Solace for Two
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Authors Note: I know it took...err...a bit of time (3 weeks?) to get this first chapter out...I'm a big time slacker, huh? I think I just pretty much just lack dedication. Anyway, I wanted to thank beveryone/b who took the time to review! It's greatly appreciated! ;)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter One - The Only One Not Smiling
'Twenty-four years overdue. What kind of role model are you?' - The Anniversary
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Harry's head swished from side to side against his white plush pillow. His eyes flashed open in the darkness for the hundredth time. This night was no different from any other. Restless, and agitated; he couldn't sleep a wink. Looming thoughts kept him awake for hours and hours on end, rarely letting up.
Visions plagued him, filling his mind with diseased pictures of torment. Brief flashes of assault, and death, flickered in a gray scale of dull colors. His...Mum and Dad. Then, just as quick as it happened, it ended. Leaving him breathless, and in a cold sweat when he was forced to wake.
He sat up erectly in the bed, running a nervous hand through his inky black hair. Peering next to him in the darkness: he could make out a tangle of red hair across the pillowcase next to his. Taking a sharp deep breath, he looked to his left, seeing "2:12 a.m." glare back at him, in florescent green numbers.
He closed his eyes, and felt them sting back bitterly.
He looked at Ginny, some what regretfully, and looked for any sign of stirring. He could thank the Dursley's for his excellent ability to be abnormally stone silent, if the occasion called. Harry slipped out of the warm sheets, revealing a nude figure -- save a pair of navy boxers. He stretched the remains of any stiff muscles out and quietly opened his wardrobe, pulling out a heavy jumper and a pair of night pants.
The silence had already began eating him, burrowing under his skin, ready to explode. It was in the Dead of the night, alone in his bedroom -- with his wife, and he'd never felt more alone. There was only one place he could think to go. One person he could count on to understand. Someone who wouldn't push.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hermione studied the worn yellow pages of the small, leather bound, particularly old, book of 'Common House Spells' and scrutinized page number 176. Dusting was a mundane task that had always roused her allergies, and she'd been searching for a charm to keep her house "dust-free". So far, no luck. She groaned inwardly and thought of the inconvenience that was house keeping.
A quick, sharp knock filtered through the room, and it became immediately apparent that someone had stumbled onto her doorstep.
Half startled, she looked to the front door --- and frowned. She looked at her watch and made serious note of the unruly hour that stared back at her. Dropping the book, she made her way to the threshold and prepared herself for the worst. Her curious muggle neighbors had been by day after day. Quite irregularly eager to heave miscellaneous complaints her way. ("What the bloody hell was that flashing?" "What the fuck was that noise? It sounded like a thousand dying cows!")
Heaving a sigh, she swung open the door.
Uh...surprise? Instead of those 'curious' neighbors, she'd found...Harry. Clad in a pair of stripped blue and white pajama pants and a thin white plain tee-shirt, he smiled a warm greeting.
"I know, I know...it's rather late..." He stood tall and bit his lip, attempting to explain his presence, but some how fumbled finding the appropriate words.
She held up a hand to stop him from talking and gestured inside. "C'mon then, love. I'll fix some tea and smuggle some cookie biscuits from Oliver's stash."
Harry scoffed, stepping inside the door, "He has his own stash? Lucky bastard!"
"He thinks I don't know about it. Silly git. Sometimes I wonder if he even notices that rather suddenly...a good half of his treats are missing." Hermione lamented, a hand instinctively landing on her hip.
Harry smothered a laugh, "Ginny has me on a strict diet. Says I need to gain more weight for this coming Quidditch season."
"Which means loads of Mrs. Weasley's infamous chicken and mash--am I right?"
"Naturally." Harry smiled at her radiantly; no matter what time it was, she had an effect on him. "I can't get away from it!"
Once entering the kitchen, Harry plopped down on the bar stool, and leaned on the counter.
He watched Hermione with a close, admiring eye, as she toggled around the kitchen. She looked the same, no matter what she did. Starting with her hair; which was still bushy, still...big. Still brown. She'd long since had it highlighted, and even straightened with an iron, but such musings had hardly helped matters. Her face was flawless, yet still very much of that like you might imagine a 1st years at Hogwarts. Huge brown eyes painted with mischief were engulfed by magnificently long eyelashes, drawing attention immediately. Her nose was straight--nothing horrible there, but in the same, nothing ravishing there either. Her lips were full, and pink...but, notably short in width. Harry found everything about her completely enduring.
"Peppermint tea, or Green?"
He twitched out of his trance like stare and flushed pink, hoping she hadn't noticed. "Peppermint, please."
"You got it."
Harry's lips turned up as he reached forward and picked up a red terrycloth tea cozy. "Merlin's beard, Hermione, every time I see one of these, it reminds me of..."
"Dobby?" She looked at him over her shoulder and smirked.
He beamed at her and let out a low chuckle, remembering the small house elf he'd long ago launched into freedom. "I wonder how he's doing lately, I haven't seen him in ages.''
"I think that Cho Chang has employed him, actually. I ran into her the other day at Diagon Alley, when I was visiting the Weasley's store." She quipped, her hands continuing to set up a tray of cookie's.
"No shit. Really?" Harry gawked, remembering that Cho had been one of the few quite shocked by Hermione's S.P.E.W. notion back in 4th year.
Hermione nodded reassuringly, setting down the platter of biscuits and a steaming cup of tea in front of Harry. Pulling out a seat next to Harry with one foot, she wrapped her fingers around the mug, hoping to warm her cold hands.
"Now that we're eating his cookie biscuits...Where is Wood anyway?"
They sat close together, their shoulders brushing occasionally.
"Oh, he's in Scotland. Glasgow actually. Visiting his Mum and Dad for a week or two. He's been missing them something awful, and, since it's the off season for Quidditch, I thought he was due for a quick holiday at his home." She smile proudly, "It'll do him good."
Harry nodded, taking a quick bite of a jam slathered cookie. Realizing how famished he really was. "Why didn't you go with him?"
Hermione fidgeted a bit. "I would have. His parents are just the jolliest of dears. I love them to pieces. The thing is, to be quite honest, I don't think his sisters have ever...quite liked me. Gwendolyn and Mary. (Pause) So, I'm just not comfortable hanging around."
"Do they still live with Mr. and Mrs. Wood?"
"Of course. Don't you remember? They were at Hogwarts. Oddly enough, they were sorted into Slytherin. I believe they were in their 2nd year when we graduated."
"Oh. Yes! Yes, you're right. Now I remember." He brought his cup of tea under his nose and inhaled the minty aroma with a deep breath, gingerly taking a sip.
Hermione couldn't help noting, how little Harry had changed. His blazing bright green eyes were enthralling. Always intense. His black hair was an unruly mess. His scar was hidden for the most part, but, if you looked hard enough, you could make out just the end of his jagged bolt. An innocent, rugged, boyish face, for one who'd seen so much horror. He had grown to an even 6' tall, having a matching pair of broad shoulders, and a built stature.
"Liar." She spotted his fib instantly, giving him a sideways glance of amusement.
He returned her look with a spot of guiltiness.
A moment of silence passed between them as the conversation hit a lull. Harry looked at the cookie platter and bit his lip. Trying to decide if he should tell Hermione about...
"You don't have to say it, you know."
He looked up, and caught Hermione's eye.
"Your visions. S'what you're thinking about, isn't it? I won't be angry if you don't share them with me. I know you've always felt a bit wrong about keeping things to yourself, in the past. No one needs to know what's in your head, Harry. And it's insulting that people should force you to talk." She took a hand over his, and squeezed it, offering what comfort she could.
Harry looked at her doe like face, looking at him intently and genuinely, immediately feeling soothed. He said nothing, reaching forward and pushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. However, instead of removing his hand from her face, he let his palm slide around her cheek, over her ivory beige skin, coming to rest under her chin.
Neither of them took the time to blink. Just to feel.
Hermione was engulfed by her own senses. Being this close to...her Harry, and speaking about such intimate things as dreams and visions, caused her feelings to emerge, and become blatantly apparent. She'd become quite good at hiding them to the public eye. To everyone. But these moments of silence often turned into stares of ache. Her heart clenched in her chest.
Harry, on the other hand, had a great deal more trouble cloaking his feelings for Hermione. It wasn't unheard of for him to put a protective arm around Hermione. Or, for that matter, to kiss her cheek, even in front of his wife. Though he swore it was in the most brotherly manner...it was clear to most, that it was not ''friendly'' at all. This got him plenty of menacing stares: mostly from complete strangers. He supposed that some how, those strangers that seemed quite interested in his personal life, had a connection of sorts to Rita Skeeter.
Harry and Hermione learned early on, after their marriages, that being seen together in public, even in the company of many friends, was a mistake. Their faces had been on the front page of the "Daily Prophet" many times. Likely slow news days.
When he finally tore his hand away from her face, he found his breath was a bit baited, as was hers. Not trusting his own restraint, he had to get out before he did something foolish and brash.
"Thank you. Thanks for everything...But, I guess I should probably go now. You need your rest, and I think I've taken up enough of your time."
She winked, "Oh don't thank me. It was Oliver's cookies...."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Three Broomsticks - Witches Washing Room
"Ugh!" Hermione sputtered, feeling the left half of her head. Her hair had fallen cast to an bad toffee candy, obviously a left over from 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'. If she ever got her hands on Fred and George...
"Need some help in there?" A strange voice filtered through the doorway.
"Be right out!" Hermione chirped, trying to sound as rueful as possible. How long had she been in there? Shrugging to herself, and picking up her purse, she unlocked the door.
Once the entry had swished open, a witch, with a rather small black dog in a wicker basket resting on her hip, glared mercilessly at Hermione. "Setting up camp in there, dear?"
A bit a-taken back, Hermione frowned unconsciously, and opened her mouth, preparing to fall all over herself in apologies.
But, surprisingly, someone stood in for her...
"Oh bugger off, before someone drops a house on you too!" Ginny, seeming to appear out of no where, was standing beside her. With a chin high in dignity, and she quickly grabbed Hermione's hand, pulling her safely away from the scene, her nails digging into Hermione's bicep.
"Goodness, 'Mione! Did you see? She even had Toto! How utterly ridiculous!" Ginny giggled, once they were out of ear shot. She hadn't looked back once.
They continued to walk together, until they finally reached two stools right in front of the main bar. Simultaneously slamming their purses onto the counter in front of them, they turned to each other, and smiled, awkwardly.
"Well, thanks for that...back there." Hermione started, feeling genuinely grateful. She pointed in the direction of the toilet.
"No problem. No problem at all." She smiled at her, absently twirling a lock of hair around her ring finger. Perhaps to show off the wedding band, as a small reminder that...Harry was hers.
The red head eyed her suspiciously. "What happened to your hair?"
She moaned. "Is it still a bit...a bit...blue?"
Ginny smiled faintly, and nodded.
"I'm afraid it was a bad bit of candy."
"Oh dear. Fred and George, was it?"
Hermione only smirked.
Ginny and Hermione had never spent much time together, resulting in a lingering silence between the two, as they both searched for the header to an appropriate conversation. There was a certain distaste in the air, but somehow, they managed to end up on friendly terms. Perhaps, for Harry's sake.
"So..." Ginny started abruptly, turning her attention to Hermione, "Harry came to see you last night."
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Authors Note: I know it took...err...a bit of time (3 weeks?) to get this first chapter out...I'm a big time slacker, huh? I think I just pretty much just lack dedication. Anyway, I wanted to thank beveryone/b who took the time to review! It's greatly appreciated! ;)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter One - The Only One Not Smiling
'Twenty-four years overdue. What kind of role model are you?' - The Anniversary
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Harry's head swished from side to side against his white plush pillow. His eyes flashed open in the darkness for the hundredth time. This night was no different from any other. Restless, and agitated; he couldn't sleep a wink. Looming thoughts kept him awake for hours and hours on end, rarely letting up.
Visions plagued him, filling his mind with diseased pictures of torment. Brief flashes of assault, and death, flickered in a gray scale of dull colors. His...Mum and Dad. Then, just as quick as it happened, it ended. Leaving him breathless, and in a cold sweat when he was forced to wake.
He sat up erectly in the bed, running a nervous hand through his inky black hair. Peering next to him in the darkness: he could make out a tangle of red hair across the pillowcase next to his. Taking a sharp deep breath, he looked to his left, seeing "2:12 a.m." glare back at him, in florescent green numbers.
He closed his eyes, and felt them sting back bitterly.
He looked at Ginny, some what regretfully, and looked for any sign of stirring. He could thank the Dursley's for his excellent ability to be abnormally stone silent, if the occasion called. Harry slipped out of the warm sheets, revealing a nude figure -- save a pair of navy boxers. He stretched the remains of any stiff muscles out and quietly opened his wardrobe, pulling out a heavy jumper and a pair of night pants.
The silence had already began eating him, burrowing under his skin, ready to explode. It was in the Dead of the night, alone in his bedroom -- with his wife, and he'd never felt more alone. There was only one place he could think to go. One person he could count on to understand. Someone who wouldn't push.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hermione studied the worn yellow pages of the small, leather bound, particularly old, book of 'Common House Spells' and scrutinized page number 176. Dusting was a mundane task that had always roused her allergies, and she'd been searching for a charm to keep her house "dust-free". So far, no luck. She groaned inwardly and thought of the inconvenience that was house keeping.
A quick, sharp knock filtered through the room, and it became immediately apparent that someone had stumbled onto her doorstep.
Half startled, she looked to the front door --- and frowned. She looked at her watch and made serious note of the unruly hour that stared back at her. Dropping the book, she made her way to the threshold and prepared herself for the worst. Her curious muggle neighbors had been by day after day. Quite irregularly eager to heave miscellaneous complaints her way. ("What the bloody hell was that flashing?" "What the fuck was that noise? It sounded like a thousand dying cows!")
Heaving a sigh, she swung open the door.
Uh...surprise? Instead of those 'curious' neighbors, she'd found...Harry. Clad in a pair of stripped blue and white pajama pants and a thin white plain tee-shirt, he smiled a warm greeting.
"I know, I know...it's rather late..." He stood tall and bit his lip, attempting to explain his presence, but some how fumbled finding the appropriate words.
She held up a hand to stop him from talking and gestured inside. "C'mon then, love. I'll fix some tea and smuggle some cookie biscuits from Oliver's stash."
Harry scoffed, stepping inside the door, "He has his own stash? Lucky bastard!"
"He thinks I don't know about it. Silly git. Sometimes I wonder if he even notices that rather suddenly...a good half of his treats are missing." Hermione lamented, a hand instinctively landing on her hip.
Harry smothered a laugh, "Ginny has me on a strict diet. Says I need to gain more weight for this coming Quidditch season."
"Which means loads of Mrs. Weasley's infamous chicken and mash--am I right?"
"Naturally." Harry smiled at her radiantly; no matter what time it was, she had an effect on him. "I can't get away from it!"
Once entering the kitchen, Harry plopped down on the bar stool, and leaned on the counter.
He watched Hermione with a close, admiring eye, as she toggled around the kitchen. She looked the same, no matter what she did. Starting with her hair; which was still bushy, still...big. Still brown. She'd long since had it highlighted, and even straightened with an iron, but such musings had hardly helped matters. Her face was flawless, yet still very much of that like you might imagine a 1st years at Hogwarts. Huge brown eyes painted with mischief were engulfed by magnificently long eyelashes, drawing attention immediately. Her nose was straight--nothing horrible there, but in the same, nothing ravishing there either. Her lips were full, and pink...but, notably short in width. Harry found everything about her completely enduring.
"Peppermint tea, or Green?"
He twitched out of his trance like stare and flushed pink, hoping she hadn't noticed. "Peppermint, please."
"You got it."
Harry's lips turned up as he reached forward and picked up a red terrycloth tea cozy. "Merlin's beard, Hermione, every time I see one of these, it reminds me of..."
"Dobby?" She looked at him over her shoulder and smirked.
He beamed at her and let out a low chuckle, remembering the small house elf he'd long ago launched into freedom. "I wonder how he's doing lately, I haven't seen him in ages.''
"I think that Cho Chang has employed him, actually. I ran into her the other day at Diagon Alley, when I was visiting the Weasley's store." She quipped, her hands continuing to set up a tray of cookie's.
"No shit. Really?" Harry gawked, remembering that Cho had been one of the few quite shocked by Hermione's S.P.E.W. notion back in 4th year.
Hermione nodded reassuringly, setting down the platter of biscuits and a steaming cup of tea in front of Harry. Pulling out a seat next to Harry with one foot, she wrapped her fingers around the mug, hoping to warm her cold hands.
"Now that we're eating his cookie biscuits...Where is Wood anyway?"
They sat close together, their shoulders brushing occasionally.
"Oh, he's in Scotland. Glasgow actually. Visiting his Mum and Dad for a week or two. He's been missing them something awful, and, since it's the off season for Quidditch, I thought he was due for a quick holiday at his home." She smile proudly, "It'll do him good."
Harry nodded, taking a quick bite of a jam slathered cookie. Realizing how famished he really was. "Why didn't you go with him?"
Hermione fidgeted a bit. "I would have. His parents are just the jolliest of dears. I love them to pieces. The thing is, to be quite honest, I don't think his sisters have ever...quite liked me. Gwendolyn and Mary. (Pause) So, I'm just not comfortable hanging around."
"Do they still live with Mr. and Mrs. Wood?"
"Of course. Don't you remember? They were at Hogwarts. Oddly enough, they were sorted into Slytherin. I believe they were in their 2nd year when we graduated."
"Oh. Yes! Yes, you're right. Now I remember." He brought his cup of tea under his nose and inhaled the minty aroma with a deep breath, gingerly taking a sip.
Hermione couldn't help noting, how little Harry had changed. His blazing bright green eyes were enthralling. Always intense. His black hair was an unruly mess. His scar was hidden for the most part, but, if you looked hard enough, you could make out just the end of his jagged bolt. An innocent, rugged, boyish face, for one who'd seen so much horror. He had grown to an even 6' tall, having a matching pair of broad shoulders, and a built stature.
"Liar." She spotted his fib instantly, giving him a sideways glance of amusement.
He returned her look with a spot of guiltiness.
A moment of silence passed between them as the conversation hit a lull. Harry looked at the cookie platter and bit his lip. Trying to decide if he should tell Hermione about...
"You don't have to say it, you know."
He looked up, and caught Hermione's eye.
"Your visions. S'what you're thinking about, isn't it? I won't be angry if you don't share them with me. I know you've always felt a bit wrong about keeping things to yourself, in the past. No one needs to know what's in your head, Harry. And it's insulting that people should force you to talk." She took a hand over his, and squeezed it, offering what comfort she could.
Harry looked at her doe like face, looking at him intently and genuinely, immediately feeling soothed. He said nothing, reaching forward and pushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. However, instead of removing his hand from her face, he let his palm slide around her cheek, over her ivory beige skin, coming to rest under her chin.
Neither of them took the time to blink. Just to feel.
Hermione was engulfed by her own senses. Being this close to...her Harry, and speaking about such intimate things as dreams and visions, caused her feelings to emerge, and become blatantly apparent. She'd become quite good at hiding them to the public eye. To everyone. But these moments of silence often turned into stares of ache. Her heart clenched in her chest.
Harry, on the other hand, had a great deal more trouble cloaking his feelings for Hermione. It wasn't unheard of for him to put a protective arm around Hermione. Or, for that matter, to kiss her cheek, even in front of his wife. Though he swore it was in the most brotherly manner...it was clear to most, that it was not ''friendly'' at all. This got him plenty of menacing stares: mostly from complete strangers. He supposed that some how, those strangers that seemed quite interested in his personal life, had a connection of sorts to Rita Skeeter.
Harry and Hermione learned early on, after their marriages, that being seen together in public, even in the company of many friends, was a mistake. Their faces had been on the front page of the "Daily Prophet" many times. Likely slow news days.
When he finally tore his hand away from her face, he found his breath was a bit baited, as was hers. Not trusting his own restraint, he had to get out before he did something foolish and brash.
"Thank you. Thanks for everything...But, I guess I should probably go now. You need your rest, and I think I've taken up enough of your time."
She winked, "Oh don't thank me. It was Oliver's cookies...."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Three Broomsticks - Witches Washing Room
"Ugh!" Hermione sputtered, feeling the left half of her head. Her hair had fallen cast to an bad toffee candy, obviously a left over from 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'. If she ever got her hands on Fred and George...
"Need some help in there?" A strange voice filtered through the doorway.
"Be right out!" Hermione chirped, trying to sound as rueful as possible. How long had she been in there? Shrugging to herself, and picking up her purse, she unlocked the door.
Once the entry had swished open, a witch, with a rather small black dog in a wicker basket resting on her hip, glared mercilessly at Hermione. "Setting up camp in there, dear?"
A bit a-taken back, Hermione frowned unconsciously, and opened her mouth, preparing to fall all over herself in apologies.
But, surprisingly, someone stood in for her...
"Oh bugger off, before someone drops a house on you too!" Ginny, seeming to appear out of no where, was standing beside her. With a chin high in dignity, and she quickly grabbed Hermione's hand, pulling her safely away from the scene, her nails digging into Hermione's bicep.
"Goodness, 'Mione! Did you see? She even had Toto! How utterly ridiculous!" Ginny giggled, once they were out of ear shot. She hadn't looked back once.
They continued to walk together, until they finally reached two stools right in front of the main bar. Simultaneously slamming their purses onto the counter in front of them, they turned to each other, and smiled, awkwardly.
"Well, thanks for that...back there." Hermione started, feeling genuinely grateful. She pointed in the direction of the toilet.
"No problem. No problem at all." She smiled at her, absently twirling a lock of hair around her ring finger. Perhaps to show off the wedding band, as a small reminder that...Harry was hers.
The red head eyed her suspiciously. "What happened to your hair?"
She moaned. "Is it still a bit...a bit...blue?"
Ginny smiled faintly, and nodded.
"I'm afraid it was a bad bit of candy."
"Oh dear. Fred and George, was it?"
Hermione only smirked.
Ginny and Hermione had never spent much time together, resulting in a lingering silence between the two, as they both searched for the header to an appropriate conversation. There was a certain distaste in the air, but somehow, they managed to end up on friendly terms. Perhaps, for Harry's sake.
"So..." Ginny started abruptly, turning her attention to Hermione, "Harry came to see you last night."