Chapter 11

The Milkman and the Photos

Turning the water off and wrapping herself in a dressing gown she made her way back downstairs, planning to read the mail and have yet another coffee before getting dressed; she had plenty of time because it was still early so Jamie wouldn't be up for a few hours at least. The water had boiled and most of the mail opened before Hermione heard a knock on the front door. She knew it would be the milkman; Hermione had from the first moment she had left her parents home, still continued to do some things as muggles do – taking a muggle paper, having milk delivered to the door and even watching muggle television. Each week the milkman would call to collect the money and with the sights she was sure he'd seen she half wondered how he was brave enough to call back every week. Once Jamie and Jon had inadvertently, Hermione hoped, managed to levitate the couch across the room while the milkman waited patiently to be paid. Understandably then, he was a slightly nervous character, but was very kind and he and Hermione often exchanged pleasantries when he called to collect the empty bottles. So Hermione opened the door to him, reaching for the money and her eyes fell upon the man she left.

She almost gasped at him. Here it was, not even breakfast time, and he was here. Dressed in his muggle best, Harry was wearing an expensive suit, polished shoes and a tie that Hermione half-wondered if Fred and George had given him. His glasses looked new; he looked like he might have spent the night polishing them. His hair had been furiously combed she noticed, but it had and never would lie completely flat.

As Hermione continued to gaze at Harry, he, for the first time, became uncomfortable in her presence. He didn't like it. He was scared she'd changed her mind. Or that it had been a dream and there was no Jamie. He'd not slept. He'd just thought about his son and getting to know him and how he was going to get Hermione back. He had been angry at first; she should have known him better than to think he wouldn't want his own child, but his anger had evaporated as he thought about what it must have been like for her. To go through all they had, and then loose her parents anyway and then to find out she was pregnant and with him going on and on about being so glad he was free and could finally live his life, he'd decided he really couldn't blame her for going. Even if he could, he loved her so much and had missed her for so long that all he wanted was for her to be his again. So as sick as he'd felt at finding out about Jamie, contemplating all that he had missed and wondering if he'd ever feel like a father he'd decided that he couldn't mess this chance up, and therefore he was going to concentrate on the now, not the past.

He shook himself from his thoughts and noticed that she was still looking him over. He hoped it was a good sign. He looked at her in her dressing gown and wondered if she was naked underneath. Harry cleared his throat to help him focus, and Hermione looked into his eyes.

"I know I'm early but I wasn't sure what time I should turn up and I didn't want to be late so I can go and come back or stay its really up to you because I don't mind well you know." Harry said in one long sentence, reminding them both of the first time he asked her out.

"No-its fine. I-just wasn't expecting you yet." She looked at him. He looked back. "Sorry Harry – please come in."

Harry silently sighed as he walked into Hermione's house. At least she didn't slam the door in your face he thought.

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"I wasn't expecting you to be here yet." Hermione said.

Damn it, he was too early. Did she sound angry with him? Should he offer to come back again later?

Hermione turned around when he didn't reply and noticed he was frowning as he looked towards the floor. He was thinking, she recognised. "Harry?"

"Sorry-do you want to me to go?" He asked too quickly. Please don't say yes.

"Course not – I just wasn't expecting you so early that's all."

"Sorry" he said again. It made her feel sad to hear him speaking like that – he'd done nothing wrong after all.

"You haven't done anything to apologise for Harry." He looked at her – rather gazed deeply into her eyes and she saw the stirrings of passion. She looked away, scolding herself for thinking like that. He blushed she saw out of the corner of her eye and she wondered again if he was thinking, what she wanted him to be thinking.

She poured coffee for herself and Harry and then turned to him and held it out for him to take. As he took it there hands touched and they both felt that tingling feeling that flooded them with happy memories.

As they continued to stare at each other, it was Harry that first returned to the present and he quickly decided what to do. He moved forward slowly and cautiously leant in to kiss her. Hermione dimly realised what was about to happen and came crashing back to earth. She moved before he could kiss her.

"Sorry." Harry said, in fact only being sorry that he hadn't got to kiss her.

"Its-er I- I should go get dressed before Jamie gets up."

"Ok"

Hermione started to walk towards the stairs, but turned back towards her. She looked right into his eyes and said "I put the photos back out... there's loads in the living room – why don't you have a look while I get dressed?"

He nodded and she left. He took a deep breath before walking through to the living room. He'd not noticed the pictures before but looking now they were everywhere. He picked one up and gasped when he saw it was a miniature version of him. Tears started to roll down his face as he looked hungrily at the pictures of his little boy and the woman he loved. He sat down on the couch and dried his eyes before returning his gaze to the pictures, some from when Jamie was little but others looked more recent. He looked happy, very happy and so did she. They were playing in one of the pictures, and he was laughing as she tickled him.

He heard a distant noise and looked up, expecting Hermione. But it wasn't.