Hi guys!

So, there we go! The M-rating finally applies, a bit. Warnings in this chapter for sexual dreaming (don't worry, Harry is totally sweet about it!)
I didn't think I would be able to post today, but I came through! I initially wanted to post the next scene with this as well, but that takes probably another day or two to write, and I wanted to post something sooner so you could enjoy that earlier :)

(I hope I kind of managed to explain that? Anywayyy)

Again: thank you so, so much for all the lovely support. You guys make my days a lot less bleak in these weird times! I hope dorky Harry will brighten yours in return.

Love,

Flora.

Chapter 4: How Harry was driving himself insane

It didn't take long for them to fall back into their routine. They saw each other every Tuesday and Thursday - Harry's favorite days of the week - and they had fallen back into their banter and keen friendship. It was like Harry had never popped the question; it was like Hermione had never said "yes"; it was like the entire birthday of grandma Eugenia hadn't taken place. It was easier that way, and Harry was incredibly relieved to find that, aside from the casual teasing and Hermione jokingly referring to him as "fiancé" one time during lunch, their bond had been almost unscathed.

Almost. There was one thing Harry hadn't been able to get over. Colorful dreams, that filled his head at night, were proof of that one, persistent thing, and Harry was ashamed to admit that he would sometimes go to bed early, in hopes of lengthening his dreams to their full extent.

That kiss. It was like he had been blind, for 12 long years, and that one kiss had given him his sight back. He now saw Hermione - not like his bookwormish friend, but like a woman, with curves and lips: amazing lips, soft lips, never-ending lips, that tasted of white wine and so much more. His dreams had started out innocently enough, but they had started to develop into territory he had never dared to let his mind wonder. Dreams where Hermione had worn her jumpsuit, and then just the bottom part of it, and then no part of it at all. He dreamed about her naked body on his bed, her back pressed against his chest, while he grazed his lips over her earlobe, her neck, her collarbone. He let his hands wander over her naked frame, dip in between her breasts, cup them softly in his hands, play with her pink nipples. She would sigh against his skin and he would do his best to make her produce little sounds - gasps, moans, giggles. Then his hand would travel south, smoothing the skin against his palm as he went, and finally he would dip his fingers into her wet folds. The way she moved against his chest, while her incredible sounds filled the room, made him absolutely crazy, as he pleased her with his fingers, over and over, until her eyelids fluttered and she came apart in his strong hold.

He awoke flushed, rock-hard, incredibly frustrated and so angry. This was wrong - this was wrong, wrong, wrong, Harry Potter! He knew he had no controls over his dreams, but he was still able to hate his subconscious for torturing him like this. She is your friend, he scowled inwardly, for the umpteenth time. She is your friend, and the fact that you shared a kiss is no excuse for dreaming disgusting things like this. And don't you even dare to think about taking care of that hard-on: that's a cold shower for you, sir!

Harry had expected the dreams to wear off over time, as their interaction as an engaged couple waned, but unfortunately, I did not. It was the middle of November when Harry woke up, cursing and as red as a ripe tomato, thinking about how his perverse mind had made him do that to her again, and the only regret he had felt waking up was not that he had done it, but that he had woken up before he could have made her finish. Eyes shutting forcefully, he tried to block out her softly moaning voice, that was still echoing through his head. 'Harry,' he heard her voice. 'Oh, yes, Harry...'

No, NO. He shook his head, forced him to walk to the bathroom and started to undress. He had accepted that these dreams were a somewhat weekly occurrence right now, but he would not allow him to have these dreams on Tuesdays and Thursdays. No, sir. It was too complicated, too painful - he needed to stop acting like a freaking teenager. So he stepped into the shower, turned on the cold water tap and screamed bloody murder until he felt a little bit less ashamed.

Luckily work took his mind off things. Theodore Nutt - once a scrawny, pathetic Slytherin - had took on the idea that Voldemort's demise had meant there was a vacancy for a "Dark Lord"-position in English society. The past few months he had been recruiting followers: mostly dimwitted idiots, impressionable youngsters, pureblood fanatics and insane zealots. Harry had hunted most of them down by now, and especially the last two categories had been affiliated with Voldemort in some way, so an arrest had been swift and pushing for a sentence had been problemless. Nutt was relentless though, and as he had spent the last 5 years training to be a lot stronger, they hadn't been able to catch him. Harry spent hours and hours tracking his latest move. He loved hunting - it was a lot more thrilling than the camping and hiding he, Hermione and Ron had been doing in their seventh year. Harry loved the rush of adrenaline he felt during his hours spend working in the field.

That morning Harry had been hunting once more in a small town near Glasgow. They hadn't found Nutt, but they had tracked down one of his henchman, a 17-year old boy named Quirinius Lackey. After he and his colleagues had cast an Anti-Disapparition Jinx, Harry had chased Lackey through the town and finally managed to trap him inside a chicken coop. Absolutely pleased with himself, he brought Lackey back to the Ministry and handed him to the Law Deparment at the Auror Office. It was their job to find out what they would charge him with - his work was done.

He was a bit late to lunch, as he saw Hermione tapping her foot and checking her watch, looking anxiously in the hall of the Ministry.

'I'm sorry Hermione,' he blurted, as he came down the hall. 'I was-...'

'Plucking a chicken?' she laughed, picking a feather from his jacket. 'I'd love to hear all about it. It's my turn to choose - what do you say we go to Soho, to get one of those amazing-...'

'Sushi-monster,' Harry teased. 'Alright then, let's go.'

They side-alonged to Soho, installing themselves in their favorite booth quite quickly. They ordered a number of sushi, with of course a dragon roll for Hermione, and waited for their food. Harry explained the tale of his fight with Lackey in great detail, and Hermione had tried to keep up with him, but after a while she seemed to be distracted by her own thoughts. Oh no, Harry thought. Here we go...

'You are moping again,' Harry groaned, as he poured some soy sauce in a tiny cup. 'What is it?'

'I am not-...'

'Don't contradict me, you are. I see you are.'

'Fine,' Hermione finally muttered. 'My parents called me this morning.'

Harry nodded, knowing that Hermione had a muggle phone installed at her office for her parents to contact her when they needed to.

'Are they in trouble?' he asked, worriedly. 'Is there something wrong?'

'Well, not exactly,' Hermione said, biting her lip. 'They were more... surprised than anything, I guess...'

Harry frowned, but did not interrupt her. Hermione sighed and ruffled her hair, making it even more bushy.

'They got an invitation.'

'Right.'

'From grandma.'

Harry raised his eyebrows.

'Oh?'

'And when I say "they", I mean "we". We got an invitation from grandma. The four of us.'

Harry halted. Oh Merlin. He didn't know whether to be excited or horrified.

'For what?' he asked, innocently.

'Her... Christmas Ball,' Hermione hesitated.

'Ah,' Harry replied, trying very hard to keep his cool. 'Big fans of Christmas, your family?'

'Clearly,' Hermione said, irritated. 'We were never invited, but it seems to be a huge thing that we are now. Mom has been waiting years for this to happen. Grandma used to throw these Christmas Balls too when mom was younger, but mom hasn't been invited since they broke off contact.'

'Right, that sounds important then,' Harry said, trying to keep his voice straight. The news sounded more and more exciting. An evening with Hermione, being in her presence, having her close to him... Of course, it would be extremely awkward if this whole fiancé-thing were to be discussed, but aside from that, it meant a good night of fun with his best friend. Sort of like an undercover mission that they had planned together. And I'll keep it strictly platonic, Harry thought to himself. I'll show Ron and my idiot subconscious that there is nothing funny going on.

'You're sure we're allowed to attend? I mean, I know we kind of left an impression with that whole public announcement, but-...'

'The letter was apparently addressed to "Isabelle & Jerome Granger, and soon-to-be Hermione & Harry Potter",' Hermione grunted. 'I am not kidding you. She even put in another note stating that "she couldn't wait to see her favorite grandson-in-law again". What did you do to her, at the party? Did you snog her too?'

Harry chuckled. 'I gave her our present,' he answered. 'You know, that glass swan. You were there, she congratulated us and all, but it wasn't that big of a deal, right? I have no idea why that would leave such a lasting impression...'

'It's probably Aunty Penelope,' Hermione sighed. 'Mom and her have been calling a lot lately and she told me to be prepared for when we meet her again. She's apparently very interested in us.'

She rolled her eyes, then smiled at him sweetly, causing a warm feeling to spread through Harry's limbs.

'Prepare for a cross-examination, then,' Harry said, wisely.

'So it would seem...'

She played with the little candle that was seated in between them, pressing her fingers in the hot wax.

'Look, I know you said that you would accompany me, but... does the offer still stand?'

She looked at him expectantly, half-excited, half-bracing herself for a negative answer. He loved the look on her face and he laughed.

'Of course it does! I promised I'd come, and I never break my promises.'

'Yes! You mean that?' Hermione cheered, as Harry nodded. 'Oh, I am so relieved! I know you wouldn't back down but still, there was that chance, because well, frankly, if you think about it, this whole engagement thing is still absolutely bonkers and-...'

Hermione jabbered on, as Harry watched her with glee. She looked so precious, when she was gushing on like this, it was probably one of his favorite versions of Hermione. He took a gulp of his drink, when the waiter came with the sushi.

'Oh, yum! This looks delicious!'

They battled over the first bit of a roll, clashing their chopsticks, laughing cheekily. With a victorious grin Hermione managed to put the first bit of roll into her mouth, savoring the taste and letting a deep moan escape from her throat.

'Yes,' she said, exaggerating. 'Ohhh, yes, I've been waiting for this moment the entire week!'

Luckily, she didn't notice Harry had dropped his sushi. He tried to hide the redness that steadily crept up on his face, hearing her voice in that very explicit tone. Don't be a creep, Potter, he said sternly to himself. He laughed nervously.

'Me too,' he replied, with a thin voice. 'Absolutely.'

Hermione was wonderfully oblivious the rest of the lunch, but Harry knew that he would probably have another rough night ahead of him.