I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters
--
Godric wasn't quite sure what was going through his mind as he sat on his bed. In fact, he had no conceptual grasp of anything, except that she had just walked out, stating quite clearly that she thought he had a small penis, and that she did not regret that she was leaving. It was frustrating and insulting, and that little bat-like creature had only made matters worse. Whatever it was, he had not made the best of first impressions for his kind, and he was in desperate need of an educaton.
For some reason he was unsure of, this spiteful thought aimed in Hermione's direction did nothing but make him feel worse, and as he sat there he began to wonder if she really would spend the evening with someone else... He had been shocked, even mistakenly flattered, when she told him that her plan was to spend the evening with him, and the idea that she had been considering wearing a dress was, at the very least, intriguing. He felt sickened by the idea he was still imagining her in the same way as he had done earlier, yet there was no reason for him not to anymore. She would not even consider it anymore, and so he was in no danger of having to tell her at a later date how he had pleasured himself to images of her thrown out before him... he frowned and shook his head. He would keep that information to himself, no matter how long she probed for it.
He stood up from the bed, sighing quietly as he overlooked the familiar grounds. How long ago the previous evening seemed now, walking hand-in-hand with a beautiful, intelligent young woman... it had almost felt like home, despite the thousand years that seperated their interlinked fingers. What good, he wondered, was feeling anything for her, when in a matter of days he might be sent home? Part of him - the foolish, immature side that found himself desperate for her company - wished that it could not be done, and that he might grow old in this time, here, with her. Yet the other part knew better, the other part knew that if something could be done once, it could be reversed. Sooner or later one of them would realize how to get home. Sooner or later, he'd leave her.
Sooner or later, he'd be alone again.
He shivered and grabbed parchment and quill suddenly. He might well have only days, in which case, he reasoned, there should not be a sour taste in her mouth as a result of his meeting her. Shoving aside lewd thoughts of putting tastes of any kind in her mind, he scribbled down a note.
--
Hermione,
I apologize... again. It seems my overlarge head speaks too easily without thought of the consequences.
I would be honoured if you would spend the evening with me again.
Yours,
G.G.
"Who's that from Mione?" Harry asked across the lunch table as he helped himself to a generous serving of steak and ale pie.
"Oh," Hermione said, folding the parchment absently, "nobody important. Just a... reminder of something."
"A reminder?" Harry frowned, pouring gravy onto his plate. "Of what?"
"It's not important." Hermione repeated stiffly. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's just something silly.. but listen, you couldn't be my excuse to get out of something later, could you?"
He shrugged, adjusting his glasses as he chewed. "Sure," he said, swallowing heavily. "What you getting out of?"
"A... a date... with a fifth year?"
Harry smirked, his fork freezing in mid-air. "Oh sure, a fifth year." He grinned. "I'll be your excuse, but I'm not going to settle for that pathetic..."
Ron chose that moment to arrive, throwing his bag to the floor and glaring at the plate of sausages before him. "Stupid Snape." He muttered to himself. Harry and Hermione both exchanged 'who'd have guessed' glances, and looked at him expectantly, knowing full well his explanation would come whether they wanted it to or not. "I've just been given detention for not wiping my sodding shoes after walking in the grounds."
"Why were you walking in the grounds?" Hermione queried, doodling in her gravy with a fork. Ron flushed pink, to which Harry and Hermione both smirked, and simultaneously stated "Lavender."
Hermione stood up and smiled at Harry, "I'll meet you at 7 in the entrance hall." She said, then turned and walked away, catching the tail end of Harry and Ron's conversation.
"Are you screwing Hermione behind Ginny's back?"
"Of course not! She's just asked me to cover for her."
"If you're screwing her..."
"Ginny's good enough in bed to refrain from that, Ron."
At this, Ron said nothing more.
--
Hermione looked at the dress Poker held out for her with nervousness clear on her expression.
"Poker, I'm really not sure..."
Poker shook his head, grinning gleefully. "Missus Hermy, it make Big Man angry. Poker would like that very much!"
She giggled, stroking the fabric gently. "It is rather lovely..." she said honestly. In fact, it was beautiful. The crimson red glittered with golden sequins around the hem and neckline, and it was cut low to emphasize her breasts. "But isn't it a little... over the top?"
Shaking his head, Poker insisted, "Big Man will looky, and Big Man no touchy. Harry Potter touchy, Big Man jealous." He smiled toothily. "Missus Hermy will make Big Man drool."
Smiling reluctantly, she took the dress and sighed. "Alright... but where are we supposed to go? I'm not walking around the grounds in this!"
"Poker has sorted it Missus Hermy. Poker asked Mister Dumbledore, and Mister Dumbledore says Missus Hermy and Harry Potter can eat in his office, for privacy, he says."
Hermione shook her head. "But I can't meet Harry dressed like this!"
Poker nodded. "Poker will meet Harry Potter Missus Hermy. Then Poker eats dinner too!" He smiled.
Hermione knelt down and pressed a light kiss to the elfs head. "You are a dear Poker. I must arrange a lady elf for you sometime!"
The elf blushed considerably. "Missus Hermy is too kind."
She smirked.
--
Hermione stood in Dumbledore's office feeling rather awkward. Only as she stood there, looking, even admiring herself, in the mirror, she wondered what exactly Poker had planned. It was not quite normal for her to dress like this for a simple evening spent as friends with Harry. It was overly glamorous, to the point that she wondered vaguely if he might be attempting to set them up. Yet Poker knew that Harry was with Ginny, and it niggled at her brain, even as there was a knock at the door.
"Come in!" She said absently, quickly running a hand through her hair before turning to look at Harry. She gulped. He wore simple jeans, and a plain, white, casual shirt. "I..."
"Wow." He said, adjusting his glasses on his nose and blinking slightly. "If I'd known you were going to make such an effort, I'd have thrown on my dress robes."
Hermione blushed and smiled, indicating the desk, which Poker had lain instead as a dining table, a basket of bread placed carefully beside a candle which burned without melting. Harry sat down, still gawping slightly.
"I'm... kind of... confused," he admitted, grabbing a slice of bread and looking her over unconsciously. "I mean... this isn't like.. a date? Is it?"
Hermione shook her head, embarassed. "No, no... nothing like that! Poker was just... well... he was just being friendly."
"And the guy you're trying to avoid..?" Harry probed, smirking.
She flushed, shaking her head vigorously. "I'm not telling." She said playfully.
Harry grinned, releasing a mock sigh of annoyance. "How insulted I am!" He gasped, then shrugged. "I knew you wouldn't tell me.. just thought I'd be a good friend and ask." Balling up his bread, he pushed it into his mouth, looking at her and shaking his head idly.
"What?" Hermione asked, noting how his brow creased as he surveyed her through his green eyes.
Harry swallowed his bread, speaking slowly. "What I'm wondering, is why exactly you're still single?"
She giggled, hand covering her mouth. "Oh Harry!"
"What?" He asked quickly. "You're gorgeous! Why aren't you with Ron? Or Dean? Or Seamus? Or even Neville! God Hermione, this boy you're avoiding doesn't know what he's missing!"
She smiled sadly, "he's not important Harry. I just have a silly crush, which I need to get over. And besides, he has a horrible, arrogant attitude, and has to be correct about absolutely everything!"
Harry held up his hands, "sorry I said anything."
Hermione smiled, gasping as a bowlful of creamy, mushroom soup appeared before her. "EEE! Mushroom. My favourite!" Harry laughed as she tucked in, shrugging and digging into his own.
--
An hour later found the two of them smiling over the candles, reminiscing over countless Hogwarts memories. They sat side by side, Hermione tucked against Harry's chest in a way that only best friends could understand. There was nothing sexual about the way his hand draped around his shoulders, or in the way her hand rested lightly on his chest as they spoke.
"Do you remember when you told Ron he had the emotional range of a teaspoon?" Harry asked, grinning at the thought. Hermione blushed.
"I was trying to explain that girls are emotionally deep!"
"And made a point of explaining that girls are just confusing!" Harry ducked her playful swipe, then laughed in her face, adjusting his glasses and sticking his tongue out. Hermione glared at him, then settled back against him, shaking her head. "Well, if you hadn't made out with Cho, none of it would have happened," she stated softly.
Harry glared at her. "We didn't make out." He said stubbornly. "We just kissed!"
"A kiss on the cheek that took half an hour?"
"She was crying!" Harry retorted. "I couldn't make her shut up long enough to do anything!"
Hermione raised an accusatory eyebrow at him. "You're as bad as Ron." She stated simply.
"I am not!" Harry argued. "Ron would've just pounced on her!"
"I hardly think she's Ron's type!"
"You know what I mean!"
Hermione laughed, "alright, yes, I do! But even so..."
It was then, as Hermione brought her hand down to Harry's spare one that the door opened, and Godric entered, wearing the same shirt and trousers that he had been wearing that morning. Hermione froze, as did Godric. Harry however, leapt to his feet, wand drawn and pointed firmly at Godric's chest.
--
The letter was clearly printed in black ink, and held only a few sentences of grammatically incorrect content. Godric, however, assumed that the mistakes were to do with the time difference, and so when he read it, he followed the instructions on it as well as he could.
Godric,
Please come by my office this sundown, for as I must speak about situations with you.
Dumbledore
He could not honestly say that it made much sense after the first phrase, but it was clear that he was wanted in the headmasters office, and so, at sundown, he headed along the corridors, a disillusionment charm cast, speaking the password to the gargoyles before ascending the spiral staircase. He heard vague voices, but could not decipher them, and rather forgetting his manners, he entered unannounced.
The sight before him was not one he welcomed, and it left him rather stunned, frozen to the spot. For Hermione sat there, curled against the chest of a male her own age who Godric had not seen before. Her hand rested in his, and his spare arm draped around her shoulders. If it had not been that she had looked at him in utter horror as he entered, he might well have turned and left. As it was, when the boy jumped to his feet, wand aloft and pointing at Godric's chest.
The boy was tall, and rather well built, with messy hair and glasses that seemed to have slipped down his nose. Under his fringe, Godric could make out a thin red line, which he could not decipher to be cut or scar, but saw quite clearly the lightning bolt shape. He vaguely wondered what Hermione saw him, before the boy began to question his identity.
--
"Who are you?" Harry asked, his tone firm and strong, no fear or note of nervousness rising in his voice. Hermione felt a slight rising admiration, but as she stood up she could say nothing.
Godric looked at Hermione with a note of confusion on his face, then back at the boy, whose green eyes shone with unbridled bravery. "Gareth Gornwell," he lied quietly, hands raised to head height.
"How did you get up here?" Harry asked, stepping in front of Hermione as though to guard her from him. Godric felt a slight ripple of anger, then answered.
"I was invited. By the headmaster."
"And the password?" Harry snapped. "You just happened to know that I suppose?" He flicked his wand threateningly.
"Dumbledore himself told me the password." Godric said softly. "Now if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you would stop brandishing that wand as though it were a mere plaything."
He looked at Hermione, who had risen from her seat, and felt his breath catch in his throat. He hadn't truly noticed her clothing on his entry, only that she had been with some stranger, but now it made his heart beat faster and his head spin violently. The red dress hugged her curves gracefully, showing off the ample breasts and flat stomach, tapering down to the curve of her buttocks. He stared for several moments, in which time Harry had moved closer to him.
"Stop looking at her!" Harry growled. "Why are you here? Dumbledore's not here, quite clearly."
Godric stared at him, then reached into his pocket, drawing out the parchment which he had recieved that evening. Harry took it with a summoning charm, and unfolded it.
"This isn't from Dumbledore!" Harry hissed. "This is written in black! Dumbledore's is always..."
Hermione let out a small squeak of realization, at which both males looked at her with interest. "I think," she said softly, "that this might have something to do with Poker.. can I..?" she motioned for the note, which Harry handed over, blank faced and confused.
She breathed out slowly, biting her lip and nodding her head. "Yes... that's Poker's writing..." she looked at Godric, "I'm sorry Mister... what did you say your name was?"
Godrics jaw twitched in annoyance. "Gornwell." He ground out.
"I'm sorry Mister Gornwell. I'm afraid there must have been a mistake. Professor Dumbledore isn't here, and niether is..."
"What about that dratted bat-thing?" Godric snapped. "If this is his doing I'll beat him to a pulp!"
Hermione looked as though she would insult him angrily, at which point Harry intervened, placing a hand on her shoulder and looking from one to the other. "Do you two know each other?" He asked softly.
"No." Hermione said, just as Godric answered "Yes." Both glared at the other simultaneously.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. What's Poker got to do with this then Hermione?"
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it.
Godric snorted, then covered his mouth apologetically at Harry's steely gaze.
"Hermione...?"
"I'm not exactly sure..." Hermione said softly. She bit her lip. "Harry could you... could you leave me and... Gareth... alone? I rather think he needs some company to wait for the Headmaster."
Harry frowned. "Hermione, he's not seeing the headmaster..."
She glared at him and he sighed. "Are you sure you trust him?"
"Yes. I've been alone with him before. It's not a problem."
Harry looked at Godric for several moments, his jaw set, then nodded, kissing Hermione's cheek before leaving. "Let me know what happens," he said quietly in her ear.
Godric watched him go, bristling with unhidden anger. "So much for no beneficial friends." Godric said softly as the door closed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Grow up." She said quietly.
"What an immature thing to say," he smirked. "Ironic, isn't it?"
"Not really."
Godric sat down and inclined his head. "So. What did the bat want from me exactly? Intervene in your pathetic date? Make a scene? Or maybe set the two of us up?" He winked at her, then sat back in his chair. "Are you going to tell me?"
"I don't even know for myself!" She snapped, heading for the door in a storm of anger. Godric caught her arm as she went past, a grin on his face as he spoke.
"You can't leave me hanging like this without a thing." He said quietly. "Don't expect me to let you walk out with a mere explanation that you don't know a thing!"
She shrugged her arm, attempting to loosen his grip, but instead his fingers tightened, not harsh or painful, but strong enough to not allow her movement. "Let go Godric," Hermione said softly, "I don't appreciate it."
Godric met her eyes inquisitively with his own. "What about your little bat friend? Won't you get him and allow him to explain himself? Seems he doesn't like lover boy quite enough to leave him with you long."
"For your information, Harry and I are nothing but.."
She was interrupted by the large crack, that alerted them both to the entrance of Poker, grinning broadly from ear to ear. "Poker is here Missus Hermy. Poker heard Harry Potter swearing, and Poker comes. Poker didn't mean to cause harm Missus Hermy. Just friendly mischief Poker meant..."
"It's fine Poker," Hermione said softly, almost sympathetic. Godric rolled his eyes.
"I suppose there was a reason for bringing me along?" He probed, glaring down at the little creature.
"Big Man is a Bad Man. Poker knows Big Man likes Missus Hermy. Poker makes Big Man jealous, because Big Man is a foolish man, yes he is, Poker thinks."
Godric looked at him with utter contempt, then turned to Hermione, hoping she did not see the truth behind the elf's words. He wasn't sure about like, but of course he was attracted to her... and now he had an increasingly arousing thought to add to his collection; her, in that beautiful, elegant gown, showing off cleavage and curves that should have been illegal.
Hermione had turned pink and said, with a voice that was quiet and timid, "Poker, please don't interfere again. It wasn't... we didn't need it."
Poker clasped his hands together and nodded. "Yes Missus Hermy. Poker is sorry Missus Hermy. Poker shall leave for bed Missus Hermy."
Hermione shook her head. "I'll see you later Poker."
The elf disappeared with a crack, leaving Hermione and Godric attempting to avoid the others eyes.
--
Godric risked a look under his hair across at her, seeing that she was looking in the complete opposite direction to him. He wasn't sure if he should attempt to breach the silence, or simply leave. Only when he realized that his hand still gripped her arm did he make any change to his position, releasing her and looking at the floor, but not before he saw her turning to look at him out of the corner of his eye.
"I'm sorry about Poker." She said quietly. "He didn't mean it..."
Godric looked at her, nodding slowly, his throat dry. "It was... an easy mistake to make."
Hermione bit her lip, then sat down softly on the chair. "The thing is," she started, "I think he thought I rather liked you..."
His eyes and neck snapped round quickly, and Godric stared at her, eyes rapt with attention. "What do you mean?" He asked, hoping his interest was not quite so clear to her as it was to him.
"Well... I think I made a comment last night... about you... and he might have taken it the wrong way."
Godric frowned. "By that you mean...?"
Elaborating slightly, Hermione answered, "I mean that I said you were lovely after our walk last night.. and he took that to mean that I... that we... that I was harbouring certain feelings towards you."
The man could only stare at her for several seconds, before his ability to swallow returned and he wet his dry mouth. "And are you?"
She looked as though she might snap at him, as though the mere idea of her in fact being attracted to him was the single most disgusting thing she had ever heard. To his surprise, the initial look faded and she looked at him thoughtfully. "I honestly don't know..." she said softly.
Godric sat down next to her, resisting the urge to probe, waiting on her to talk again. The silence rankled him, causing him to fidget uncomfortably as she toyed with her necklace, apparently putting off the inevitable moment when she would have to talk to him in some way, shape or form.
"I mean," she started, "I thought maybe I could..."
"And...?" It was hard to keep impatience from his tone.
"And then," she said, eyes flashing slightly, "I realized what an arrogant, self-righteous prick you could be."
Bristling with annoyance, yet attempting to hide it, he managed a grating "I see," before falling silent and looking away, arms crossed over his chest in silent defiance of her words.
She waited, then spoke agan, almost murmuring, as though hoping he would not hear her. But he did; every single word that left her soft, luscious lips, he heard, and he held them dear. "It's confusing," she spoke dreamily, almost enchanted, and it was, to say the least, rather flattering that the topic of conversation was he himself, "because sometimes, you're one hundred percent adorable, and then others... you treat me like a child." He remained quiet, sensing that she was not yet done. "But last night was... well... I haven't enjoyed anything quite so much in a very long time... and it made me feel... happy, I suppose."
Godric surveyed her closely, almost wanting her to keep going, just so he could listen to her voice. "I'm sorry." He said softly. "I don't mean to treat you like a child." He tentatively reached for her hand, holding it in his and feeling the last meal he had consumed dancing around in his stomach. "I don't feel exactly.. comfortable here. Everythings different to how it was in my time. I'm stuck inside all day, with only a walk in the evening to look forward to. I don't mean to snap out at you, I just sometimes feel as though I have to lash out at something, or I might become a spoon for all the emotional good I'll do."
Hermione looked at him in confusion. "Did you say a spoon?" She asked, heart skipping a beat slightly.
He frowned. "Yes... is that wrong?"
"No!" Hermione said quickly. "No. Not wrong at all just... odd..." she ran her spare hand through her hair and breathed deeply.
Godric looked at her hand in his and sighed. "When I'm not angry with you," he said softly, "I really do enjoy myself."
A small grin cracked his features, lighting up his face with utter happiness. Hermione saw the handsome man behind the sullen exterior of that morning, the man who might well belong to that handsome body she had admired silently, and smiled back nervously.
"I enjoy myself too," she whispered timidly. "Quite alot..."
He nodded, squeezing her hand softly. "Might we... go for a walk?"
She considered for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."
Standing, he helped her to her feet, again admiring her curvaceous figure, nonplussed at the fact it was his hand she held. Before he led her to the door, he asked quietly, "am I forgiven, Hermione?"
Hermione blushed and nodded. "Yes..." she hesitated, then said, "but why have you stopped calling me Sunrise?"
Godric blinked slightly. "I... well... I assumed that... it seemed silly to call you a petname while arguing and... I was trying to treat you like a grown up."
She smiled, rubbing his hand with her thumb lightly. "There's nothing wrong with petnames."
He grinned. "No. Perhaps not."
--
They found themselves by the lake again, holding hands on the grass, watching fish dart under the water as they spoke in soft, quiet voices, despite being the only people out. The sun was setting again, and the colours set a romantic mood that sent shivers of delight up Hermione's spine.
"I don't think you're a child." Godric assured her softly, hand holding hers firmly, as though afraid she would pull it away. She only smiled.
"Really?" She rolled onto her side and looking up into his face, wanting desperately to rest her head on his chest. "What do you think I am then?" she asked cheekily, grinning as he smirked.
"I think," he said softly, watching her golden eyes with amazement as they danced and glistened, "that you're a woman."
She raised a mocking eyebrow. "A woman?" She repeated slowly.
"Yes." He said quietly. "An exquisitely pretty and intelligent woman." He gingerly lifted his free hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Before she could answer, he went on. "You're going to ruin that dress if we stay on the floor."
Hermione smirked. "If it was going to get ruined, it would have been done by now."
Godric nodded slowly, hand resting on her cheek. "Even so.. it might be best to go inside."
"And if I don't want to..?" Hermione murmured, raising a quesitoning brow, as though daring him to answer.
"If you don't want to," Godric replied, "then you may enjoy this night by the lake alone, for I have sleeping to do."
She opened her mouth, but he grinned at her before she could make a noise. "Unless you can convince me to stay of course..."
It held such daring in it that Hermione found herself bristling with annoyance at his unashamed arrogance, yet at the same time, her body tingled as she edged slightly closer, lifting herself up slightly to whisper in his ear. "How could I do that?" She whispered seductively. His heart skipped several beats, his breathing became ragged, and he managed to answer with a coarse, "use your imagination" before closing his eyes in an attempt to regain control. As it was, her mouth pressed itself to the soft skin of his ear, and he could hardly control the burning need that grew in his stomach as she languidly trailed her wet tongue over his earlobe. He shuddered slightly and twisted his head to look at her, eyes dark and heated.
"What are you doing?" He croaked, unable to move himself, or tear his eyes away from hers.
"Experimenting," she replied quietly. "Is that alright?" Her mouth was inches from his now; he could see each line of her lips, could smell and feel her breath...
"No..." he whispered. "It's half left." He tilted his head slightly, pressing his lips to hers in hesitant contact. She seemed to shake with anticipation, and it was with great difficulty that he pulled back, resisting deeper contact. "That was foolish of me..." he said quietly.
"Why?" She asked, eyes half lidded.
"I'm too old." He said softly.
"Only thirteen years or so..." she replied, her hand resting on his chest, fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt gently.
Godric snorted. "And the extra thousand years."
"Who cares?"
"I do." He whispered. "And you should too."
"You're here. I'm here. I want to kiss you. You want to kiss me. Forget about numbers and ages."
"Who said I want to kiss you?" He said.
"You did. When you kissed me." Her lips moved to meet his again, but he pulled slightly away from her lips.
"I could go back any day." Godric argued.
"So? Shut up and let me enjoy it while you're here."
He shook his head. "I can't... it's very... very wrong."
"Why? Because you're not meant to be here?"
"Yes."
"Well then maybe you should realize that perhaps you are meant to be here. Maybe this is where you belong." Hermione's hand strayed to his face, her thumb tracing the line of his lips. "You're here right now. So maybe this is how life is. Maybe this is how you're meant to live." She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. "Either way, I'll never forgive you if you leave me lying here in an elegant dress without so much as a kiss goodnight."
Godric let a hiss escape his lips, then he looking into her hot smouldering eyes for one moment, before pressing his lips forcibly to hers.
--