Un-beta'd, I read it over as best as I could, sorry it took so long! Let's just say the update schedule isn't going so well.
My experience with romantic relationships is a little awkward and frankly hard to look at, so I'm wondering what kind of fuckery I'll end up writing for Hermione and Severus. Forgive me! It won't be a traditional HEA, but there's promise.
Disclaimer: None of the characters or the world created by JK Rowling belongs to me, nor do I make any money off this story.
*****************HP******************
No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Draco Malfoy whenever the blonde was in the vicinity. It really was a distraction he couldn't afford, especially in the Great Hall or the crowded corridors. Animosity for the young Slytherin had certainly died down and Zabini never left him alone, but Harry didn't want to bring any unwarranted attention down on Draco by looking for too long. The Gryffindor found himself dreaming of the Malfoy heir's lean body and soft skin, platinum locks caught up in his fingers, teeth leaving visible marks on lilywhite skin. Harry woke from these dreams almost every night, thankful he had a room to himself as took his own throbbing cock in hand, fantasizing it was Draco's touch. Sleep didn't come easy after these dreams, an ache in Harry's chest keeping him awake, sending him down to the Quidditch pitch in the middle of the night, chasing a snitch until the crack of dawn; though sometimes he found himself crawling into Hermione's bed, Ron not far behind. The rings didn't just tie Harry and Ron to Hermione, it tied them all together; and when one of them needed someone, the other two could feel it.
Late Tuesday afternoon Harry found himself perusing the library shelves, searching for anything on Magical Reality and how to induce it. Unlike Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, Hogwarts had never incorporated Magical Reality into its curriculum, the board of governors believing they should stick to traditional practices. Hermione had reached out to Viktor about the basics of their program, who had then written Harry with everything he was allowed to disclose about Durmstrang's methods. Armed with that information, Harry believed with the right direction it could enhance their Defense Against the Dark Arts program to new heights; challenging Durmstrang and Beauxbatons reign; all the while better serving their own students. Professor Savage hadn't given his thoughts on the idea one way or the other, instead letting Harry run with it and determine if they even had the right equipment for such an undertaking. Harry wondered if it wasn't to simply get him out of Savage's hair, the man had been testier than usual lately; he didn't try to hide how frustrating he found ninety-nine percent of the students.
With a sigh Harry slipped a couple books back on the shelf, keeping one slim tome before leaving the restricted section, shutting the magical gate behind him. At least Hogwarts had upgraded their security in this respect, it was sad how easy Harry had opened the plain metal gate back in first year. The library was empty, students already filling the Great Hall for dinner and Madam Pince closing up her office, ready to leave the for the night. Rounding a shelf Harry paused, eyes locking onto the slim form of Draco Malfoy perusing the shelf in front of him, making notes on a piece of paper as he read the titles silently. The young man's shoulder length locks were tied back in a French braid that looked like it had been coming apart for hours, white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. Harry could see the ink stains on his fingers, long digits gripping a quill carefully as it scratched against the parchment.
Taking a breath Harry closed his eyes, willing himself to actually act normal and not behave like a confounded womanizer.
"Late night?"
Draco's spine stiffened, fingers nearly dropping the quill. Turning, the blonde man recovered his composure almost instantly, face blank, eyebrow quirked.
"No later than yourself."
Harry hmm'd, walking forward. Leaning into Draco's space he peered at the parchment, a list of books, some with checkmarks and others scratched out, notes here and there. Draco leaned away from him just a bit, discomfort obvious in his motions.
"What's this?"
Draco eyed Harry a moment before replying, not expecting the genuine curiosity.
"I'm helping Madame Pince complete the book inventory. Some of them were damaged, and others destroyed or lost. She's trying to determine what needs to be replaced and what can be salvaged."
Harry glanced at the shelves, it was honestly the first time he'd thought about any damage to the library. The whole castle had been damaged but the library had obviously not been a priority for him. He was aware Hermione had helped locate some replacement copies of more obscure books, using less than savory shops such as the one in Knockturn Alley; providing an excuse to shop for herself as well; that was as far as his involvement had gone.
"Looks like you're almost done."
Draco snorted.
"With this section maybe but there's plenty more. The library wasn't exactly first priority; walls and a solid roof were more important."
Harry laughed at the sarcasm, moving out of Draco's personal space and back into his own; what was no doubt a very expensive cologne making his head spin. The blonde's posture visibly softened as Harry pulled away, but the Gryfindor wasn't deterred in the slightest. Draco used to imitate a stone statue when Harry came close, especially after that fuckup of a morning in Gryffindor tower, but he was much more tolerant of Harry invading his space now; almost like he'd accepted Harry as a permanent part of his life; algae on the surface of a rock.
"Very true. Can't have all the new first years seeing Hogwarts in anything but her full glory."
Draco shook his head and turned back toward the shelves, quill once more scratching across the parchment. Harry it seems, was being dismissed.
"Malfoy?"
The blonde didn't stop what he was doing, but the tilt of his head told Harry he was listening.
"Are you free this weekend?"
Harry very nearly laughed out loud at the suspicious and almost shocked look that crossed the other man's face when he whipped around.
"Why?"
Harry shrugged.
"I don't have anything going on, not interested in Hogsmeade, too many people recently. Ron is busy with quidditch and Hermione is barely able to stay awake when not in class, poor girl."
Draco's face relaxed.
"You're friends abandoned you, did they?"
Harry ruffled his shaggy hair, pushing the strands back on his head.
"Not really. Besides, I'd like to spend some time with you."
Draco's grip on his parchment tightened until the paper crinkled in protest. Carefully he smoothed it back out, refusing to look Harry in the face.
"Why?"
Harry sighed, praying he didn't make a mistake, ruin the moment.
"If you haven't noticed, I like you; a lot."
Draco's reply was low, hard to understand with his body half turned away. His shorter bangs had finally slipped out of the braid and fell down the side of his face.
"This game has gone on long enough, don't you think?"
When Harry stepped closer to Draco, this time the other man stepped back avoiding the Gryffindor's outstretched hand.
"I'm not playing, I wouldn't waste your time or mine like that. Let me prove it to you."
Draco's face was unreadable, his normally expressive eyes muted.
"What if I don't like men, let alone you?"
Harry's fingers itched to brush the stray hairs from the Slytherin's cheek.
"Tell me that you don't like me, even a little, and I'll never approach you about it again."
Draco stayed quiet.
"Give me a chance."
The silence in the library stretched between them, thickening until Harry could almost taste it on his tongue.
"Saturday morning, eight o'clock. If you're late, don't bother showing up."
Harry nearly burst with excitement, a grin splitting his face.
"Where should I meet you?"
It was Draco's turn to smile, his lips quirked into a small, mocking tilt.
"Here. We're going to catalog books."
*****************HP******************
Saturday morning quidditch practice came early and crack of dawn found the Gryffindor players running the pitch in full gear. The arena was covered in a low hanging mist making the grass slippery and exposed skin bead with moisture. The snow had been removed from the pitch by Madam Hootch the night before, more for convenience than anything. Ron ran at the back of the pack, keeping his eye on the stragglers, mainly the newer reserve members who were still getting used to practices. After about fifteen minutes he gave a signal that was followed by several whoops as padding was tossed through the air and into stray piles before the players took off. Several shirts joined the pile, and many of the younger years tripped over themselves when Demelza Robins sprinted by in nothing but her leggings and a sweat soaked sports bra; Ron often thought warming charms were a great thing. One of the braver third years took off after her, no doubt hoping to chat her up, but the boy was about to get a rude awakening. Not only was Demelza out of his league, but the young lioness preferred partners with anatomy similar to her own.
When practice ended four and a half hours later, thirty minutes earlier than intended, they were all exhausted, dirty, and ready for lunch. Ron spent lunch with Hermione, joking with the brunette who had slept in that morning; while simultaneously hiding from a certain Slytherin who had been popping up all over the castle like a knut nobody wanted; that was saying something considering Ron saved every knut he could. Harry was spending his morning with Draco Malfoy, and though Ron had trouble wrapping his head around it; he wouldn't begrudge his best friend whatever chance at happiness he could find. Despite the communal belief, Ron wasn't completely ignorant to the things going on around him, especially not after the chaos of the last few years; though he wouldn't argue the fact that he was more than a little emotionally challenged. As long as the blonde didn't hurt Harry, he could learn to live with the other man, if he absolutely had to.
After lunch Ron escorted Hermione back to Gryffindor tower and helped her carry her grading materials to the Transfiguration classroom where she was meeting Professor McGonagall to go over the preparations for O.W.L.S and end of year exams. Hermione was animated as she spoke, genuinely excited at the prospect of 'her' students and the grades they would get. After dropping her off and making nice with Professor McGonagall he took off, back outside and toward the locker rooms. This time when he took to the sky, it was purely recreational, a way to relax and unwind. When he was younger, Ron had always imagined becoming a professional quidditch player but those dreams had gone on the back burner when life had started getting more and more dangerous. It had seemed only logical to become an auror; training and fighting the dark wizards of the time, protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. Now that all the fighting was mostly over, the redhead found he didn't want to become an auror at all. Most of Voldemort's forces had been killed, incarcerated, or even executed; there was no pressing need to fill the auror ranks, not like before. Without that pressure Ron found himself falling back into one of the things he loved most, quidditch.
Both Harry and Hermione had decided to teach for similar reasons, though Harry sometimes didn't seem as sure of his decision as he appeared. Hermione had always loved education and wanted to mold the minds of the younger generations, watch their eyes light up with excitement and a desire to learn; her words not his. Harry had explained his choice a bit differently, he wanted to teach the students how to protect themselves to the best of their ability, not let them count on someone else to come and save them; something the trio had never gotten. Both Gryffindors had sound and honorable reasoning; was it irresponsible of him to just want to play quidditch again, instead of serving the next generation?
Despite Ron's serious train of thought, his relative peace didn't last long.
"Fancy meeting you here Mr. Weasley."
Ron glanced over his shoulder and tried not to grimace or make his confusion any plainer than it already was. Daphne Greengrass stood on one of the highest bleachers, bundled up in a dark green sweater, Slytherin scarf wrapped around her neck and head to cover her ears. Long blonde hair blew lightly in the crisp wind, sunlight reflecting off the long strands. Shaking his head Ron tried to block out the admittedly pretty picture the Greengrass heiress made, smiling at him from several feet below. The imagery was nice and once in a while Ron liked to pretend she approached him because she liked him, not because she had some ulterior motive.
"Ms. Greengrass."
Daphne laughed, the sound light and airy.
"You don't have to stay so far away you know, I don't bite unless asked."
Slowly Ron lowered his broom until his feet touched down on the bench below the blonde, leaving them at perfect height, Ron's face startlingly close to Daphne's. She gave an undignified squeak, body leaning backwards. She would have fallen off the bench if Ron didn't grab her arm, steadying her.
"Was there something you wanted?"
Daphne resisted the urge to rub her arm where Ron's large hand had been moments earlier, she could still feel the heat through her sweater.
"What are you doing today? Besides flying I mean."
Ron shrugged, steeping down another bench and turning away, hoisting his broom over his shoulder.
"Nothing much. Why?"
Ron could hear Daphne's light steps as she came down after him. She let out light pants as she jogged to catch up with his long stride. Reaching out to grab his arm Daphne huffed, her warm breath visible in the cold air.
"Would you slow down? Not all of us are six feet tall."
Ron held back a laugh and slowed his gait. He tried not to think about the fact Daphne still kept a hand to his bicep, walking just slightly behind him like a child being led.
"My sister says the same thing."
Daphne let out a small snort of derision.
"She's shorter than I am."
Ron stopped suddenly, unfazed when Daphne bumped into him. Turning to the Slytherin he let out a breath.
"What do you want Daphne? Why do you keep coming around?"
Daphne held his gaze a moment before looking down and away, pulling her hand back and sliding it into her pocket.
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
Ron's confusion went up a notch, even he knew that was a loaded question.
"I've always been told I'm pretty, my father said any young wizard would be drawn in by my face alone; never mind my bloodline, money, or social stature. You don't seem to be fazed by any of that though, not that I expected you to be. It's frustrating."
Ron sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. Every time he thought he had girls pinned, something like this happened.
"You're beautiful."
Daphne's head popped up, her sharp gaze meeting Ron's, blue eyes nearly glowing in the sunlight.
"You mean it?"
Ron nodded.
The smile that bloomed across the young woman's face nearly stole his breath away, Ron was sure he'd never seen anyone smile so brightly and with such pleasure over such a simple statement.
"No offense, but your bloodline doesn't mean dragon shite to me. I'd still think you're beautiful even if you lost every knut to your name. See you around Daphne."
Turning away from the blonde Ron began heading back toward the castle, trying not to think about the extremely strange conversation he'd just had. Maybe he'd go help Hermione somehow, hell, maybe he'd just nap on the desk until she and McGonagall were done; there was no way was he going to interrupt a possibly awkward library date between Harry and Malfoy.
"Weasley!"
Ron refused to turn around.
"Weasley!"
He was not going to deal with anymore of her special brand of crazy today.
"Weasley!"
What did he do to deserve this?
"Ron!"
Swinging around Ron dropped his broom, tossing his hands up in frustration before yelling back at Daphne who had remained rooted to her spot at least fifty meters away. Her scarf had fallen off her head and long blonde locks blew all around her face. Her smile was still there, her cheeks were red from the wind and Ron was sure her facial muscles would hurt later; he'd never seen her smile before.
"What?!"
"Marry me."
Ron wondered who would have to tell his mother he'd finally gone round the bend.
*****************HP******************
Harry could barely contain his excitement, nothing could bring him down, not even having to crawl out of bed at seven in the morning on a Saturday. After a quick shower and shave, Harry was pulling on clothes that stuck to his still damp skin. He made one measly attempt at taming his hair before shrugging it off; he was really hoping Draco would only muss it up later anyway. Heading down to breakfast Harry nearly ran into Blaise who was exiting the Great Hall. Stopping him Harry started to speak but was cut off by a laugh.
"You're practically bouncing in place."
A sheepish grin slipped over the Gryffindor's face as he rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to alleviate a phantom itch.
"Draco eaten breakfast yet?"
Blaise shook his head.
"If you tell him I said this, I'll kill you; I think he was too nervous to eat this morning."
Harry's suppressed a sudden thrill; nervousness was a good thing, he refused to believe otherwise.
"You got it."
Harry went to step around Blaise, heading back out into the entrance hall but stopped when the Italian laid a hand on his arm.
"Don't lead him on, don't play games with his head; Draco has enough demons to deal with. If you're not looking for something remotely serious, walk away."
Harry paused, struck by how similar this speech was to the one he'd had with Snape; thought he words were different he intent was the same. It hadn't occurred to him he could be facing the same situation, he knew his intentions were completely on the up and up; it spoke to how fragile Draco had actually become that Blaise was stepping out for him like this, it was sobering.
"I'm not looking for a quick fuck, The-Boy-Who-Lived could get that anywhere; I'm in this for as long as he'll have me."
Blaise dropped his hand and gave him a sharp nod, before heading in the direction of the dungeons. Harry took off like shot toward the kitchens, a plan forming in his head as he went. A few choice words to the house-elves had him leaving with a small basket of muffins, a couple bottled pumpkin juices, and a selection of fruit pastries.
Harry made sure to pause outside the library entrance, taking the time to disillusion the basket of goodies he carried; Madam Pince hated food in her library and would ban you at the sight of it. Harry eased around the corner, glad to see the librarian wasn't at her desk though still wary of her reputation; she was known to haunt the stacks like a banshee in a glen.
"Madam Pince had a meeting with a book collector, she'll be gone for hours."
Harry spotted Draco leaning against a nearby table, managing to look pleasingly disheveled in a dark green button down and a pair of skinny black slacks, tucked into a pair of flats soled calf boots. His hair was messily tossed in a braid and hanging over his shoulder, evidence he either had not slept well or overslept; though Harry figured it was the former if Blaise's words were anything to go by.
Lifting the basket Harry dropped the charm and pulled back the cloth napkin covering it.
"I brought breakfast."
Draco pushed away from the table and walked past harry, headed toward Madam Pince's office behind the checkout desk.
"Overslept did you?"
Harry laughed and shook his head.
"Well, I did just a bit but I saw you weren't in the Great Hall and thought you might be hungry."
Draco removed a small key from his pocket and unlocked the office, stepping inside for a moment and coming back with a stack of parchment, closing the door behind him.
"We'll be cataloguing the Charms section this morning."
Harry held out a hand before him, and chuckled when Draco rolled his eyes.
"After you."
Draco eyed him momentarily before striding confidently into the stacks of books. Harry followed, feeling oddly like the wolf even though he carried a basket of goodies.
*****************HP******************
"You're serious."
Ron nodded, red face still pressed into Hermione's pillow. Of course he was serious, why would he joke about something like this? When Harry started laughing Ron's face somehow got warmer, he didn't think it was possible; was it too much to hope he could smother himself?
Finally Ron gave in to the need to breathe and rolled over, bumping into Hermione's outstretched legs. Harry had fallen onto his side and laughed so hard he was crying.
"It's not funny Harry."
Hermione let out a small laugh.
"It is just a little amusing. Reminds me of a certain redhead yelling at a very disturbed veela in fourth year."
Sticking his tongue out at her, Ron ran his hands across his face and into his hair, gripping the red strands tightly.
"Well what did you say?"
Ron refused to look either of them in the face.
"I didn't."
Harry shifted, sitting himself up, attempting to look even remotely serious about this strange situation.
"So what did you do?"
Ron wasn't really sure what had transpired shortly after Daphne's declaration, it was kind of blurry. One moment she was a good distance away, and the next she was in his space, peering up at him quizzically. She had asked him if he was alright, if she'd shocked him, or if she should have asked him differently. Was she being too forward, did he want to ask her? Ron had dazedly mumbled an apology and taken off at a sprint, even forgetting his broom in the aftermath.
"Soooo you just left her there?"
Harry was ready to start laughing again. Hermione knew it was hard on Ron and did her best to suppress any mirth over his situation but it slipped through now and again.
"Why did she ask me that?"
Harry shrugged.
"She has been after you for a bit mate, we knew she wanted something."
Ron rolled his eyes.
"Marriage is a bit much don't you think?"
Hermione reached out and patted Ron on the head, giggling when he swatted her hand away.
"Well Ron, only one thing to do; you're going to have to man up and talk to her."
Ron groaned.
*****************HP******************
Hermione had never really noticed how drafty the dungeons could be, not until she found herself walking through them in regular clothes and hoping nobody would question why she was there; a portion of the chill no doubt stemming from her nervousness. Severus had invited her for dinner and conversation, no doubt something inane to fill the silence and cover the tension that rested between them. They hadn't been alone together since Severus's confessional, though they had spoken in passing and after classes when Hermione and Harry met Ron after potions, waiting for him outside the classroom door. Severus held Ron behind indicating he wanted to speak with her, and Hermione waited until all the students had left before trading places with the redhead. Harry and Ron remained within shouting distance but stayed outside to afford them some privacy. Severus thought it was ridiculous but Hermione hadn't quite recovered enough to trust herself alone with him, let alone the potions's master himself.
"I hope you have a plan for getting out of here unnoticed. It is a Saturday night, students will be coming back late."
Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin, heart in her throat. She temporarily forgot her center of gravity issue, and attempted to turn on the balls of her feet, unbalancing herself in the process. Two hands reached out to steady her and the brunette found herself looking into Blaise's grinning face. Letting out a tense breath, Hermione shuffled to regain her balance, pulling back from the young Slytherin.
"If you don't lose a little of that paranoia you're not going to make it through the next year without a heart attack."
Hermione smiled, swatting Blaise's hands away.
"Thank you."
Blaise smiled, tilting his head and bending himself into a mockery of a partial bow.
"At your service. It's Saturday, students will be breaking curfew left and right. Do you have any idea how you'll get out of here without anyone questioning why you're here in the first place? By tomorrow morning, the whole school will believe your baby-daddy is a Slytherin."
Hermione's eyebrows rose.
"Baby-daddy?"
Blaise shrugged.
"I spend a little time in the muggle world, such great slang they've got. Can you imagine calling him your baby-daddy?"
Hermione chuckled.
"Never. Please find better slang."
Hermione held up her beaded bag and shook it slightly.
"I'm covered, my escape will be seamless. Well, unless I trip over something."
Blaise held up his hands in defeat, before stepping back and turning away.
"I know when I'm not wanted. Have a good night Granger."
Hermione watched him round the corner before continuing onto her destination. Reaching the weeping willow that guarded Severus's chambers she knocked lightly before stepping back to allow room for the portrait to swing open. It didn't take long for Severus to answer, and though his chambers were at the back of the dungeons and past the Slytherin common room, Hermione was still nervous she'd be spotted.
"Hermione."
Hermione stepped around the potion's master and into the sitting area, attention attracted to the scholastic mess that covered his coffee table. Severus had obviously been grading and for a moment Hermione could imagine him lounged on the sofa, feet up on the table, ruining all those papers with his favorite red ink. Severus came up behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him.
"How have you been?"
Hermione turned toward the postion's master, a smile spreading across her face at his pinched concern. They'd spoken briefly the day before after Ron's potions class, and Severus had asked her the same question, in the same concerned tone. The little girl inside her had become more active, inciting fits of Braxton Hicks at the worst times and Hermione could tell it scared him, despite his outward demeanor.
"We've both been well, nothing to worry about."
Severus nodded, motion to the sofa.
"Have a seat. Dinner should be here shortly."
Hermione walked over to the sofa, eyeing the papers spread out. Carefully she picked them up in groups and settled in, glancing at the stack in her hand. Looking up at Severus she held up the papers and tilted her head at him.
"One would think you'd be a little kinder to these poor first years after everything that has happened, but I think you've gotten meaner."
Severus sat across from her, separating them from each other with the placement of the coffee table.
"Despite my behavior Hermione, I'm not mean for the sake of being mean."
Hermione raised her eyebrows in disbelief and Severus let out a dry chuckle.
"Well, not all the time."
An elf appeared before Hermione could respond, carrying a tray of varied foods from dinner. Hermione leaned forward and helped Severus clear off a large section of the table, making sure not to mix the piles of papers. Hermione had nearly lost her mind when Ron had knocked her papers off the desk last month, hormones sending her into a crying fit as the redhead scrambled to gather them together. She didn't think Severus would start crying, but she knew he wouldn't be happy.
Dinner was quiet at first, Hermione was unsure of what to say considering the tension they were both under. The elf left shortly making sure they had everything they needed and the pair were satisfied with their selections.
"I was thinking about child care, since we'll both be in classes."
Severus raised an eyebrow, fork slipping from his lips. Child care was something he'd thought about as well, with no idea how to broach it.
"I talked to Headmistress McGonagall who suggested one of the elves might be interested in the position."
Severus nodded.
"Elves are a good option, especially the ones who reside here; most of them have a love for children I never understood."
Hermione laughed.
"You'll learn."
It was like the dam had broken and conversation soon flowed like water between them. Hermione found herself drifting toward her Apprenticeship, they both seemed to discuss work much easier than their personal lives, even though their personal lives had become forever intertwined.
"Have you thought about a name?"
Hermione raised her head from the first year paper Severus had passed her as he griped about students getting lazier and dumber by the minute; it was a prime example that he'd need more red ink. Setting the parchment aside, she nodded.
"I've been mulling over a few but haven't really been able to narrow it down much."
Silence unfolded between them, a little of the awkwardness returning.
"Do you have any suggestions?"
Severus had shed any sort of formality after they'd become comfortable, leaning back in his armchair. Truth be told he'd not given much thought to names, mostly because he wasn't sure his opinion would be welcome or wanted. Hermione had been open about things over the last few months, sharing with him whenever he asked after the baby but telling her what he wanted to name the child felt too invasive; they weren't quite there yet. He didn't even dare think of inquiring on the child's last name, that was out of the question. Finally he shook his head, choosing to leave the majority of the decision in her hands.
"Let me know if you find something you like."
It took a little while for them to fall into conversation again, inevitably drifting back to school and work, but it was almost warmer this time. Personal thoughts, if not details slipped through, and whether they noticed it or not, the distance between them shrunk a little. The topic soon stretched to books they preferred not only for teaching but their own enjoyment, classical muggle music they both appreciated, and subjects that would be inconsequential to an outsider. Four hours later found Hermione slipping Harry's invisibility cloak over herself and slinking out into the hall outside Severus's rooms, still stunned by how much time had actually gone by. They'd both been smiling by the end, though Severus's appeared tight in a manner that demonstrated how little he used those specific facial muscles.
Moving through the dungeons Hermione hummed to herself satisfied with their progress, she really hoped by the time the baby was born they'd be in a good place to co-parent, if nothing else. The Gryffindor to the walk to the tower slowly and carefully, not wanting to slip or trip on anything, her balance had been terrible lately. Skirting a few Slytherins roaming the dungeons was easy enough, but she kept getting surprised by other students huddled up in corners throughout her journey; more than a few her own housemates. Happy to finally step through the portrait she pulled the invisibility cloak off and headed upstairs, ready to crawl in bed and sleep in. The trio had planned a lazy day for Sunday, eating, talking, laughing, and napping somewhere in there.
Opening the door to her room Hermione wasn't surprised to see Harry and Ron curled up on her bed; the redhead snoring while the-boy-who-lived was barely awake himself.
"You're back."
Hermione nodded, closing the door carefully.
"Still wearing clothes too."
Hermione rolled her eyes in the dim light, a single lamp lit on her bedside table setting of a warm glow.
"Yes I am."
Harry yawned before stretching and slipping form the bed. Dark red pajama bottoms hung low on his hips, bare chest pale enough to nearly glow in the dark.
"Shame that."
Hermione giggled this time, reaching out to tap him on the back of the head as he pulled her into a hug.
"How was dinner?"
Hermione paused, wondering how to answer the question without sounding both scared and boring.
"It was nice. We talked, ate, and compared books. Normal stuff."
Harry snorted into her hair, his amusement evident.
"Setting those sheets on fire huh?"
Hermione pulled away from the hug, pinching the black haired young man's hip as she moved.
"Not all of us are as obsessed with getting a man out of their pants like Harry James Potter."
A retching sound came from the bed; Ron was more awake than he appeared.
"Gross. Stop talking about getting Slytherins naked and come to bed."
Harry chuckled as he helped Hermione out of her leggings, pulling an overly large shirt out of the dresser.
"You have a Slytherin too."
Ron made another noise, long and down out as he pressed his face into the pillow. Hermione excused herself to the bathroom, tiptoeing down the hall and hoping nobody came out of their rooms; she was done with pants for the day. Once she came back Harry helped her into bed, moving in behind her and pulling the blankets up over them all. Hermione snuggled up to Ron, his arm under her head and her face in his chest. After blowing out the candle Harry bracketed her back, pressing his face into her shoulder and laying a hand on her stomach, feeling the slight movements under her skin through the thin material of the shirt.
"Good night boys."
Somewhere at the end of the bed Crookshanks let out a rough yowl, before walking up the bed and wedging himself between Hermione and Ron.
Harry laughed.
