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Enjoy!

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Everything Is Just Roses

Chapter 2: "You Came Back"

"Hermione…" he whispered.

The Harry that stood in front of her wasn't the same Harry that she had last seen two years ago. He now seemed exhausted and downtrodden. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and his mouth seemed fixed in a solemn way.

He stepped towards her and extended his hand out for her face. Hermione didn't know what to do but stand there dumbfounded as Harry embraced her tightly in his arms. She felt smothered and suffocated with emotion as a single tear rolled silently down her cheek. His hot breath against her neck sent shivers scurrying down her already tingling spine.

When he finally pulled away, his glistening eyes locked with hers. She felt frozen and vulnerable. He'd always done that to her; made her feel like she was being x-rayed. An overwhelming urge to slap him rose within her, but as quickly as it came—it vanished. Anger was one emotion she didn't have the heart to express right now.

Without saying anything, Hermione closed the door behind Harry and helped him to a chair at the dining table. Reluctantly, she left him there and went into the kitchen to make him a cup of tea. She was afraid to leave him for even a moment in fear that he might disappear again, still not believing that he'd really come back.

As she waited for the kettle to whistle, she stood leaning against the kitchen sink massaging the back of her neck with one hand. What was she going to do? What would she say to him? There were so many things. She'd let him talk. Yeah, that's what she would do. He'd be the first one to speak if she had to sit there with him all bloody night.

The moment she placed the cup in front of him and sat down, words came spilling out of Harry's mouth as if they'd been desperate to break free.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry it's been so long. It tried to tell them that I wanted to write to you, but they wouldn't let me. I even tried to do it secretly but they intercepted the post. They'd keep telling me I was too great for that. And I'm so sorry. They'd always keep me so busy, giving me so much work. I thought things had changed since Scrimgeour first asked me to work for the Ministry, but no, they haven't! I was so stupid! After two bloody years, I finally was smart enough to realize they were just using me so I quit. And… And…she left me. Ginny left me."

Now Hermione really wanted to slap him. He came over to talk about Ginny! Immediately, she reconsidered her annoyance. Why did she care that he was talking about Ginny? She should slap herself. Come on, she loved Ron, not Harry…right?

During Hermione's little inner argument, a long and unbearably uncomfortable silence was taking place.

"Say something, anything," Harry whispered, peering at Hermione under his tear-soaked lashes. "Please."

At this, an irresistible desire to hold Harry close filled Hermione. She wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be all right and not to worry and that she'd make it all better, but…she couldn't. She couldn't do anything except say, "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Yeah…"

"Have you told Ron? Does he know you're back?"

"No and…no."

"Well…why did you come to me first?"

"Because…you're the one I can always turn to. You always have an answer to things. You're never at a loss for words. You're always calm and collected."

She did know why, but even if he was right, she was a bit insulted. Yet, now that she thought about it, he wasn't entirely correct. Sure, she was calm and collected, but only on the outside. She'd always tried to show people that so they wouldn't think she was an annoying emotional girlie-girl. Inside though, she was just that: an emotional girlie-girl. She rarely, if ever, had shown that side to anyone. Trying not to sound too hurt, she ventured, "So…why did…Ginny…um…leave you?"

Harry took a deep breath and stared at his lap. He still hadn't touched his tea, which had probably gone tepid by now. "She told me she couldn't handle me being so busy all the time. She said it made her bored. I think…I think she was having an affair." A bitter smile twisted his mouth. "I don't blame her."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip as she played with a loose string on the sleeve of her blouse. When she looked up, she saw Harry was bent over with his elbows on his knees and one hand rubbing his eyes. He looked worn out.

Deciding to change the subject, Hermione asked, "Do you wanna crash here, tonight?"

Harry lifted his head. "No, no. I've already overstayed my wel--"

"Really," Hermione cut him off. Somehow, she wanted him to stay. Maybe she wanted to convince herself that his coming back wasn't just some crazy dream. "Make yourself at home. Take a shower, if you like."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. The bathroom's just through there." Hermione pointed him in the right direction.

There was a short silence. "Thanks, Hermione. Really, thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Hermione responded in a low voice, trying not to let her heart flutter.

Harry left for the bathroom and after a brief while, she heard the water run.

The thought of Harry using her shower gave Hermione a minor twinge of secret enjoyment. 'Come now, Herms,' she scolded herself. 'Pull yourself together. You're in love with and soon going to get married to his best friend! Don't think such dirty thoughts.' Then a very crucial thought struck her. Harry needed a towel! Yeah, oh so crucial, eh?

After the stealth operation of "Sneak into the Bathroom and Place the Towel Noiselessly on the Bathroom Sink and Escape Unnoticed" had been a success, Hermione lay on her living room couch, listening to the steady hum of the distant showerhead. Once it had stopped, she wondered if Harry had seen the towel she had placed for him. What if he hadn't seen it? What if he was just standing there au naturale at a loss as to what to do? Maybe she should have placed the towel in a more obvious location. She couldn't think of what that would be, but still, she would just knock on the door and ask. Just to make sure. You know. No harm in asking, right? Right.

Hermione approached the door so cautiously and carefully, it was as though she were approaching a sleeping Fluffy, Hagrid's three-headed dog. She heard no sound upon knocking once so she tried the doorknob. The sight that met her when she opened the door made her think she had died and gone to heaven. An ethereal being stood in front of her. God, he certainly had grown. Every muscle on his body was defined and gleaming with the silky sheen of water. His lovely collarbone just atop a toned and bare chest. A taut stomach traveled down to regions hidden by a towel held by sculpted arms. Apparently, he'd seen the towel. Harry faced her, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Letting out the breath she'd been holding, Hermione stammered out an apology and hastily turned to leave. In her dire efforts to get away, her socked feet slipped on the hardwood floor and down she went, hitting the ground hard bottom-first. 'Bravo, my Lady Grace,' Hermione thought to herself, her backside throbbing.

Within seconds, Harry was crouched down next her, the towel wrapped securely about his perfectly formed hipbones. "Alright there, Herms?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah…" Hermione answered whilst rubbing at her bum.

"Funny," Harry said a sly smirk creeping onto his face. "I never figured Hermione Granger for a klutz, let alone a Peeping Tom…ette."

"Oh shush! I was only going to ask if you'd seen the towel I brought you!"

Harry laughed. "I know."

"Then why didn't you say anything when I knocked?"

"Because you knocked so lightly I thought I was hearing things."

He was right. "Well…I didn't want to…"

"Want to what? Disturb me?"

"I dunno! I guess so…"

"Hermione, it's a shower, not a study session for O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione was just about to open her mouth to retort when she really looked at Harry's face. The smile there washed away all hard feelings. She was pleased just to see him happy. He helped her up off the floor and she left to give him privacy to change. When he emerged, he was wearing boxers and an undershirt, ruffling his damp unruly hair with the towel.

"So…" Hermione began. "You can sleep on my bed and I'll take the couch."

"No way," Harry protested.

"What?"

"I'll sleep on the couch and you take the bed."

"But Harry, it's only polite--"

"It's only polite that I sleep on the couch because I came over unannounced."

Seeing that there was no winning with him and if she kept it going, they'd be standing there all night, Hermione gave in.

As she changed into her nightgown, Hermione tried hard not to think about the situation because she realized that's all she seemed to be doing. She had to stop analyzing the circumstances and just take them as they come, otherwise, she'd go mad. She slipped into bed, shut her eyes and tried to think of something else, but whatever she thought about would eventually go and her mind would wander back to Harry. It was like playing The --insert number here-- Degrees of Harry.

"Hermione," came a whisper from the outside world, or rather the world outside The Mind of Hermione. Slowly, she opened one eye then the other and found Harry knelt down beside her bed, staring at her. She sat up.

"Hey," she greeted him, also whispering, thought she really didn't know why. "What's up? Couldn't sleep?"

"No…"

She couldn't believe she was going to say this but, "Do you want to sleep next to me?"

At first, Harry looked down, hesitant, but Hermione bent down to meet his eye. "Really?" he wondered softly.

"Really," Hermione confirmed and he climbed in. They lay facing each other, eyes closed. Moments later, Harry's hand captured Hermione's.

Hermione didn't know what to do, but remembering her promise she'd made earlier of not analyzing situations, her panic subsided. She'd tell Harry that she was engaged to Ron tomorrow. And tomorrow was tomorrow—that's when she would deal with things. For now, she relaxed and fell into a deep serene sleep.

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