AN: After looking back over some passages in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I saw that in canon, the tent has bunk beds, not camp beds. My bad! I've included too many references to camp beds to go back and edit them all and I don't want to have inconsistencies, so this canon-divergence is diverting from the bed situation. Sorry!
As it turned out, being excited and aroused was not ideal when trying to follow Dumbledore's posthumous treasure hunt. After causing one too many distractions, Harry got himself kicked out of the tent. He did his best to keep his mind occupied. After the earlier skirmish with the Death Eaters, he was inspired to practice his spell-chaining. It was a complicated duelling manouevre that he was surprised he carried out without hitch in the heat of battle. It involved using a verbal spell and following it with an immediate non-verbal to trick the opponent. He hadn't expected it to be so effective when he non-verbally disarmed the Death Eater. It was no surprise that of all spells, he would master Expelliarmus non-verbally so quickly.
As the day waned on, Harry practiced his casting, chaining together non-verbals and verbal spells. He moved from disarming to hexing. The poor tree he was using as target practice was in a bad way when he heard the soft scrape of the tent flap opening behind him. He was sweating a little from the exertion of casting a lot of magic. The air around him had a funny metallic scent. He didn't immediately turn to see Hermione. She headed straight for him and her arms came around him.
From the tension in her body behind him, the desperate way her arms clung to him, Harry knew that Hermione had bad news for him. She was breathing heavily, pressing her face into his back, drawing comfort from his solid presence.
He lowered his wand and waited for her to tell him what was wrong. Foreboding pooled in his gut.
"I found out what it was Rita got from Bathilda," she said into his back, "but… I want to read the rest of the book before I tell you."
"Why?"
"Because this is Rita," Hermione said, "it could be… her up to her old tricks. I want to be sure that she has the facts and it's not her blowing things up for sensationalism."
Harry's eyes searched the darkening forest, thinking, trying to work out what could be so bad that Hermione would be hesitant to tell him. He turned around, finding her pale, anxious face.
"It's about Grindelwald, isn't it?" He asked. She held his gaze and nodded.
"Yes and it sounds like they were friends, but… they only knew each other for two months before Ariana died and Grindelwald left after. From what Rita says, it was her death that caused them to part ways."
Harry sagged in relief. Friends for two months. That wasn't exactly close. However, he saw the shock in Hermione's eyes. She had discovered something that she was scared about him knowing.
"I need to read more and… confirm that Rita isn't making it up before I tell you more."
"But why? I should know…"
"Trust me," Hermione said to him, "We know Rita distorts the truth for her benefit. I don't want her lies getting into your head. It's not worth it."
Harry couldn't help but feel angered by her making the choice for him, but he pushed that aside immediately, especially when he saw the deep concern in Hermione's eyes. This was for him. She cared for him. Unlike anyone in his memory, she was truly caring about his feelings. He stepped up to her and nodded, taking her hand in his to show that he did trust her.
"We'll talk about it when I'm finished. I… just want to be sure first, okay?" She asked him. He angled his head upwards and searched her face. He nodded.
"I trust you," he said. She gave him a grateful smile and drew her arms back around him.
"You smell like metal." She remarked. "Like… hot metal. What have you been doing out here?"
Harry jerked his head back behind him. She frowned, puzzled, then leaned around him. The oak tree at his back was covered in deep slashes where Harry had been practicing his hexes.
"That poor tree!" Hermione exclaimed.
"I've been working on my non-verbals. I think they're getting stronger now. Just takes a lot of practice."
"Chaining?" She asked. Harry nodded. "That shield-disarm move you performed when dueling the Death Eaters earlier was pretty impressive." Harry slipped her his lopsided grin.
"Impressive huh?"
She let out a huff through her nose. "It sort of made up for you saying that you 'blew up Vold- you-know-who as a baby'."
Harry laughed, the sound deep and sonorous as it rose out from his chest. Hermione frowned, thoughtful.
"We need to be a lot more careful when we speak about him. It's a miracle we haven't slipped up before now and broken the Taboo."
Harry sobered at her words. Her arms dropped from where she had been hugging him and rocked back.
"I know. If we didn't have Bathilda's charms protecting us, we would have been completely exposed. Really, it likely saved our lives that we found out the way we did. I mean, it sucked being attacked by her house, but imagine if we broke it out here?"
Hermione gave an anxious 'hmm', looking around at the forest around them. "I wish I had some texts on the Fidelius Charm." She gave a frustrated sigh. "I should have thought about it earlier."
"Hindsight is a wonderful thing," Harry told her, running his hand down her back, making her look up at him. "Don't forget that we know how to make Portkeys now. We can get out of trouble in a pinch, as demonstrated earlier by yours truly."
"Hmm… that reminds me. We should make some new ones." She rubbed Harry on the back in the same gesture. "I think I'm done reading for the day and it's getting dark. Do you want to make a start on dinner or shall I?"
"I can do it," Harry said at once, making her smile. "I've been thinking about what to make." Hermione raised her eyebrow at him. "What? I needed something to think about."
"Go on then, dazzle me with your culinary skills."
"I only aim to please."
Arm-in-arm, the new couple returned to their retreat. Sliding through the flap, Harry gave a sigh of appreciation at the immediate warmth. Harry took a moment to admire the place that they now called home. The smell of cats that had clung to the furniture had diminished after his rigorous cleaning spell on the night Ron had left. The small sitting area, with the squishy seats and coffee table, was kept warm by the bluebell flames flickering away in the glass bowl that Hermione had transfigured and placed upon the coffee table. Beside it was Hermione's peach-coloured mug and her notepad, left there while she went to speak to Harry.
Hermione went to clear up her research while Harry headed to the sleeping area. Bedroom. He corrected himself. It was their bedroom now. Not a shared dormitory for three. He slid inside, smiling at the double bed he had cobbled together. He had been curious why the bunk beds that they had used during the Quidditch World Cup were missing, but the camp beds weren't that uncomfortable, not when Hermione was as good as she was at transfiguration. The thin canvas had soon been enchanted to be soft and plump, rather comfortable when snug in a sleeping bag and under a layer of blankets.
He tugged some layers off, leaving him with just the one jumper and shirt. He returned to their sitting area. Living room. He told himself. It was more of a living room now they spent most of their time in it.
"Are you going to tell me what you're planning on making or is it going to be a surprise?"
He smiled at the question. "Do you want it to be a surprise?"
Hermione intercepted him on the way to the kitchen. "Yes." She kissed him, a light dusting of her lips over his. It was the first kiss in hours and Harry's heart jumped at the contact. "While you work your magic in the kitchen, I'm going to have a shower."
"Hmm… alright, but when you come out, no peeking."
"And you, Mr Potter, no peeking as well," she warned, sashaying up to him.
Harry choked out a shocked laugh. "I'm not a pervert!"
"Good." She turned and left him desperately trying to not imagine what he would see if he did peek through the door while Hermione was getting into the shower. His face was rather red when he dragged himself into the kitchen, his mind elsewhere and in a different room entirely. He heard Hermione slide into the bathroom, shutting the door and, he suspected, locking it too.
Harry took stock in the kitchen and got to work. He poked his wand over his ear in the way Luna did, keeping it in reach. Sleeves rolled up, hands washed, he fetched his ingredients from the cupboards and laid them out. The shrill sound of his Aunt's voice reverberated in his head, but he needed to summon up those memories so he could remember how to cook. Harry set about chopping the onion. He would have added mushrooms had Hermione not the most fierce and unnecessary hatred towards them. Instead, he stuck to the basics. He crushed a clove of garlic and set it hissing in the oil, scooping the diced onion and adding it to the pan. The wonderful aroma of frying onions and garlic washed over him, causing him to wear a satisfied smile. He boiled some water for the spaghetti and salted the water.
"Always add salt to the water. How many times do I have to remind you?"
"You… you never said."
"Are you calling me a liar, boy?"
Harry winced at the memory. The mince was now frying off, adding to the savoury aromas of the meal. Next, he used his wand to open a tin of chopped tomatoes, adding it to his pan. The sizzle pitched up as the moisture returned to the pan. He was cooking from a different perspective to his memories, standing tall over the counter instead of struggling to reach. Harry adjusted the heat, setting it to simmer as he went to find the herbs.
The bathroom door clicked open. Harry glanced over his shoulder, his eyes going wide when he saw Hermione's back to him as she headed to the bedroom. A towel was wrapped around her head like Quirrell's turban, the rest of her clad only in another towel, tucked around her slender form, covering her torso and her hips. Her shoulders were bare. He could see her shoulder blades, the bumps of her spine. Then his gaze ran down to her legs, the shape of her thighs and calves. So perfect, so feminine…
Then she was gone, stepping into the bedroom. Harry could hear the water bubbling and boiling behind him. His blood was going the same way. He slowly turned back to his cooking, his mouth dry. He stared at the pot of dried herbs in his hand, mind blank.
The water boiled over, hissing angrily as it spilled on the cooker. The sound snapped Harry out of it.
Bolognese. Spaghetti. Herbs. Taste the sauce. Add legs… legs?
No! Not legs. Seasoning!
Harry was back at work, his face red and flustered, his balls and his brain fighting for dominance as he continued. The pasta was at least in the pot now. He added the herbs to the sauce and then fetched a spoon so he could check it for flavour.
He heard Hermione's return but this time he didn't turn around. Legs or no legs, he was not going to mess up his bolognese!
"I think I know what you're making," Hermione said, her voice a little husky, "a cheeky little Italian number, perhaps?"
"No guessing!"
Hermione's chuckle was delightful. Almost sensual. He could tell that she was at the entrance to the kitchen. He could even smell her soap, that soothing camomile and cinnamon spice. He bent over his sauce, tasting it, and went to fetch the salt and pepper. He paused, turning then, seeing Hermione leaning against the doorframe, her back to him. He smiled, continuing to work, pleased that she was playing along. He noticed, with a little disappointment, that she had changed into a pair of jeans and one of her fleeces. Her hair was loose and wet, falling in tight curls, darker than usual while damp.
"Take a seat. Dinner will be served in a few minutes." He said. Hermione harrumphed and headed back into the living room. Harry turned back to his work, smiling to himself. He tasted his sauce, rather pleased with himself. It wasn't half bad. Even Vernon wouldn't be able to insult it. He added some of the pasta water to thicken and add flavour, then strained it off. Steam billowed over head, misting up his glasses. He backed up, letting them clear, then fetched plates and cutlery. He plated up their meals, realising that he had made far too much. He was used to cooking for people with monstrous appetites after all. He put the leftovers in the pot, covering it with the lid. Then he picked up their plates and carried them into the living room.
Once he put the plate down in front of Hermione, she gave a little laugh.
"Another classic dish from Mr Harry Potter, " she said cheerfully, "spag bol."
He put his plate down at his space and then went to get the condiments and cutlery. Returning with forks, spoons and a bowl of cheese, he stooped down and kissed Hermione on the cheek. He set down his burdens.
"Something to drink?"
"Do you have a wine list?" she asked, making him laugh.
"I do but sadly it's blank. We only have water, milk, tea and hot chocolate."
"I think I will settle with the water."
"Excellent choice, madame." He wore a goofy smile as he returned to the kitchen to fetch them some glasses. He filled them with his wand as he returned.
"Harry, this looks delicious."
When he sat down, he gave a wry chuckle. "Looks can be deceiving." Harry said as he picked up his fork. Hermione copied him and tucked in. As she ate, her eyes lit up.
"It's really good! Compliments to the chef."
Harry added cheese to his and smiled, digging into his own portion. They were mostly quiet as they ate. As per usual, Harry ate at the speed of sound. He ate faster when it was his handiwork as he was subconsciously expecting a meaty hand to whisk the plate away from him when it was decided that he didn't deserve to eat any more of his own food. He ate everything on his plate and was debating seconds. His spell work had left him rather ravenous.
Once they were both done, Hermione cleared the table. Harry stood to help, but she firmly shook her head at him.
"No, you don't. We share the jobs, remember." She smiled at him. "We're a modern couple."
Harry barked out a laugh, deeply amused that she still remembered that slip up. He slid off his seat, taking his glass of water with him and followed her to the kitchen regardless. He lingered in the doorway, watching her using magic to clean the dishes and vanish the mess. He still found it hard to remember that there were spells to make life easier.
"Do you want to keep the leftovers?" She asked him, knowing that he had followed her. He sipped at his water, then lowered it.
"Why not? Bolognese for breakfast."
"I was thinking more for lunch." Hermione glanced over her shoulder. She cast a stasis charm over the pot and moved it to their cooling cupboard that was kept at a chilly temperature thanks to Hermione's skill at charms.
"What's the time?" Hermione asked him as she finished cleaning up the utensils and tools Harry had used. He checked his watch.
"Half seven," he reported. "A while before hot chocolate hour."
"I'm sure you can cope," Hermione said. "I think I'll check the charms outside once I'm done here."
"Alright," Harry jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "I'm going to sit down and let my dinner go down."
He turned from Hermione, wearing a small frown as he contemplated how to occupy his time until it was nine o'clock and they would sit together with their hot drinks before going to bed. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he headed over to find something to read.
He didn't get far. Two steps and he was stumbling. Horrific pain lanced through his head. It was joined with an intense crack of murderous rage that burned in his gut, so intense that he was doubling over. It wasn't his emotion.
"Her- Hermione, my scar…" He managed to force out before his scar burned so fiercely and he was gone from the warm, homely tent, lost in a vortex of uncontrollable anger and hatred.
He was in an opulent dining hall with a resplendent fireplace, adorned with carved serpents in black marble. The fire crackled away. Before him, on his knees, was a crumpled, trembling form, shivering from the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse.
"Your usefulness to me is fast diminishing, Avery, if a lone, teenaged wizard is too much for you."
"M-my Lord, he wasn't alone. There was someone with him. A girl." The man's pale face was swimming in Harry's vision as he was caught drifting between his own mind and that of Voldemort's. He could feel hands on his face, while he was also gripping a pale wand, angling it downwards to press against the miserable Death Eater's sweat-sheened forehead.
" Harry, focus on me… close your mind… "
"Show me your failure, Avery. Legilimens ." There was utter disorientation as Harry was now caught in three minds. The third was pure chaos, memories fluttering and flashing like a film reel spinning through scenes at a high speed. The confusion settled.
The blackened ruin loomed ominously as the black-haired teenaged boy backed away from him, his wand cocked in a defensive stance, his form tense and alert.
"I wouldn't be so cocky boy, your race is run." He said, keeping his wand trained between the boy's eyes. Up close, he could see the famous scar as his fringe ruffled in the breeze. One of the idiots with him demanded Potter drop his wand and he responded with an eyeroll. He was confident, snarky… irritating.
"Why d'you show yourself?" The other idiot asked. Potter grinned.
"So you can go back to Voldemort and tell him that I came back to the spot where I blew him up as a baby."
Harry's mind burned with utter fury. How dare that boy…? He inwardly seethed, barely in control as he dug deeper into Avery's mind. He observed the duel that then transpired. It was clear that the boy had improved in skill. Then there was his accomplice, a female judging from the voice that called out the disarming charm that caught Avery unaware. He could see the distortion. The girl was disillusioned.
The boy cracked a cocky grin. "Oh, I forgot to say, I'm not alone." He flicked out a white handkerchief from his sleeve in a bizarre gesture and his brilliant green eyes fixed on Avery.
"It's nice to see you again, Avery. Been a while."
Just as the idiot recruit went to curse the boy, he was gone, tugged away by the unmistakable sound of a portkey. Not long after, there was a second rush as his accomplice disappeared with him.
Harry let loose a scream of rage. Again, the boy evaded capture. Again, he slipped out from his carefully planned trap of a Taboo curse designed to ensnare those bold enough to dare utter his name. And the boy had mastered an infallible escape plan of an emergency portkey. Likely he had lured Avery into cornering him, tricking him into an ambush.
When did the boy become competent? And who was the girl with him?
" Harry, come back to me… come back…"
The girl… the voice…
Harry's scar burned unnaturally hot as if it was being branded onto his forehead. He wasn't there, in that dining hall. He was sitting on the floor, sweaty, cold… warm hands were stroking his face. His eyes fluttered open and he saw her. Harry took her in, searching every detail about her.
Hermione…
The pain in his head ebbed away.
"I'm here…"
Harry gasped in a breath, and then followed it with a long exhale, quelling his nausea. He screwed his eyes shut, realising only then that he didn't have his glasses on. He sat back on his rear, his back colliding against one of the chairs.
"That… wasn't very pleasant," Harry remarked, "and before you… you say it, I agree. I need to learn occlumency."
Hermione helped him stand, guiding him to sit down in the more comfortable chair. Harry was still shaking.
" Accio glass ," Hermione summoned a vessel to her and she caught it as it zoomed towards her from the kitchen. " Aguamenti… here." She pressed the glass of water into his hands and he gratefully gulped it down, eager.
"It… it's not been that bad… not for a while," he said. Hermione was kneeling beside him, rubbing his back in comforting circles. His scar gave another jab. Harry gasped and put the glass down, reaching for Hermione's hand. He focused on the touch of her skin, the rubs of her hand as she soothed him, the warm feeling in his chest. It greatly helped, so much so that the horrible alien rage was dwindling and fading, taking the pain with it. He let out a relieved sigh. He looked across at her.
"Thank you… this is… actually really helping," he told her.
"Good… we really should look into helping you block it when it gets like that. It was… awful seeing you like that."
Hermione looked pale. He felt a surge of guilt at having made her so worried. "I'm sorry."
"Don't… don't apologise." Hermione let go of his hand and brought it up to his face, brushing his fringe back. "It looks better now. When you were… under," Harry grimaced at the thought of him being 'under' as if he had been truly possessed, "it was bright red and angry looking."
The touch of her fingers on his forehead was very pleasant. He opened his eyes, focusing on her.
"What happened? I… I sort of blackout when I go… under."
Hermione's lip trembled a little, her eyes hollowing, horrified. "You collapsed after you warned me… your eyes rolled back and you… you couldn't hear me," her voice pitched up, her eyes growing wet, "then you started to come out of it and I sat you up. That… was when you came to. How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?"
"No, but a bit woozy though," Harry told her, "I'll be fine after a bit of rest."
Hermione leaned forwards and kissed him on the forehead, over his scar. Harry shivered at the contact, the skin still stinging, sensitive.
"I'm going to check the charms outside, just to be sure."
Harry looked up as she stood, moving to leave. He didn't want her to go. The need for her closeness took him by surprise. She caught his look and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.
"I won't be far." She assured him. "Get some rest."
The combination of having a stomach full of food and the mental exhaustion left Harry very sleepy. Before long, he was napping, unaware that Hermione had fetched a blanket and tucked it around him while she went to add more charms around their tent. Soon, he was curled up in a ball under the blanket, his head tucked in the corner, squashed up against the cushions. When he heard the soft scrape of the tent flap being drawn back, his eyes snapped open and he gave a soft moan.
Sleepily, he uncoiled from his cosy ball, rolling to see where Hermione was. He could just make her out in his poor vision. Frowning, he fished for his glasses.
"How long was I asleep?" He asked as he returned his glasses to his face, his vision immediately clearing. Hermione was dressed in her coat, her face flushed from the cold. She headed over to him at once, smiling.
"About an hour. You woke up in time for hot chocolate," she assured him, "I wasn't going to have mine without you."
He hummed in appreciation and then saw the quilted blanket that was half falling off him. Harry pulled it up around him properly, keen to keep warm. Hermione reached him and kissed him on the cheek, making his face flame at once.
"It's stunning outside," she said to him in a hushed voice, "it's so clear. It's a shame it's so cold outside otherwise I'd suggest we have our hot chocolate out there and… well… look at the stars." Harry noticed the pink in her cheeks wasn't just from the cold. She flushed at the romantic suggestion that they stargaze together. His lips curled up in a slightly bashful smile, immediately liking the idea of cuddling up together under the stars.
"If we wrap up warm, I don't see why we can't," Harry said, indicating his blanket by squirming underneath his warm cocoon. Hermione's smile broadened as she understood what he meant.
"I can cast some more flames."
"A few warming charms wouldn't go amiss either," Harry added. "We could make something comfortable to lay on as well."
"Lay on?" Hermione asked, her eyes sparkling.
"Well, yeah. You usually stargaze on your back." Harry felt his face now flush as he thought immediately about what else can be done on your back.
"Hmm… that is true." Hermione held out her hand for him to help him out of the chair. He took it, standing, feeling refreshed from his short nap. He was invigorated at the prospect of being close to Hermione and sharing their warmth. "If you sort out the hot chocolate, I'll set up outside."
Harry grinned. "Deal." He stepped up to her and pressed his lips to hers. She started back, a little surprised by his impulsive kiss. He drew back. "That's for coming up with the best ideas." Hermione hummed in response, wrapping her arm around his back and drawing him close.
"I am rather brilliant."
"That you are," Harry agreed. He wiggled out of her grip and went to make their routine hot beverages. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing her watching him, not watching his face but…
Did Hermione just look at my butt?
Bemused, Harry went to the kitchen while Hermione headed to the bedroom to grab herself a blanket. He whisked out his wand, filling the kettle before putting it on the stove to boil. He absently rubbed at his forehead. It was fizzing oddly in the way it did when the connection opened, leaving him with the odd spark of pain. His mouth set in a grim line as he recalled what he had seen. It was only a matter of time until Avery gave his report. He should have known that Voldemort's reaction would reach him, just as it had done when the ambush in London had failed.
It proved Bathilda's theory of the Taboo curse, however. Harry told himself, recalling Voldemort's thoughts that had appeared in his mind as if they were his own. The connection had been incredibly strong this time around, and then there had been the legimency that he witnessed. The clarity of those memories… was that really what a legilimens witnessed when breaking into a mind? It had been strange seeing himself and hearing himself. He had no idea that was what he sounded like. He blushed a little.
I sounded like a jerk!
That had been the point. To rile up his quarry so they would fall for the bait. Even so, he felt a little embarrassed at coming across as so cocky.
He heard Hermione walking through the living room behind him, carrying blankets in her arms as she headed outside to prepare their space outside. He smiled to himself as he made their drinks, his heart racing a little at the prospect of getting intimate again.
Drinks prepared, Harry went to grab his shoes and a coat. He pulled them on and took up their mugs, Hermione's peach-coloured one and the stripey blue mug that he liked. He headed outside, bracing himself to find what magical marvel Hermione had hatched to create a comfortable outside space for them to admire the stars from. He stepped through the flap and immediately drew in a sharp gasp of awe. First, his wonder was for the spangled sky that was sparkling with stars while the forest was shadowed below in peaceful quiet, nature's chatter quelled under the night's sky. His awe grew as he took in the deep blue flames that flicked within their glasses, placed around a spread of blankets that had been laid out over the forest bed where they had cuddled after they made their daring escape.
Hermione was kneeling on the blankets, her wand waving as she cast more charms, her magic, as always, a treat to witness, as the blankets grew plumper and squisher like duvets. She heard him approach.
"We might need some extra light. These flames are more for warmth," she told him as he approached. He looked around for somewhere to put the drinks.
"Great, the one time we actually need the deluminator…"
Hermione chuckled. "I know. Um… here, Harry. Put them over here." She said, going to transfigure a hard surface to act as a table. A stone in the undergrowth turned into a marble slab. He stooped down, putting them on the slab.
"Nice one…so…" He looked down at her, noticing that she had taken her shoes off. He went to do the same and then shuffled over to her, dropping down to his knees, then he sprawled out dramatically, making Hermione laugh.
"Go ahead, make yourself comfortable," she said dryly. Harry grinned, laying back, filling his sight with stars. Hermione then leaned over him, blocking his view, her curls falling over his face.
"Like what you see?"
"Very much so." He said back. His breath misted in front of him and he shivered a little as he grew aware of the chill. The flames helped a little, but it was still cold. He sat up, looking for a blanket. Hermione picked up immediately what he was after and grabbed the quilt that she had transfigured for them both to cuddle under. Harry grinned again and lay back, Hermione joining him, bringing the blanket over them both. She sighed as she lay back, her hand crawling towards his to take it.
"How's your head?" Hermione asked him softly. He turned his face from the sky, looking across at her shadowed face. He could just about make out her features in the deep blue light that was flicking from her flames around them.
"It's fine. Vold- you-know-who must have calmed down from his temper tantrum," Harry reported. Hermione gave a soft snort in response to the thought of Voldemort having a tantrum like a petulant child.
"Hmm… we have to think of something else to call him other than you-know-who . I know you hate calling him that."
"I do."
Hermione rolled onto her side, considering. He could see her face scrunching up as she employed some quick thinking.
"We should call him Tom." She said. "Rather calls out his hypocrisy, doesn't it? Calling him by the name he was given from his muggle father." Harry smiled at the way her mind worked.
"Dumbledore always said that it's right to use the proper names for things," Harry said. At the mention of the old headteacher, he felt a stirring of unresolved anger and disappointment.
"Will… you tell me about what you saw?" Hermione asked him. Harry was a little surprised at the question. All the other times he had lapsed into Voldemort's mind, she had been scared and worried that he was vulnerable to attack, reminding him to close his mind. In fact, she had been far from supportive about it. He was taken back by her change and extremely grateful that she wasn't lecturing him.
"Avery was being punished for failing to capture me and Tom used legilimency to see what happened at Godric's Hollow," Harry said, giving a small smirk when he used the name. "It was bloody weird to see a memory of myself in someone else's head, but… he then saw that I wasn't alone and with you, though he couldn't see you of course."
"They will already know that I'm travelling with you, or have guessed at least." Hermione pointed out. Harry nodded.
"I think it successfully diverted them from Bathilda at least. You were right. It did get their attention," he said, smiling appreciatively. Then he sighed at the thought of the old woman. He gazed skyward, heart warming. "I still find it hard to believe that something went our way for once."
Hermione made a soft sound of agreement and laid back, edging towards him, getting closer. His heart started to race and his fingers played with hers under the blanket where they were holding hands. He let out a breath, taking in the moment. He studied the stars above them, marvelling at how clear it was. The ribbon of the milky way banded across the sky, stars clustered together spectacularly. He fell silent as he took in the constellations, mentally naming the ones he knew from six years of Astronomy classes held at midnight.
As they always did, his eyes soon gravitated to the brightest star in the sky. Sirius. The Dogstar. His chest felt tight as he thought of his Godfather, but he wore a wistful smile as he wondered what Sirius would think if he saw him now, laying with Hermione, enjoying a quiet moment together. As a couple.
About bloody time.
It came to his mind as if spoken by Sirius himself. It made his smile broaden and his heart rate quicken. He looked over to Hermione, then sat up, making her look over. He rolled over, reaching for his mug.
"Do you want yours?" He asked her.
"Yes please."
He took hers from the marble slab and handed it over, seeing her sat up as well, the blanket having fallen from her shoulders. Her hair had dried from her shower earlier, the curls now billowing around her as the breeze disturbed her hair.
"Are you warm enough?"
"It's warmer under the blanket," she replied, giving a shiver as she gripped her mug in her hands. She drank deeply, watching Harry as she did. Harry felt his face warming under her gaze as he drank his as well. The warm, chocolatey liquid was incredibly comforting as it warmed inside out. He lowered his mug, meeting her stare.
"What?"
"I know you peeked."
Harry stared at her, frowning. "I was cooking."
"I heard you stop when I came out of the shower. I know you looked."
Harry's face flamed at being caught out. His mouth fell open and he felt horribly ashamed of himself.
"Bu- but I didn't know you… you would be in only a towel… " he spluttered out. Hermione had to hide behind her mug as she giggled.
"You are a pervert."
"I'm not! I didn't know!" Harry practically squeaked out. "I thought you'd be dressed! Not… not with your legs out… I mean."
"My legs? What about them?" Hermione leaned towards him. Harry choked and looked away, so embarrassed he couldn't answer. "Spit it out, Potter."
"I just was a bit caught off guard, alright. I… well… you're very attractive… and legs are sort of my thing… and well…" Harry knew his voice was floundering as he tried to defend himself. "They are nice." He finished lamely. Hermione giggled again.
"You like my legs?"
"Yes… very… very much so."
"What else?" She asked, voice lower, as she drew closer to him. He gulped as her shoulder pushed against his and she sat right next to him, nearly on his lap. "What else do you like?"
Harry was out of his depth and he knew it. "The way you chew your lip when you're nervous. It's… adorable. And… your eyes." He started to feel warmer as the flame of his embarrassment turned to a fire of a different sort. "They're pale green in the centre."
Hermione drank all her hot chocolate and banished her mug to return back to the transfigured slab.
"Drink up right now." She said in a tone that made the fire in his gut go much lower. He didn't hesitate, gulping down the chocolate and lobbing his mug behind him into the leaves, not caring that it was his favourite mug.
"Take off your jumper and shirt." She said to him. Her voice gave a nervous waver.
"Wh-what? Why?"
"You broke the rules. It's only fair that I get to see my favourite thing if you got to see yours."
Harry felt an immense surge of gratification, his face warming up again.
"Your favourite thing is my chest? "
"Your stomach, actually."
Harry looked down at his stomach, bewildered.
"Really?"
"Yes… now chop chop."
"But it's cold…"
"Then we'll go under the blanket."
Harry fell silent, his heart racing, searching Hermione's shadowed face. She was serious. Harry looked up at the sky, his gaze searching for his Godfather's star in the hope that he could send him some advice for this moment.
Just get on with it. Enjoy the attention for once.
He didn't know if the voice in his head was him egging himself on or him trying to imagine what Sirius would say. Either way, he stuck his wand in his jeans and sighed, steeling his nerves, as he removed his jumper and shirt in one. The cold hit his bare skin immediately and he knocked his glasses askew and he lobbed his clothes in the same direction as his mug.
"Bloody hell, it's cold." He said at once.
Hands were pushing him down onto the squishy blanket under him and Hermione moved on top of him, making his breath whoosh out of him. She drew the blanket over their heads so they were in a makeshift tent. They were both breathing heavily. It was pitch black. Harry could feel Hermione's hair brushing his face from where she was straddling him, his penis now hardening again.
" Lumos ."
Pale silvery light illuminated them both. Harry watched as Hermione's pupils shrunk and he saw the pale feathery green lines in her irises. His hungry gaze took in the beauty spot by her mouth and the irresistible biting of her lip as her gaze drank him in. He had never seen her look like that, not at Ron and certainly not at him. She was admiring him, a misty, lusty look glazing over her. Her eyes met his and she lowered herself over him, her hair falling around him like a soft, fragrant curtain. Her lips pushed against his and he came up for air, breathing in her taste and her scent. His hands shot upwards, diving into her curls, his body tingling all over from the pleasure of her lips upon his. The intimacy of the moment driving his every sense wild.
"It's hot under here."
Harry grinned. "Maybe… you should take your top off too." Hermione didn't smile back. Her eyes faltered a little and her mouth downturned. He felt a lurch as he realised what he had just said. It was much different for her take her top off than it was for him.
Idiot!
"I'm sorry… that was a bit much."
"It's not that…" She said, her face lighting up. "It's… well… you remember the curse that I got hit with in the Department of Mysteries?"
Harry closed his eyes, understanding at once. The curse that Dolohov had hit her with had nearly killed her. Had the Death Eater not been silenced, he likely would have killed her. The same Death Eater tried to use the same curse on Harry but he managed to shield it. It still had been strong enough for him to feel though, like a blunt blade. She had been badly injured by it and had been in the Hospital Wing for a long time. He had never really thought before that it had left a mark and that she would be self-conscious about it.
"I completely understand," he said to her softly. He reached across to her, gently brushing hair from her face. She turned to look at him. "And I want you to know that I find everything about you beautiful, not… your legs or whatever. That was just me being a horny bloke."
That got a soft chuckle out of her.
"Look…if it helps, I'll show you some of mine."
He sat up, wiggling out from under her. He pushed his head up to the blanket staring at Hermione, then he turned, pointing to his right shoulder blade. "Here… I got that one when I was pinned up against the school playground fence and a bit of wire stuck in my shoulder." He pointed to where he knew was a bumpy scar on his shoulder blade. Hermione moved up to him, seeing where he was pointing. Her fingers gently ran over the scar. He shivered, but it wasn't at the cold. The touch on his skin sent a bolt of pleasure through him. He reached across to her brushing her face gently. He then gestured to his left shoulder where there was a red slash.
"That's where the Horntail caught me."
He watched, going still, as Hermione shifted to his left, touching the scar, tracing it. He then waggled his left hand at her.
"You know where I got these from," he tilted his hand in the wandlight, causing the white words to stand out against his skin. I must not tell lies.
"We should have done more than stun her," Hermione said in response. Harry grimly agreed.
He gestured over to his right bicep. "This is where the basilisk fang pierced my arm," he ran his fingers over the old puncture wound. Hermione gave a soft gasp when she saw the round scar. "It's not that bad because of the phoenix tears, but still there." He stared as she shuffled towards him, gazing into his eyes.
"What about this one?" She asked, her fingers trailing down the long thin scar that ran from the inside of his elbow, nearly up to his wrist.
"That's where I was cut in the ritual that brought him back."
Hermione's eyes sparkled a little as tears dewed in her eyes. Harry brought his hands up to her face, brushing the tears away. Then he brought a hand up to his own face, pulling back his fringe.
"This the scar that everyone in the wizarding world knows. The mark of the Boy-Who-Lived," he said, dropping his fringe back down. "I know what it's like to carry scars, even the ones that no one sees."
When she raised her head, her breath huffed over his face. She slowly unzipped her fleece and removed the garment. Harry held his breath, his throat tight.
"It… it's fine. You don't have to…"
"I want to," Hermione said, "I trust you with my life. I can trust you with my body."
He let out his breath and leant towards her, his hands catching her around her soft face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones before he kissed her.
She then unbuttoned her blouse while kissing Harry, her breath huffing out of her. She drew back when she was done and she reached up, taking Harry's hands in hers.
"Show me only what you want me to see. Please, never make yourself uncomfortable for me. I don't want that, alright?" Harry said to her seriously. She met his gaze and nodded, then brought his hands down to her waist, placing them on her bare skin. He held her, breathing deeply at the touch of her soft skin. She then reached up, touching where the horcrux was around her neck, moving it aside.
"This is where Antonin Dolohov nearly killed me with a dark hex," she said softly, nervously. Harry slowly lowered his gaze, desire flooding through him at the sight of her cleavage and her white bra. He respectfully kept his gaze from drinking her in, looking instead at the scar that she was pointing out to him. There, between her breasts and carving down to her belly button, was a pale pink scar. It was thin and looked like it had healed well, but it was clearly a nasty injury. Like she had done with him, he gentle lifted up his fingers and ran them down the scar, then he moved in, placing his lips over her heart. He then carefully kissed the scar tissue, being considerately gentle. Hermione gave a soft moan. He glanced up, seeing the tears sparkling on her face in the wandlight.
"You are beautiful, Hermione," he said to her. Hermione then brought her gaze down to his bare chest.
"And you aren't too bad looking yourself," she said to him.
She brought her arms around his shoulders and crushed her lips against his, her desire burning in her breath as she parted her lips. Harry tasted her and pressed his bare chest up against hers, the horcrux trapped between them. He could feel her breasts, soft and pliant, and he wanted so badly to touch them. He ignored the desperate throbbing in his nether regions and instead enjoyed the pleasure of the heady kiss. Hermione took the lead, her tongue dancing over his, her lips pulling on his. Their breaths were loud in the confined space, the scent of their joint arousal intense.
He drew back when he started to struggle for breath. Sweat was running down his face.
"I think I might be too hot."
Hermione gave a breathy laugh. "I'm so glad you said that. Let's get out from under this." She pulled the blanket off them and they both gasped in relief as the cold night air kissed their sweaty faces.
Harry rolled onto his back. His eyes found the brightest star in the sky once again. He took in a deep breath, enjoying the thrill in his veins. He rolled over going to find his shirt and jumper. He could see Hermione buttoning up her blouse again. Once dressed, he slid back over to Hermione, joining her where she lay on her back, smiling. She extinguished her wand, plunging them back into darkness.
Shifting up to her, he brought his arm around her and held her close to him as they gazed up at the stars, their chests now rising and falling in sync as they calmed down.
"Harry?" Hermione's soft voice broke the silence that had fallen rather comfortably between them. Harry turned his head over to look at her, the outline of her face dim in the blue light. "I… I don't know what this is. I feel so… free. Like this is what I've been searching for this whole time. Having someone who actually respects me for me, everything about me, not just my intelligence."
Harry breathed out a sigh, watching it mist and then dissipate in front of him.
"It doesn't feel right that I should feel this way, now, while we're facing what we're facing. It's us against the world and we're… snogging under the stars." Hermione said, her hand coming up her lips, touching them. Harry extracted his arm from her and brushed hair back from her face, taking her in.
"Maybe that's exactly why we should be feeling this way. This is what it's all about, Hermione," he said, now sobering as he looked at her. "It's what my parents understood when they got married despite the war… what Bill and Fleur understood, hell, even Remus and Tonks… you can't let Tom win and take away our only chance of happiness."
He brought his face over to her, kissing her tenderly, letting his lips linger. He thought about how special Hermione was and how she made him feel. His heart felt bigger than it should, swelling with happiness.
"I don't have many good things in my life, so when one shows up, I want to enjoy every moment of it while I can," he said to her, his voice low. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers.
He breathed deeply and focused on every single of his senses, filling them all with Hermione. He looked at her face in the shadow, at the hints of her that he could see. Her eyelashes, her delicate nose. He brought his hands up, feeling her skin, so soft. He listened to her breathing, the faint whistle of air rushing through her nose. He could smell her soap and the more carnal scent of her sweat and body. The taste of her lingered in his mouth, making his head spin. He savoured it all, locking it in his heart, joining with the other memories that he used for summoning forth a certain silvery stag.
He stared at the woman that he knew was now the constant in his life.
"You remind me that every second is a victory, every moment of life worth living." He told her, his voice hushed. "You make me want to fight for all those seconds so I can spend as many as I can with you…under the stars."
Hermione brought her hands up to his, claiming them.
"Here's to us…" she said quietly and smiled. "Living under the stars."
The pair of them then kissed passionately, thoughts of war, horcruxes, Hallows, Voldemort… Weasleys… all gone as they worshiped each other while the heavens watched on. And a certain dogstar twinkled overhead, almost proudly.
