, pulling it on. The rest of the house was quiet as he passed the individual rooms by. The hallways were lined with photographs, some of their subjects still resting against their frames, heads bobbing in sleep. The kitchen was full of Muggle appliances; Hermione wasn't into cooking and consequently they existed on mostly microwaved food and other simple fare. Not that he complained about that.
Pushing open the glass sliding door, Harry's feet found themselves on the smooth wooden planks of the outside patio. He leaned on the small fence, elbows slightly digging into the aged birchwood. The view from there was amazing, rows and rows of grass and trees; the hill country they had picked to live in was still untamed, still wild, but there was a peaceful element in it. Living so far away from the city was a little inconvenient, but Harry and Hermione loved it all the same. He paused in his train of thought, letting the cold air creep through his rumpled clothes and invigorate his senses before coming back inside.
After a quick shower, he found himself sitting across the table from an alert Hermione, eating his way through bacon and eggs. The comfortable rustle of newspaper and the clink of silverware against their simply- designed plates made for a tranquil, everyday morning.
"Pass me the sports page, love." The corresponding paper was haphazardly tossed at him; she was currently deeply immersed in the editorials and therefore was oblivious to most anything.
Harry's brow furrowed as he scanned the league standings. "There must be a misprint."
"What are you talking about? There's never a misprint." She gave him a strange look before returning to her own reading.
"No, look: the Chudley Cannons are in the top five. That's impossible." He shoved the papers into her face. "It hasn't happened for a few hundred years and I don't think a bunch of rookie players is going to change that."
Hermione gave the paper a passing glance. "You forget that Ron's assistant coach. Remember his chess strategies? I'm sure it's all explainable." She laughed as Harry gave a look that suggested she had sprouted an extra head. "What? Oh, come on. They can't be that bad."
"It's the Cannons, Hermione. The Cannons wouldn't have a chance against any team ever." He shrugged suddenly. "Say, why don't we drop by Ron's tonight? I'm sure he has a good explanation."
Her tone suddenly became frosty as she replied, "Ron and I aren't speaking, remember?" He sighed. Despite the fact that they were all in their middle twenties, his two best friends continued to fight like cats and dogs. It had always irked him at Hogwarts, but now, more often than not, he was resigned to sit by and watch, analyzing with Fred and George if they were at the Weasleys'.
"Come off it, love. You two aren't sixteen anymore; its time this bickering stops."
"'Not sixteen' indeed. I wasn't the one who got his eyebrows singed off playing Exploding Snap last week."
"I wasn't the one laughing myself silly about it."
She shrugged, warm brown eyes playing into piercing green ones. "Either way, I suppose we should go. He's just broken up with Lavender again, and I'm willing to forgive him if he's willing to-"
"Forgive you?" His hopes were squashed as she replied,
"No. I'm willing to forgive him if he's willing to admit that he's wrong."
He rolled his eyes as they both stood, sending their plates to the sink. "Well, I'm off."
"Meet us for lunch?"
"Erm..."
Laughing, she drew closer. "I understand. I'll deal with Mum alone." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him softly. "Have a good day."
"You too." They shared another kiss, a deeper one this time. That was followed by another, and then another, each increasing in intensity. Pulling away reluctantly, Harry pulled his wand out of his back pocket. "We'd better get going. Love you."
"Love you too."
As they disapparated, they didn't know this would be the last completely peaceful morning either of them would ever have for a long time.
A/N: I ABHOR Ron/Lavender, but couldn't really think of anyone else to put him up with, so there you go. Sorry that it's kinda short. Be nice and review! Please?