"Behind Closed Doors" By Kross
A/n: I don't own Harry Potter…I simply enjoy using the characters conjured up J.K. Rowling for my own sweet pleasure.
NOTE: There was some confusion in the last chapter for readers who had not gotten around to reading the fifth and sixth books. Kreacher is a house elf who Harry inherited from the Black family. Because Kreacher belongs to Harry, he has to obey his every command (like Dobby had to obey all of the Malfoys' demands). Additionally, Kreacher hates muggle-born or blood-traitor witches and wizards.
Pairing: Hermione/Ron and Hermione/Mystery man
ADDITIONAL NOTE: Yeah, I'm really dumb. I got so caught up in this story I forgot how tiny a 10-week pregnant belly is. Barely showing, no? Really Hermione just feels like she's "all belly", although she is literally like "no belly at all". Forgive my retard-o-ness.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
His words killed her inside; they were a pain sidled up against her unborn children. She found herself bundled up in a warm blanket, his hands keeping it close to her skin. He'd wrapped her up to keep the cold of the air out, the nip of wind way. She'd been almost like a doll in his arms while he swaddled her, her anger left her limp and almost without care.
He lay her down on the bed, on her side. She relaxed as the side of her face met the pillowcase, a pillow that had become one of her few sources of comfort in the last weeks. She nestled close to him when he spooned her from behind, ignoring her own thoughts of how awkward the situation was. She wanted him to soothe her, to cradle away her fears and feelings of hopelessness.
He tucked her honey-suckle strands of hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. He pulled her even tighter to him with one strong arm, as if she were his stuffed animal.
She felt a strange sensation come to the surface of her skin, a desire for him to let his fingers wander over her cool flesh. She wanted him to map out her freckles like constellations that speckled the night sky.
"How can you love them so much and, yet, have trouble deciding?" She murmured, eyes still closed.
His words stuck in his mouth, almost as if his tongue has frozen and lay flaccid in his mouth. Her words made so much sense and his ears tingled in disgust for his own self.
"Is it because you don't love me?" She asked after a moment of drawn-out silence.
"No," He whispered into the space behind her ear, mouth clouded by tousled strands of her hair. "I do."
Her eyes opened, not out of shock, but of semi-relief. She wanted to hear him whisper "I love you, always." She knew those words wouldn't seep from his pink lips or cool grey eyes. She knew it would only be in her mind that he could make such confessions.
"You love me?" She asked, almost without breath. He grasped her should, wanting her to roll towards him, he wanted their faces to be mirror images.
A smile crept onto his lips, one that showed how silly her question was to him.
"You make me feel like I'm seventeen again," He whispered. "You give me new life, like the fountain of youth. I love you for how you make me feel…but that isn't nearly it. I love your spirit, your wild will and demure, manipulative ways."
She smiled back, yet kept her eyes from meeting his, trying to keep herself from attaching too much sentiment to this moment.
"And I love your freckles." He added, to her slight giggle. "Please don't think me a nasty old man, but your body is…amazing. I don't mean it in a sexual way, although it is nothing but pleasing in that form…" He blushed a tiny bit. "I mean, the way you hold your head up, and the slight dip of your shoulders when you're frustrated…"
He took a deep breath and touched her cheek, forcing their eyes to meet.
"Look at me when I tell you I love you…" He commanded and pleaded to her in the same words. "These children you carry….I am in awe of the way you have created life."
"We have created life." She corrected.
"Dear Lord," He gasped. "How are we to solve this problem of ours?"
"Ours…" She echoed back with a tiny amount of glee and possession.
"I'll need to tell the Headmistress…" He looked off into the distance. "Ron, as well. Oh, and your parents…"
"I think I can handle Ron," She assured him. "And we'll tell my parents together."
"That leaves me with Minerva." He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, one just forming. "What will I tell her?"
"Not the truth," She yelped.
He locked eyes with hers once more, amber and grey reflected off of one another, like pools of sea glass. She reached out and stroked his beard with her knuckles, a sweet show of her affections for her. She didn't think he was a pedophile for their love affair, she saw it for the deeper levels of connections they'd made. She saw the reasoning behind his reaching out to touch her. She saw the love.
"Perhaps," He though aloud. "Perhaps, we should just disappear."
He saw the look her eyes cried out.
"We can't escape this…" She said, words tainted in disappointment. "We can't just hide."
"No, disappear for us. Not to hide our "shame", but to revel in it." He replied sweetly. "We'll marry and honeymoon in the mountains, you could birth our babes surrounded by the arms of Mother Nature."
"Do you mean it?" her words bounded with excitement.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
So I updated sooner than I thought….I got bored, I only had one final today. I'll write again soon…
Meg