It Can Only Be

Chapter 9: What do Dreams Really Mean Anyways?

Hermione shot straight up in bed, her head slightly beaded with sweat and her heart racing. She looked at her clock, which red 4:21 AM. She ran her hand over her face and sighed. It was merely a dream. Harry hadn't taken her on a plane ride, he hadn't opened up to her, he didn't ask her to make love to him.

Hermione got up and threw on a robe, went to the kitchen and made herself a pot of tea. She caught a glimpse of herself- her hair was fluffy and ratted, like it used to be when she was a little girl. Hints of freckles spotted her pale skin, and her green eyes looked tired. She realized that she looked much older than she really was…it was her eyes that gave it away.

She waited for her water to boil as she sat down and drummed her fingers. After running into Harry at the supermarket, he invited her back to his house for dinner, which she graciously accepted. She was tired of cooking on a baby stove using coal as a means for heat. She wanted real food cooked by a man- Ron never made dinner for her, claiming it was the woman's place to be in the kitchen and was better that he just watch her cook. It was one of his little idiosyncrasies that annoyed her greatly.

The dinner was amazing though. He made them grilled salmon with wild rice and mashed potatoes, with a chocolate torte for desert. The air between them was still tense, but they were polite enough to make casual conversation. It wasn't until Hermione was just about to leave when she looked into Harry's eyes, blazing green-blue, the most beautiful color she had ever seen. She had looked at him before, but never truly into his eyes. She could tell that there was pain behind them, wise but tortured. For a fleeting moment she felt sorry for him and she wanted to kiss away the hurt. She had to quickly snap back to reality as he held the door open for her.

Hermione heard the kettle steam, and she poured herself a hot cup of Green Tea. It had always soothed her at home.

She wanted to be near him again. She wanted to look into his eyes, listen to his voice, watch his chest inflate as he breathed. She wanted to watch him make dinner and play with his Kodiak. She wished she were sitting in the big comfortable love seat she saw in the den and watch TV in their pajamas.

Getting up from the table, she walked over to the window and peered across the lawn. The lights to Harry's house were off.

"Silly girl, why would he be up at this hour? And why should you even care?" she laughed at herself.

She walked back to the table and pulled out the paperwork on the lease for the office space downtown. The first thing she'd have to do was inspect the building and do the necessary repairs. Marge could help her with that. She wanted to paint the walls a bright color, something to perk up the streets of Canada on the cold winter days. She wanted to portray framed black and white photos of flowers up against a pale, crisp blue wall, and put paper whites in the corners of the room. She wanted the woodwork to be a nice brown color, and in her belongings she would have all the necessary information she would need to bring in the clients: business cards, paint chips, wall paper samples, price detailing, paper, pens, colored pencils and markers. It was going to take a lot of work, but Hermione was determined to do this. She wanted to prove to herself that she could do something for once in her life, rather just sit around and wait.

Hermione went over all the detailing for hours. Her mind kept wandering back to Harry. The look of him, his hair, his body, his eyes, his lips. She had to admit to herself that she was intrigued by him, and strangely drawn to him. But she had to be realistic. Harry was a grieving widower who wanted nothing to do with her when she got there. He likes his peace and quiet.

Looking at the clock again, Hermione realized it was nearly 7:30. She hopped into a hot shower and got ready to go down into her new office. It was going to be a glorious adventure.

On her way to town, while driving through the country side, she caught another glimpse of herself, and she laughed.

"What do dreams really mean anyways?"

yes, a short chapter I know. The next couple of days are going to be stressful and hectic, so I wanted to write this one out quickly to tide you over until I returned to writing again. I'm promising you a nice long chapter next time.