Charms, and Forgiveness.

Harry arrived back at Grimmauld place, and frowned as he felt the oppressive gloom of the dark hallway. He made a mental note to concentrate the next stage of decorating on the entrance and hallway. He trudged up the stairs to the sitting room, and flopped into his armchair. Kreacher arrived a second after he did, bearing a tray with a fresh pot of coffee, Harry gratefully sipped the thick black liquid, and relaxed into the chair. He picked up the old spell book, and found where he'd marked the page.

Memorye charmes can be moste usefule in befuddlement, concealmente and mystification, a wizarde moste powerfule can place memories untrue, ine the victim's minde.

Harry continued reading, fascinated. He couldn't remember Professor Flitwick teaching about memory charms, but as he glanced at the faded cover of the spell book, he remembered where he was. A dark book, in a former Dark Family's house. Harry marked the page again, and placed the book back in the case, before heading up the stairs to his bedroom. He undressed and slowly climbed into bed, extinguishing the lamp with a wave of his wand. He dozed off, and had just entered a wonderful dream, when a loud crack brought him out of his slumber. He cocked his head and listened carefully, he could hear someone coming up the stairs. Harry tensed, and gripped his wand and slipped out of bed silently, and aimed his wand at the door.

The bedroom door opened with a small click, and Harry readied himself, when Kreacher's deep voice spoke from the gloom.

"Madam Granger, Master Harry," he croaked.

Harry immediately dropped his wand and ran out into the second floor landing, and almost tripped over Hermione who was slumped against the wall, her dress was muddy, and her whole body was shaking as she sobbed. Harry quickly dropped down in front of her, and she turned her head away from him. He softly lifted her to her feet, as she continued to sob and led her into his bedroom, and sat her down on the bed, lighting some candles with a wave of his hand.

Harry pulled Hermione into a warm hug, but she continued to sob into his chest. He gently cupped her chin, and brought her pale face up. It was only then he saw the ugly red mark across the left side of her cheek. Blood pounded in Harry's veins as he quickly stood up.

"I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him!" he roared.

Hermione stood up, and gently hugged him, and stopped him from leaving the room. Emotion flowed and Harry found his eyes wet, and only then noticed he was holding her tightly and shaking with fury.

"Shh...Shh..." breathed Hermione.

Harry sat down on the bed and wiped his eyes, and looked up at Hermione. Her eyes were red and swollen with tears, but the ugly mark seemed to be slowly fading. His eyes travelled down her body, noticing the mud on the back and right side of her dress.

"What happened, Hermione?" asked Harry quietly.

"Ron was drunk, and he accused me of cheating on him, with you," she whispered hoarsely. "I tried to tell him he was wrong, and he slapped me across the face, and I fell backwards on the grass. I disapparated before he could do anything else, I was so scared, Harry. All his family were asleep, we were supposed to be leaving."

Harry swore under his breath, and tried to compose himself. "He won't come here, Hermione. The front door won't open for him, no matter what he does. You're safe here."

"Can I stay in here, with you?" she asked quietly.

"Of course. I'll see if I can find you something to sleep in."

Harry stood, and opened the chest of drawers, and picked out a baggy white t-shirt.

"Would this be alright?"

"That'd be great, Harry. You're a genuine gentleman you know," she whispered. "Can you help with my dress?"

Hermione took the t-shirt, and turned her back to Harry, and motioned at the zip. Harry slowly undid it, and Hermione slipped the dress to her feet and unclasped her bra. Harry couldn't help but look at her, his eyes moved down with the dress, and found he could see a bruise blooming through the lace of her knickers. Hermione pulled the t-shirt over her head and turned and hugged him again. She climbed into bed, and moved to the other side, and Harry climbed in, and extinguished the candles.

"No funny business, be cool, be a gentleman," urged the voice in his head.

Harry gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and settled down to sleep, lulled by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the beautiful witch next to him. Harry awoke a few hours later and found himself cuddled and pressed up against Hermione's back, with his face nestled in Hermione's sweet smelling hair. He didn't move and was soothed and calmed by her beautiful scent, her soft skin, her warmth and he slowly fell asleep.

Harry woke as the sun began to stream into the large bedroom. He slowly opened his eyes, and found that Hermione was gone. He cursed under his breath, and slid out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown from the back of the door. He walked slowly down to the kitchen, and found Hermione making breakfast, still just wearing the t-shirt. Harry relaxed, and smiled at her. She smiled back, and continued to make the breakfast; Harry sat at the long kitchen table and watched her as she hummed as she cooked. She reached up into one of the cupboards, the t-shirt rode up a little, and Harry found himself staring at her bottom, the shape accentuated by the sexy French knickers she was wearing. Harry took a steadying breath, the urge came over him, to grab her, kiss her, and make love to her, up against the counter. With great mental effort he hauled himself back to reality, as Hermione placed a generous plate of bacon and eggs in front of him.

"Just to say thank you for last night and thank you for breakfast in bed a few weeks ago," she said, smiling.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast, Hermione, Kreacher would have cooked for both of us," said Harry.

"It's fine, Harry. I woke up about half an hour ago; I was cuddled up in your arms, so I thought I'd better get up. You looked so peaceful."

"Hermione, I'm sorry..." began Harry.

"It's fine, Harry, and it was so sweet of you to look after me, to cuddle me when I needed a friend. You're a perfect gentleman, you could have taken advantage, but you didn't. All you wanted was for me to be safe and warm."

Harry's thoughts were racing. "But I want you so much, Hermione. I'd do anything for you."

Harry finished his breakfast, and thanked Hermione profusely, and they walked together up to the sitting room, where they relaxed together. Harry couldn't help looking at Hermione's long legs, her small feet, with toenails painted a deep red. Again Harry brought himself back to reality, and Hermione spoke.

"I'm going to need something to wear today," she said thoughtfully

I'll go over to your house and pick you up some things, if you like," replied Harry.

"That'd be great, Harry, I'll have a shower while you're away."

Harry quickly dressed, gave Hermione a quick hug, and disapparated from the front step, arriving in Hermione's back garden. It was still quite early `and the house was dark. Harry cautiously made his way to the back door, and lightly tapped it with his wand. The door opened for him, silently and smoothly, and Harry entered the kitchen. Ron didn't seem to be around, so he quietly made his way up the stairs. He again tapped his wand on the bedroom door, and it creaked open. Ron was sprawled out on the bed, naked. Harry shuddered and pointed his wand at him.

"Muffliato!"

Harry opened the small wardrobe, and selected a dress for Hermione, rummaged through the drawers and picked out a matching set of underwear, grabbed a pair of heels, and silently made his way out of the house. He arrived on the top step of Grimmauld Place, and entered the cool dark hallway, calling Hermione's name. She appeared at the top of the stairs, just wearing a towel and beamed at Harry. He made his way up the stairs and handed the neatly folded clothes to Hermione, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She looked through the clothes, and giggled.

"A dress and sexy underwear? What are you trying to tell me, Harry Potter?"

Harry mumbled something about 'the first thing I found' and Hermione laughed.

"I'm joking, Harry!"

Hermione turned, and entered the bedroom to get changed, and Harry took a shower. He quickly sluiced himself down, and wrapped the towel around his waist, and walked into the bedroom. Hermione was just pulling the dress on, and asked Harry to help with the zip again. He moved over to her and was almost overcome with desire, he wanted her to turn around, drop the dress, to kiss him, to make love but he resisted again. It seemed to be getting harder to resist, the little voice was almost continuously screaming instructions at him.

They went downstairs to the sitting room together and sat with one another on the large sofa, Hermione with her feet up, over Harry's legs. He turned is head, and looked at her beautiful face.

"Ron can never find out that we slept in the same bed, Hermione," said Harry slowly.

"No, Harry, I won't breathe a word," she said. "I don't regret it, not for a second. Like I said, I needed a friend, and you were there for me."

"It was nice though," said Harry

Hermione smiled at him and he squeezed her hand.

A few days passed, and Harry and Hermione had not left Grimmauld Place. They spent the time reading, eating and chatting and laughing. Harry was so happy; he enjoyed Hermione's company so much. There was no mention of the intimacy they'd had, but he was satisfied. He shivered slightly as he recalled her soft skin, her scent. He was in the middle of a day-dream about their liaison, when Hermione entered the sitting room.

"Harry..." she called softly. "I'm going to head home, and try and work things out with Ron."

Harry turned to her. "If you're sure, Hermione," he said calmly. "If you need me, you know where I am."

Hermione smiled, and left the sitting room and disapparated from the front step. As soon as he heard the front door click shut, rage and anger and frustration coursed through him, with a huge roar he stood and smashed the small side table into the dresser, upended the sofa, threw a chair across the room and kicked over the coffee table before slumping down into the wreckage, his shoulders shaking.

"She's going to take him back."

"He hit her, and she's going to take him back."

"I don't know what to do."

"I need her."

"I love her."