A/N: Hello! Did I not say I would post again? Ho yeah! I rock so much I'm in danger of being heavy metal. Anyway! Here is the next chapter. Let's see if I can get two weeks in a row of posting on time, shall we? Thanks to my new reviewers—you keep me from destroying this story.

I Never Lived

Chapter 8

Harry walked into the bustling restaurant tautly, looking around. He was five minutes late and his hair was more mused than ordinary from the wind. Maybe I shouldn't have come. I'm nervous and Hermione will kill me for not telling her first, he deduced.

"Mr. Potter!" the waiter at the reception desk greeted, smiling. He jumped a bit and looked at him.

"Er… hello."

"Wonderful to see you! Do you need to be seated?"

"No. I'm… meeting someone, thanks." Harry moved into the establishment and soon spotted Cho: she was seated by one of the windows. He sped over to her in order to make the staring, smiling faces blurs.

"Hi," he said, planting himself in the chair opposite her.

"Hello Harry!" she smiled, a tincture of pink on her cheeks.

"Sorry I was late."

"Oh, no, it's all right! A… a waiter hasn't come yet."

"Right." There was silence. Harry pulled a menu toward him and looked through it. Cho avoided his eyes and fiddled with her long hair. He glanced at her after more than half a minute of stillness. Was it going to be as awkward as it had been on their first date? Because that would be unbearable.

He opened his mouth to speak when he knew what he wanted to eat and could no longer pretend to observe the menu. At that exact moment however, the waitress appeared.

"May I take your orders?" she breathed, grinning at the Boy Who Prevailed.

Two minutes later she walked away with their preferences and a light head. She was going to be waiting on Harry Potter!…

"It's still like that for you?" Cho wondered, half-smiling.

"Yes, but five times worse," he replied. She smiled then looked down at the table. It wouldn't suffice, her not meeting his gaze. The tension had to disappear.

"So… how is work for you? How has life been since Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Very good, actually. Witch Weekly is… marvelous. I love it. I'm an editor. Not the highest of course, pretty low in fact, but an editor nonetheless," He smiled, "I write an article a week, on average."

"So you didn't move to Wales?"

"Oh, I did! Right after Hogwarts. It was only for a year though, and I stayed with my dad. It wasn't that great."

"Oh," nodded Harry, "So are you seeing anyone?"

"Not currently." Cho muttered, taking her focus away from his face. She cleared her throat.

"Well… what about you," she pondered, her voice brightening, "I know you're an Auror."

"Yes, I'm an Auror and don't really enjoy it."

"That's horrible Harry!"

"I know," he grinned, ashamed.

"Well, you shouldn't stay if you don't like it. What about something else? Quidditch?" Harry looked at her.

"Why that?"

"You were a spectacular Seeker, and flier. And you were so passionate about it…" Her voice had taken a softer tone to it. He sighed and then said:

"I don't know."

"If being an Auror had anything to do with… with You-Know-Who, he's gone Harry," He gazed at her again, "He's gone, and you made sure of that. Do what you want." Cho told him. The old Gryffindor stared at the salt and pepper shakers.

"I really admired you for that," she commented after a short interval of silence.

"For what?" Harry inquired.

"Defeating You-Know-Who. I always thought you were amazing for having the courage to fight him."

"Thanks," he half-smiled, "But it might have just been stupidity." She laughed.

Their drinks came and they sipped them for a brief period of time.

"You're still with Hermione Granger?" pondered Cho, stirring her straw. She didn't look at him until the question was out.

"Yes," responded Harry, confidently, "It'll be three years in November."

"Wow. That's… remarkable."

"Yeah. So is she."

"How is she? And your other friend… Ron Weasley, the Tornado hater?"

Harry returned to his office three minutes after he was supposed to have been there. The lunch had gone extraordinarily well. Their talk never really faltered again and quietness did not make its mark; it was easy talking to her and they laughed plenty of instances. He was shocked at how much being in her presence had changed. Perhaps it was simpler now that they were older and he no longer had feelings for her to complicate matters. Harry knew Ron would ask how his hour meeting went and so left (snuck from) his department 30 minutes early and stole away to Ron's.

He visited Ron's flat for an hour after they left the Ministry and then he departed for his own home. He knew he was going to have to suck it up and tell Hermione about Cho—better the day of than not at all. As it was, Harry did not let her know of his lunch date, again. He felt, however, he was not to be held responsible; it was wiped from his mind once more and this time by his girlfriend's doing. Hermione had evidently missed Harry a significant deal, and had since three o'clock that afternoon, and his being late home only made it more profound. She showed her happiness of being back with him by snogging him heartily on the couch. It quickly led to fooling around, which then avalanched into a heated, desperate shag that deleted all concern's from Harry's mind.

They lied next to one another on the sofa afterward and spoke idly of many things. Hermione's responses became more and more scarce until they stopped altogether. She had fallen asleep, and it was the first time Harry could recount of her doing so before him. He kissed her forehead and fifteen minutes later slipped off himself. They awoke later that night some time after ten only to remember they were where they had been hours before, and decided the resolution was to simply make love.

"Er, Hermione." Franky started, climbing the last step and walking on Books, Bludgers & Batteries' second landing.

"Yes?" she responded, turning around from reshelving books.

"There is a very… lively man downstairs. He wants to see you."

"Me?"

"He asked specifically for you," she revealed, shrugging. Hermione set the book down, slight trepidation settling in her bones, and followed Franky down to the first floor. (It was the proceeding day in the early afternoon).

"Front desk." Franky mentioned. She looked to it and saw Arthur Weasley talking vivaciously to Edmund Hack, the other employee who regularly worked the service desk. A warm smile rested on her face.

"Hi Mr. Weasley." Hermione greeted.

"Hermione!" he hailed, grinning. He ceased conversation with Edmund, who seemed a tad grateful.

"How are you?"

"I am well! I'm here to pick up those books I ordered a while back!"

"Oh! Yes—right." Some weeks ago Mr. Weasley had come to Books, Bludgers & Batteries with a list of books he wanted (all about Muggles). The shop only had one of the four but put in an order for the others. They had arrived on Monday and were the focus of televisions, computers, and electricity.

"Here you are Mr. Weasley," she said, having gone to the back and emerging with his tomes.

"Thank you Hermione," he remarked, happily accepting them, "This is my seventh book on elek-tricity! It's truly fascinating."

"Is that all you needed?"

"Well… yes. I was just supposed to collect the books and then leave, but… oh, one quick nip to see what's new won't hurt!" Arthur set the three books down on a counter and then hurried off.

Hermione watched him go, smiling.

Harry let out an aggravated sigh that sounded closer to a growl as he got into the elevator, which was (surprisingly) empty. His morning had been spent dueling against another Auror of a slightly higher station to test him and see if he had been practicing. After a 30 minute rest, Medwick had sent him to run a few errands between departments and they were what he continued to do on his Thursday afternoon.

I'm an Auror, not a damned assistant, he thought, why can't he do this himself? Or get someone else to.

"It could be worse—I could be sitting at my desk with reports." Harry mumbled. The elevator shook insignificantly and came to a halt, opening its doors.

A single witch with dark hair entered studying the parchment in her hands. Harry looked at her and smiled to himself; she hadn't noticed him.

"Interesting, is it?" he asked, leaning over to invade her personal space. Parvati jumped and turned.

"Goodness Harry!" she said, somewhat exasperatedly. He laughed.

"Sorry—didn't know you scared so easily."

"I don't, I was just really into what I was reading!" Parvati reasoned, straightening the parchment.

"Important Department of Mysteries documents?" he wondered.

"I'm not at will to reveal that."

"So, no. What is it then? A hidden copy of Wizard of the Month or something?"

"I would hope you think of me as not being that shallow Harry Potter," she indecorously voiced, hands on her hips, "This isn't fourth year!" Somewhere behind it all, Parvati knew he was joking and so could not be fully outraged. As if to prove it, he laughed again.

"Of course I don't think you're shallow. I just wanted to see your response."
"Well, har har," she smiled.

"So how have you been? I haven't seen you in a bit." Harry remarked.

"All right," sighed Parvati, "Trying to keep up with my job and not die from the pressure of it. I love it, but I won't deny its difficulty. You?"

"I'm great so long as I don't think about what I do for a living." She laughed.

"Still unsatisfied."

"I suppose."

"How's Hermione?" Parvati asked.

"Better than I am. Hey, Ron got tickets for the Bat game this Saturday—" commented Harry.

"I know. Seamus told Lavender who told me."

"Are you coming?"

"I don't know… last time was not precisely thrilling for me or Lavender. Or Hermione, for that matter."

"Quidditch is always thrilling. You three were merely having an off day," he told her. She raised an eyebrow questioningly, "Anyway, I ask because it's been awhile since we've hung out with you girls."

"Well… maybe, Harry. If we go out to eat afterwards I'll definitely come, but I might forgo the match… I got enough of those at Hogwarts. I enjoyed watching you fly but not much else." Parvati remarked.

"All right then—we'll eat dinner when it's done and see you there."

"Okay," she half-smiled, "Oh, I get off at the next level. I'll see you later?"

Harry, who was supposed to be completing Medwick's errands, decided they could wait a period of time. He had never had a desire to perform them in the first place.

"I'll escort you." The Boy Who Prevailed noted.

"Oh, thanks Harry!"

The two former Housemates got off at the following floor and walked to Parvati's unknown destination.

"Another reason I'm weary of the game is because there is a wonderful chance he will be there. He was a huge Kestrel supporter and went to most every competition," she explained. He was Timothy, her ex-boyfriend with whom she had broken up a month previously. (Their relationship had not ended as well as it could have).

"It… it would've been all right," Harry distractedly replied, practically colliding with her to avoid the torrent of flying memos leaving the floor, "We would have jinxed him had he bothered you."

"That's your answer to everything, isn't it?"

"Harry!" a jubilant voice hailed. He froze, placing it instantly. He looked around in a paranoid manner and saw the Minister of Magic coming eagerly toward him, having exited a hall on the left.

"Minister, sir," he answered.

"Up here as well, are you?" Roberts inquired.

"Uh…"

"Perfect! I've been wanting a word with you! Care to walk around?" The young man quickly decided that he would rather return to working than be Robert's prized companion.

"I was just leaving, sir, to be honest. A lot of things to do you know!" Harry said.

"Oh…"

"You can stop by my office later if it's that important," he offered, beginning to recede slowly and knowing that Medwick hated people disturbing his workers, even if it was the Minister, "Later Parvati!" Harry then made a fast beeline back to the lift, thinking he could not avoid Henry Roberts forever.

Harry Apparated into his bedroom after work only to hear faint voices coming from another room in the apartment. After changing into more comfortable clothing, he walked the length of the hall and the two voices became distinct: they belonged to Hermione and Ginny. He stopped at a point where he could hear their conversation but they could not see him.

"… so Natalie starts talking about faking it while we're checking the inventory! I swear, that woman is the boldest person whom I have ever met." Hermione reported.

"What'd she say?" Ginny questioned.

"That she's had her fair share of poor lovers. 'I can't believe how many times I've had to act as if I were enjoying the sex! No woman should have to pretend, end of story. We do it out of pity, so we don't hurt their sensitive pride'—that's what she said. Oh, but then she asked me if I've ever had to!" Harry's grin at Natalie's statement vanished immediately. He was now agonizingly desirous to hear the brunette's next sentence.

"Oh, oh," laughed Ginny, "I have to know your answer! And don't lie! I want to know if you've ever had to fake it with Harry!"

An obdurate part of him wanted to suddenly run out and make himself known, not ever having to hear Hermione's reply. Another part, most likely his ego, craved to know how she thought he did in bed.

"I told her," she commenced evenly, "That I've only had to do it three times.

HA!, his pride triumphantly screamed out, only three! Considering how many times we've done it! But still… three was not equal to zero….

"Explain," commanded Ginny, continuing to smile contently. Yes, he thought, explain.

"All right… well, one time, I just did not feel like it. But Harry was really in the mood so I did it for his sake, a-and I sort of owed it to him, and it wouldn't have looked good had I not pretended to enjoy it. Another time I actually did want to do it and was into it, but at some point I realized I wasn't going to… to… you know—get there, so I faked it. But only the last bit." Hermione told her.

"And the third?"

"Harry was just not doing it for me that time, I'm sorry to say. I was unimpressed, whatever my excuse, so I didn't try." Hermione told her friend, humor in voice. Ginny giggled. Harry, on the other hand, was appalled. That was most certainly not funny! How on Earth did they find his inability to please her hilarious! It was humiliating is what it was! At least the first two times had been justified—they had been no real fault of his own. But this! This….

"Well if it's only been three instances then I'd say you two are doing abnormally well. Harry must be satisfying your needs—good man," the redhead remarked, smiling. Yeah, listen to Ginny, he thought victoriously.

Thinking he had spent enough time eavesdropping, Harry walked out of the hall and to the living room as the old Head Girl was in the middle of a sentence. She shut up upon seeing him.

"Harry!" she said, a little surprised at his presence.

"Hello," he greeted, placing a small kiss on her lips, "Ginny, nice to see you invading my flat."

"Bugger off," she smiled in return.

"How long have you been here?" Hermione pondered, looking at him.

"Less than three minutes. I changed then came out here," her boyfriend answered. The witches exchanged significant looks, the kind Harry and Ron gave one another when they wanted to communicate with their eyes instead of words.

"What? It's the truth."

"Sure. How was work?"

"Pissy," he replied, "Are you coming to the game on Saturday? Because I asked Parvati and—"

"No," she blandly stated.

"Well that's what she said, so we'll go to the match and then we can all go to eat later."

"Sounds fine."

"Will you come watch the game with us Ginny?" Harry asked, turning to her.

"If Richard wants to—I'll be with him on Saturday. Oh, but you can forget it if Ron is going to act like—" she began.

"Ron will be too caught up watching to notice even Richard, trust me." The phone then rang and they all looked to it.

"Er… it's blue, Hermione." The once Seeker morbidly observed.

"Right," she said, getting up from the couch and walking hurriedly to pick it up.

"Still deathly afraid of her parents because you know you're lying to them?" Ginny cheerily wondered.

"No," he responded, glowering at her, "It's only her father…" She snorted.

"You can kill the darkest wizard ever but not face a Muggle father. You're odd, Harry."

"And yet possess enough to keep Hermione satisfied," he mumbled under his breath.

"What?" Ginny replied sharply, studying him shrewdly.

"Nothing!" he smiled.

Hermione's parents wanted to set up another get together for the following week, much to Harry's dismay. He asserted that he would not do it, initially, and it took a lot of persuading after Ginny had gone on Hermione's part to convince him otherwise. Persuading that involved her lips, her tongue, and his face…. He eventually gave in.

On Saturday, Harry went to the Ministry for a few hours to work before the Quidditch match. It was the compromise he and Medwick had reached; before, Medwick had been adamant in not giving Harry the day off at all. Hermione spent the morning at home with her mother, father, grandmother, and Crookshanks. Harry came back to the flat at 2:30 and noted that she had not yet left her former home. He ate lunch and then waited for 3:30 to arrive—the game was at four o'clock, but they (Dean, Ron, Seamus) were meeting at Ron's flat at 3:30. She returned as he was leaving and bid him goodbye, saying she would see him in the evening.

Harry opened the door to his flat with a grin on his face. The match had ended 20 minutes ago and it had been a good one, with the Kenmore Kestrels as the victors.

"Hermione," he called, walking in, "We've got to be at the restaurant in about an hour. Neville, Hannah, Lavender, Parvati, Luna, and Samantha are coming as well." He removed his coat, threw it on the sofa, and strode past the kitchen.

"Hermi—oh, there you are." Harry stated, doubling back. Hermione sat at the table, looking at him intensely. Her hands sat on top of each other and a piece of parchment was in front of her.

"Er… something wrong?" he asked, walking over to her vigilantly.

"No. Not really," she responded.

"Then… why do you look like that?" Hermione did not answer. She stared at him for a few more moments before saying:

"This came for you via an owl a little while after you left. I didn't open it because I didn't have to—it wasn't folded." She picked up the parchment and held it out. He took it charily, glancing at her. She appeared very unhappy.

It was a note from Cho and read:

Harry—

I really enjoyed lunch on Wednesday. It was fun, wasn't it? Perhaps we can do it again next week… say Thursday or Friday? You can send Hedwig with an answer. It'll be nice to see that gorgeous owl again.

Cho

Harry gaped at her when he had finished. He had forgotten to tell her and now it was going to be twenty times worse. Dear Lord…

"So you had lunch with Cho Chang? The last time you spoke of her, you told me you had just seen her at the pub. I had no idea you two were friendly again, let alone going on lunch dates. How is she?" Hermione flatly said.

"Hermione," he hastily began, dropping the note and talking with his hands, "I was going to tell you, I really was, since Monday! But something always—"

"Why didn't you tell me instead of going behind my back," she exploded, standing up, "It seems as though you didn't want me to know about it! If you had just told me, I wouldn't have thought anything of it! But the fact that you hid it, Harry—"

"I meant to tell you Hermione, I really did! But something always came up and I would forget! I swear!"

"And you couldn't tell me after you ate with her either!"

"I forgot then too, I really did! I am so sorry! But you don't have to worry, b-because nothing happened!"

"Should something have happened?" she wondered angrily, hands now on her hips.

"No! No… I do not care about Cho like that, at all! It really was just to catch up! I was being nice. You know that I'm with you and so does everybody else. Honestly Hermione, I just forgot," he pleaded. It was quiet again while she glared at him.

"The next time you do something with another witch, please let me know. And do not manage to forget! Inscribe it on your bloody arm if you have to…" Hermione demanded, her voice softening as she looked back down at the parchment. Her arms were folded.

"So… so do you care if I have lunch with her again?" Harry questioned.

"No," she remarked, after another interval of silence. He smiled unsurely.

"I really am sorry."

"I know you are." He winced.

"Still angry?" he asked guiltily.

"Of course I am!" She glowered at him yet again while she surveyed him. He had a hunch she was not completely furious with him, just annoyed.

"Let's go." Hermione commanded, walking around the table and grabbing him by the front of his clothes.

"Where?"

"To have sex." Angry sex, according to Natalie.

"What?" he pondered, though horribly excited. What kind of blissful twist was this?

"I am going to mark you as mine. Every woman should know you belong to me and are happy. And this isn't a treat—it's punishment!"

"Yes ma'am." Harry grinned, letting her lead him. Maybe he should anger Hermione more often…

A/N: Quick notes.

1. Falron: just think you should know, you're not my beta. Lol. Thanks though.

2. I haven't gotten to the core of the story yet, but I'm getting there. It's like the edge of the rollercoaster before the 150 feet drop.

3. I don't think I'm going to make the 6 month goal of having this story completed, lol. But it'll be done definitely before May.

4. Next chapter, next week.