A/N: Here ya go, Happy Christmas. Oh, and some new readers are mentioning the POV thing again. I write it that way on purpose, because I think it makes you closer to the characters. It makes you feel what both of them are feeling…and how similar their feelings are. Oh and I like to torment you ;).
It is very, very hard, if not impossible to go to bed when
you're all hot and bothered. I probably came across as heartless, but the
situation is messy enough that the last thing we need is a quick romp in the
sack in the dead of the night and then the wrath of his mother in the morning.
Not only that, but even if something did happen between us, the smart money is
on him leaving before dawn, out of the confines of my bedroom and back to
safety. Is it so terrible I'd want him to stay? Of course, it's very likely his
mother heard my door opening and closing and opening and closing and rattling
and opening and closing. She'd have to have an IQ of a toddler not to be able
to put two and two together.
I toss and turn for a long, long time, and wake up very early, hoping to eat
breakfast before they're up and then get out of the house for a little while.
"Looks like great minds think alike." His voice comes from the
kitchen. He's hunting for something
edible at just barely past 6 in the morning.
"Or cowards." I chuckle.
"That too."
"Can you pass me a yogurt?"
We sit in the kitchen, on our stools, opposite each other.
"Are you going out somewhere?"
"I was thinking of spending some time with Lavender today."
"Oh, and she'll surely be up at 6 on a Saturday morning." He snorts.
"Point taken. Maybe later."
We hear Mrs. Weasley walking around upstairs, and then the bathroom door
closes. She's up.
"I'm trying to figure it out." He nods towards the stairs.
"It's not just about her, I don't want us to use the poor woman as an
excuse. She's just one part of the issue."
"I know, but it's a start."
Sure, but I'm not getting my hopes up.
"It's my birthday tomorrow."
"I know. I'm picking up the cake tonight." I grin.
"I kind of want my gift." He looks up, done with his cereal.
"No, scratch that, I really want my gift. I want to go out with you or
spend some time with you tonight. I do, and so badly."
I soften. "We can do that, if you want."
"So long as it's not a friends with benefits sort of thing?"
I nod.
"You know, Hermione, you and I, we were never really friends to begin
with." He sees my surprised look. "No, what I mean is that we were
never just friends, there was always something there. And now, we're balancing
on a tight rope."
I grab his bowl and my spoon and deposit them in the sink.
"I know." I say as the water sprays against the stainless steel.
"Give me a couple of hours tonight? I'll talk to her, or I'll try or
whatever."
"She might have heard us last night." I blush. If at least there was
really something to write home about. The worst part is she might have heard
and we weren't doing much of anything at all.
"I figured. I want my gift." He emphasizes.
"Okay. I'll get home by the afternoon."
He kisses me softly, quickly, and keeps his face close. "Thanks."
*
Hermione leaves early, thereby avoiding my mother as much as possible, which
she, of course, notices.
"You know, if I was paranoid..."
"She promised a friend she'd visit."
"That trampy loud girl?" she asks, screwing up her face in
disgust. "That one that Ron
insisted on dating?"
"They're friends, her and Lavender." I shrug. "You wouldn't think so, since they
barely spoke at Hogwarts."
"A nice young lady like Hermione should choose her friends more
carefully," she says, settling into the sofa.
"You think highly of Hermione," I comment, choosing to sit across from her, out
of her reach.
"I love her dearly."
Iobserve her closely.
Mom reaches for the Daily Prophet and skims some pages.
"Mom?"
She looks up, "Yes, Harry?"
"What if…" I stop, the words stuck in my throat.
She waits for me to continue.
"What if I like Hermione?"
"Of course you like Hermione," she says, returning to her reading.
"No, that's not what I meant."
She looks up again.
"I like her."
She fold the paper carefully, making sure all the sections are in order and
places it back on the table.
"You fancy Hermione?"
At least she's following.
"Yeah," I nod, my mouth dry.
"And what does she think about this?"
"Huh?" I make a hoarse noise.
"Hermione."
"I'm sorry?" I try again.
"What does Hermione think about your feelings for her?"
"We're kind of working on that," I admit.
"Have you kissed her?"
At least.
"Harry…" She's waiting for an answer.
"Yes ma'am."
"On the lips?"
Someone, help me. Please.
"Yes."
"Is that all?"
"Yes," I barely manage to utter.
"Don't lie to me."
"No."
"What else?"
"I am not discussing this with you."
She gets to her feet.
"Well, I knew there was something going on."
"You did?"
"Do I look like I just fell off a broomstick, Harry?"
I shake my head.
"Well," she announces. "There's really only one thing to do."
"There is?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"You'll move out of this house and move into a place of your own."
"What?" I'm incredulous and stare at my mother, Mrs. Weasley, like she's grown
two heads.
"You heard me."
"No."
"Harry, be reasonable. You can't live her with her if you're going to date
her."
"Why not?"
"Because it's highly inappropriate."
"Says who?"
She gives me a look. I half expect her to fall on her knees and start praying
for my wayward soul.
"What do Hermione's parents have to say about all this?" she demands.
"I don't know."
"You should."
"Why?" I want to know.
There's that look again.
"We're both adults," I reason. "We're not hurting anybody."
"Except yourselves," she says.
"I'm not sleeping with her, for God's sake!"
"Harry, you may not be a red-head and I may not have given birth to you, but I consider you my son as much as Ron is. I love you both, but you cannot live like this."
"Mo - "
"So you're not going to move out?" she demands.
"No."
"Then Hermione will."
"No, she won't!"
"I'll talk to her," she decides. "She'll see reason. She's a woman."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"We're not as driven by our base desires," she reasons.
I snort at that, remembering Hermiones's advances.
"You're not going to talk to her about this, Mom!"
"Why not?" she wants to know.
"Because we're adults! Consenting adults, Mom. We can make our own decisions
about this."
"I have to question your decision-making skills, Harry."
I shake my head.
"No, you don't."
"Do you think I'm saying this to hurt you?"
I look her in the eye.
"No. I love you, but I'm my own person
and if you don't like what I'm doing…" I pause, holding myself in check.
"I can go back to The Burrow?" she guesses.
I sigh, "I don't want that, but yeah."
"I don't like it," she says. "But I don't want to ruin your birthday. But
Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"It doesn't mean I approve."
"I know, Mom."
She sighs, "Can you two behave while I'm here, at least?"
I nod, "Of course."
She shakes her head and heads outside for some air.
*
I wander around Diagon Alley, pay a short and amusing visit to Weasley's Wizard
Wheezes (they futilely attempt to turn my hair pink), and shop a little all
morning, then floo to Lavender's flat. Getting her out of bed at 11 is like
pulling teeth, and I have to promise her I'll pay for lunch and treat her to
dinner sometime before she agrees to get dressed.
"You're still coming over tomorrow for his birthday, right?" I ask
her as we settle into Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.
"Wouldn't miss it. Free food, free booze - don't look at me like that -
there better be booze, and I'm there."
"What did you get him?"
"I got him a shirt."
"Seriously?" Colour me surprised.
Last present Lavender gave Harry was a box of flavoured condoms.
"Yeah, I figured he'd like that.
It'll be the only shirt in his closet that isn't that god-awful green
colour. Or black."
I happen to think he looks good in those two colors, but Lavender's right. Harry does exclusively wear black and green.
"So, what's your gift?"
"Um, I'm not sure, exactly."
"I didn't peg you as a late minute shopper." She teased.
"He wants to go out." I blurt out.
"Out where? On a date?" Her eyes get wider.
"Something like that. Or stay in for one. I don't know what we ended up
settling on."
"Oh my God! You slept with him! You did!"
"No! I didn't. We haven't!" My face is red and flushed now.
"Are you pulling my leg? Come on, I wanna know the details."
"Nothing has happened. We're not even together, it's just something to
think about, that's all."
"If you say so."
Now that she's found out there isn't much to this story, she bores of it and
launches into a tale of her hot, bronzed next door neighbour. I politely listen
to her, then wonder whether world war three has broken out at home. It's more
likely that he hasn't approached his mother at all, I decide.
. . . .
I struggle with his large cake and my stuff and I can't reach the doorknob or
my wand, so I have to resort to kicking at the door. Harry opens it, and I rush
in.
"Here, let me get that for you." He grabs the cake, in order to help
me out and because he wants to see what I got.
"Strawberry shortcake."
"It looks great."
"Great. I've got to take this stuff upstairs." I raise my arms and
dangle the bags in the air.
I'm lining up the shampoo and conditioner bottles in the bathroom when he comes
up and corners me. He looks behind him quickly, then shuts the door. "It's
just for a minute." He says.
"How good can it be?" I stifle a giggle and it takes him a while to
get it, but when he does, a blush spreads across his face, ear to ear.
"Can I have my date, please?"
"When?"
"Tonight. I told her."
"Why'd you close the door then?" I panic. "You know what she's
going to think!"
"She's out on the deck."
"Oh."
"I told her I liked you." He says shyly.
"And?"
"She thinks one of us should move out." He sees the look on my face
and continues, "I told her no, in no uncertain terms."
"Thank you."
"I can have my date then?"
"Yes, you may have your date then."
I decide to give him a hug because I know he probably hasn't had the most
pleasant time talking to Mrs. Weasley about his love life and romantic
pursuits. Also, if he gets a date, I get to touch him when I want.
"I told her we'd behave while she's here." He whispers. "But the
door is closed..."
I know that this doesn't fit the definition of behaving while she is around,
but I raise my face and my hands cup his head and bring it down until his lips
are searing hot against mine. All his frustration over the last few days is
evident in the kiss and I relax the hold on his head. His arms wrap around my
waist and lift me up a little. I pull back and lift the corners of my mouth in
a tiny smile. He kisses both of them.
"I like you too." I tell him and he laughs.
"A lot?"
"Okay, a lot."
*
Mom and Hermione are quiet during dinner, cordial, polite, but ultimately,
quiet. Sometimes that can be worse than an all-out screaming match. Mom takes a
slice of pizza from the box gingerly and slides it onto a plate. It's rare that she eats muggle pizza, and
she is still marveling at how "Italian" it tastes.
"Harry, you didn't put out any silverware?" she asks, a hint of
annoyance in her voice.
"Mom, it's pizza."
"That's no excuse for bad manners."
Hermione stifles a chuckle and reaches for her own slice of pizza.
"I'll get you some silverware, Mrs. Weasley," she tells her as she
drops her slice on a plate and moves toward the drawer.
Mom shakes her head, "That's fine."
"It's no problem."
"Hermione, sit down," she tells her and Hermione bites her lip and
moves back to the table.
"And you give me a hard time about being rude," I comment under my
breath. She has very good hearing though, despite living for years with the
constant booming of Fred and George's room, and glares at me.
Okay, so she's not over it yet.
We eat in a tense silence and I notice that Hermione barely picks at her food.
I eat mine as quickly as possible, wanting to get this dinner over with and get
us out of here.
Mom has other ideas though.
"Harry, take care of the dishes." she instructs me and motions for
Hermione to follow her out of the kitchen.
Hermione shakes her head and does as she's told.
I, on the other hand, ignore my mother's instructions and tag along.
"Harry..." Mom warns me.
"No, anything you have to say to Hermione, you can say in front of
me."
"Harry."
I shake my head defiantly. "She's just going to tell me what you said
anyway" I reason.
"Then you can hear it from her later," she shoots back.
"No."
Mom grimaces. "He's always been stubborn, hasn't he?"
"I know he goes after what he wants," Hermione says levelly.
Mom's mouth tightens.
"Did you know that he leaves a drop of milk in the container and doesn't
replace it?"
"Yes."
"And that he can't for the life of him perform any cleaning charms?"
"I know."
"Did you know that he leaves his underwe - ?"
"Mom!" I cry.
"Mrs. Weasley, I know almost everything about him."
"That's another worry. What
happens if this doesn't work out?"
"That won't happen. I won't let it." I say firmly.
"Of course not. But it might happen. Just like you might not plan on
letting things get carried away, but you do live here together and it might
happen."
"It probably will," I remark and they both shoot me looks.
"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione begins, taking time to choose her words carefully, "I
don't know what's going to happen with Harry and I, but I care about him. It's not like we're having an affair. We're
taking this slowly. We're trying to build something."
"Which is why you shouldn't be living together," Mom says.
"Well, we are," I retort. I want to add 'And if you don't like it, too bad for
you', but I refrain.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but we like our arrangement."
"Hermione, be reasonable about this. Is this how you want to begin?"
"At least I'll know what I'm getting myself into."
She stiffens and turns and stalks out of the room.
Hermione sighs.
"I'm sorry," I apologize.
She shakes her head, "It's not your fault. I wanted you to tell her."
"Are you going to make it worth it?" I wink at her.
"Not with Mrs. Weasley in the house," she laughs.
"Then let's go."
. . . .
"Where do you want to go?" she asks as we walk out the door.
I shrug. "You're supposed to show me a good time."
"At your request," she laughs.
"So you didn't make any plans at all?" I pout and I catch her rolling her
eyes. "We could go Dean's club and
listen to some music."
"Where?" she asks.
I laugh. "You are sad."
"Why?"
"You've lived here for months and you have no idea were Dean's club is?"
She shrugs, "So?"
"Have you been living under a rock?" I tease her. She laughs.
"Come on." I take her arm and lead her to Diagon Alley.
. . . .
We end up downtown at some tiny, dimly lit bar and I reluctantly follow him
inside.
"Where'd you find this place?" I ask him.
"Lavender told me." He laughs at my expression. "I do talk to her once in a
while, you know. She used to date
Dean."
"This place looks just like something Lavender would like," I comment, eyeing
the buff wizards and barely dressed witches.
"Now you just sound like my mother," he tells me and I close my mouth.
We settle at a table near the back and Harry orders a couple of butterbeers for
us. The band starts to play and I sit back in my chair and listen.
After awhile, his hand finds mine beneath the table and he squeezes it.
I look over at him and he smiles.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For doing what I wanted to do on our date."
"It's fun."
"Well, I do have some preferred activities…" He winks at me.
I shake my head, laughing.
"Maybe later," I wink back.
"Seriously?"
I lean close to his ear.
"No." I can't help but giggle.
"Tease." Harry pouts.
"Well it's hard being a neat and studious bookworm all the time." I say. "Plus I have been around Lavender a lot. . ."
"HARRY! HERMIONE!" a large man with a tattoo of a naked woman on his bicep thunders over. It's Dean.
"Dean!" Harry gapes. "What the hell did you do, drink Skele-Gro for breakfast?"
He flexes his muscles proudly. "This is pure muscle, Potter." Then he takes my other hand and kisses it softly. "Lady Granger."
"Hi Dean."
Then he notices Harry's hand around my fingers.
"WELL IT'S ABOUT BLOODY TIME!"
*
We don't stay out too late, first because Dean kept trying to make
announcements on stage that Harry and I were an item while making suggestive
winks at the two of us every three seconds, second the house will be brimming
with people tomorrow and third, because I don't know how overactive his
mother's imagination is, but I do think she's probably timing us at home.
When we return, she's already retired to her room, and he pulls me toward the
sliding doors.
"Come sit with me on the deck for a while."
I oblige and he sits down on a lounge chair, then pats it, asking silently for
me to sit next to him. I do, and it's in the space between his legs. He lies
down as much as the chair reclines, and I do the same so that I'm resting on
his chest.
"I don't want her to hate me." I say while he strokes my hair.
"She doesn't. It's just this propriety thing and she doesn't think I'll
stay in my room."
"Will you?"
"I guess it depends on what you want."
"Do I wear the pants in this relationship?" I chuckle.
"Well, when you look so good in them..."
He grows serious and I can tell his body is tense as he wraps his arms around
me tighter. "The first time, with my ex girlfriend, it didn't, I mean when
it happened, you know, it wasn't..."
"How you thought it would be?"
"Yeah, that."
"It's okay. It can be good or bad, just like any other thing."
"My mother doesn't know. Like I'd tell her." He giggles. "But
that's part of why I hated breaking up with her. It was like we'd both put in
so much, we gambled and it didn't turn out for the best and in the end, we had
nothing to show for it. My mom thought I was heartbroken, when I was really
sulking."
"Are you still friends?"
"Yeah, eventually we got over it."
His hands untangle from one another and he slips them beneath my shirt, resting
them against my bellybutton.
"Innie."
"You knew that." I turn back and flash a grin at him. He kisses me
and his mouth is slightly open so that this quickly becomes something deep and
wet and hot. He sighs when I pull away, but the angle is really uncomfortable
and my neck protests. I try to adjust it by stretching my head left to right,
and he takes advantage of this to flip me over so that I'mface down on top of
him.
"Better now?"
"Better for what?" I raise an eyebrow. He silences me pretty
effectively when he slides his tongue against mine and his hands get bolder,
settling on my breasts while his fingertips trace the contours of the lacy bra.
I'm still wearing my jacket and it suddenly feels like a hundred degrees, so
that has got to go. I sit up to get rid of it more easily and what I feel under
his jeans is undeniable.
"Um, not my wand?" He says sheepishly.
"Not a wand." I wiggle a little.
"You're pure evil, you know that?" He groans.
I slide off him and stand up next to the lounge chair.
"Wait, I didn't mean it!" He's quick to yell out the very second our
bodies are no longer touching.
I extend my hand to him so he can stand up. "We both know nothing is going
to happen tonight, so you'll just be suffering if we continue to fool
around."
"No, I won't be." He retorts as he stands up.
"Come on." I lead him through the doors and back inside.
"Hermione, isn't all life suffering?"
"What are you, Buddhist?" I ask over my shoulder as we go up the
stairs.
We stop at the landing and I give him a chaste kiss, not wanting to inflame the
situation further. "Goodnight. I had a really nice night. Happy birthday,
it's just after midnight." Judging by the hug he gives me in return, he's
not ready to let me go, but he's got no choice in the matter.
I go into my room and shut the door. I'm too tired and lazy to grab a shower,
so I look for my PJs in the dark when the door opens again and he comes in.
"Can I stay here tonight?" He asks plainly.
"Harry, no."
"Not for that. I know what lurks beyond that wall." He motions to
what's separating my room from the guest bedroom.
"Then?"
"It's my birthday." He whines.
"Still a bad idea. She would completely flip out."
"I can leave early in the morning. Please?"
*
She shakes her head.
"It's a really bad idea."
"I think it's a great idea" I smile.
"You would," she laughs.
"If we just sleep, how's she going to know?"
"You're just going to sleep?" she asks me dubiously.
"Yes."
"Promise?"
"Yeah."
"Okay," she relents and moves over to make some room for me.
I get into bed next door to her and close my eyes, willing sleep to come. But I
can hear her breathing next to me and I can feel her warmth and every cell in
my body is screaming at me to take advantage of the proximity of our bodies.
"Can I kiss you goodnight?" I whisper.
"You already did," she whispers back, laughing.
"Once more?"
She turns her head slightly and sighs, "Okay, but that's it."
My lips find hers in the dark and whisper across her lips.
"This is the best birthday I've ever had," I murmur against her mouth.
She smiles and I take advantage of the movement to slide my tongue past the
tiny part in her lips.
She sighs and allows me to deepen the kiss and my tongue slides along the
crevices in her mouth, tasting as much of her as she will give me.
"Harry," she breaks the kiss, her breathing heavy.
"It's just a kiss."
"One that's going to get us both in a lot of trouble in about three seconds."
"It won't be that fast," I promise her, remembering an earlier conversation.
"Okay, we should sleep now."
"I hate that you're so practical."
"You'll thank me in the morning."
"If this was going in another direction, I would."
"Mrs. Weasley is right next door," she reminds me.
"She sleeps like the dead," I advise her.
"I bet you she isn't tonight," she sighs.
"I can be quiet."
"I don't want it to be like this," she says.
"You've thought about it?" I ask incredulously.
I can see her blushing even in the dark.
"You have!"
"Shhh! Not only are you going to wake her up, you're going to wake up the whole
neighbourhood."
I laugh against her shoulder.
"I knew you wanted me!"
"Be careful," she warns. "Or it just might be past tense."
"Can't we just make out?" I ask, kissing along the curve of her shoulder.
"Ummm, no?"
"Not even this?" I ask, dipping my tongue into the groove at her collarbone.
She sighs and shifts against me.
"I knew this was a bad idea."
"It feels good to me," I murmur.
My hands come up to trace the swell of her breasts as my mouth finds hers
again.
"Harry…" she sighs against me.
"Relax, Hermione. Just feel."
She moans softly against my mouth.
"This is so, so wrong, Harry."
"Does it feel wrong?"
"No," she sighs as I dip my head and make a wet circle around the part of her
nightgown over her right nipple.
"Then just let go."
"She's right next door."
I sigh and pull back.
"I know."
"It's not that I don't like this," she whispers. "It's just that it's your
mother. She'll be gone the day after tomorrow, Harry."
"That's too long," I whine.
"We've waited this long," she says practically.
"Don't remind me."
She laughs.
"Okay, you have to go."
"I'll be good, I promise."
"I know," she grins. "I can't promise that I'll be good, though."
I grin back and reluctantly slide from the bed.
"Two more sleeps?"
"Tonight and tomorrow night," she laughs.
"It's like my birthday and Christmas all wrapped up into one."
"Go, before she wakes up."
"Maybe I can convince her to leave early?"
"Knowing what she knows now? Not on your life. Goodnight, Harry."
I sigh and head back to my own room.
