A/N: Alrighty then, here's number five. With this chapter, I tried to be really descriptive. So if it's not your thing, sorry in advance. I just found out that my postings on HarryPotterFanFiction got pulled, along with every other non-Harry/Cho and Sirius/Lily story there. So, I hope all my faithful readers can find their way here to . This story is going to be ten chapters long, and I'm almost done with number 8. Hope you're enjoying my little story!
Chapter 5: Paradise Found
The smell of salty sea air permeates every pore. Warm breezes move merrily along, lightly kissing every exposed surface, bringing with it small grains of sand. Wind chimes rattle, playing the seemingly random notes of some unknown melody. Bright sunshine beaming down, shimmering off the glass-like surface of the ocean, the blazing yellow and orange disk gracefully falling towards the edge of the Earth.
Is this paradise? Is this utopia? Or is is something else? Some small slice of heaven? Some picture-book definition of tranquility? If one were to look around, few words or thoughts would truly come to mind. All of them failing to accurately describe the scene before them.
Beautiful? Hardly. Much too mundane of a word. Beautiful describes people, places, things. The word is thrown about like disposable napkins. No, this place is not beautiful. Sure, is has beauty. But beautiful doesn't describe it with the proper tone, nor does it come close to encompassing the feeling.
Awesome? Yes. But the word is overused. What was once awesome: The Roman Coliseum, The Great Wall of China, The Statue of Liberty, is diminished, now depicting the everyday, the ordinary: a surfboard, a movie, a t-shirt. No; awesome has lost its edge, its true meaning.
Try to find one word, failure is certain. Try many words, failure is probable. No word invented nor phrase coined would do justice to this scene, this place. It must be lived, experienced, absorbed into ones soul.
Harry and Hermione were having the time of their lives. They had been in Perth, Australia, for three weeks. The weather had been perfect. Most of the days had been sunny and warm. The two teenagers had never experienced this kind of summer. Sure it was June and Hermione had spent some time abroad, but in the Southern Hemisphere, it was wintertime. But yet the weather was as good or better than the summers in Britain.
Harry had never been to the beach in his life. He had been living each day on this vacation as if it were his last. He took in the sights, sounds, and smells, committing as much as he could to memory. This experience he wanted to remember in detail, so that he could recall them at a moments notice.
Day after day, the young couple walked on the beach hand-in-hand, explored all the touristy areas, and relaxed in general. This was the first time since they had known each other that there was no great need, no great task, no overbearing weight hanging on them. They could just be themselves, be a normal, in love couple.
The time the two had spent together on their vacation had brought them closer together. They were amazed just how harmonious they were without having to worry about Death Eaters or a Dark Lord around every corner. They talked, laughed, and enjoyed each others company immensely.
With no set time-table as to when they would go back, the two of them settled into a routine while inhabiting their vacation home. After waking up and untangling themselves from each other, Harry would start to cook breakfast, usually eggs, bacon and sausage. Hermione would prepare the table, make toast and coffee, and would assist Harry in whatever way she could. They had decided that Harry was the expert in the kitchen between the two of them. After all the time he spent cooking for the Dursley's and spending multiple summers at the Burrow watching Molly Weasley, Harry was quite adapt around the kitchen.
In the afternoon, they would walk on the beach, swim in the ocean, stretch out on the beach and tan, or explore a new area of Perth. Harry particularly enjoyed all of the water sports available. He tried talking Hermione into surfing, but she steadfastly refused. So while he learned to surf, she went for the safer alternative: body boarding. They also enjoyed snorkeling and scuba diving. They were also planning on taking the opportunity to visit the Great Barrier Reef once they found Hermione's parents.
Because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Conquered, Harry was able to procure this wonderful house on the beach. Harry didn't ask for it, he was simply given it by the Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. Being the person he is, Harry tried to refuse, but the Minster was quite emphatic on the issue.
The beach-front house was amazing: A four bedroom, three bathroom house with a jacuzzi and a large back porch capable of hosting a medium-sized barbecue party. The porch was enclosed, and depending on the occasion, the privacy fence could be high enough to make sure no one could observe the happenings on the porch, or low enough to provide spectacular views of the sunset.
Ice rattled against the sides of its glass cage, swishing around in its liquid companion. Side-to-side and all around, the ice is at the beck and call of its sick, demented tormentor. But if these particular ice cubes had feelings, or eyes, or brains, they would feel honored. They would realize that they were in the company of heroes, of champions, of victors over evil. But alas, ice has none of those things; no heart, nor soul. It only serves its purpose: to keep its friend, its faithful liquid companion cold.
The raven-haired young man swirled the last of his iced tea, gazing down into his glass, chiding himself for once again for adding too many ice cubes. It always watered down his drink. 'Never enough sugar, always too much ice. I'll get it right one of these days.' Lifting the orange, flowery decorated glass to his parched lips, he hastily drained it of its liquid. The ice sought its revenge for its unjust incarceration, racing down the side of its enclosure, gravity now its only friend, streaking towards its only means of escape.
'Oh bloody hell!' The young man jerked his head forward, and instinctively threw his body backward. Trying to avoid the icy, sticky mess which had launched itself towards his face, was his only thought. He quickly tipped up his glass up, narrowly avoiding the disaster. As it were, cold, watered-down trickles of iced tea managed its way out of the glass and onto his face, dribbling down his now wet chin.
Without the aid of a shirt, which he had taken off long before walking out onto the porch, he did the only thing a hot-blooded male would do, and that of course is wipe the offending liquid off with his bare arm.
After the nearly catastrophic event that took place, the young man with glorious emerald eyes resumed his comfortable position by leaning against the fence separating the porch from the beach. The old, weather beaten wooden fence was gray from all the water damage it had suffered throughout the years. It retained its structure, and was quite adapt as a leaning post. The boy leaned heavily on said fence, his left elbow resting comfortably, the glass that was once full of iced tea now resting in his right hand, its weight fully supported by the old wooden fence. He looked out over the beach, his eyes wandering, absorbing in sights he had never seen until this wonderful trip.
Lost in splendor of the scenery before him, the hero of the wizarding world was vaguely aware of the strikingly beautiful woman who joined him, wrapping her slender arms around his waist. Without a conscious thought, he lifted his arm off the fence, and wrapped it around the shoulders of the bushy-haired girl now beside him. She rested her head into the crook of shoulder, and let of a heavy sigh. It wasn't the kind of sigh she had weeks prior. That sigh was one of hurt, pain, and sadness. No, this sigh, this was of happiness, joy, and contentment.
After a few minutes, she turned her head to look up at the boy holding her. He made her happy. He made her feel special. He always said the sweetest things to her. He would tell her how beautiful she is, how smart and intelligent she is, how clever and fun she is. Though in her own mind, she was nothing of the sort.
She was plain, ordinary, "vanilla" as they say. She couldn't be beautiful, not with her boring brown hair, which was always a tangled mess, untamable by any normal means. But for some reason, his hands always found their way into it, daring to venture into the jungle of chocolate curls. It was absolute heaven when he would massage her scalp. She definitely had to agree with the adage "seekers have the best hands".
Her smile was nice, but nothing more. But he would tickle her, tease her, or say almost anything just to see her radiant grin. In reality, all he had to do was smile at her, because if he did, she was sure to follow. That was one of the great things about the two of them: If one was smiling, it wouldn't take long for one to mirror the other.
She never thought that her body was something boys would notice. On their long walks on the beach, she would wear her modest two-piece bathing suit, and she would see all the other girls in their racy looking bikinis. She couldn't blame her boyfriend if his eyes wandered around, examining the tan, toned bodies of the other girls. Even her own eyes would drift off, and her mind would race, comparing herself to these beauties on the beach. But to her great surprise, he said he only had eyes for her. He even sheepishly said once the only reason his eyes weren't glued to her body was for two reasons: 1) He didn't want to walk into anybody, and 2) He didn't want to make her think he was gawking at her.
Oh how she loved this boy. Handsome, heroic, athletic, a gentleman. Of course she liked all those things about him. Every witch from ages 14 to 49 wanted to have him for all those reasons. But it wasn't those traits that made her love him. It was because he was modest, shy, and self-deprecating. He was always quick to praise others and downplay his own accomplishments. "Luck," he would say, "I'm just lucky." She knew better though. She knew of his intellect, his sense of right and wrong, his loyalty to all those close to him, his fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants style of planning. Those were the things that attracted Hermione Granger to Harry Potter.
"So, who won, you or the ice?" Hermione asked teasingly, obviously trying to get a rise out of her boyfriend. Harry chuckled at her, turning his head to face her. He shook his head, thinking that his mishap went by unnoticed. Clearly, it hadn't.
"I would call it a draw. The ice is still safely in its glass, I didn't spill any down my chest, so there was no clear victor. A draw," he replied, allowing a small grin to grow across his face. "I can't get anything by you, can I Miss Granger?"
Hermione smiled, and leaned upward and kissed him on the cheek. "Why, Mr. Potter, would you say something like that?" she said while smacking him playfully on the chest with her left hand. "You say that like its a bad thing."
"Yeah yeah yeah, 'brightest witch of her age' and all the rubbish, right?"
"Hey now, I didn't come up with that."
"Yes, you're right, you're naming skills are beyond reproach, Miss Spew."
Hermione gaped at him, her jaw dropped, and smacked him again of the chest, this time with a little more force behind it. After he 'oofed', she retorted. "It's S-P-E-W! Not spew! Honestly Harry! How many times have I..." Harry was now covering his mouth, trying desperately to try and hide his laughter, but he was failing miserably. "Oh you prat! You... ugh!"
"Hermione, come now, who names their organization that horribly?" Harry choked out between fits of laughter. "Spew? I know its S-P-E-W, seeing as I'm one of the founding members. But couldn't you have come up with something a little better?"
"Oh, and I'm sure you're just overflowing with ideas, huh?" she asked sarcastically.
"How about coming up with an acronym that will actually enhance your organization, not detract from it? You want to do something for the house elves. What about, People for the Rights of House Elves?"
"P-R-H-E? That doesn't even make sense."
"It's better than spew. At least is so incomprehensible you'd have to spell it out." Harry said, ignoring Hermione and her rolling eyes. "Ok, what about, um... House Elf Liberation League?"
"H-E-L-L? Hell? Great, perfect Harry," Hermione mockingly replied.
"Ok, you're right on that one." Harry paused for a moment, before a light bulb went over his head. "Hermione, I've got it. House Elf Liberty Protectors. H-E-L-P. Help! Or something along those lines. Help would be a perfect acronym for you."
Hermione had a blank expression on her face, and blinked repeatedly for a few seconds. Clearly, this revelation by the man she loved had thrown her for a loop. She opened her mouth several times to try and say something against this new idea, but nothing came out. She was completely speechless.
"That... that is... bloody brilliant," Hermione finally sputtered out. "H-E-L-P. Help. That's fantastic! I can't believe I didn't think of it myself. You're amazing Harry!" She threw her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly. He put his arms around her, and patted her back. Finally, she let him out her vice grip, and beamed up at him. "We'd have to work on exactly what H-E-L-P stood for, but that's such a wonderful idea."
Harry could only look on in wonder of the love of his life. He could see the gears turning behind her eyes, idea after idea flying around in her mind. This was one of the moments he truly treasured. It was typical Hermione; lost in thought, looking adorable as ever. Her brow furrowed, nose crinkled, lower lip being used a a chew toy, her eyes slightly glazed over. He could never see that look enough. He had seen it hundreds of times in his life. But now, since she was his girlfriend, and his destiny was fulfilled, it took on new meaning.
"Well, I do have my moments, though I do seem to get them a lot more regularly with you around," he said, smiling down at her. She still looked deep in thought, apparently not listening to him.
"Hermione?"
Again, no response. But she did bring her right hand up towards her mouth, where she bit onto the tip of her index finger. Whether it was a conscious movement or not he wasn't sure, but it was off the cuteness scale, that much was for sure. 'Her lip must be getting raw,' he thought to himself as he chuckled.
"Hermione, aliens have landed on the beach and they've asked me if the two of us would like to continue our vacation on Mars, and I said yes. Is that ok?"
After a couple beats, her head snapped up and she finally appeared to come out of her thoughts. "Ya, sure... whatever... wait... what did you say?"
Harry couldn't contain his laughter this time. His hand was covering his mouth in a failed attempt at disguising his reaction to the funniest thing she'd said in the past few days. To hear Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire, perhaps the smartest witch or wizard to be born in the past 50 years, stammering and stuttering was truly a memory to cherish. Her eyes were wide, and a rather confused expression firmly planted on her face, which was priceless to see.
"I said," Harry paused for a moment. There was an internal struggle, a battle ranging inside him. Should he actually repeat the alien comment, or go on to what he wanted to talk about? 'Hmm, decisions, decisions,' he though mischievously. He decided it was best to keep the alien comment to himself. Why risk losing a potential late-night snogging session and instead sleep for a night on the couch? 'Nah, not worth it. It was pretty funny though. I'll have to tell Ron about it.'
"I said," Harry finally continued, "are you ready to see your parents tomorrow?" Harry wondered if he was ready to face the music. He knew it was a big step in their relationship, and the first impression would go along way to determining whether or not the Granger's would accept him and like him.
Her response, while honest, took Harry by surprise. "I don't know Harry," she replied, her eyes suddenly looking down, a sadness emerging in her voice. "They looked so happy yesterday. Did you see them on the beach? They looked like newlyweds again, having fun and not having a care in the world. What will they think when I remove the memory charm? Will they hate me? Would they rather not remember me? What if they don't want to go back to England? What if they don't like you? What..."
Harry's head was spinning. Her words were coming at him like a rampaging hippogriff. His ears were going into sensory overload. His auditory system was coming close to shutting down on its own. He needed to do something, fast. He obviously needed to cut her off, but it would be almost impossible to stop her with the momentum she had attained. He saw only one solution that would work, so he put his hastily made plan into action.
He leaned over and kissed her.
Not hard, not passionately, just enough to occupy her lips and stop her words from flowing out of her mouth. And it wasn't a long kiss either: two, maybe three seconds. Just enough to try and throw her for a loop and get her to slow down so that he might be able to get a word in. However, he only succeeded in changing her topic.
"Harry!" she said, her annoyance clear in her tone. With her anger rising, she continued. "What was that for? I was talking about my parents and you just lean over and kiss me? I was in the middle of speaking and trying to answer your question but how am I am supposed to do that when you kiss me? What are you smirking at? I don't interrupt you with a kiss while you're talking, do I? No, I don't think so! So where do you get off doing it to me? Would you stop smirking! I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you and you can't stop kissing me or smirking at me. Believe it or not, snogging doesn't solve every problem. Why can't..."
Harry was chuckling again, and yes, he was smirking. He didn't think he was that obvious with it, but apparently he was. She certainly hadn't slowed down. In fact, he had only accomplished getting her attention off her parents and instead she was raining down her wrath upon him. Once again, he tried to stop her momentum.
So he kissed her, again.
This time, he pulled her tight against him, and crushed his lips against hers. She tried pulling away initially, but he used his superior strength to hold her there. He tried his best to not hurt her while she was struggling, but he decided that getting through to her was more important at the moment. After a few seconds, she finally gave up trying to get away, and instead let him finish the kiss, which he did... eventually. He let her go, and she seemed to go right back into her rant.
"Harry! What is with you?" she said fiercely. To his amazement, she stopped talking. She was so riled up, she actually wanted him to answer her question, which he was glad to do.
"Hermione, calm down, take a deep breath, relax."
"I will not calm down until you answer me!" she responded angrily while stomping her foot on the porch.
Harry shook his head, hoping he wouldn't have to spend the night on the couch, but he needed to unwind her. "Hermione, I understand that you're nervous about your parents, but you need to calm down. They love you, and I'm sure they'll understand once we explain why. You only wanted to protect them. You knew that there was a good chance that they would be targets. They might be upset at first, but they'll forgive you because they love you. And I'll be with you and I'll be there to support you every single second. You're not alone in this. I'm right here, with you. And I'll always be."
Hermione looked into the eyes of the boy in front of her. Her grief and her worry over her parents had quickly shifted into anger towards her boyfriend. She was mad that he had interrupted her. He had kissed her, trying to get her to stop talking. It was quite rude. But for some reason, it made perfect sense, in a 'Harry' sort of way. She had been ranting, hardly stopping to breathe. Perhaps it was the only way to get her attention. During their time at Hogwarts, he'd always had to wait until she stopped talking to get a word in. Now, all he had to do was kiss her.
As quickly as her anguish over her parents turned to anger towards Harry, her emotions flipped once again. Here she was, one moment scalding him for trying to interfere with her rant, and now her insides were a puddle of goo. He seemed to have a knack for saying just the right thing at the right time. His words, his little rant, brought her back down to Earth.
She had been upset, her fears simmering just under the surface. She was afraid that her parents would hate her for what she did. She was afraid that her father wouldn't like Harry. All those fears and more were there. And yet, with a few simple words, Harry had helped her with her deal with them. He would be there for her, standing by her side, holding her hand if need be.
"Harry, I'm sorry," she sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. He reacted by squeezing her tightly against his chest, thankful his words had gotten through to her. "I'm so scared. I don't know what to do. I want everything to work out, but I don't know if it will. I want them to be ok. I want them to be happy. I want them to like you. I'm just afraid something will go wrong and they'll hate me."
Hermione continued to cry in Harry's arms. He rubbed her back, trying to comfort her, but he knew she didn't need physical reassurance. She needed emotional reassurance, she needed to hear more soothing words, which Harry was more than happy to provide.
"Mione, your parents love you. Everything will work out, I promise. We have each other. We love each other. Sure, your parents might be upset at some things, who wouldn't be? But if anyone will forgive you for what you did, it will be your mum and dad. The love a parent has for a child his unparalleled. Look at my parents, look at the Weasley's. Merlin, look at Mrs. Malfoy. Nothing is going to change that. I promise."
Hermione sniffled as her head was still buried into Harry's shoulder. As she slowly brought her emotions under control, a small smile slowly crept its way onto her face. She realized that he was right. She was overreacting. But no matter what he said, until it was all over, the fears would be there.
"Thank you, for being here. I don't know if I could do this alone," she said as Harry nuzzled her neck.
"You know that you'll never be alone, I will always be here for you. No matter what."
Hermione pulled away and looked up at Harry, and their eyes met. With her arms still around his waist, and his arms around her neck, the couple was locked into this position. The intense gaze continued, each losing themselves into the sea of chocolate and emerald. This was something that happened often between the two of them. They would lovingly stare, getting a glimpse into the other's mind and soul. No words were exchanged, just pure emotion. Thoughts and feelings not easily expressed in words were understood at times like this. Friendship, desire, trust, lust, love. These words try to encompass the feelings, but when they were like this, the true understanding flowed between them; it was wonderful, powerful, nearly overwhelming.
"I love you Harry."
"I love you too, Hermione."
A/N: Ok, five down, five to go. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed. I really appriciate it. A special thanks go out to Seel'vor and old-crow, because they along with chem prof, witowsmp, and mathiasgranger are among my favorite authors here on . Alright, time to go back into my little corner of the world and mash out the rest of my story. Whoo!