A/N: Had this idea for a long while and decided to finally put pen to paper. Or rather fingers to keyboard? I know I should be working on finishing Right and Easy but I've been obsessed with this idea and just HAD to get it written. It's a short story I've been desperately trying to bring to life. I hope you enjoy : )
Disclaimer: The World and its Characters are all property of J.K Rowling.
O Children
"They're knocking now upon your door
They measure the room, they know the score
They're mopping up the butcher's floor
Of your little broken hearts".
Today marked ten weeks. Ten long and taxing weeks since she'd left. By this point, he found himself to have gone through almost every emotion he was capable of. But it always started with anger. That's the part where he'd get drunk and start calling her names. Tarnishing everything their relationship had been up until just three months ago. Then he'd be welcomed by shame and guilt. He had let this happen. He knew they were at wit's end. Yet he still did nothing to fix it. How many times had she spent hours upon hours begging him to change? To fix his ways. To simply be better. I still have time, He told himself. Every single day that automatic reminder switched on in his brain. I can still fix everything. Well. He didn't. And so she left. After countless arguments and nights spent downstairs on the couch, she finally left.
"We need this, Harry. I don't care if you disagree." Ginny told him.
"So that's it then? You're giving up on us. You don't want to try anymore. You just want to give up. Is that right?" He asked, furious.
She didn't say anything for a while. As tears rolled down her cheeks, she just kept staring at him. As if trying to suspend the will to leave. To give up. Finally, she spoke.
"We need a break. I need a break. We are still young, Harry. Maybe this just isn't what we thought it was. I need time to figure it all out. I need to figure out what I want from my life. Whether this is the future I want to have. You should do the same." She told him, and then without another word, disapparated. Gone. Just like that. It was the last time he'd seen her in person.
He still saw her face in the papers, of course. Why, the famous Ginny Weasley was one of the world's greatest chasers. Played for fucking England, of course. So naturally, he saw her face everywhere he went. That was always the catalyst. Seeing her face. Sometimes he'd see her with others. Teammates, or some other rich celebrity that took her out to dinner that week. Witch Weekly was pleasantly booming about her. Who is Ginny Weasley dating now?
After reading yet another 'deliciously invigorating' rumour on Ginny Weasley's brand new boyfriend, he had thrown his second favourite glass into the fireplace, making its remains of alcohol enrage the flames as glass shattered across his living room floor.
He stood there completely motionless for a while, taking slow and deep breaths.
"Fuck." He moaned as he stared at the million or so shards of glass that littered his carpet. Well, it wasn't really his carpet, per say. She picked it out. As he continued to stare at the fluffy and warm fabric, he realised he no longer gave a shit about the carpet anyway.
He waved his hand across the floor, uttering a quick vanishing spell, as all the shards of glass disappeared. He'd never truly thanked Hermione for pressing him into learning wandless magic. He didn't even remember where his wand was at the moment. His eyes scanned the living room, searching for the Holly and Phoenix feather, only to be met with framed photographs and trinkets all decorated and provided by his girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend.
That's when the shame and guilt came in. Both truly spark from a single much darker emotion.
Loneliness.
Harry hated it. Loneliness was something he hadn't had to deal with since he was eleven years old. Of course, there were summer holidays which he couldn't spend at Hogwarts. But it was always much more bearable after that, thanks to his mail. Hermione would never go more than a couple days without sending him a letter. She'd tell him all about the things she'd had managed to learn and just how ahead she was in their homework. She'd tell him about her parents and how much fun she was having with them. And then Harry's favourite part; she'd tell him how much she missed him and that she couldn't wait to see him again in September.
Love,
Hermione.
That's how she always ended her letters. And it made him smile.
KNOCK KNOCK
Harry's head spun around towards the hallway, his vision slightly blurred from the four or five helpings he'd treated himself to. He knew it wasn't good. He knew he shouldn't be drinking this much and this often. And yet, it helped. Not for long. But it did.
He dragged his feet along the corridor and pulled at the door handle.
Who in the world? At this time? He thought to himself.
"I'm so done with him!" Came that voice he knew so well.
Hermione pretty much barged into the house before he'd even managed to fully open it.
"I'm serious this time, Harry. I'm leaving him!" She cried as she stomped down the hallway, kicking her boots off in the process.
Harry smirked before closing the door and following her voice.
Speak of the devil.
Hermione had already collapsed on his sofa and was patiently waiting for him to sit down too so she could begin her rant. Harry thought about sitting alongside her on the sofa but decided to take the chair opposite; He didn't want her to smell the booze.
"Evening, by the way. Sorry." She muttered, crossing her legs as she shifted on his couch to face him.
"So, what happened?" Harry asked as he sat down opposite her.
Her hair was wet. And it only made him realise now that it was raining outside. Tiny droplets of rain poured down the sides of her face. But as Harry continued to look at her, he realised it wasn't just rain. Her eyes were red.
"Do you know what's coming up in two weeks?" Hermione asked.
Harry didn't have to think long. It was nearing mid-august, "Your mum's birthday, right?"
When it came to the birthdays of Daniel and Emma Granger, it was always a month's long affair. Hermione would spend about a couple weeks just planning gifts and the theme of the party, and then an extra week getting everyone on board. In the last few years, Harry had grown to like it a lot. Hermione wasn't just any average planner. She was Hermione. So everything was done with absolute and undisputed perfection. Every gift was meaningful, the cake was always unbelievably beautiful. And the party was always wholesome and perfect. Small and family orientated, but grand in its own type of way.
Harry loved that picking out gifts for the Grangers was never an issue thanks to Hermione. He'd always throw in his own ideas for Dan and Emma as he'd come to like them a lot. But he would always end up buying everything Hermione suggested as well just because she knew them so much better. Not to mention if he didn't buy the gifts she'd recommended, she would buy them herself.
"Precisely." She answered. "And guess who not only forgot, but once again wants to bail out on me."
Harry shook his head and sighed. He sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes. Ron was his best friend. The best he could ever ask for. But for the life of him, Harry could never understand why he was so determined to be a lousy boyfriend, and especially to Hermione.
Being completely honest, Harry never invited himself to understand or figure out how Ron and Hermione's relationship ticked. From day one he simply accepted it and decided it would be best to leave it at that. For unknown reasons, he'd discovered that thinking of them being together for longer periods of time made him slightly uncomfortable, and he deducted it was simply because they all grew up together. He'd known them since they were children, and it was strange seeing them being all adult-like and coupled up. That was his best bet. Harry also knew that they argued non-stop. In fact, he had managed to estimate that Ron and Hermione most likely had at least one argument a day. Truth be told, he still had been unsuccessful at figuring out why Hermione hadn't gone grey yet, and why Ron hadn't gone bald from all the stress. Perhaps they enjoyed it? He'd never know.
"Git," Harry commented.
"I know right!" Hermione cried, tensing her eyebrows in anger.
This wasn't Harry's first rodeo. Truth be told, it wasn't even Hermione's first visit of this kind either. She used to visit him and Ginny all the time. Sometimes she'd even spend the night at their house, just to get some time away from Ron. Harry actually enjoyed those nights. Whenever Hermione and Ron argued, things between Harry and Ginny would become very pleasant, as if they were both grateful to not find themselves in a similar position. Hearing Hermione vent about Ron would bring an increasingly pleasant calm to him. But that effect was now gone, as surprisingly enough, Harry's relationship had been the one to completely derail in the end. Regardless, nights like these always reminded him of his sixth year when he'd be a neutral party shared between Ron and Hermione during the whole Lavender saga. Although it was annoying, he actually found the whole thing rather funny sometimes.
The key to all this was to let Hermione vent. She didn't come here for solutions or advice because Hermione rarely needed help with anything. No. She just needed someone to hear her. To nod in agreement as she expressed her anger. Harry learned how to best comfort her very quickly, and he supposed that's why she visited so often.
"Did he at least apologise?" Harry asked.
Hermione shook her head, "No. Of course he didn't. We've both been so busy with work. I've been spending so many nights at the ministry. He's busy with the shop. Whenever we do see each other, it seems like we're just bickering constantly."
Bickering seemed like a very tame word for whatever this was, Harry thought.
"When he told me he couldn't make the party, he wasn't even sorry. He said it so matter-of-factly and casually as if denying a leaflet on a bloody high street." She continued.
Harry loved Ron, but very often he found himself wondering what in the world Hermione actually saw in him romantically. He was definitely a funny guy; he never failed to make the entire room laugh with his priceless comments. Ron cared about his friends too. He'd be there if you truly needed him, and Harry had relied on that many times in the last several weeks. Ron had actually been around more than Hermione. Mostly because he had more priceless information about Ginny. He'd usually tell Harry if she was seeing someone or whether she'd mentioned Harry at all. Harry appreciated Ron greatly for that. And he knew Ron felt sorry for him too. Hermione had been a little different, however.
At first, she was upset just like Ron, but then she'd start giving him these motivational pep talks and almost looked too enthusiastic at times. It kind of annoyed Harry at one point.
"Did he have a good excuse at least?" Harry asked, trying to find any way to defend his red-headed best friend.
"He has yet another sponsor meeting at the joke shop. And of course, it can't be rescheduled." Hermione informed, gritting her teeth.
"Well… I know there's a lot of weight going on this one. If Ron strikes this deal, the joke shop could become international." Harry countered, steadying himself in case Hermione attacked.
"Harry. This is the fourth birthday he's about to miss. He's already missed my dad's twice and now he's about to miss my mum's. Again! Do you understand how that makes me look? How it makes him look to my parents?"
Harry thought about that for a while. Of course, he didn't have parents. Arthur and Molly Weasley would have been his in-laws, but that possibility sailed away ten weeks ago. He always managed to make it to all birthday parties. He ran late a couple of times, but he'd always show in the end. He loved the happy atmosphere. It seemed like any and all arguments were always left behind. Everyone looked happy. People laughed and cheered together as the celebrity of the day would blow the candles on their cake. Nothing else really mattered during those twenty-four hours. The longer he thought about that, the more he realised just why having Ron around for those birthdays might have been so important to Hermione. It was the one time they wouldn't argue. When things would be nice.
"I'm sorry, Mione," Harry muttered.
His response seemed to have broken her anger somehow. She looked at him for a while from across the coffee table, and then her lips started trembling. Hermione came here for what she always wanted from Harry. For his understanding primarily, but also for Harry to defend Ron, to make her believe that somehow, he was redeemable. She wanted him to excuse Ron's behaviour and persuade her that it wasn't all so bad. But truth be told, Harry didn't know what to say. In that very moment, he couldn't think of anything to say to her. He had no excuses on Ron's behalf. You can miss one birthday. You can even miss two. But four in a row? Defeated, and shaken, Hermione threw her face into her hands and started to cry. To truly cry. And Harry was not ready for it.
He had never seen her cry like this. It was different. Hermione was one of the strongest people he had ever met. And to see her break down like this made him truly shake. He could feel his hands tremble as he looked at her. After some hesitation, mainly because of the smell on his collar, he made his way to the sofa and sat down beside her, before wrapping her into a tight embrace. She melted into him and buried her face quickly into his chest. Harry felt the warm and wet trickle of her tears connect with his collar bone, and it made him shiver. Minutes passed like that as she continued to release all her anger and sadness into his chest. Heaving and sniffling. He knew she'd be embarrassed afterwards, he could feel the growing puddle of wet that was covering his shirt, and so he started rubbing her back, letting her know that it was okay. He didn't mind. Never. After everything they had been through. After everything she had done for him. This was the least he could do. He'd finally started to realise just how much pain she'd been bottling in all this time, and it hurt him too.
At that moment, he hated Ron. He truly hated his best friend. How could he do this to her? How could he make THEIR Hermione cry like this? After everything she had done for them both, this is how Ron repaid her.
"Shhh-shhh" Harry uttered into her hair and it only made her cry harder.
Her hands were wrapped tightly around him, and her fingers nailed hard into his hoodie as if she was clutching on for dear life. It made him want to cry too.
He continued to hold her for what felt like hours, running small circles around her back, and brushing his other hand over her bushy brown hair. It smelled really nice. Maybe it was the rain? No. Hermione's hair always smelled nice. In fact… Hermione smelled nice in general. He had deduced that Hermione Granger indeed smelled very nice.
Eventually, she started to calm down, and her sobs were released with deep breaths.
"I made such a fucking mess." She sighed into his chest.
Harry chuckled and patted her on the back, he loved when she swore. It didn't fit her at all and always managed to make him laugh, "It's okay, Mione. It's going to be alright."
She pulled away from him then, and Harry could see her bloodshot eyes, tear stains on her rosy pink cheeks as she wiped her sleeve against her runny nose. Hermione was never truly a child. Maybe physically, but definitely not mentally. From the day Harry met her, she always felt ten or more years older than him and Ron. Harry was very grateful for that most of the time, because it saved their life more than once. But it felt like tonight all the tears she missed out on as a kid had finally come out.
"It won't Harry. I know I've said it before, but I'm serious this time. I'm not going back there. I told him it's over. I can't do it anymore. He's twenty-three for Merlin's sake and sometimes he acts even worse than at Hogwarts. I'm sick of it. I'd rather be alone for… for the rest of my life than spend it with him. I just can't deal with it anymore. I thought I could. But I can't."
He had never heard her say those words. And it felt like something truly changed in that moment. He could feel some form of connection being cut away. Separation. Whatever it could be called. And in that moment, Harry knew she was serious. Hermione had truly broken up with Ron.
"I'm so sorry about your shirt. Please let me wash it." She requested shyly.
Harry managed a tight smile, "Don't be ridiculous. Come. Let's get you to bed. You must be exhausted."
She yawned as if on command, "Okay, just bring me a blanket, I'll crash here."
Harry shook his head, "No. You're not sleeping on the couch."
Hermione looked confused, as her red eyes narrowed, "Harry I always sleep on the couch."
Harry smiled, "Well. Not tonight. The couch is mine. I have grown very attached to it in the last several weeks and we've become quite good friends. You'll have to take the bed upstairs. And I'll fetch you some spare clothes to sleep in."
"Harry, I couldn't. That bed is yours and Gi-" She didn't get a chance to argue anymore when her words turned into a high-pitched squeak as he picked her up into his arms, and carried her towards the stairs.
"What are you doing?" She complained, although there was a hint of giddy in her voice, and she wasn't trying to escape his hold.
"I'm tired too, and I'm not about to fight you over my own couch, thank you very much." He answered.
When they entered the bedroom, Harry could hear Hermione withhold a gasp as she looked around the room. It was dark, but the curtains were undone, and the moonlight illuminated opened and empty drawers and a half-empty wardrobe. Harry's little desk was also very bare apart for a couple framed photos and the single scrunched-up piece of paper in the centre.
Without a word from either of them, Harry gently placed her on the bed before moving towards his wardrobe and fetching some joggers and a white T-shirt. He brought the clothes forward to Hermione and placed them on the bed next to her.
"Please, consider yourself at home. You know where the bathroom is. If you need anything. Just call me." He told her and then started making his way out.
"Harry…" She called,
He stopped and turned to look at her.
"I… thank you."
He smiled back at her, "Goodnight, Mione."
Hermione awoke in the early hours of the morning. She had left the curtains undone and the sunlight was irritating her eyes as she shook awake. The morning confusion hit her hard as she practically stumbled out of bed, trying to recognise her surroundings. She had never slept in this room before, and it made her feel out of place.
Memories of last night came flooding into her head as she clasped at her forehead in embarrassment. How in the world did she agree to sleep in Harry's bed? Then her eyes shot to her feet as she realised her legs were completely bare up to her knickers. She shuffled through the sheets to find the joggers Harry had given her and was about to put them on when the smell of her shirt hit her.
It smelled very nice. Her fingers slowly and gently traced the white fabric of the oversized t-shirt and a deep blush formed on her cheeks when she brought the shirt up to her nose and inhaled the scent it had on. It smelled exactly like Harry. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest as she thought of the way she buried herself against him last night. The way his palms so gently massaged against her back or how his fingers brushed through her hair. She frowned at herself for such out-of-order thoughts. What the hell was wrong with her today?
Her eyes then traced around the room once more, now in much better visibility thanks to the sunlight. It looked abandoned. There was no dust. And it seemed Harry still used the wardrobe. But drawers were open. His bed had fresh sheets on it. The curtains were undone by default as if not touched in weeks. Harry wasn't sleeping in this room. He meant what he said about the couch last night. He'd been sleeping in the living room for over three months now.
Eventually, her eyes settled on the scrunched-up ball of paper on Harry's desk. Hermione swallowed hard when she realised curiosity was about to win her over. She knew this was bad. She was invading Harry's privacy. But somehow… she just knew what it was. It seemed almost obvious what it could be. And she wanted to read it. Maybe it would give her some insight. Perhaps a way to help Harry somehow. She grimaced at her own poor justification but seemed to move towards the desk regardless. She picked up the piece of parchment and unfolded it carefully. Would she scrunch it back up afterwards? Damn. Oh well, it's too late now, she thought as she continued to undo the damage caused to the paper. That's when she began to notice very familiar handwriting. She had seen it many times on multiple birthday and Christmas cards. And she remembered the way her stomach would twist with strange discomfort when she'd see the word 'From the Potters.' Harry and Ginny weren't married. But it still made her feel strange. As if it was some kind of undeniable event boundless to happen at any moment. She knew why it made her feel uneasy, but she'd never allow herself to think about it.
She flattened the letter with her palm against the desk and then lifted it again to read, her heart still thundering.
Dear Harry,
I've decided to write some of my thoughts down here because I know that when the time comes, I won't be able to say them all to you in person. I've always found it really hard to argue with you. You never get angry or raise your voice, and you make it so bloody hard to stay mad at you. That always kind of irritated me.
I want to be as transparent with you as possible here. I'm lost, Harry. I don't know what to do anymore. I've tried speaking to you so many times, but it seems like there are never any results. You keep promising to me that things will change. But they never do. I'm so tired of it. I've spent so many nights crying and pleading and praying that you'd finally change but things have just stayed the same.
I thought our life together would be different. I hoped that we would travel the world together. Enjoy our fame and wealth a little. But you're just so content with living this half-life. We barely go out. We spend our days talking in the garden, walking through parks, shopping or cooking. Other times we're both working and I rarely see you. Sometimes it feels like we're an old, retired couple. Just living through our days until death takes us. I'm sorry. I really don't mean to insult your way of life, but it's true. We don't go on vacations. We don't travel or meet new people. You have an entire wizard nation that loves you and wants to see you and you decide to work as an Auror and then spend all of your free time at home. The only time I get to dress up and have fun is at birthday parties that myself or Hermione organise. You don't take me out to nice restaurants. We don't attend the hundreds of balls and events you're always getting invited to.
And I hate living like this. I want need a normal life. I know you didn't have all these luxuries when you were younger but for Merlin's sake, Harry, YOU HAVE THEM NOW. We're rich and you never even touch any of it. We spend the bare minimum of money just to survive, when we have enough to live like royalty. I truly don't want to sound greedy or ungrateful. Because I'm not. Our first couple of years together were beautiful, and I loved every single second of it. But nothing had changed since then. We're adults now, and you still live like a run-away teenager. I just can't do it anymore. I've tried to plead with you. I've tried to make you change. But nothing is working, and I can't live like this. I deserve more, Harry. I grew up in a poor household. And I understand if you don't, but I wish to enjoy my success. I deserve the good things I have because I worked hard for them. I sincerely hope one day you will realise that too. Because you deserve the world Harry, yet you limit yourself to working and walks in the park. Please do not take this as an offence. Although I am leaving you, I still wish you the best. I hope that you find someone who will appreciate you for who you are entirely, and I hope that you will wish me the same.
Maybe I just need time. Away from all this. Maybe I need to take a step back, thinking about what I truly want, and reconsider my options. I really don't know. I am lost. But I know this will help me find my way back. Please take care of yourself and remember that I will always be there for you as a friend.
Love,
Ginny.
Hermione wiped at her eyes as she scrunched the paper back up. Although not to conceal her deed, but in anger. How could Ginny have said all those things? Did she not realise what Harry had gone through? She seemed utterly blind to the pain and suffering he had endured all his life. So what if he wanted a quiet life? If that was his wish… if it made him happy, then he damn well deserved it and who was Ginny to tell him otherwise?
The note had made her truly furious as she stomped out of the bedroom, trying to forget it entirely. She had decided that the best way to cheer herself up would be with some nice breakfast. She also knew it would be a nice gesture for Harry. In all her racing thoughts, the one thing she did manage to forget successfully, were the joggers which now lay abandoned on Harry's bed.
Harry woke when the smell of bacon and eggs filled his nostrils. His head was pounding, and he quickly realised he was having a hangover. Something he was quite acquainted to by now. He stood up slowly and made his way to the kitchen, yawning as he stumbled through the hallway.
The sight that welcomed him in his kitchen was something he would not have managed to prepare for in a million years. Maybe more.
Hermione was humming to herself gently as she stirred and scrambled up eggs on a pan. Her hips were wiggling from left to right and her hair waved along with her head, dancing across her shoulders. Harry's eyes kept shooting up and down as he took in more details. He couldn't stop himself when he started to admire Hermione's smooth and creamy legs as they swam along with the rest of her body.
What was the song she was humming? Harry couldn't quite pinpoint the melody. But it was very familiar.
His eyes were locked to her as she continued to hum. Then she went onto her tip toes and reached across Harry's stove to grab some seasoning. Harry's eyes widened in shock when the shirt she was wearing got lifted and revealed her bright blue underwear. It was more of Hermione than Harry had ever seen, and the sight made his heart stop. The shirt – his shirt – was waving gracefully just slightly above, revealing traces of her abdomen and lower back. Harry tried to look away. He truly did. But in that moment, he couldn't. He was physically unable to move as his eyes stayed locked on her smooth and spotless skin. The way it glowed against the morning sun. His heart stopped at first, but now it was trying to break out of his ribcage.
Harry quietly, and gently stepped backwards until he was hidden once again in the hallway. He cupped a hand to his mouth as he leaned against the wall and moaned in shock when he felt the tightness that now resided in his boxers. He was hard. So hard to the point that it hurt. And somewhere along the line he remembered just how long it had been since his body had reacted that way. Against his laws, in made him feel giddy, and he stumbled against the wall as flashes of Hermione's legs and bum flashed through his mind. He imaged walking in there, grabbing hold of that creamy waist and helping her up onto the counter – right before he'd-
STOP! It seemed like his rationality finally caught on before he relaxed and composed himself. He took long and steady breaths as he focused on the melody Hermione kept humming. It calmed him somehow. Made him feel cathartic.
He retraced a few more steps, then cleared his throat loudly and started stomping towards the kitchen, praying that she'll hear him.
"Morning, Harry!" She called cheerfully at him.
Harry's eyes momentarily shot back to her legs before they settled on her smiling face, he swallowed hard, "Morning."
She beamed at him, "Did you sleep well? I made us breakfast." She informed before scooping a handful of eggs onto his plate along with two strips of bacon and slid the plate across the table towards him.
"Th-thank you." He cleared his throat again and sat down.
Hermione kept looking at him confused, and then traced his eyes and looked down at her legs. Her eyes widened as her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. She all but threw the pan down onto the stove and ran out of the kitchen, "Oh my god! Sorry! I'll be right back!" She cried as she ascended the stairs at lightning speed.
Harry couldn't help but fight his own blush as he heard her stumbling around upstairs. This was Hermione, for crying out loud. Why was he acting like this?
A minute or so later, she entered the kitchen and sat down next to him, and then dug into her own breakfast. She was wearing Harry's joggers now, and for some strange and unexplained reason, some dark and irrational part of Harry instantly felt disappointed. He quickly decided to abandon those thoughts.
"What's the plan for today?" He asked, hoping to steer them back into some form of normalcy.
Hermione shook her head in between bites, "Whatever you like. I'm off for the weekend. I'm easy."
Harry smiled, "Same here. Well actually I need to run by the Auror's department to drop off some paperwork, but I'll be gone for an hour max."
Hermione smiled. He could still see the rosy blush that refused to leave her cheeks, "Sounds good."
"We could watch a movie if you like?" Harry knew that Hermione also had a deep appreciation of film. Ron and Ginny grew up without TV, and so the concept never really appealed to them, despite Harry and Hermione's constant efforts. They just didn't find the muggle productions all that exciting. The only movie Harry vaguely remembered Ron and Ginny enjoying was Star Wars. But Harry and Hermione were much more attracted to the comedies, romances, and the dramas. They had enough adventures for one lifetime. Although Harry couldn't help but enjoy some science fiction movies. Even though Muggles weren't aware of the secret magical society that co-existed alongside them, Harry was amazed at just how ingenious and creative some of them were.
One of Harry's all-time favourites was The Matrix. He found himself completely immersed in Neo's character, and Hermione always joked he just liked Neo because he was also known as 'The Chosen One'. However, Harry always felt it was more than that. It was the idea of being thrown into this hidden world you never knew existed. Being told you are part of that world and trying to adjust to it. Only to then be told that you have to save it as well. Harry loved the conflict of Thomas Anderson and regarded it very highly. Ron joked Morpheus was something like Harry's Dumbledore. Harry also couldn't help but see similarities between Hermione and Trinity's character. How she followed, supported, and believed in Neo the entire time, and didn't hesitate to help him when he needed it. She would never take no for an answer. It made him smile. Needless to say, the two of them enjoyed watching movies very much.
And so, Hermione was immensely grateful when she found out Harry had purchased a television a couple years back. She visited him regularly to watch movies and shows. Harry was also eternally grateful for Hermione because she helped him discover new stuff to watch. Even though he liked TV, he never really got to watch much during his childhood, and so he had never managed to develop a taste. But thankfully, with Hermione's help, that changed quickly.
"I'd love to watch something. What are you feeling?"
"I still haven't seen Matrix Reloaded. I only just got it on dee-vee-dee. And the last one is supposed to be coming out later this year. We should prepare." He informed, clear excitement rising in his voice.
Hermione smiled at him in appreciation, "In that case, while you're out in the ministry, I'll run to the shop and get some groceries. I'd like to cook us some dinner and also grab snacks for the movie."
Harry's smile faltered, "Hermione, you don't have to-"
Hermione placed her hand on his, "I want to. Please, Harry. Let me find a way to say thank you." Her gaze seemed to pierce right through him in that moment, and he could see nothing but sincerity in her chocolate-brown eyes. "You… you have no idea just how much you helped me last night."
Harry knew better than to protest and returned to his breakfast.
They seemed to have worked in perfect harmony around each other as they navigated through various tasks. While Hermione showered, Harry cleaned the dishes. When it was Harry's turn to use the bathroom, Hermione took the opportunity to clean up his entire place. She moaned and complained at the stack of alcohol bottles as she threw them out and promised to scold Harry for not taking better care of himself. After making the living room more presentable, she went back to Harry's bedroom and finally closed all the open drawers. After only a couple hours, Harry's little house was back to being very presentable. Harry thanked her profusely and then left to the ministry. Hermione got dressed and went shopping. She used the opportunity to buy some more clothes, a toothbrush and underwear, as she had no intention of going back to her and Ron's place at the moment.
They never really touched on the subject, but Hermione felt like Harry wouldn't mind having her around, although she promised herself to ask him tonight to make sure. Harry was already home when she returned. He helped her unpack the groceries, and they promptly started working on dinner together. Harry flipped on the wireless, and the kitchen was soon booming with music and smells of good food.
Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun. Likewise, she couldn't recall the last time she'd seen Harry smile and laugh so much. It warmed her heart to see him like this; so careless and free.
"Harry, I… I'm not sure how long it will take me to find a new place. I guess what I'm asking is-" She began only to be met with Harry's shaking head.
"You can stay as long as you like. Finding a new place is such a hassle. Besides, you found this house, Hermione. It's as much yours as it is mine." He chuckled. It was true. Hermione was looking for her own place to buy with Ron, when she stumbled across the cozy one-bedroom cottage, it had Harry written all over it. When Harry first got the tour, it was love at first sight, next thing you know, him and Ginny were moving in. Ginny hoped for something a little bigger, but Harry was absolutely sold from the moment he laid his eyes on the place.
Hermione smiled at him, "Thank you."
The movie was good. Although maybe too good because Harry was so immersed, he had no idea when exactly she passed out from all the excitement. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and her hands were wrapped around his arm. He wanted to take her upstairs to bed, but something kept putting him off it. Eventually, the film finished, and Harry stared in awe at the phrase 'To be concluded' already knowing he'd be dragging Hermione out to the cinema to watch the final film in the series. As the credits rolled, he still fought against taking Hermione upstairs. His own behaviour was confusing him.
He twisted his head to look at her. The light from the TV was sending a gentle glow across her smooth features. Hermione's brows were always slightly furrowed when she slept, as if in deep thought. Harry had first discovered that during the Horcrux hunt. Her lips looked puffy, and Harry figured it must have been all the salt from the popcorn. He found himself placed in a new predicament as he fought the struggle to look away from her lips. He felt himself gravitate slightly towards her, and now he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. It sent shivers down his back.
Just then, Hermione sighed as her hands wrapped even tighter around his arm and she buried her face into his shoulder. He couldn't help but smile.
The credits had finished now, and the TV went dark. Harry reluctantly shifted himself up and scooped Hermione into his arms. He never paid much attention, but just then, he realised how tiny Hermione was. How light she felt in his arms. It ignited a protective flame in his chest.
He placed her on the bed gently, and brought the duvet up to her face.
"G'night Mione." He smiled and trotted back downstairs.
The forest was beautiful. He ran his hands across the trunks and the thick bark as he navigated through the green wooden maze. He could feel the crunch of old leaves under the souls of his feet as he carried on through the little path. He didn't know where it led, but the humming voice guided him. He pilgrimaged on and on through the trees until eventually, he made it to the open clearing. A beautiful see-through lake reflected the afternoon sky. And at the lake's head was where she stood. She had a devilish grin on her face as she continued to smile at him. She wore nothing but a white t-shirt and her hair gently blew in the wind. Her eyes pulled him in seductively as he stumbled towards her. Like a lost man in a mirage. He wanted her. But was she even real? Could such perfection exist?
"Harry…"
His eyes shot open as he struggled to focus in the complete darkness. Eventually his pupils adjusted too and he could now make out Hermione standing in front of him, a blanket hanging from her shoulders.
"Hermione?" He asked in a raspy voice.
"I'm sorry for waking you… I… I can't sleep. Had a nightmare." She whispered.
Harry reached for his glasses and slid them onto his nose and then looked up at her. There was a deep frown on her face. She looked scared.
"Voldemort?" He asked.
"Bellatrix." She whispered.
Harry nodded. Half of his mind was still entangled with the dream he'd just been shaken from, and so he wasn't sure how much thought went into his actions when he opened his blanket for her to join him on the couch. "You can stay here if you like." Did he say those words? Or was he just thinking them?
Hermione nodded gratefully and squeezed in beside him. The sofa was spacious, but not spacious enough, and so half of Hermione ended up resting on top of him. Although Harry would never be one to complain. Not right now.
"I keep hoping they'll go away. But I still get them every now and again. It's infuriating." She whispered against his chest.
Harry huffed in agreement, already starting to fade away again. He was focused on Hermione's breathing and the way it calmed as minutes ticked on. Soon enough, they were both sound asleep.
The morning struck soon enough, and Harry was the first one to wake up. He knew instantly it was Hermione's hair tickling his face that did the job. He wasn't entirely sure how it was possible, but he ended up sleeping on the edge of the sofa, while Hermione happily dosed on the inside. He marvelled at that for a minute as he stared at her sleeping face.
She looked content. Peaceful. The furrow on her brow was almost completely gone.
Harry pulled himself out of bed slowly and quietly, hoping to let her rest a little longer while he made breakfast. He was finishing up making tea when a yawning Hermione walked into the kitchen.
"Morning," She mumbled.
Harry took a long admiring look at her as she sat down. Her bushy brown hair was sticking out in all directions, like she'd been electrocuted, and her cheeks were pink. It was quite the sight.
"Sleep okay?" Harry asked as he placed a cup of tea in front of her.
She took it gratefully and mouthed a 'thank you' before taking a sip, "Mostly, yes." There was conflict in her eyes, "Sorry about last night, Harry." She muttered.
Harry smiled at her, "No worries. It was a little nostalgic, actually."
Hermione's blush deepened as she grabbed a spoon and started on her porridge. Harry vaguely remembered those dark nights during the hunt. The ones where the locket would bring them both the worst sort of nightmares. Neither of them would complain when one came over to share a bunk. It seemed that very little had changed since then.
"So… what's the plan for today?" Hermione asked in between spoonfuls.
Harry shrugged, "No idea. But I'm open to suggestions."
They both sat there in silence, eating and brainstorming. Eventually, Hermione's eyes brightened as she turned to him, "Let's get out of here!" She implored.
Harry raised an eyebrow at her, "And go where?"
"I don't know." She smiled. "Let's just leave all this behind for a bit. Let's forget everything and just disappear. How about we pack some stuff and go camping. We won't plan a destination. We'll just think of a random place and apparate there. Go hiking. Have a campfire. Sound good?"
Leave it all behind. That sounded almost too perfect. He'd do anything to leave and forget everything. To be free and unbothered. Perhaps she could make it real for him. If he let her.
Harry smiled, "That actually seems very nice."
Hermione beamed back at him, "Really? You want to?"
"It sounds fun."
She jumped up from her seat in excitement, "Okay! I'm going to pack some stuff in my bag. Want to leave in an hour? We need to buy provisions."
Harry loved that fire of determination that spread through her face, how could he ever say no to that? "Sounds perfect, how long are we going for?"
She shrugged happily, "I don't know. Until we get bored. I still have tons of unused annual leave. If it runs into the week, I won't mind."
Harry nodded, "I should be fine too. Besides, they won't fire me."
Hermione laughed, "No. I don't think they will. And if they try… well my boss is also the boss of your boss. So I'm sure I can pull some strings for you."
"My my… Hermione Granger abusing her powers. Never in a million years would I have predicted this." Harry mused.
"Shut up." Hermione swatted his arm, "Alright. Think about a random place you'd like to visit while we pack. I'll meet you downstairs in an hour."
"Yes ma'am." Harry saluted before retiring to the bathroom.
They met downstairs again in exactly one hour. Hermione's beaded bag was securely tightened to her waist, Harry slipped a few things in it, before they locked the front door and turned to face one another.
"Okay. Thought of a place?" Hermione enquired.
Harry extended his arm, and she took his hand in hers. And then they spun and disappeared in a pop.