Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

For 27 years I've been trying to believe and confide in
Different people I've found.
Some of them got closer than others
Some wouldn't even bother and then you came around

The Cardigans - Communication

"It didn't happen, it didn't happen...," Hermione couldn't stop repeating over and over, her hands shaking on her lap. It was like a mantra, something that she couldn't stop saying, something that she wanted to believe in so damn much: Harry Potter didn't put his lips on hers.

It was a total nonsense when she was thinking about it. Harry Potter, her friend since she was twelve-year-old wouldn't do such a thing. He was married, for Merlin's sake, married to a beautiful woman who had given him a son, no less.

She buried her head into her hands, trying to remember when everything had went wrong. Was it when she had talked about her job, when Harry opened the first bottle of wine? Or maybe it was when they had started to eat, or maybe...

"Oh my..."

No matter how hard she was trying to remember, the only image that came into Hermione's mind was Harry's face coming toward her, his lips just a few inches from her own, and then... then she had closed her eyes to feel the kiss better.

She had closed her eyes, yes, she had done it on purpose. She realised that she had thought, during a second, that what was happening was normal, while it wasn't in the slightest. It wasn't normal because of so many things. Ginny, James... even the fact that he was Harry Potter. Harry fucking Potter, the little boy who had greeted her when she had been in the Hogwarts' Express fourteen years before; the man who had asked her what was her opinion before asking Ginny to marry him–and she had said that it was a good idea, of course–; the same Harry who had slept under the same roof as her during their stays at the Burrow, his wife's house.

After a few moments of despair, it was the only remaining fact that Hermione could think about: Harry was married, and yet, he had kissed her. The reason why he did this was still blurry in her mind but... they shared a kiss.

She refrained a moan of shame and, with the help of all the alcohol that she had drunk one or two hours before, she lay down on her couch and fell asleep.

XxX

He couldn't do it. He wanted to, but his hand seemed to be made of steel.

Harry was staring at the phone since a long time, too long to be mentioned. Hermione's number was stuck into his mind; he just had to pick up the phone, dial her number and pray for her to be at her flat. It wasn't hard, was it?

James was playing on the carpet right in front of him, and his incessant babbling wasn't enough to disturb his father; the situation was really out of his control.

For the umpteenth time, Harry mumbled the things that he wanted to say to Hermione.

"I'm sorry for what happened last night. We were both drunk, you was talking about how unattractive you were and I just wanted to show you how wrong you were, as a friend."

Short, simple, and straight to the point. But the shortest things seemed to be the hardest ones to do, and he was thinking over and over about what Hermione could answer to this statement. Harry knew her well enough to be almost 100% sure that she had freaked out and that she had thought about it for hours even after she left. She was Hermione, the woman who could think about a problem for several hours, several days even in order to find a solution. And for now, Harry didn't have a solution for her, just some apologises, and he hoped that it would be enough.

The green-eyed wizard eventually took a deep breath, and his hand was on the phone when it suddenly rang, making him jump on the coup. James stop playing for a while, half-surprised, half-amused by his father reaction. The phone rang two times before Harry decided to pick up, clearing his voice first.

"Hello?"

He heard a scream at the other side of the phone, and he soon realised that it wasn't Hermione–why would she call him anyway after what happened between them?–.

It was his wife.

"Harry, oh God...," Ginny seemed to sob, visibly shocked to hear his voice. "I... I can't stay long, I'm using my team mate cellular at the moment. Her husband is a Muggle, so... Oh Harry, I'm so happy to be able to talk to you, you can't even imagine how much. How's James? How are things going while I'm not at home? What are you doing and what is our son doing? Tell me everything."

She stopped talking, almost out of breath, and Harry could almost see her wide smile even if she was far away, somewhere in Ireland.

"Everything is fine, I guess," he eventually found the force to answer, after shaking himself out of his torpor. "James... he is playing right next to me, actual–"

"Can you give him the phone?", she cut him off. "I want to hear his voice and I'm sure that he would be happy to hear me for a few seconds."

"Are you sure that it is a good idea?," Harry asked, looking at his son as if James would give him an answer. In return, James just cocked his head to one side, noticing his father's embarrassment.

"Why not?," Ginny almost shouted. "I mean, I'm sure that he misses me."

"Exactly. He misses you, and I'm sure that you remember about his nightmares right after your departure. As far as I know, you couldn't explain me the origin of these nightmares, and I'm pretty sure that your absence triggered his nights' terrors."

"Are you serious? Don't be silly, Harry. I just want to hear my son's voice."

"Please, Ginny..."

Harry couldn't stop thinking about these nights that he had spent in James' bedroom, trying to calm him down for several hours, with little success every time. He could almost see his face red from crying over and over, and he knew inwardly that it was a bad idea for James to hear his mother's voice at this exact moment, three weeks after things calmed down.

"But you're coming home in a month, aren't you?," Harry insisted. "I know that you miss him, but you have to underst–"

"You don't understand!," Ginny shouted, irritated by this conversation. "I just want to hear my son, don't you get it? He's a baby, he will get over it in a few days, so what's the big deal? I don't even know if I'll have the opportunity to come home at the end of the first three-months training, I don't–..."

She started to cry, and Harry felt his heart break a little. His wife was crying because he didn't want to let her hear their son's babbling. His wife was crying because she was far from her family, and he wasn't helping her to go through this hard time. A small part of him was screaming that she had chosen to go through it, and that it wasn't his fault, but then every little thing that he had done the previous night returned to him. He had cheated on her, and now, she was crying because of him, even if she didn't know what he had done while she wasn't there. How ironic, Harry thought, still listening to Ginny's little sobs and James' babbling.

"Please," she insisted, and Harry sighed while putting her on speaker.

"He's listening to you," he muttered, his attention focused on James who still had his favourite toy in his little hands.

"James?," Ginny said in a strangled voice. "It's mummy, my little boy. I miss you so much..."

James' expression hardened, as if he was trying to understand what was happening. He was listening to his mother's voice, but he had no idea where this pleasant sound was coming from. He stayed still, not knowing if he had to make a sound or to remain silent.

"James?," Ginny insisted. "Mummy is currently away, but I promise you that I will come back soon, and we will get back to our previous life, I promise," she said in a whisper, wanting to elicit a reaction from her son. "Can he hear me?," she concluded, mainly to Harry's attention.

"He's staring at the phone. I bet that he has no idea about what is going on."

"Alright..." his wife accepted her defeat with a sigh. "I love you, Jamie, and I can't wait to hug you. Be nice with daddy."

Harry put the phone back next to his ear, and waited for her to continue to talk.

"I can't stay, Harry... I've always thought that this phone was useless, but now I'm not so sure," she said in a laugh. "I love you, and I can't wait to hug you."

"That's what you said to your son," Harry couldn't help but smile.

"I know. Well, what do you think of "I love you, and I can't wait to kiss you"?"

"Much better."

"I'll try to write you a letter soon, but I can't promise you anything. Training is awful these days. Take care of both of you, okay?"

Harry nodded, but soon realised that she couldn't see his movement.

"Yes," he blurted. "Yes, I'll do it. Take care of yourself too."

"Bye."

She hung up, and Harry stayed long seconds with the phone still in his hand.

He needed almost a whole minute to realise that he didn't even say to his wife that he loved her.

I apologise for the shortness of this chapter. I'm working since Tuesday, and it's quite hard to find time to write, I admit it. Thank you for your kind words, really, I'm blessed to have readers like you, and trust me, I mean it. Things are slowly settled down in my flat, so well, good news. I hope that you'll forgive me this time because I didn't find some time to answer you personally: I'm tired as hell, and all I want right now is my bed. Let's see this short chapter as a gift for being so nice to me. :)

Thank you for reading me.