Planting the Seeds.

A few weeks passed, and Harry had started to put his few simple plans into motion. He'd met Hermione for lunch a few times, and each time produced a bouquet of red roses, and paid for the lunch. Harry enjoyed doing this; he knew that Hermione mostly brought in a packed lunch. There was a downside though, the soaring sensation he experienced when they were out together was always quickly crushed when she had to leave. Harry found it hard when she talked of Ron, but again his heart soared when she talked of his minor faults. Nevertheless Harry continued to be friendly, warm and considerate, and it seemed to be working. Hermione had confided in him several times, telling him that Ron sometimes got a little aggressive when drinking.

Hermione's birthday was coming up in a few weeks, so Harry decided to take a little action. He grabbed a piece of parchment, and scribbled a note to Ron.

Ron,

Do you fancy going out for a drink tonight?

Harry

Harry attached the note to his owl, and the graceful bird soared from the open window. Plans formed in Harry's mind. Get Ron drunk, persuade him to go to a strip club, and then take him home to Hermione. It was time to start opening those cracks.

Pigwidgeon zoomed though the window, and Harry quickly untied the note.

Harry,

I'd love to. Leaky at 7pm?

Ron

Harry grinned. This was going to be good.

A few hours later Harry disapparated from the front step of Grimmauld Place, and arrived in a quiet alleyway next to the Leaky Cauldron. He stepped into the pub and was greeted almost immediately by Ron. They sat a table and Tom the barman brought over a couple of beers.

"Thanks, Tom," said Harry, as he reached for his wallet.

"No charge, no charge," exclaimed Tom. "Not for Harry Potter!"

Ron slightly narrowed his eyes, just for a split second, but Harry noticed.

"Yes, yes, yes," said the little voice in Harry's head.

Harry ignored Ron's eye narrowing, and engaged him in conversation. Ron wasn't doing too well at work, and Hermione had been nagging him. Harry listened as they supped their beers, and Harry consoled him. The evening was going very well, Tom kept the beers coming, and kept refusing Harry or Ron's money. Before too long they were both howling with laughter over a long forgotten joke, when Harry decided to move the plans forward a little.

"You wanna get out of here?" asked Harry.

"Sure," said Ron, slurring slightly. "Where to?"

"I know a place," said Harry. "It's really good there."

They stepped outside of the pub, after thanking Tom. Harry gripped Ron's wrist, and they disapparated. They appeared in a dank alleyway, and walked out on to the street. A large pink neon sign above them proclaimed "Girls, Girls, Girls". Ron's face split into a wide grin, as he practically bounded into the club.

"Good, good," said the little voice.

Harry walked up to the bar, and ordered a beer. Ron was already chatting to one of the lap dancers, and Harry smiled. He picked up a flyer from the bar, and asked for a pen from the barman. He scribbled "Michelle" on the flyer, and made up a London phone number, and slipped it into his pocket. Harry glanced over to Ron, who was now receiving his lap dance. He made his way over to the toilets, and once inside a stall, Harry swished his wand, and a small vial of perfume popped into his hand. He smiled again, and slipped the perfume into his pocket.

Harry went back to the bar, where Ron was waiting for him. They chatted and drank five or six more beers, by this point Ron was staggering and slurring.

"I'd better get you back, Ron," said Harry.

"Mione's going... to be... ngry," slurred Ron.

"You have no idea," thought Harry. "It'll be fine, Ron. Don't worry."

Harry guided Ron to the dank alleyway, supporting him as he tottered. He stopped, and slowly slipped his wand out of his pocket. He looked at Ron, and concentrated. Ron would soon forget that Harry had accompanied him to the strip club.

Harry pointed his wand between Ron's eyes. "Obliviate!" he said.

Ron's eyes went blank for a second, and Harry slipped the flyer into Ron's pocket, and splashed the perfume on him. He gripped his wand, and apparated into Hermione and Ron's garden, before tuning on the spot himself, and arriving at Grimmauld Place. The memory charm wasn't especially difficult to pull off; Ron would just have conveniently forgotten that Harry had taken him to the strip club.

Harry climbed the staircase, up to the second floor and into the bathroom. He flicked his wand at the shower, and stepped into the warm water. He washed himself down, and dried himself and pulled on his pyjamas and dressing gown. He slowly walked down the stairs into the sitting room, and settled into his armchair. If he'd planned things properly, he'd be expecting a visitor soon. He wondered who it might be.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and he heard someone coming up the stairs. Harry took a deep breath, and flicked his wand at the sitting room door. Kreacher led Hermione into the room. Harry's heart pulsed and his spirits soared.

"Madam Granger, Master," croaked Kreacher.

"Hermione!" cried Harry. "Are you... alright?"

Hermione's eyes were red and puffy, and she was in her pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers. Her voice was low, and hoarse.

"It's Ron," she paused. "He came back, drunk and stinking of perfume, with some bitches' phone number in his pocket. He'd been to a fucking strip club! We had an awful row and I walked out. I didn't know where else to go..."

"Oh, Hermione." Harry stood and pulled Hermione into a tight embrace. "The spare room is made up, if you like. I'm always here for you, you know that."

Harry breathed in her seductive scent, and it was all he could do not to try and kiss her again. He resisted, and sat her down on the sofa.

"Kreacher!" called Harry. "Coffee, for Madam Granger and I."

"Yes, Master" muttered Kreacher.

"Thank you, Harry. You're so good to me."

Kreacher shortly brought up coffee, and Hermione calmed a little. Harry studied her carefully. Even with red eyes, and in her dressing gown, he found her enchantingly beautiful. He steadied his breathing and spoke.

"I didn't know where he went after I left. We'd just had a quiet drink in the Leaky, and I noticed the time, and said I'd better go. I didn't expect him to go off to another bar."

"I guess we'll talk things over in the morning, Harry," she said. "I'd better go up and try and get some sleep."

Harry nodded, and showed her to the spare room on the third floor.

"If you need anything, Hermione, just shout for me or Kreacher. You know where my room is."

"Thanks again, Harry," she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Goodnight," he whispered.

Harry went down a flight of stairs and entered his bedroom. He hung his gown on a hook on the door, and climbed into bed. He settled down, but could hear faint crying from the room above him. Harry sighed. He regretted hurting Hermione, but it needed to be done. He turned over, and slowly fell asleep.

Harry awoke a few hours later and checked the pocket watch on the bedside table. 9 am. He got up, and pulled his dressing gown on, and made his way to the large ground floor kitchen. Kreacher was stood on a stool, gently frying some bacon. The old elf clicked his fingers, and the bacon soared gently into a lightly buttered roll. He placed a cup of fresh coffee onto a tray, alongside a red rose in a thin vase, and looked up to Harry.

"Kreacher has made breakfast for Madam Granger," he croaked.

"Thank you, Kreacher. I'll take it up to her."

"Yes, Master."

Harry walked slowly up the stairs to the spare room, and quietly opened the door. He lit some candles with a wave of his hand, and felt his breath catch in his chest has he looked at Hermione. She looked so peaceful, and beautiful. She lay on her side, and the skin on her neck looked so soft and smooth and pale. Harry steadied himself and softly called her name. She half opened her eyes, tensed, then relaxed, and slowly sat up. Harry could not fail to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra, and he could see her nipples protruding through the thin fabric of her tank top. Hermione didn't seem to notice or care as Harry practically goggled at her. Harry set the tray down on the bedside table with shaking hands, and Hermione took a deep swig of the coffee.

"You're too good to me, Harry," said Hermione. "I show up in the middle of the night, and you still bring me breakfast."

"It's not a problem, Mione, I like having you here," replied Harry.

"I wondered if you wanted to spend the day together?" asked Hermione. "I'll pop off home, get changed and come back. I don't feel like talking to Ronald just now."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Things were working out better that he'd hoped. Hermione finished the coffee and bacon, and stood. Harry's eyes almost popped out of his head as Hermione got out of the bed, just wearing the thin tank top and knickers.

"Come on, Harry. It's not like you haven't seen me in just my underwear before," she laughed.

"Yeah... well..."

"I'll be back soon alright," said Hermione.

She put on the dressing gown, and made her way to the front door, and disapparated with a small pop.

Harry jumped into the shower, and enjoyed for a moment the soothing hot water. He dried himself and carefully selected a smart shirt and trousers, he dressed quickly and made his way down to the sitting room and waited for Hermione. A short while later he heard the front door open and Hermione entered the sitting room. She looked fantastic, as usual, and Harry met her smile with a big grin.

"Fancy doing a bit of shopping, Harry?" she asked. "I need to find a nice dress for my birthday party."

"Yeah, I'd love to," said Harry.

Harry and Hermione walked along Diagon Alley in the late summer sunshine. Hermione had seen a dress she liked in Madam Malkins, but wasn't sure. They walked over to Twilfit and Tattling's and Hermione pulled a very pretty pale blue dress from the racks.

"Oh Harry, this'd be perfect!" exclaimed Hermione.

She looked at the price tag, and immediately put the dress back, and frowned.

"What's wrong with it, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"The price tag. I can't afford it," she said sadly.

Harry picked the dress out, and he looked at the tag. 89 Galleons. Harry paused for a moment, and put the dress in her arms.

"I'll buy it for you. No arguments."

"No, Harry, it's too expensive."

"I said I'd buy it for you. It's not a problem."

Harry led her over to the counter, and encouraged Hermione to pick matching heels, and jewellery. Harry talked her down, and insisted, and she relented in the end. Harry pointed his wand at the till, and a small golden slip issued from it.

129 Galleons has been transferred from your vault. Thank you for using wand transfer. Gringotts Bank.

"This is too much, Harry. I feel pretty awful about it now," said Hermione as they left the store. "You've just spent what Ron and I pay for two months rent."

"It's not a problem, Hermione," replied Harry. "I've got the money, and not a lot to spend it on. It'll be worth it when you put on that dress and shoes."

In a cafe across the street, a tall red-headed man looked on, as her watched Hermione kiss Harry on the cheek, and squeeze him around the middle. The man exited the cafe and disapparated from a quiet side street.

Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon browsing in the shops, before Hermione turned to Harry.

"I'd better go, Harry," I think I've let Ron sulk for long enough."

"I'll tell you what; I'll apparate you back, say hi to Ron, and head home."