The Meaning of Love

Diagon Alley

Winds of Autumn

Her lips haunted him. From the moment she fled the room until, he was sure, he tasted them again and took his fill, her lips would haunt him. Ginny's couldn't compare. Hermione's were soft, pillowy, sweet and addicting and purely innocent. Ginny's were soft, but not as sweet, usually taking control and leading him, leaving him to feel like less than a man. He hadn't meant to kiss her. Merlin knew, he valued their friendship more than making a nervous attempt to further something that he was quite sure wasn't there. But he had kissed her, and there was no way to go back now and change that, even though he wished he could have had more time.

Trudging down the stairs slowly, he almost chickened out, too afraid to face his tiny, pregnant best friend. Maybe she wouldn't want anything to do with him now. Maybe she would be angry about what had happened. He swallowed thickly, running a hand over his face as he stepped into the kitchen.

Hermione was sitting quietly at the table, her gaze directed out the window. Molly hovered around, putting the finishing touches on breakfast. Harry's heart squeezed at the thoughtful, scared look on Hermione's face. He shouldn't have kissed her. Period. End of story. It was wrong, and it was his fault. He was with Ginny. He should have been the stronger part. He had pinned her and initiated the kiss.

Wincing as he made his way to the table to sit, he pulled a few slices of toast toward himself. Harry glanced at Hermione again. She was lost in her own world, her brow furrowed ever so slightly in thought. He'd definately rocked her just as much as he had rocked himself. And all he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms, kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until she melted in his arms and kissed him back. He swallowed, looking away. Not the right thoughts. Not right at all.

"Good morning, Harry!" Molly said cheerfully, setting more food in front of him. "I do hope you two have a good time today. See that Hermione gets some things for herself, will you?"

Harry nodded, offering a smile. "Of course, Molly," he said, finishing his toast. Hermione's food was nearly untouched, and worry spiked through him. "Mione? You should eat something," he said, his brow furrowed with friendly command.

Hermione nodded, picking up her toast and nibbling on it. She felt sick, her stomach rolling and bile rising in her throat. Harry had kissed her, and she had liked it. That tiny kiss could be counted as cheating, especially since she knew Ginny would never understand. Harry had just reacted, had been lost in the darkness of his memories and Hermione had been there to pull him out. Right? She wouldn't let herself believe otherwise. That was the way it had to be.

Finishing her toast, she smiled at Harry. "I'm full. Come on. Lets get an early start," she said, rising and hugging Molly before heading into the living room to floo to Grimmauld Place. They would go there, get an idea of what to do, and then go shopping. It would be a long, complicated process, but Hermione looked forward to it.

Harry stood after her, glancing at the nearly still full plate of food that Hermione had left behind. She was nervous, all right. Just like he was. He didn't want the kiss to change anything, yet it had. Something had happened inside him. Something had blossomed, and kept growing every time he looked into her huge, world-weary eyes. She'd grown up quickly in the past year, and Harry hated the way she was so tense now. He sighed, following her to the fireplace and through it.

Grimmauld was just as they had left it; full of old, dark things and Mrs. Black's screaming portrait on the wall. She woke the instant Hermione's feet touched the floor, and she winced, pressing her hands over her ears. It was a horrible screaching-- worse than Banshees.

"Shut up!" Harry roared as he flooed right behind her. The screaming stopped for a moment and Harry marched around Hermione to jerk the curtain back over her portrait. The screaming stopped now, and Hermione tiptoed toward the kitchen, taking a seat and waiting for Harry to join her. Kreatcher had been given a short vacation, told to go find a way to remove the portrait by Harry so he and Hermione could, basically, destroy the Black House and recreate it into something Harry.

"Gryffindor colors and Quidditch themes," Hermione murmured suddenly. Golds and scarletts; moving players on the walls; Quidditch sets in the kitchen; enchanted snitches, bludgers, quaffles and broomsticks. It was perfect. And bookshelves lining the wall in the study for muggle literature as well as Wizard literature, though the majority of the space would no doubt be taken up by Quidditch books. She was out of her seat, pacing and thinking when Harry came back.

Seeing the delicate brow furrowed in thought, Harry stopped at the door, leaning a shoulder against the jam as he watched her. Her hands had unconciously slid to cup her belly, her hair swirling around her face as she moved in an almost agitated way. Her steps were brisk, efficient, the type of pacing he'd seen her slip into so often at Hogwarts. He smiled slightly, then stood straight and cleared his throat. Bad Harry.

"Do you have an idea?" he asked, giving her one of his grins. Boyish and charming at the same time, yet this one was warmed by something more, something neither of them wanted to delve into at the moment. Hermione stiffened slightly, then smiled back.

"Quidditch and Gryffindor colors," she announced, gesturing, organizing thoughts in her head as she did when she had an epifany and had to analyze everything.

Harry thought a moment, then nodded. They were a perfect combination, both of which he loved dearly and would remind him of Hogwarts, the only other home he'd ever known. "Sounds great. Ready to go shopping?" he asked, watching a slight smile form on her face. She wasn't a shopping fanatic, but every so often, she did enjoy an outing.

Surprisingly, to the both of them, the day turned out joyful with no awkward reminders of the kiss as their barriers melted and they enjoyed the chance to laugh and bask in the sunlight and the sun above them. It was nice to go out, free of the threat of Voldemort, and just enjoy not worrying.

Harry found himself watching Hermione more often as the day wore on, however. He tried to stop, but the happy sparkle in her eyes as she shopped for the new decor in his home was hard to ignore. She was trying her hardest to find the perfect things to make Grimmauld Place a home he wanted to go back to every day, and she took her time studying each piece. Sometimes, she'd decide something would work, and when they got to the counter to pay, she'd change her mind and put it back. But her determination and her careful evaluation of each piece and how they all worked together told Harry how much him being at home in his Godfather's old house meant to her.

Ginny had never offered, had never given a thought to the old place. Somehow, she'd just always assumed that he would buy a new house, and that they'd live happilly ever after. Harry had just never given a second thought to it, because deep inside, he hadn't thought he needed to worry that far ahead. He hadn't believed he would make it that far. But he had. He was still alive, and Voldemort was dead. And Hermione was making it her mission to make his house liveable, and comfortable for him. And that just made him want to gather her tiny body up against his and hold her tight, to fight all the demons and the troubles he knew would come.

The baby she carried was a Malfoy, and Draco and his mother would want it. It wouldn't matter that it was a Mudblood offspring-- it was Lucius' child. It was an heir to the Malfoy name. It would give Narcissa a heart attack to think of a Mudblood and bloodtraitors raising it. They might be able to keep the pregnancy a secret for a little bit, but not for that long. If one of the Death Eaters that had watched hadn't already told Narcissa or Draco.

Quietly, they deposited the house purchases back at one of the rooms in Grimmauld, then flooed back to the Burrow. Hermione had broken down and purchased some baby things, and even some clothes for the upcoming months. She would have to charm her robes when they went back to school, but Harry knew she could do it without too much trouble. He left her in Molly's capable hands when they got back and, having seen Ginny playing Quidditch in the backyard with the others, Harry went to find somewhere to think. He needed the solitude for the moment.

Thoughts of Hermione and Ginny were flooding him, making him almost crazy. He loved Ginny! He did! So, why was his mind betraying him, sneaking in fantasies of Hermione making dinner in their home, a raven haired baby on her hip with his eyes and her smile? It was madness. Sheer, utter madness. Wasn't it?