A/N: I've been a bit concerned about my pacing and that my characters lack nuance. I planned to make this story 12 chapters, outlined each chapter, but maybe I'm expediting it at the expense of telling a good story? Anyway, just sharing thoughts. Hope this chapter addresses some of those concerns. Thanks for the reviews! Super appreciative!

Coming Up…

"What kind of traditions keep you walking around like a zombie, like you're hiding something? Huh?! Y-you're like some kind of rehearsed version of yourself — a shell! Who are you outside of these traditions? Who are you, Harry?"

Pearl Eye

Chapter 4

Infatuation

Hermione couldn't believe what happened yesterday. How could a day be so terrible yet so good?

Harry had awakened something in her that she had never felt before. Even boyfriends she'd been in love with hadn't made her feel what she felt at the mere touch of his hand. Perhaps it was the riskiness of the situation that heightened her emotions, the kind of infatuation that lived on the cusp of fantasy. But it all felt real. It all felt like the beginning of something — even if she didn't know what it was. It terrified her, how quickly and strongly these feelings came — and worse, they were for a married man. How could she be willing to put aside his unavailability to just be near him?

She'd never thought she'd accept being someone's secret. But if this feeling could come from it?

She may have to reconsider.

That evening, Harry and Ginny were entertaining guests. She, Winky and the other elves had been hard at work since the afternoon, making the place sparkle more than it already did. As Winky and her team prepared dinner, Hermione got in the way as usual. Finally, Winky pulled her aside. "You've been doing great. But you can't be in the kitchen until you learn more magic. Now the sitting room needs cleaning. Take care of that all evening. And get out of Winky's way."

Hermione wasn't shocked — she knew she needed far more education before she could hang with the elves. So she went to work cleaning the sitting room, the one that people could actually sit in. As she dusted by hand — she still was learning basic wand work! — Harry entered the room to her surprise.

Hermione stopped what she was doing and said in a shocked tone, "Hey."

"Hey," he gently said. That heat that exploded whenever they were near instantly cracked as if someone had apparated. He cleared his throat and took a step toward the coffee table that separated them. She wished she could flip it so they were closer, but she had to exert self-control, especially since only a day had passed since their beautiful moment. Yeah, this had to be infatuation.

"How are you feeling? Last night was pretty rough."

Hermione let out a long sigh. "Yeah, I'm still processing it, to be honest… but I'm grateful you talked to me after. It really helped."

"Yeah of course. And I filed a report with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They may contact you, but it's your choice how you want to proceed."

She appreciated his sensitivity. "Thank you, Harry."

She saw him relax as his name rolled off her tongue. A comfortable silence fell between them before he walked around the table and took the duster from her with a smirk. "Haven't seen dusting by hand in a long time."

Hermione smirked too, taking the duster back indignantly. "Well, what do you recommend I do without magic?"

"Why don't I show you?"

Hermione's eyes sparkled. Finally, she was getting a lesson from The Great Harry Potter. She whipped her wand from the sheath under her skirt, which shocked Harry before he laughed. "Where did that come from?"

"Hey, with these ridiculous uniforms, where else am I supposed to put it? One of the first lessons I learned is that you should carry your wand everywhere you go, so," she lifted her skirt slightly so he could see her makeshift sheath, "now I can do that even as I cosplay as a maid."

He laughed but his eyes lingered on her exposed thigh. And she didn't rush to pull her skirt down. When she finally did, their eyes met. Hermione licked her lips before saying quietly, "Still don't have regrets about yesterday, do you?"

He stepped closer, and the heat intensified. "None at all."

Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. All she wanted him to do was lean down and kiss her, but he stepped back just as she began to lift her hand to touch his chest. A conflicted look flashed across his face before he took out his own wand, that friendly mask back in place. What was he hiding? Trying not to feel rejected, she bit her lip as she contemplated who this man was. Falling for him so quickly? She knew it was silly, especially when Hermione only knew the persona he showed the world. But the intensity was reciprocal, drawn to each other like magnets. As a married man, though, she understood why he was so desperately trying to keep what was budding between them superficial.

Now, with his mask safely in place, he showed her how to levitate objects and charm them into action. As someone who prioritized her education above most all things, she had little trouble focusing on the magic instead of her burgeoning feelings for a man she barely knew. Quickly, she was able to pick up the charm, and soon enough, she had the broom sweeping the floor and a rag wiping the coffee table. Harry looked back with a grin lighting his face. "Wow, I can't believe you've never done this before. You're as good as a 4th year at Hogwarts."

Hermione beamed proudly, "Really? I feel like I'm not twisting my wrist in the proper motion. I keep doing this," she delicately moved her wand, "instead of this." She again moved her wand delicately.

Harry raised a brow. "Yeah, I didn't see any difference. At all."

She nudged his arm, which made him chuckle. Impressed, he looked around the room, hands on his hips. "Well the place looks immaculate… I mean, not that you had to do much."

Hermione laughed. "Hey, I just do as I'm told. Even when that means cleaning the same room everyday. For what? I don't know. It seems kind of…" She bit her tongue. "Sorry, I really shouldn't say that to you as my employer."

He shrugged. "No, I'm with you. I think it's ridiculous, too. But, you know, traditions…"

She looked down at her feet, biting her tongue once again. That's right, traditions. She decided she had to say what he refused to confront. "I'm probably overstepping my boundaries, but Harry, you talk about traditions like you have no say in what your life looks like. When I met you at the Ministry, people were asking for your autograph! Officials were falling at your feet. What kind of traditions keep you walking around like a zombie, like you're hiding something? Huh?! Y-you're like some kind of rehearsed version of yourself — a shell! Who are you outside of these traditions? Who are you, Harry?"

Silence followed, and she immediately kicked herself. How dare she say he wasn't being himself when she didn't know him.

But then a look crossed his face. It was heavy, like he had been through far too much in his 30 years of life. There was a weariness she had never seen in the month she'd known him. He rubbed the lightening scar on his forehead then ran his hand down his face, as if he hadn't allowed himself to feel this way for years. Hermione felt her heart clench. He was finally letting her see him — and he was a man who seemed to be carrying the world on his shoulders.

She stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, instinctively letting it trail up the back of his neck to rest on his cheek. "Harry, I didn't mean to—"

"Hey," he said quietly, taking her hand and holding it in his. "You're right… You saw right through me. But if you knew the things I've seen, seen who I really am… I'm not sure you'd be standing like this in front of me."

She stepped closer — she didn't want the superficiality. She wanted him to offer himself freely to her. If Hermione was going to explore this, she needed transparency and depth. "Then tell me. Show me who you are and see if I'm still here."

"Am I interrupting this… moment?"

Hermione jumped back and stared at Mrs. Weasley in the doorway. She saw Harry squeeze his eyes shut in frustration before looking at his mother-in-law. "Molly."

She stared in disgust, "Oh, don't stop on my behalf! But hear me, Harry, when I say this. If you're going to have a mistress, don't be so stupid as to fuck the help."

And she left.

Harry's mask was back in place. "Sorry about that," he grumbled. "I'll be sure you won't get in trouble for this."

She knew where this was going as soon as he forced a small smile. "Harry, don't—"

"Hermione," the weariness returned. "Let's just… let's not do this, okay? I don't want you to get caught up in the bullshit going on here."

"Did you not hear me when I—"

"NO!" The bass in his voice startled Hermione, and she took a step back. It wasn't that she was scared, but was hurt that he so abruptly pushed her away. He sighed and held his face down. "We just can't, okay?"

"Okay," she said, but her defiance won. "Okay, but you can't keep living like this. Living a lie isn't sustainable — I just saw it all over your face. If you keep holding it inside, you're going to implode. And you might be surrounded by people, but who wants to be alone?"

She left the living room then and made her way to the kitchen, disappointed in herself for ever falling for a married man.

Boisterous laughter sounded from the sitting room. After the guests finished dinner, they made their way to the living room for firewhiskey and cocktails. The group was mostly Ministry men and their wives, Department heads who probably controlled much of the wizarding world — and perhaps influenced the non-magic world, too. She acted as a bartender for them, making sure everyone's glass was always full.

She caught glances of Harry every now and then. He was slouched slightly in his chair, his glass held to his mouth even when he wasn't drinking, as if he was hiding the darkness etched across his face. Their eyes met on occasion, but Mrs. Weasley always gave her a threatening look. Hermione focused strictly on drinks after that — with so many Ministry officials here, she didn't want to risk her job by casting any lingering glances towards her boss.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, was the only person not drinking. As Hermione sent a drink to a guest with magic, Shacklebolt stood beside her. "Hermione, how's the wizarding world been treating you?"

She smiled at the man — she never got any bad vibes from him, but she couldn't shake the question of whether or not she was a science experiment. She was the first of her kind, she was told. What did that mean for them? Why did she allegedly need to be protected?

"It's going well. I'm still so grateful for this job. And school is amazing, I've learned so much already."

"I noticed how amazing your wand work is already. You're learning quickly."

"Thank you, I want to be as capable as I can. It's bizarre, how late I gained these abilities. So I want to catch up as quickly as I can."

"Well, Harry says you're doing brilliantly. Glad everything's working out."

As he walked back to his seat, Hermione shot an appreciative glance at Harry, but Mrs. Weasley was soon by her side. "I think we have everything in order here. Why don't you take your leave? Get started on this dishes."

Hermione forced a smile, "Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

She didn't dare look at him, even though she felt Harry's eyes following her out of the room.

An hour later, Hermione was exhausted — emotionally and physically. After cleaning the kitchen, Hermione had to clean up the sitting room now that the guests once occupying it had departed. She wandered how many elitist and pretentious parlor events she'd have to work as she walked towards the room until an argument within gained momentum.

"I told you to stay away from her! And my mum walks in on some kind of fucking intimate moment between you two?"

Harry's voice sounded weary, "What do you want from me, Ginny?"

"I want you to love me again!" she shouted.

Hermione heard him stand. And through what must've been gritted teeth, he said, "Don't pretend this was anything more than an arrangement."

A slap rung in the stale air. Then Ginny hissed, "Don't you dare act like this was nothing more than an arrangement."

"Yeah, yeah." Hermione heard his words slur and knew he was drunk. "What'll happen once you're pregnant, hm? What happens to us once you have Harry Potter's heir?"

Ginny let out a wounded noise. "How dare you think I'm some kind of… of gold digger! You know who the Weasleys are! One of the last pureblooded families there is! I don't need you for money. I don't need you for anything! I'm here because I want you." She let out a tired sigh, and Hermione could imagine the tears leaking from her eyes. "I've always wanted you, Harry."

Ginny sniffled. "What happened to us… You'll rob me of the only thing I want, a baby. And for what? Why did everything change?"

Silence stretched for at least a minute, where Hermione imagined all sorts of scenarios unfolding.

Then finally, "Ginny… it's not that black and white. You have to know that, don't you?"

"It's either you love me or you don't! Either you want me or you don't."

"Tell that to your mother. Your father. If it's so fucking simple."

The quiet came again. Then Ginny whispered, "That has nothing to do with me."

"It has EVERYTHING to do with you!" Harry roared. "I fell in love with you! And you lied!"

"Oh, then that tramp walks in here and you forget you fell in love with ME?!"

"This has nothing to do with Hermione!" Harry seemed like he was trying to temper his anger.

"Then where is this coming from? You barely touch me anymore! You barely can even look at me!"

"Our marriage has been this way for years. None of that is new." He sounded tired again.

"But you've never told me any of this! You never told me how unhappy you are! Why are you willing to lose everything over some stupid girl you don't even know!?"

The silence was there again, and Hermione held her breath.

"I don't know," he spit out. His voice gnarled with hate. "Maybe I'm just tired of you. Maybe I want someone who's not so stiff when I fuck her. Hmm? Maybe," Hermione imagined him menacingly approaching her the way venom dripped in his tone, "you make me sick."

Hermione was shocked at the words that came from his mouth. She knew Ginny had to be distraught. Tears pricked her own eyes as she felt empathy for the woman, who seemed in that moment to be a girl. To have the man she loved be so cruel. Hermione could relate on a lesser scale. To hear Harry speak of her like she was nothing more than some kind of sex toy. Her entire fantasy burst into thin air.

She heard Ginny's quick footsteps, her heels clacking against the polished floors as she fled the scene. Then she saw Hermione, and stopped dead in her tracks. But Hermione had already seen her face. The hurt seemed to be permanently stitched, tears streaming down her face. She wiped that look almost immediately as her face contorted into disgust. She got right in Hermione's face and hissed, "I should send you packing for snooping and eavesdropping and acting like a complete whore! You're lucky the Minister has a hard on for you." And, composure back in place, she walked towards the staircase.

Harry followed after her, stopping in front of Hermione, too. The cruelty was still there, and Hermione knew she was seeing the dark part of him steeped in shadow. He leaned in close, and Hermione could smell the firewhiskey on his breath. He brought his lips to her ear, holding the weight of his body by leaning his arm above her head on the wall her back was pressed against. "Still want to see me, Hermione? Still want me to show you the real me?"

Hermione was speechless. This was who he didn't want her to see — didn't want anyone to see. And now she knew why. He leaned back to stare into her face, and his green eyes were like a murky sea. He scoffed and pushed away. "That's what I thought."

And before Hermione could express the words stuck in her throat, he disapparated.

Up Next…

An untold history and the end of a beginning.