God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Reinhold Niebuhr, American theologian
December 22
Harry Apparated the two of them directly into her living room. She saw the room and gasped. The biggest Christmas tree she had ever seen was situated in the corner between her desk and the fireplace. Gaily decorated, complete with presents underneath, caused her to burst out in happy tears.
"It's just what I need," she said and sniffed.
"So these are happy tears?" he asked and she nodded in return. "You're out of that place, just in time for the holidays. I know it's something you're not going to forget, but something to move past, perhaps? I plan to make sure that you're too happy to even think of it. So in the spirit of happy thoughts, perhaps a hot bubble bath is in order?"
She lay back on her bed, taking in the sight and scents of the room. She would never take anything for granted ever again, even the sound of Harry whistling a tune as he prepared her bath. She went to her dresser drawers and ran her hands over all of the soft and sheer things in the top drawer, and took in the fragrance of the body sprays and perfumes on top. She could still smell the lye on her skin that was present in the jail soap. Ugh.
"It's ready, love," he said.
With heated eyes, Harry watched her undress and sink into the hot, fragrant water.
"Perfect," she whispered and laid her head back, savoring the glorious feeling.
He slowly and gently washed her hair (twice, as it was necessary) and lathered her body to the point that both were breathing deeply and gazing at each other with hooded eyes. Wordlessly, she rose from the bin and let him lovingly pat her dry. He chose a lotion from the cupboard and let her see his choice. She nodded and they relaxed on the bed.
"Damn, your back is stiff," he said, applying more pressure to her lower back with his palms.
"Those jail beds are pathetic," she said. "They're not beds really, like camp cots, but worse."
He moved to massage her supple arse globes, causing her to shudder in aroused pleasure. "That makes me forget about my back. Don't stop."
"Your wish is my will," he said with a chuckle and placed a soft kiss on each of her cheeks and massaged vigorously.
Slow strokes moved to brush the lips of her quim, causing her to groan and lift her hips. She had been without a gentle, loving touch for so long that it was overwhelming and wonderful. She suddenly felt his bare skin on hers and looked back at him.
"Turn over," he urged softly.
She did and he massaged lotion on her stomach and neck, saving her breasts for last. She felt his erection on her hip and smiled.
"What are you smiling at?"
"You."
When his hands moved to her breasts, her smile was replaced by a look of concentrated pleasure.
"What are you thinking?" he asked as he kneaded and palmed her breasts.
"I was thinking about how much I love it when you touch me."
"Oh?" he asked and added his lips to the task, flicking a nipple with his tongue. "And this?"
She nodded. "That too."
He moved back and forth from her neck and breasts, not wanting to leave either pleasurable area untouched. She surprised him by gently pushing him on his back and straddling his hips.
"Yes, take it, it's all yours," he said.
She stroked him for a few aggressive strokes before she sank down on him. His back arched and he grasped her hips. She rolled her hips, letting her head fall back, relishing the feeling of taking him in deep with every forward sway of her hips. He sat up, cradling her in his arms, again massaging and suckling her breasts as she bucked and rolled her hips. No words were said, nor were any needed. Her hips rolled faster, her skin slapping against his, her unintelligible cries mixed with her gasps and moans. She shuddered and stiffened, crying out Harry's name and "Yes fuck yes!" as she climaxed, rolling her hips decadently as the waves of pleasure coursed through her. He rolled her on her back and continued. Placing her legs over his arms, he plunged deep, looking down to where their bodies joined and cried out when he felt his own climax approaching. The feel of her legs locked around his hips, her nails raking his back, and her exclamations of passion made him once again feel fortunate that he was a man bringing the ultimate pleasure to his woman.
"Fuck yes," he growled and thrust harder, prompted by her cries to let him know that she was going to come again. The headboard thumped against the wall when he came, plunging as deep as he could with each surge of his release. He was panting, feeling himself going flaccid as she placed feather-light kisses on his chest and neck. He lay down beside her and pulled the bedcovers over them both. She curled into his side, an arm and leg falling over him.
"Thank you, love," she said and was asleep in minutes.
He woke and looked at the clock. 2:45 a.m. He slipped carefully out of bed, dressed quickly, and went back to his home. He called for Crooks and gathered the cat's things.
"Hey there, cat, your mum's back, hope it hasn't been too terrible here," he said when he picked him up.
Crooks gave a meow in answer and butted his chin with his head. Cat and wizard returned to her flat, both returning to the bed.
When the clock read 8:30 a.m. he rested on an elbow and watched a feline alarm clock attempt to wake his mum. Crooks butted her cheek, burrowed through her hair, and commenced to licking her ear. Her nose scrunched in half-awake, half-sleep awareness and she opened her eyes. She sat up and cuddled with the cat, who patiently tolerated her coddling.
"Crooks! My sweet boy!" she said and scratched his favorite place behind the ears. "You know what? I think it's a waffle kind of morning."
"Sounds great," he murmured and started suckling her breasts, "after a bit of rogering," he added and tapped the end of her nose.
She snorted and giggled at his euphemism. She suspected that he picked up many of his euphemisms for sex from Ron. Some were mildly amusing at best, some just plain idiotic at worst.
"A rogering," or "a jolly good rogering."
"Laying hot wand to a witch."
"A bit of all right."
"NEWTS, nicely exhausting witch treatment," one of Ron's originals and the most idiotic.
"Well, it better be a jolly good rogering for me to delay waffles," she teased.
"As opposed to just a bit of rogering?" he asked.
"These aren't just waffles," Harry said and stuffed another bite in his mouth, "ith ot."
He had tried many toppings on her waffles, but spiced apples was his favorite. She piled strawberries and whipped cream on hers.
"Art?" she said.
He nodded and took a large swig of milk. "It's art."
The telephone rang, so she wiped her mouth and left the table to answer.
"So you're a free woman again?"
"So it appears."
"Do you feel like dropping by for lunch, or do you have to get back to work?"
"I'm on holiday, I applied for it weeks ago. Lunch would be nice."
"Noonish then?"
"Noonish it is. Should I bring anything?"
"Just yourself, pumpkin."
"Okay, see you this afternoon. Love you."
"Love you too, say hello to Harry for me."
"How do you know he's here?"
"First off, I hear his enthusiastic eating in the background. Secondly, where else would he be?"
"See you later."
She returned to the table. "I'm going to lunch at my parent's place today."
"Figured as much."
"Coming?"
"No, they should have you all to their selves today."
"Love, that's silly, they're crazy about you. As much as I am, I'd wager."
"Besides that, I have some Christmassy things to do today. Tonight you're mine, however. We have reservations at Aberdeen Steak House, just like I promised."
When he returned to take her to supper, he saw that she was finally smiling freely and the spark was back in her eyes. She babbled happily about Evelyn's latest achievement and laughed about on her dad's latest hobby of interest, which was on-line poker. Love, as Dumbledore often said, was the key to happiness of many souls. For some, it was money. For others, work. For those like Ron, Quidditch. Not for Hermione though. She thrived and was her happiest when surrounded by family and friends, and it showed. He also knew that without a doubt that she was the key to his happiness and he planned to make sure she never doubted it. While they were waiting for their table at the steakhouse, they were interrupted by a friendly voice at their backs.
"My word, is that little Hermione?"
They turned around and saw a couple her parent's age.
"I beg your pardon, but have we met?" she asked.
"Look, Lewis, just as polite as Ian and Gracie," the woman said.
"They raised her well," the man said. "You don't remember me, but I'm a friend of your father's, Lewis Sutton, from university. The last time I saw you, you were about to leave for some boarding school in Scotland."
"Mr. Sutton...the one who almost leaped from Tower Bridge because of a dare?" she asked.
"Of all the things to remember," Mrs. Sutton said.
"Daddy has lots of stories from his school days," Hermione said. "When was the last time you saw him?"
"Hmm...it's been about five years I reckon."
"They had a baby, she turns two in March."
"At their age, my goodness," Mrs. Sutton said.
"Is that a fact? My goodness indeed. Do they still have a surgery over there by Hyde Park?"
"Yes, and they opened a second one in Camberwell."
A hostess appeared. "Sutton, table for two?"
"It's good to see you again, dear, good night to both of you."
"To you as well, sir," Hermione said.
"...and such a nice young lady," Mrs. Lewis was saying as they walked away.
Minutes later they were shown to their own table and they placed their orders.
"I went through my pile of mail and saw the invitation to the Midnight Champagne Supper at the Ministry on Christmas," she said. "I get one every year, but I've never went."
"Lucky you, I get...voluntold every year to attend," he said and thanked the server when he brought their drinks.
"Fancy a date this year?" she asked.
"Are you sure? It's dead boring," he said.
"Yes, so sure that Katie and me are going to buy new gowns tomorrow for said dead boring event," she said.
"Just don't knock over a serving tray of drinks and we'll be fine," he said.
She looked at him curiously.
"Last year, a bloke from the office asked me to take her sister to the supper," he said.
"Oh," she said blandly and took a sip of her drink. She had no interest in any of Harry's past witches. Gee, Hermione, jealous much?
"It's more like uh-oh. She was 18 and one of those people who shouldn't drink. She knocked my glasses from my face the one time we danced, flirted with every wizard that walked by, and knocked a serving tray of champagne from a passing server for her final performance of the evening."
"At least she was entertaining."
"Ha ha. She even had the nerve to tell her brother how awful I was to her. Luckily, he knew me well enough to know that it wasn't true. All I did was stop her from humping the guitar player's leg."
Her laughter was bubbling out when the server brought their steaks.
Diagon Alley, the next day
"They usually have a better selection," Katie said when they left Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "That's what I get for waiting until the last minute."
"In my defense, I just got out of jail," Hermione said wryly. "I have some nice gowns at home, but I want something new, something...fabulous. Harry hasn't had a good time at this event in the past, I want to look good for him."
"Honey, by the way he looks at you, he thinks you would good in a burlap sack," Katie said.
As they approached the second hand robe shop, none other than Milton Crittendon emerged from the shop. He took one look at Hermione and sneered.
"Just ignore him," Katie said and the two crossed the street.
"Well well, if it isn't the pretty little jailbird," he sang and laughed.
"Keep ignoring him," Katie urged. "Let's go The Leaky for a drink, all this shopping has made me thirsty."
At The Leaky Cauldron, Hannah Longbottom greeted them with "Happy Holidays!" and served two Butterbeers.
"That walking piece of shit is like a virus," Hermione said and gulped down her drink. "Look, he's there across the street, pretending to read a paper. He's just waiting for me to leave to start goading me again."
"I know, but think of it this way. You now have more against him when you go back to the Wizengamot for his next trial. You both just got out jail, but apparently hasn't learned his lesson. You walked away and said nothing, but he followed us and taunted you all the way here."
"I see your point," Hermione said and signaled for another drink.
"Well, I do have them from time to time," Katie said.
"You make a wicked stir-fry," Harry said, abandoning the chopsticks for a fork.
She poured duck sauce over her serving. "The shrimp isn't over cooked?"
He picked a shrimp from his noodles and popped it in his mouth. "Nope, perfect. So how did your shopping go today?"
"We ended up going to Muggle London. I'm think I spent too much. Katie knows she did, and something else happened too."
"Is it bad?"
She shrugged. "We ran into Crittendon today."
He grew solemn when she told him what happened.
"Katie's right, he's just digging a deeper hole for himself," she said.
"A hole I'd like to throw him in and fill with dirt," he said.
"Percy said his trial should be next month, so I just have to put up with him until then," she said.
"You shouldn't have to put up with it," he said.
"He's not giving up, he said as much today. He said he'll go to jail with a smile on his face for making my life hell," she said. "All this from a silencing spell at a cemetery."
"Katie's right, he is digging a deeper hole. I'm glad someone was with you today, as a witness."
"Oh! Something good did happen today, apart from a sale at Prada. Ron ventured to The Leaky Cauldron and he stayed to have a drink with us. Before I knew it, there was some flirting going on between Katie and him. There was something different about him, a good different."
Harry frowned. "Katie's a nice girl."
"I know, but don't worry about her. Ron knows that she's a nice girl, but if he fancies a sliver of a chance with her, he needs to realize that she's also a tough woman who doesn't put up with any crap. He's going to have to actually work this time."
