Chapter 30
Harry
Nate didn't blink twice when I told him I wanted to train again today. Maybe Remus or Padfoot told him about all the time we put into training for the Twi-Wizard tournament. Hours a day on top of our regular schooling. He just jumped from the dinner table and told me he'd meet me upstairs in fifteen minutes.
I shouldn't be surprised to find Ron waiting up there for me, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats.
I am surprised though.
He gives me a sheepish smile.
"Someone's gotta keep your temper under control," he says, and affection for my best friend fills my chest to bursting. "Besides, I wanna see you learn how to use that sword."
I have to swallow before I can find my voice.
"Thanks, Mate."
Nate strolls through the doorway with the other inseparable trio hot on his heels. Remus is smiling in a way I never saw enough of in the other timeline, Sirius is saying something obscene I shouldn't be listening to, and Tonks is watching them both with adoration.
There's something going on there, and I'm not sure I want to know what it is.
Nate stalks by us, going to the weapons in the corner of the room. I don't know if he brought them all with him, or if Sirius and Remus have spent the last week collecting them. But there's swords, knives, staffs and everything in between.
"If you're going to be in this room, you aren't simply going to watch. You're a big strapping lad, and if your older brothers are any indication, you'll only get bigger. Like an American linebacker. Here."
Nate picks up a wooden sword twice the width of the sword of Gryffindor and tosses it in Ron's direction. Ron makes a startled sound, his eyes going wide as saucers. It's either catch it or let it hit him on the head. He reaches out both hands and attempts to grab the hilt. He bungles the delivery, but manages to get control over the heft of wood before it hits the ground.
Unbidden, the chorus of Weasley is our King floats through my head. I bite my lip to keep from smiling.
He throws a wooden stick at me, and I catch it one handed. My palm stings, but I smirk when Ron makes a displeased noise and mumbles something about bloody seekers under his breath.
Nate comes to stand in front of us popping up and down on his toes and pulling his hair back on top of his head.
"Group training in the mornings, weapons training after supper?"
When no one answers, I look behind me to where the other three are standing. Everyone is staring at me.
Oh. Yeah. This is my show.
"Sounds good to me," I agree.
"We still need time to study."
We all turn to look at the doorway.
Hermione, whom I left in the library surrounded by books on healing, her newest obsession, toddles in with a stack of offensive and defensive spell books floating behind her. She conjures a bookcase to arrange her haul then settles a dark blue notebook with a pen and highlighter on the table that holds a pitcher of water and cups before coming back to stand next to me.
"Come off it," Ron says, looking at her like she's lost her mind. "There's still weeks left of summer hols. We don't have to worry about school stuff for ages."
Hermione huffs at Ron, pushing her hair behind her ears.
"I wasn't referring to our summer work, though it wouldn't kill you to spend a little extra time devoted to your schooling Ronald. There's more to what we're trying to accomplish than just memorizing defensive spells." She hardens her eyes at him. "As you well know," she says in a tight voice, lifting her brow and giving him a significant look.
"Oh," Ron replies, his shoulders dropping. "Right."
He's going to be as much fun during the Horcrux hunt this time round as he was on the last, I can tell already.
Hermione faces Nate, who has been watching the play by play with an amused expression.
"The two a day practices sound fine to me," she says. "So long as we have ample time for research as well."
Remus or Sirius barks a laugh in the background, and I couldn't tell you which one it was on pain of the Cruciatus curse.
"But," Ron says, facing Mi directly now. "Don't you two like, share a brain? Why can't you do all the studying, and Harry just, like, I don't know? Pull it from your mind or something."
All of the awkward pauses mid conversation that started happening after Mi and I came back from the future with a drastically different relationship have all but vanished. I couldn't be happier about it. But now Ron and Hermione are back to sniping at each other all day long, and it's already getting on my nerves.
"It doesn't work like that, Mate," I tell him. Mi's eyes glass over though, an expression that can only mean trouble for me filling her face. Without a word she walks over to the table and flips over her notebook, adding something to her notes.
"Seriously?" I ask. "Another experiment?"
I've gotten a look at her ever-growing list of bond tests. Much to my disappointment, most of her plans don't involve us naked. She's dead serious about publishing a paper on our Bonds.
She looks over her shoulder, but isn't really seeing me. Visions of doubling her reading time dance in her head, and honestly, it's making me nauseous.
"It would be fascinating!" she insists. "We already know we can share memories. I saw all those memories at your Aunt and Uncle's house when you were thinking about the cupboard. Imagine how much more we could learn if we could each read a book and have the other person learn the information."
She puts the cap on the ball point and walks back over to us.
"That would mean I'd have to understand half of what you read. Which I don't. I have no desire to either. I thought we had a division of power." I point to her then to me. "You're the brains and I'm the muscle."
Ron guffaws beside me.
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try it," she insists, hands on her hips. "And stop playing dumb. We both know you're not. If you didn't let Ronald drag you into debauchery, your grades could rival mine."
I close my eyes as my chin drops to my chest.
"Oi!" Ron exclaims, throwing out his arm. "He drags me into trouble way more than I drag him! Who was it that suggested we follow the spiders, huh? It sure as hell wasn't me! I didn't ask to be shoved down to the bottom of the lake! They took me because of Harry! And what about the polyjuice potion! That was all you Hermione! I don't do anything! I'm just the bloody sidekick!"
His voice drops an octave.
"Always blaming me for shit when it's never my fault," he continues to grumble and glare at us.
I drag my hand through my hair, the other still gripping the hilt of that damn wooden sword.
"I don't go looking for trouble, you know. It's not my fault people keep trying to kill me! Besides, you guys never complain when it's me saving your asses!"
I shove Ron on the chest.
"And don't you dare blame everything on me! I didn't steal your parent's car by myself."
"Which is why we should do the reading experiment," Mi says with exasperation. She jumps right back into the other conversation, completely ignoring Ron and I.
I almost growl in frustration.
"It's not like a Vulcan Mind Meld, Mi! We can't just merge our brains."
She tightens her lips, her chest bubbling in the effort to encase her giggles. It trips along our bond, the fire of her light and happy and full.
"What the hell is a Vulcan?" Ron demands, and Hermione's uncontained giggles are joined with Tonks'.
I snort through my nose and pat Ron on the back.
"It's a Muggle thing, Ron. We'll head down to Visions Electronics and buy a telly. You'd probably love Star Trek."
"Still doesn't give her the right to blame everything on me," he sulks.
"And they call you three the Golden Trio?" Nate butts into the bickering with an amused chuckle. "You don't even seem to like each other."
I didn't realize that term was in use yet, but maybe I mentioned it to Sirius.
As one we turn to him, shoulders in line and wands in our hands. Ron stands to his full height, and Mi flings her hair over her shoulder, giving him her scariest glare.
I make sure my voice is steady when I talk.
"We can fuck with each other all day long. You don't want to see what happens when someone else tries to fuck with one of us."
Nate's eyes go wide, and he takes a step back.
"Yeah. Okay," he says, and Hermione's amusement dances around me, making me want to smile.
Nate's face twists in consternation as his gaze flicks between the three of us.
"Why don't you stretch," he suggests haltingly before walking over to talk to Remus.
Ron and I look at each other and shrug, then both throw our sticks to the side. I shove my wand back into the holster across my chest. Ron stuffs his in a pocket.
Send Winky to buy Ron a few holsters, I tell Hermione.
She stares at him for a moment, eyes trailing from his feet to his at home haircut.
New trainers too, she says.
Mi bends over and touches her toes, and I freeze on the spot. She's changed into some of the clothes Winky bought us for training, and her arse is positively obscene in the skintight black material that covers her lower body.
Ron, too, freezes mid-stretch. My gaze flickers from Mi's heart-shaped arse on display as she twists this way and that to look at Ron's face. His eyes have glazed over, and his mouth is open in a most unattractive way. His head is tilted to the side, and I swear it's the same dumb struck expression he wore when he saw her at the Yule Ball.
I don't know whether to laugh or hit him.
I backhand him in the gut, his "Oi!" pulling Mi's gaze to us.
"That's my wife's arse you were staring at," I accuse him.
Ron looks at me with horror in his eyes, his ears tipped pink. He stutters to reply, while the others snigger behind us.
"S-sorry, Mate. But—" he gives Hermione an incredulous glare. "What in the bloody hell are you wearing 'Mione? Have you gone mental?"
"Honestly," she huffs with pink cheeks. "They're yoga pants! And don't you dare try to justify your ogling on the way I'm dressed Ronald Weasley. Men have been blaming their bad behavior on women for centuries. I won't tolerate it from you!"
She shoots us both a dirty look, nose in the air and eyes tight, before bending to the side and pulling her arms over her head.
"Your wife has lost the plot, Mate," Ron says in a matter-of-fact tone, ignoring the fact that Mi is within hitting distance.
When she pulls her wand from the holster strapped to her thigh, he takes a large step back and hides partially behind me.
Personally, I think that thigh holster is hotter than the yoga pants, but that's just me. Or maybe it's the thigh holster combined with the yoga pants.
Nate taps Mi on the shoulder.
"Go with Sirius and Remus. They'll work with you tonight."
She gives him a silent nod, then moves over to my Godfather.
I wall off the bond between us, not wanting to get distracted by what's happening on the other side of the room.
"Grab your swords," Nate instructs, and Ron and I scurry to pick them back up from the floor.
Nate points between us.
"Those are two completely different weapons you're both holding. While both are blades, they're handled in a very different way. The Sword of Gryffindor was designed as a ceremonial blade. Not to say that it can't do some damage. I think you've learned first-hand that it can. But in a traditional sense, if it were made by muggles and not magic, it wouldn't hold up to taking it into battle."
"But it was made by magic," I say.
Nate nods with his hands on his hips. I can hear Mi and the others on the opposite side of the room, and try to phase it out.
"It was yes, which means it can cut through bone like it was slashing through water. Which is why you're holding a stick instead of even the duplicate. That one," he says, gesturing to the sword in Ron's hands, "is a broad sword. Traditionally, you would use the sword in one hand jointly with a shield in the other. I'll get you each started, then work with you one on one on the forms specific to your weapon. Practice together if you want, but realize you will each be learning different things."
He stops then shakes his head.
"If you spar against each other with your own weapons, Harry will either kill you with magic or Ron will break your wrist with the broadsword. You two don't spar with weapons unless you're using the same kind."
Ron and I glance at each other, accepting it as fact. I'm no wilting flower, but there's no denying that he's bigger than me, and probably stronger too.
Nate closes the distance between us.
"For you, we need to decide what hand will hold what. You're right-handed, correct?"
"Yes."
"Under different circumstances, I'd teach you the art of swordplay, then incorporate magic into its usage after you had a solid foundation. But we don't have the time for that with you. Do you have the Sword of Gryffindor with you?"
I shake my head, then throw my hand out to the side and summon it from my room..
"Give me a second."
Ron rolls his eyes.
"Show off," he scoffs.
I smirk at him.
"Jealous much?"
"Wanker."
"Git."
Someone yells "HEY!" from deeper in the house, and I know that the sword just came whizzing by them. A few seconds later it lands in my open hand.
"Okay, what now?"
Nate shakes his head in exasperation, then crosses his arms.
"I want to see if you can use magic with the sword. Despite all the little wandless things you seem to do automatically, you still need your wand for the bigger spells, even if you can do them nonverbally. It'll be easier to teach you to wield the sword in your left hand, than relearning basic wand magic with your right. Take the sword into your left hand and cast a shield charm."
I drop the practice blade and switch the scabbard of the real sword in my right hand, pulling it with my left.
It feels awkward, like I need to shake out my hand. I hold the blade in front of me, and Nate takes my hand in his, positioning my body until I'm posed how he wants me.
"This is a traditional fighting stance. There are several we'll go through as you learn."
He takes a step back.
"Call a shield. Don't pull your wand. Use the sword."
I call up the strongest shield I know, feeling the barrier simmer around me. The sword seems to swell in my grasp, fitting itself into all the nooks and crevasses the rubies leave in my palm. Nate lazily casts a charm at me, then a simple hex, before he snaps his wrist and a jet of blue light slaps into my shield so hard it rings like a bell in the air.
I take a step back, my stance faltering under the attack. But I keep the sword raised, and the shield stays strong.
"Nice!" Nate says approvingly, nodding his head and walking in a circle around me.
"Drop it," he says, and I let the shield fall. He steps into my personal space again, setting my stance and this time positioning my wand hand as well.
"Is this the wand with the twin cores?"
I double take.
We haven't told anyone outside of those present with my meeting with Ollivander that my phoenix wand shares a core with Riddle's. I've long stopped believing in coincidences though. Even if I don't think our destinies are pre-written, and I don't, you can't convince me it's not fate that the two wands I carry link me forever to the man I despise and the woman I love.
It's still my first instinct to use my phoenix core wand though.
"No," I tell him, shaking my head.
"Good," he says, surprising me. "I'll work with the two of you one on one. History is filled with examples of twin cores being used in battle and the excessive power they can wield when used as a team. Like with the sword, I don't want to risk anyone getting hurt until we have our feet underneath us."
That makes sense. But "if we're working in teams, Ron needs to be with me and Hermione."
Ron, who has been watching Nate work with me with eager eyes, jerks at that statement.
I drop my stance, and face Nate head on.
"Where I go, he goes," I say blandly. "Unless he's dead or incapacitated, experience has taught me that I can't get rid of him. Even when I try."
Ron grins at me, scratching at the back of his neck.
"He should be part of our team. No matter what situation we get into with the Death Eaters, they're going to have one goal in mind. That's to capture me, so Voldemort can kill me himself. Which means I will always be singled out in battle. The three of us have worked as a team since almost the day we met. Ron and Hermione can guard each other's backs, while I'm dealing with…" My voice trails off.
Ron grimaces. Hermione tries to comfort me through her fire, even though I walled it off.
"Hermione and Ron can guard my back, while I battle Riddle. That's what it's going to come down to in the end. It's what all of this is working towards. Ron needs to train with me and Hermione."
Nate stares at me. Measuring my resolve.
"Fine," he says, agreeing with a small smile. "Who am I to break you up? You're right. It's about getting you to the final battle. We'll use a modified flying wedge when training you together."
I nod at him and resume my position.
I have no idea what that means.
"You know, kid. You don't have to do this."
Nate's leaning on the wooden stick that we're using as practice swords, with a sickly sympathetic look on his face that I want to smack off.
I do have to do this. Voldemort has fifty plus years of experience on me. He's learned to tap into magic the rest of us have never even dreamed of. Never want to dream of either. At best I have a couple of years to learn as much as humanly possible before I face him again.
At worst, well, every minute counts. I've done all I can to mess up Riddle's game plan with the knowledge I brought back from the future. For the time being at least, I need to train.
I have no idea how long we've been at this though. Hours. Hermione is sitting on the floor, talking in quiet tones with Remus.
"Again," I huff, and take the stance Nate taught me an hour ago.
The practice sword is in my left hand, my wand in my right, and I'm trying to duck, lunge, twist, then fire a stunning spell all while keeping my shield impenetrable. My brain is about to explode.
Nate walks around me, and I ignore the way my muscles shake at holding the stance.
Quicker than I can see with the naked eye, he thrusts the wooden sword in his hand at Ron and smacks him across the back. Ron jerks and snarls under his breath, but his hands lift into the air, and he resumes the double handed overhead stance he's supposed to be practicing.
His limbs quake with a miniscule tremble.
Sirius fires first, and I duck under the spell. I lunge forward with the sword, jabbing just to the side of Sirius's middle while casting a befuddlement jinx. He moves over a step to avoid the blade, thinking it'll land somewhere else, and the sword tip hits him square in the stomach. The shield charm pushes him backwards. I pull the sword into my chest, blade tip up, and twist on my foot like a dancer, then throw out my wand and try to stun Remus.
There's already a barrier raised between them and me.
I stumble backwards when Nate hits my shield with a hex and Sirius catches me against his chest.
The sword drops from my hand.
The spell doesn't touch me though.
"We're done," Sirius says, and Nate bends to scoop the wood from the floor.
It's almost more effort than it's worth to stop leaning into Sirius's arms.
"Yep," Nate agrees. "You're barely going to be able to move tomorrow as it is, and we're not skipping training just because you're sore. You're going to need to learn your limits, as well as when to push past them. You don't need to go to the extreme tonight."
"Thank fuck," Ron sighs from beside us.
Ron drops his sword with a clatter, and wilts onto the floor, lying flat on his back with his legs sprawled.
I want to collapse onto the rubber mat and curl into a ball, but instead I stand up as straight as I'm able.
"Limits. Got ya," I repeat, and Sirius scoffs.
"No, he doesn't," he says. He runs his hand over my head in a fatherly fashion, then makes a grunting noise and wipes his now sweaty palm off on his pants. "But stubbornness runs in his blood."
Hermione comes in front of me, and taps me on the forehead.
"Lower your occlumency shields," she demands.
Our connection comes rushing back in a flood, and I sway again on my feet, four sets of hands shooting out to catch me.
Mi immediately starts to scribble in her binder and dig around in my mind.
"Are you—" I stop and give my head a shake, but it doesn't clear it of the sensation of being ransacked. "Are you taking notes from my memories?" I demand.
She doesn't even flinch.
"I want it while it's fresh. Your perspective of training as well as mine."
Bloody Hell. She's impossible.
She's as bad as Voldemort.
Mi pokes me in the chest. "I heard that," she remarks. "Don't disparage your wife in your thoughts when she can read your mind."
The men in the room all laugh.
"Go to bed," Remus says, then lowers his hand to haul Ron to his feet. Remus somehow always seems so feeble to me. I know, intellectually, that he's not. He's a bleeding werewolf for Merlin's sake. He could probably break most of us in half. But his shabby clothes and fly away hair always give him the impression of somehow being weaker than he is.
He yanks Ron so hard Ron almost stumbles on his feet.
"Gladly," Ron says, then limps towards the door. "If anybody wakes me up before noon tomorrow, I'll hex your bollocks off."
"Training starts at nine," Nate calls after him. Ron gives him the middle finger over his shoulder.
"On that note," Nate says, "I think I'll turn in too. Think there's anything to snack on in the kitchen?"
Blimey. He sounds like Ron.
"Tons," Mi assures him. "Just don't let the elves catch you. They'll make you a three-course meal. It's been a while since any of them have worked with a family. They're out of practice, I think."
I don't think that's what's going on there, but I'll leave her to her delusions.
I think the elves realize their mistress has a soft spot for them, and have decided to use it to their advantage to take over the household. Hermione is so against telling Winky what to do that Winky has all but turned the Potter-Black townhouse into her personal dictatorship. All the while Mi is still trying to convince Winky to accept a day off.
I give it until the end of the summer until Winky has Hermione convinced that days off would only do Winky harm.
"I'll walk down with you," Remus says, falling into step beside Nate. He stops and turns to Sirius. "Are you coming upstairs soon?"
"I'll be there in a few," Sirius says with a small smile. "I just want to talk to our Godson for a few minutes."
Remus ducks his chin then hurries to catch up with Nate at the doorway.
"Give us a minute, Hermione?" Sirius asks her, and she nods at him.
"Of course," she tells him. "I'll see you upstairs Harry. Unless you want to go to the library and study?"
She's grinning as she asks it, and doesn't wait for my answer. She turns on her heel, that spandex covered arse just barely showing under her too big grey t-shirt, and leaves Sirius and me to it.
"What's up?" I ask, giving up on not letting my exhaustion show.
With every second that passes, my muscles only get sorer.
"You shook the house last night."
Blood rushes to my face, and I flinch away from my Godfather's knowing expression.
"Sorry about that," I mumble. "We didn't know that could happen."
"Neither did we," he smirks. "I don't even want to know what you were doing when it did. If we felt it across the house, I can't imagine what your room looked like afterward."
Covered in scorch marks with a broken window that Dobby fixed this morning, but I think I'll keep that to myself.
I run both hands over my head, still getting used to the shorter hairstyle.
"Well," I tell him blandly. "I'm sure you're gonna know anyway, cause Mi spent half the afternoon making notes about it and Remus is helping her research."
Sirius looks me in the eye.
"And you think she's talking to Remus about your sex life?" he asks me.
I open my mouth, then slam it shut again.
"No?"
Because I don't think she would.
But that's Mi, my wife.
Hermione the swot, scholar, know it all, might very well talk to Remus about her sex life, if she thought it to be relevant to the topic at hand. And…
"If she does," I tell him, "I don't want to know about it."
Sirius throws his head back and laughs.
"Remus felt it before I did," he tells me. "The lycanthropy makes him more susceptible to some kinds of magic. But I smelled it first."
Smelled?
He smelled it…
He's not done talking yet though, and bloody hell please make it stop.
"The soundproofing wards held up, so that's good. But I think it's safe to say the whole Bonded Mate thing has added a little oomph to—"
I raise my fingers to my ears.
"lalalalalalalala. I'm not listening to this!"
Sirius bursts into laughter again, pulling my hands off my head.
"Okay, okay. The point stands." He pulls a slip of parchment from his pocket, and I unfold the scrap while he continues to talk. Unplottable, Protega Maxima, Anti-apparition. The list goes on. "If you haven't already re-warded the bedroom, I suggest you give these a try too. It's already warded for privacy as the master suite, but I think it's pretty apparent they didn't have Bonded Mates in mind when they set it up. There's nothing like being woken up at two in the morning with a cold nose in my ear telling me my Godson is getting laid."
I shudder at the image, embarrassment flooding my face.
Wait.
"Do you and Remus share a room?" I ask him, the pieces falling into place.
It's Sirius's turn to look uncomfortable.
"Not a lot of people know that Pup. Keep it to yourself, yeah?"
I'm not really functioning on a higher level at the moment, and I can't seem to grasp what's right in front of my face.
"But?" I stumble.
"Is that alright with you?" Sirius asks, a hardness to his voice.
I shake my head and give him a bemused look.
"Yeah," I assure him. "It's brilliant! I mean, yeah but…"
"But what?" My Godfather asks, and it clicks that Nate must know, because every time he's referred to them it's been Uncles and Godfathers. Together.
"For how long?" I ask, and Sirius gives me a small smile.
"Hogwarts," he tells me, and I just can't wrap my mind around it.
"He has a child with Tonks," I tell him. Maybe I shouldn't. I probably shouldn't. But I can't make it make sense. "Last time, I meant. After you went through the veil. He and Tonks get married. She was pregnant when I died."
Sirius's face lights up with that knowledge. He positively beams.
"Good," he says quietly. He pulls me in for a hug. "Thank you for telling me. I—" he swallows harshly. "I can't wait. I always wanted to be a father."
Sirius lets me go, then cups my face in his hand.
"Keep this between us, yeah?"
Then without another word, he turns and leaves the room.
Well okay then.
This did not end at all as I expected.
She's not in our bedroom.
I reach the end of the hallway, and the feel of her pulls me downwards instead of onto the other landing heading towards our wing. I see Remus going the opposite direction on the stairwell, and he stops to chat as we pass.
"He's waiting for you," I tell him, when he grasps me on the shoulder.
"So is she," he answers and gives me a knowing smile.
Hermione is in the kitchen, leaning up against the table.
"What are you doing down here?"
She looks over her shoulder, bent partially at the waist as she scribbles in that notebook that's permanently attached to her fingers these days.
"Making notes for Remus. I want to get the potions lab up and running tomorrow. The full moon is in nine days. If I can talk with Professor Snape at the Order meeting, I can have a batch of Wolfsbane brewing by Thursday. We've got two full moons left until we go back to Hogwarts. Even if Remus can't brew it himself, I can do it for him. I'm sure I can think of a way to get it from Hogwarts to the townhouse during the school year too. Maybe the vanishing cabinet."
If we get the vanishing cabinet working. And I really don't like the idea of Snape talking with my wife. Even for Remus's sake.
"Will he let you brew it for him?" I ask her, knowing his dislike for asking for help.
"I don't plan on giving him a choice," she admonishes smartly.
I close the distance between us, all thoughts of my aching muscles and disgustingly sweaty clothes forgotten. I curve my body around hers, so my front is in line with the bend of her spine. I push her hair off her neck and over the front of her shoulder.
Her arse is warm in my hands, the slick thinness of the material hardly any barrier at all between my palms and her flesh.
"Ron was right," I whisper, pulling her earlobe between my teeth. "These pants are obscene. I'm going to burn the lot of them in the fire."
Mi pushes back against me and tilts her head to present me with a clearer line of her throat.
"You'll do no such thing Harry Potter! They're by far the most comfortable thing I own."
Her hand comes up and grasps the back of my head, holding my lips against her neck. The sweat from her earlier workout has dried on her skin giving her a sweet and tangy flavour.
"I thought you were tired," she says through gasps and sighs as I trail my lips up and down the back of her throat.
"I'm exhausted. Can barely stand upright."
The shirt she's wearing is much too big for her, and it's easy to slip it from her shoulder. Underneath she's wearing a sports bra. A garment I was introduced to this morning with pointed tones and huffy expressions is.
"I can tell," she says distractedly.
It's not supposed to be sexy.
The sports bra.
It's supposed to keep women's breasts in place while they exercise. But its elastic straps are criss-crossed over her shoulder blades, and almost her entire back is showing, and I've already decided whether it's supposed to be sexy or not, I really really like it on her.
Like, alot.
"We should go to sleep then," Mi encourages. She rubs her arse against my crotch, feeling my erection through the thin layer of our clothing. "Since you're so tired."
Bed. Kitchen table. Both seem like good options as far as I can tell.
"I'd have to be dead to be too tired for this, and even then, experience tells me probably not. After all, I've been dead before. I still managed to get you into my arms."
Hermione snorts through her nose, and it turns into a moan pulled from the depths of her throat when I wiggle my hand down the front of her depravedly tight trousers.
Merlin, she's already wet down there. My fingers slip through her folds, finding her center like a seeker finds the snitch.
"Har-ry," she sighs and bucks against my hand. That's all it takes.
I flip her around in my arms and plop her on top of the kitchen table.
Her mouth is intoxicating. One kiss turns to two, then turns to four, until she's sucking on my tongue, and wedging my trunks down over my bum.
"Up, up, up," I chant, pushing my hands up her sides and dragging her shirt as I go. Her arms lift above her head, and I yank the worthless cloth over her head and drop it onto the floor.
Mi's legs go around me. Her hands pull on my hair. I lift her into the air with one hand, working her yoga whatever's over her hips with the other.
"OI! Dammit Harry! Not on the fucking kitchen table!"
Hermione squeals into my mouth, her hands yanking fistfuls of my hair as she jumps from the sound of the intrusion.
I haul my trunks back over my arse, and look over my shoulder at my blushing best friend.
Ron has turned his back to us, his hands lifted over his eyes. Though he's still just barely in the threshold, I can hear him grumbling and complaining from all the way across the room. I scoop Mi's shirt off of the floor, and bite my lip to stop my laughter when she yanks it down around her head, inside out and backward.
She flings her mass of curls behind her shoulder and grabs her books from the tabletop.
"I assure you Ronald, I don't know what you're talking about!"
She makes it all the way to the doorway before she turns around and scowls at us.
"I expect you both to be in bed promptly," she snaps at us. "We have a very busy day tomorrow."
With that she storms out of the room.
I chuckle under my breath as I feel her moving farther away from us. Her lust is undeniable, her irritation at being caught in a compromising position just as strong.
Ron scratches at his chest as he watches her go.
"Do you really like being bossed around by her?"
Images of her naked on our bed fly into my mind. Remembering the way she taught me how to touch her.
"Mate," I smack him on the back. "You have no idea."
I make my way over to the refrigerator, and yank on the handle.
"Butterbeer?" I ask, holding one out to him.
"Please," he says with enthusiasm. "Think we can get Dobby to make us a couple of sandwiches? I'm right starved."
I can feel Hermione's pique in the back of my head.
But on the other hand, I am rather hungry.
"Dobby?"
The little elf appears with a smile.
"Yes, Master?"
"Ron and I need some food if you don't mind please."
Dobby snaps his fingers, and a plate of sandwiches and crisps appear.
I drop to a squat in front of him, looking him in the eye and offering him a high five. Instead he hugs me so hard I almost fall on my bum.
"Don't tell Mi," I beg.
He grins at us and pops away again.
We sit in silence shoving our faces until Ron finally breaks the quiet. He looks me in the eyes, his ears going pink. He takes a swig of his Butterbeer, and I get the feeling it's for liquid courage.
"Those pants, though, Harry. Blimey."
I can't even be mad about it. I tilt my bottle in his direction, and Ron taps his against mine.
"You're telling me. Thank Merlin for yoga, whatever that may be."