Don't own character.
I had been a week since the reception took place. No doubt she had fun and met a lot of new people and friends. Ever since then, she spent sleepless nights beside in her new bedroom. She and Harry would occasionally talk, but it always ended abruptly as the days passed and slowly being well acquainted with each other. Their two-story villa was beautiful. They had separate rooms (as agreed Hermoine's parents and his godfather Sirius.) with her being in the master bedroom and his place in the guest room, for politeness' sake. Her head had been spinning the past week and there were no signs of it getting better during her honeymoon in Paris. She missed her old life, sleeping in her own room, gossiping with her old friends. She missed the life of Hermoine Granger. Harry was good to her, he was polite, honest, loyal, and you could tell by his eyes that he was trying as hard as she was to try to make their marriage work. After all, you can't force two people to fall in love with each other. She tried to push away her thoughts.
She silently slipped out of her covers and headed for the kitchen. She hadn't eaten in days. Keeping her feet light while tiptoeing past Harry's bedroom door, she took one cautious glanced at it before heading down the stairs. She took a big breath of relief, only to have it cut short by mysterious rustling sounds in the kitchen. She covered her mouth from instinctively screaming, but what good would it do? Instead, she groped around for anything that she could use as a weapon…walked over to the kitchen where the silhouette of a figure stood behind the counter. She made her way around it and…WHAM!…The steal vase fell after the impact. The figure fell to the floor with a loud thud…with the sound of a man's groaning. She proudly reached for the light switch to reveal the culprit…it was…HARRY!…he was curled into a flat ball, clutching his head in pain. After all, it was a pretty hard hit. She gasped loudly, ran to his side, and crouched down to his prone body.
"Oh my God! I am so sorry. Harry! Harry, can you hear me?" She asked truly fretful.
"Oohhh.…" He moaned constantly and louder, moving his head feverishly.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" she inquired firmly as she held up two fingers, waving it in front of his petrified face.
"…two." He managed to croak and she immediately helped him onto a chair. She abandoned his side for a moment and came back, holding an ice pack, wrapped around a white cloth. He painfully took it and added pressure onto his throbbing head. His brain felt like it was going to explode. God…this woman is bollocks! After a few moments from recovering…
"So may I ask my why my wife just attacked me with a vase in the middle of the night?" he sarcastically broke the silence, eyes still closed from the pain.
"Well, what the hell was I was supposed to do? I didn't know you snuck down here and what was I suppose to think when the shadow of what SEEMED like a strange huge man was in our kitchen? Freely join him for a crime spree?" She informed with a loud tone, her anger rising from his accusation. Sometimes this guy could be arrogant and daft.
"Alright...Alright! Stop with the blaring comments. My head's in enough pain as it is."
"If you had any at all…you big baby," she murmured under her breath. He caught her rude remark and just brushed it off, too exhausted to argue.
"Ok…savior of the day. What are you doing up?" He asked nonchalantly.
"I couldn't sleep and I was hungry." He knew there was more to her modest answer, probably the same reason he was up. She finally sat down in exhaustion.
"Same here." He hissed as he added more pressure to his head. Time to break the ice she thought. "Bloody hell. That looks like it hurts." She grinned. "You got a pretty good arm there." He pointed and chuckled. Was she the same Hermoine he was infuriated with a while ago? Funny, how they couldn't stay mad at each other. He got that a lot from her in the week.
"Want some food?"
"Yeah. That would be nice." implying his gratitude. He watched her effortlessly fry eggs and whip up some pancakes, bacon, and toast all at once. His mind eased a bit from the delicious smell of breakfast, very early in the morning.
"Y'know I wouldn't mind you being my wife if this is the treatment I got every morning." He added while her back was turned to him while she cooked.
She laughed. Haven't done that in a while…she was beginning to enjoy his company. For some reason, she didn't feel uncomfortable when he claimed her 'my wife' as she would've days ago. If anything, she liked the sound of it.
"I'm only doing this for accidentally hitting you, which by the way, you deserved." He snickered quietly and Harry strangely sensed the tiny smile forming on her lips. It made him smirk as well. To his surprise, he didn't argue back, and Hermoine found it strange, waiting for his comeback, but never attempted to make one. Half an hour later, she handed him a full plate of food and could've sworn he glowed. He looked like a little boy who finally got the cookie he wanted. She intently watched his drooling face and couldn't stifle the laugh for his goofy face.
"Oh sorry. Where are my manners? THANK YOU HONEYBUNCH!" he got up and hugged her. It was so sudden and she almost jumped at the close contact. Hugging her felt right for some abnormal reason and found the warmth soothing. She couldn't contain her rising smile and settled into his arms even more. Realizing their friendly position, she pulled away, regretting the loss of warmth. He smiled innocently. God! What was it about that boyish smile?
"Now eat up before your food gets cold."
"Gladly." He dug into his plate…almost inhaling the food. Mmm…tastes even better than it looks…Such a sucker for food…I wouldn't mind marrying this girl over again. She almost choked on her food from cackling at his slobbered face. She playfully shook her head, disapprovingly," Men…" she mumbled. "Women," imitating her feminine appearance. He then threw a piece of his toast at her, obliviously letting his ice pack drop. She teasingly scoffed and threw a piece of her egg. She hadn't had much fun since she arrived at their villa for their honeymoon and found herself slowly getting used to him. They got into a huge food fight, turning the kitchen into a canvassed artwork of food. Somehow, they ended up in the hallway of their rooms. When they caught their breaths she yawned in defeat and held onto her doorknob.
"I'm gonna go back to bed. Still kinda tired."
"Ok." Was all he could mutter, as if they were on a date, much to his dismay, ending.
"Goodnight." And she kissed his cheek. He blushed, thankful he still had ketchup all over his face, fearing she might catch his sudden change of color. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach.
She caught his redness and blushed as well, her face and hair all in a mess of juice. She didn't mind though. She felt comfortable around him, almost like being around an old friend.
"Goodnight Hermoine." He softly whispered. Before he made his way to his room, she called his name again, and impatiently ran back to her.
"Hey Harry…um…sorry about…the whole head thing." Shock coursed through his face. Words he believed were so un-Hermoine like, but the sincerity in it felt familiar.
"Don't even sweat it." And they headed to their respective rooms, with goofy smiles on their faces. She gracefully fell onto her bed. For some reason, she already missed him, but sighed and smiled to herself mischievously. She had her whole life for nights like this. Little did she know that her beloved husband felt the same way, doing a little 'Harry Happy Dance' in his room. For once, they had a good night's rest, looking forward to tomorrow. Yep…the married life wasn't all that bad…
