Sunday Morning-By Maroon 5

That may be all I need, in darkness she is all I see. Come and rest your bones with me; driving slow on Sunday morning, and I never want to leave
But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do. Sunday morning rain is falling and I'm calling out to you. Singing someday "it'll bring me back to youâ€find a way to bring myself back home to you."

Secrets

Chapter Two:

Sunday Morning

Hermione stirred her tea slowly, and then sipped the hot liquid carefully as she stared out her living room window.

It was a Sunday morning—Christmas Eve was tonight. It was snowing outside, and Hermione was watching it fall, searching the sky for a trace of a broom. She sighed. Harry had promised to come. Already two months had passed.

While on the matter, she looked down at her stomach. It was only protruding slightly, giving off the impression that she had simply gained weight. She'd have to start casting illusion charms soon.

As she continued to stare blankly at her stomach, there was a curt knock at the door.

Butterflies suddenly jumping into her stomach and flying about, she made her way slowly to the door and opened it.

There stood Harry, raven black hair as messy as ever, covering up his famous lightning-bolt scar. Snow had fallen in his hair and onto his coat. His cheeks were red from the cold, and his glasses fogged up.

He grinned lopsidedly, and Hermione melted.

"Hello, 'Mione," he said, stepping in and kissing her on the cheek.

She hugged him tightly, and he brought his arms around her waist to pat her soothingly on the back.

"I missed you," Hermione said quietly.

"I missed you, too," he said letting go of her. "How have you been?"

"Busy as ever. Thank you for coming to spend Christmas with me, Harry."

"Anytime. Ron was getting dead pissed with me. I was happy to get away."

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry" she smiled sadly, and then took his hand. "But, now you're here. So tell me, how have you been? How's everyone at school?"

"Oh, they're all fine...dead worried about you, though. Ron's gone mad, Ginny's worried sick, McGonagall and all the other professors miss their favorite student"

Hermione sat down on the couch, and Harry followed. She felt herself growing pink.

She was thinking about that godforsaken kiss again...oh, why now, of all times?

She cleared her mind of the thought, and leaned back.

"I see you're doing well," Harry said, gazing around the cramped apartment.

Hermione smiled at his politeness.

"I suppose...it's enough to get by...it'll be hectic when the little one arrives."

"Speaking of which, Hermione," Harry began, turning to her, "When is Ron going to find out? You can't raise this baby alone, 'Mione. You need help so you can work, or study, or have fun! And you'll need child support payments...you may not be able to get by on your own. And besides, Ron has a right to know...he's the father. And he's been giving me the third degree a lot lately...he has to know."

"No, he doesn't," Hermione retorted stubbornly. "I can get by fine on my own, Harry. I don't need some cheating, filthy bastard to come and help me take care of my baby" Hermione realized what she had said, and clapped her hand over her mouth. "I didn't say that, Harry."

He gazed at her, his eyes full of concern.

"Hermione, what'd he do to you?"

"Nothing, Harry. I shouldn't have mentioned it," she said, looking away from his eyes.

"'Mione, look at me," he whispered.

She didn't turn around.

"Hermione, look at me," he said, his voice firmer.

Still no response.

"Look at me!" He said, taking her face in his hands and turning her around so she faced him.

He saw tears welling up in her eyes, and guilt rose in him, but he pushed it aside. He had to know what happened to her.

"'Mione," he whispered, his voice soft once again, "Please...tell me what he did to you."

"I...can't, Harry. I just can't," she choked out.

"Hermione...it's just me. Your best friend. You can tell me anything."

She hesitated a moment, and then began,

"Well, you remember the week before I left? There was a visit to Hogsmeade, so Ron decided to take me to one of the restaurants there.

"The dinner was lovely—he acted like a complete gentleman. Did nothing wrong, nothing to hint anything suspicious. It was only after, when we went to the three broomsticks to meet up with Fred and George and a few friends, that things got suspicious.

"I remember that he bought quite a few drinks...and I suppose he bribed Fred and George into dropping something into my drink, because they shot me pitying looks. Oh, Harry, I was so naïve! I didn't pay attention to those looks! Well, things got fuzzy, and I remember laughing too often, and then I remember being lead back from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts and up to the common room...and then I can't remember anything. I just know that I woke up the next morning next to Ron in the boys' dormitories, and I ran out scared out of my wits."

Harry was silent for a few moments, and Hermione grew afraid, knowing he did have a temper, one that wasn't good to light.

"So...he raped you" Harry said, his voice dangerously soft.

"No, Harry! He didn't rape me"

"He took advantage of you, then. I don't care what he did, that filthy bastard is going to get it from me, Hermione."

"No! Harry, you can't! You just can't!"

"OH, CAN'T I?" he yelled, jumping up from the couch. "THE BLOODY BASTARD GOES AND TAKES ADVANTAGE OF MY BEST FRIEND, AND I'M SUPPOSED TO SIT BACK LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED? IS THAT IT?"

"No, Harry! Just don't go and start fighting with him! Oh, Harry, just please, calm down!"

"I CAN'T CALM DOWN! I'M TOO DAMN ANGRY AT THAT MAN I USED TO CALL MY FRIEND!"

"Harry, please, if you're going to be like this, please leave."

He stopped short, and turned to gape at her.

"What?"

"Please leave, Harry. Just please, go."

In utter shock, Harry turned around, took a bottle of champagne out of his pocket, left it on the coffee table, and disapparated.

Hermione stared at the champagne bottle, and then erupted into tears.

Harry sat on his bed in the hotel room, face in his hands. He felt horrible, monstrous for yelling at Hermione like that. He had been sitting there for two hours, trying to come up with a way to show Hermione just how sorry he is. Finally, he picked up his hotel room key, and walked out the door.

He'd just have to act like his old, boyish self.

Hermione lay asleep on the couch, pillow hugged tightly to her chest, eyes red and puffy from crying. She was trembling slightly, both from the cold and the dream that plagued her sleep. A soft whimper escaped her lips just as her door clicked open, and Harry stepped in.

He took one look at her, and guilt rose up in him again. He put the flowers he had brought down, and shrugged off his coat, where it fell to the floor by the door. He walked over quietly to Hermione, and kneeled down in front of her, watching her sleep. He stood, and fetched her a blanket from her bedroom, and gently put it over her.

Almost at once, Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at Harry. She looked up at him sadly, and then said groggily,

"I asked you to leave, Harry."

"I know," he said, looking down at his feet. "I came to say I'm sorry, Hermione. I really, truly am. I didn't mean to yell at you like that...I was just too damn mad at Ron."

He reached behind his back and snatched the flowers he had bought off the coffee table, and held them out to Hermione.

"For you, 'Mione. Can you please forgive me?" he asked.

Hermione looked up and locked eyes with him. Harry saw her reddened eyes, and sat down carefully on the edge of the couch. He leaned over and hugged her intimately.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. So sorry."

"I know, Harry," she whispered, a tear falling from her cheek onto his coat.

He gave her a squeeze, then let go and reached into his pocket, and brought out a gift box.

"Merry Christmas, 'Mione," he said.

She smiled at him, and wiped her eyes before getting up and walking to her bedroom. She came back with a long, rectangular box, and handed it to him.

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

Harry grinned, and took the box. He opened it up, and stared. Inside, in almost perfect condition, was his old Firebolt, now polished so much it sparkled.

"Thank you, 'Mione," he said.

Hermione simply smiled.

"Well," he said, giving her present a nudge. "Open it!"

Hermione grinned and sat down on the couch, and pulled hers open. Inside was a velvet box, and Hermione snapped it open slowly. Inside, on a padded cushion, was a white gold necklace, and with a golden snitch hanging from one end. Harry reached over and took it from her, and put it around her neck.

"Open the snitch, 'Mione. It's a locket."

Hermione opened it, and on one side was a picture of her, but the other was empty. She shot Harry a quizzical look.

"The other is for a picture of your baby," he said, leaning over to get a good look at the locket again. "Now, read the engraftment on the snitch."

Hermione flipped the tiny ball over, and tears came to her eyes at the words on the tiny ball.

For Hermione

My Golden Snitch through all these years

Merry Christmas

Harry

Hermione turned to look at him, and Harry grinned.

"There's one more present," he said.

He leaned over and pressed his lips firmly against Hermione's and then whispered,

"Merry Christmas."