Harry woke up in a daze on the couch. As soon as he came to his senses, he realized Hermione was gone. Had it all been a dream? Had he never gone to New York? Or had she left? Gone back to the city, to Lionel, to her old life?

But then he heard retching in the bathroom and a toilet flush. A groggy Hermione staggered into the living room, wiping her mouth.

"Sorry, Harry," she said when she saw he was up. "I didn't mean to wake you. Guess I'm just feeling a little under the weather this morning. But as long as I'm up," she continued, much more perkily, "shall I make breakfast? I've a hankering for some grits. Ever had them? They're from the South. The South of America, that is. They didn't really trip my trigger the first time I had them, but I think I'd like to try them again." She rambled on about grits and her trip to the South as she made her way to the kitchen. Harry sat up and watched her, bewildered. She was acting very strangely. Hermione had never had a sick day in her life, to Harry's knowledge. And since when did she like Southern food? Southern food she wasn't even fond of, to boot! Something was awry. He got up and followed her into the kitchen.

"'Mione? Are you okay?" he asked as he poked his head around the corner. She was sitting Indian style on the floor, surrounded by pots and pans. But the top half of her was still digging in the cupboard.

"Oh, yeah…fine," she grunted as she strained to reach something in the back. She suddenly popped out of the cabinet and straightened up. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I don't even know what goes in grits!" she shouted with a laugh. "I don't feel like cooking this morning anyway," she said as she begin putting the pots and pans away. "Where shall we go, Harry?" she asked from inside the cupboard again. "Any new places opened since I've been gone?"

"Nothing very good. We could just go down to the bakery and get muffins and things. But, if you wanted a big breakfast, we could go to Emma's," he replied with a yawn as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Oh, no," Hermione said standing up, "definitely a big…" Then she turned ghostly pale, clutched at her stomach, and her hand fluttered to her forehead. Her knees gave out just as Harry caught her and guided her to his chair. "Ooh, on second thought, I don't think I could handle a big breakfast with sausage and pan…pan…" but then she ran to the bathroom. A concerned and confused Harry chased after her.

Hermione just barely made it to the toilet. Harry held back her hair for her while she…well, until she finished. He laughed at the thought of how romantic their first morning back together was. But he couldn't imagine why Hermione was so sick. It must have been the drama from last night, he concluded. After Hermione was through, she leaned back and sat on her heels as she rested her head against the wall.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'll be fine. You go have breakfast, go out today, have fun. I'll just stay in, drink lots of fluids, keep to bed. Go on. I don't want to ruin your day."

"Now what gave you the silly idea that I would ever leave you when you were sick?! I'm staying right here and taking care of you." Hermione made to say something, but he kept on going. "I'm putting you to bed, getting you a sick bucket, and making you some tea and toast. And if you don't feel better by this afternoon, I'm calling a Healer. And I'll not hear anymore about it," he said mock-sternly. "Now come on," he said, heaving her into his arms.

"Harry, I can at least walk," she protested. But he would have none of it. He gently laid her down in bed, conjured up a cool compress, and summoned a bucket from the kitchen. She laid in the dark while he made her upset-tummy breakfast. After he sat there and watched her eat and rubbed her belly for awhile, she tried to get up.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked, holding her steady.

"I feel fine. I was going to go tidy up the kitchen. If I recall, you may be quite the chef, but you're no Mr. Clean," she said slyly as she moved again to get up.

"I don't think so! You're staying right here, all day. I don't want you to get worse!"

"Harry, really. I promise I'm fine. Looks like your magical flu-breakfast cured me! Really, I'm fine," she said softly. She moved in to give him a kiss, but he backed away. She looked surprised and hurt. "What's the matter?"

"Hermione, have you forgotten that you have been vomiting all morning?! I can handle kissing you with garlic breath, or onion breath, or even morning breath, but not vomit breath," he said, as serious as death.

"Since when did you become such a germ freak?" she laughed as she rolled out of bed.

"Hermione! It's vomit! Upchuck! Puke! It would be like licking the toilet you just threw up into! I love you a lot, but not that much."

"Oh, shut up. Now you're just getting gross," she said as she tossed a pillow at him. She blew a raspberry and ran out of the room before he could get her back. She returned a few minutes later and jumped on top of him.

"There. All squeaky clean," she said as she bared her teeth at him like a five-year-old.

"Good. Now I'm not afraid to do this," as he rolled them over and kissed her passionately. Things began to 'progress', but Hermione stopped him as Harry stopped kissing to take off his shirt.

"Wait, Harry. Not yet. Not like this. I want it be…special. God, I sound like such a school-girl. I'm sorry," she said, wringing her hands and avoiding his eyes.

"It's okay, 'Mione. Really. I completely understand." He gently took hold of her chin and made her look at him. "Special," he whispered as he kissed her softly once more. He slid around to lean against the headboard and motioned for Hermione to sit next to him. She immediately complied and curled up underneath his arm. "So what should we do today, since shagging is against the rules?" he asked with a smirk. "You are feeling better right? We don't have to go out if you don't want. No, you should stay in and rest. Forget I said anything."

"No, no! I am feeling better. Let's do something. I haven't been back for so long, it'll be good to see everything again. Let's pretend I'm a tourist! You can take me around and show me the sites," she exclaimed. She had jumped onto her knees and was facing him. She almost looked like a puppy dog, and if she had had a tail, Harry was sure it would be wagging. He couldn't say no to a face like that. Not that he wanted to, anyway. It sounded like a wonderful idea.

"All right then, you get a camera and a Hawaiian shirt, I'll make up an itinerary, and I'll meet you in the living room in half an hour," he said with a wink. Hermione gave him a broad smile and kiss on the cheek before jumping off the bed and into the shower.