# La Nuit

radcliffeluvslave

Rating: NC17
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 16/06/2006
Last Updated: 26/07/2006
Status: Completed

The night brings out a side of Hermione she at times regrets, and at times is grateful for above all things.

## 1. Un

La Nuit

Subject: Harry Potter

Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst

Pairings: HP/HG, RW/LL, GW/DM

Summary: The night brings out a side of Hermione she at times regrets, and at times is grateful for above all things.

Rating: NC-17 Adult situations, strong language

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

La Nuit = The Night

Chapter one – Un

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, pounding on her bedroom door. "Hermione, let's go! We're gonna be late! Harry left an hour ago!"

"Alright!" she yelled back. "I'll be ready in five minutes! Hold your bloody knickers on!"

"Just hurry!" he responded, turning and walking back down the corridor.

Hermione let out a heavy sigh as she grabbed the bottle of water next to her bed and took a long drink. Hermione walked back across the room and rummaged around in her jewelry box until she found the twelve-carrot diamond choker that Harry had gotten her the previous year for her birthday. The choker was about an inch and a half wide and the diamonds were as clear as water. Harry had seen Hermione eyeing it at the shops one day and had decided to just get it for her. It was the most expensive and extravagant present she had ever received.

She clasped it behind her neck and let it hang away from her neck slightly. She adjusted the halter-top black dress that she was wearing that reached all the way to the floor and grazed it ever so slightly. Hermione scurried across her room to her closet and grabbed her black stilettos and slipped them onto her pantyhose-adorned feet. Tonight they were going to attend the 75th Annual International Quidditch Conference at the ultra-classy and ultra-posh Phoenix hotel just off of Diagon Alley. Harry had whined about going but Hermione, Ron, and Oliver had all forced him to go. He had relented, yet agreed when his girlfriend of two years, Cho Chang, told him that she would love nothing more than to attend with him.

Hermione couldn't stand that girl. She was a pure gold-digger in Hermione's opinion. She hadn't started being interested in Harry since he had started playing quidditch professionally and "raking in" the galleons. He had been one of Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelors and at the top of their Hex Worthy Hotty list. She did whatever he wanted her to and she never argued with him or contradicted him about anything. Even when it seemed that Harry was being the thickest git in existence, Cho was there telling him how handsome and brilliant he was.

"She can be such a fucking pussy sometimes," Hermione murmured aloud as she inserted her half carrot diamond studs into her ears and grabbed her purse and stuffed her wand inside after charming her hair up and elegant.

She sprayed on a bit of the rose petal and lavender perfume that Harry said he thought smelled so nice. She hurried out of her bedroom and was halfway down the corridor before she realized she forgot the matching bracelet Harry had gotten her to go with the choker. It was just about a half an inch thick, but it was purely elegant. Sometimes he treated her too well; and she loved that about him.

She rushed back to her room, clipped it on, and then rushed back out the door and down the stairs. Hermione came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs when she saw Ron waiting patiently for her, staring at the clock in the kitchen. She smirked as she cleared her throat to draw his attention. His head snapped around and his mouth fell open at the sight of her.

"If that's what took you two hours, then you're forgiven," he said, walking over and offering Hermione her elegant black trench coat with the silk lining.

"Thank you," she said as he placed the coat around her shoulders and took her arm in his.

Ron did look quite handsome in his simple black tuxedo, white vest, and black silk tie. He had borrowed a pair of silver cuff links from Harry's collection and had on a pair of polished black leather shoes. He apparated them just outside of the hotel and he led her inside. They entered the slightly crowded lobby and were immediately met by a bright flashing of nearly a dozen flashbulbs. Hermione shielded her eyes slightly and continued with Ron through the crowd of photographers and to the entrance to the ballroom.

"Name, sir?" the witch at the hostess desk asked.

"We're with Mr Potter," Ron said smoothly.

"And what part of his party might you be?" she asked, skimming down a few names.

"Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger," he answered proudly.

"Of course," she said, finding their names and checking them off with an eagle feather quill. "I would be pleased to take your coats and you may go right in, Mr Weasley and Ms Granger. Have a brilliant time."

"Thank you very much," Ron said, nodding to her and leading Hermione through the tall oak doors that two bus-boys held open for them after disposing of their coats.

Inside elegant music played and idle conversation hummed amongst the enchanted instruments playing at the head of the party. Hermione sought out a familiar face, and immediately saw Oliver Wood and his wife standing with the head of International Quidditch Relations, Karlton Frederik Jamesson. Hermione tugged at Ron's arm gently and they walked over to the bright looking couple.

"Ron, ol' boy!" Oliver exclaimed as Ron and Hermione approached. "Ready for Russia next weekend?"

"Well, with the amount of practice you've been putting us through, we bloody well better be," Ron joked, eliciting a hearty laugh from the group.

"Hermione," Oliver's wife Emily said, "Harry's been asking about you for nearly an hour. He's over with Cornelius by the refreshment table I believe."

"Thank you," Hermione said, nodding to the group. "Pleasure to see you again Monsieur Jamesson," Hermione said, offering him her hand. He kissed the back of it dryly.

"The pleasure was mine, Ms Granger," he said, smiling to her as she kissed Ron on the cheek, thanked him, and wandered off towards the refreshments table.

She could see the back of his head, even from here. The black mane that was usually out of control had been oddly tamed tonight and Hermione couldn’t help but think how much she liked his hair better when it was its own, haphazard self. He was talking with a man that she had never seen or met before and she could see Cho nowhere in sight. She approached him and gently tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and beamed when he saw her. She saw his eyes roam over her body, a hungry glint in his eyes, then return to the task at hand. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hugged her gently. He drew away from her and turned her to face the man he had been talking to.

"Hermione," he said, motioning towards the man in front of her, "this is Harold Derriks. He's one of the managers of the England quidditch team. A very rich man, this one."

"Very pleased to meet you, Monsieur Derriks," Hermione said, holding out her hand. The man kissed it lingeringly and looked quizzically to Harry.

"This is the fiancé, I presume?" the man asked Harry.

"No, no," he said, waving it off. "Hermione is a very dear friend of mine," Harry said, placing his arm loosely around her waist. She smiled in his direction as the other man finally released her hand.

"Fiancé?" she asked suspiciously. "When did this happen?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Harry said, brushing the matter aside. "A simple misunderstanding is all it was," he tried to reassure her. "Hermione," he blurted out. "A few of the boys have requested a little performance, if you would be so kind."

"Performance?" she asked questioningly. "Oh!" she realized finally. "Well, I don't see why not," Hermione said. "But not now, dear," she said. "I'm talking with Monsieur Derriks."

"Oh, well," the timid man said. "I don't mean to be an inconvenience..."

"Not at all," Hermione reassured him. "So, what were you talking about before I interrupted?"

"Well..." Harold began, but was cut off by someone calling to the crowd from the stage.

Everyone turned their attention to the red faced Ron who was smiling wickedly in Hermione's direction. She narrowed her eyes at him. He cleared his throat as he cast a voice enhancing charm on himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he addressed the group. "I hope that you have all enjoyed your night thus far. It seems that this year the teams are looking better than ever!" He paused and everyone applauded willingly. He smiled. "Now, it seems that our entertainment is rather dull, wouldn't you agree?" Everyone whistled and chided at Ron's comment. Ron nodded to them all. "As I said. Now, there seems to be a rumor that has been flitting around, and I do believe it was on special request by a Mr Harry Potter," Ron said, a smile enveloping his face. "May I present to you, Ms Hermione Granger," Ron said, directing his hand towards Hermione.

She gaped as the rest of Harry's team cheered her on and whistled encouragingly. Harry let go of her and urged her forward. She stumbled a bit at first, but made her way up to the stage gracefully nonetheless. She looked to the floating instruments as she stood in the middle of the stage and the instruments all shook at her, as if they understood. She nodded to them and turned to the audience where a sea of people waited anxiously. She cast a glare in Ron's direction who raised his wine glass to her heartily. She took a deep breath and raised her hand, whispering, “Accio Violin”. Her mahogany and cedar violin came floating gracefully into her hands and she took up her bow, beginning to play one of her favorite pieces. She noticed that some of the couples began to dance as she continued to play. One particular couple Hermione noticed happened to be Harry and Cho. She scowled slightly but turned her attention back to her music.

Hermione had played violin since she was a very small girl. It was her passion, aside from her reading and studying. It was her little escape that she loved to indulge in whenever she was home for vacation or break during her school days. Now that they were all out of school and Hermione had moved in with Ron and Harry, they had both taken notice to her outstanding talent, as she had taken to playing quite frequently in the house. She had become something of a celebrity in the wizarding world because of her skill with the instrument. She also enjoyed playing the piano, but the violin was undeniably her calling.

Hermione ended her performance and there was ferocious applause. She shook her head, a wild smile on her face as she wandered down the steps of the stage and into Ron's awaiting embrace. She could see Harry approaching from the other side of the room, Cho nowhere in sight. Once Ron had released her Harry took the opportunity to bring her tightly to his chest.

"That was brilliant, Hermione," Harry said, tears brimming in his eyes. He had been a bit on the emotionally unstable side ever since Sirius had died. He drew away from her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before climbing up the stairs himself and casting yet another charm. The crowd quieted as they witnessed the new arrival to the stage. Hermione placed her violin back in its case and placed the case on a nearby table as Harry cocked a silly grin and addressed the audience.

"That was bloody brilliant," he breathed. A few people chuckled and Harry took another deep breath. "Well, I know that everyone wants to get back to their festivities, but I would like to hold your attention for just a moment longer. If no one is aware, my name is Harry Potter. Now, I don't quite know how to say this, as it was hard enough just rehearsing it, so I might as well just come out and bloody say it."

Hermione's ears perked up. What the bloody hell had he rehearsed? She saw him shift nervously as he directed his speech to a specific person. Hermione looked over her shoulder and her eyes got wide as she realized whom Harry was talking to. Cho Chang stood by the side of the dance floor with a few other women and she was smiling wickedly, almost knowingly. Hermione scowled as she turned to face Harry once again.

"Cho, love, will you marry me?" he asked, holding his arms open.

She called out to him heartily. "Yes!"

She walked delicately up to the stage and was embraced and kissed lovingly by the man that Hermione had been pining over since she was sixteen. Harry dug around in his pockets and fished out a small box. He popped it open and they all saw Cho's hands fly to her face in utter surprise as Harry held out a rather large engagement ring to her and slipped it onto her left ring finger. They were both smiling madly and all Hermione could do was trace delicate shapes over the necklace she was wearing, trying to remember how brilliant it felt to get jewelry from that wonderful man. Her breath caught in her throat and a tear slid down her face as she felt her last hope for love slip away from her. Ron stood beside her, clapping madly along with everyone else.

Harry turned back to the crowd and looked to Hermione. "One last performance, Hermione?" he asked. Ron coaxed her forward and she was nearly forced back onto the stage. Harry led his new fiancé down the stairs and to the middle of the dance floor where a charmed spotlight found them. Hermione took up her instrument slowly, beginning a drawn out, enchanting melody that brought tears to her eyes as she put all of her emotion into it.

Ever since sixth year Hermione had had a hard time coping with Harry and the life he led. She had been incredibly withdrawn and almost closed off to Harry their sixth and the beginning of their seventh year. But with the coming of the final battle and the defeat of Voldemort, the trio had become closer than ever. It wasn’t until it was too late that Hermione realized that the awkwardness she had felt around Harry ever since sixth year had been the effects of a very simple and elementary crush that had developed into an incredible feeling of love and protection. Her feelings had been revealed to her during the final battle, when Harry had protected her from a Death Eater who had tried to carry Hermione off amidst the fighting. Ever since that night she had been completely devoted and committed to keeping Harry safe and loved. What she hadn’t anticipated was Cho Chang.

Hermione finished, letting a single tear fall down her face as she walked off of the stage with all of the pride she could muster. With her head held high she informed Ron that she was tired and that she was going to go back to the house early. She told him to tell Harry congratulations for her, since he and Cho were still a bit caught up in themselves and the applause was still thunderous. She didn't know if it was for her or for the happy couple, but she honestly didn't care. She walked out of the hall, putting up with a few hugs and ‘thank yous’ from various people before finally retrieving her coat and apparating home in a huff of anger and frustration.

She landed in the living room and threw her coat down on the floor. She quickly unclasped the necklace and snapped the bracelet off. The jewelry was thrown hastily onto a table next to the front door as she kicked her shoes about the entrance hall and hiked up her dress and stormed down the corridor, up the stairs, down the second floor corridor, and fell onto her bed. She didn't even bother shutting her door. She just collapsed into her pillows and sobbed uncontrollably, feeling her mascara run freely down her cheeks.

She didn't care. No, she took that back. She cared, but she didn't want to care. She didn't want to care about him. She didn't want to love him; but she did and there was no escaping it. Hermione loved him with all that she was worth, even if only a few years ago it had become deeper, more physical. Harry had always been a friend, The Boy Who Always Saved The Day. He had been that to her for years, but something had changed. Whether it was hormones or the simple fact that she had fallen head over arse for him near the end of seventh year, she was madly in love with her best friend, and she didn't regret it one bit. That was about the same time he had started dating Cho, or trying to date her. It had taken a while, but after a year, right after graduation, they announced that they were a couple. It had also been right after Harry had signed his forty million-galleon contract with the English quidditch team.

Hermione had almost thrown up. She had merely stared at them, gave Harry a pitying look, and then turned and walked off to face the realization alone. Then, to make matters worse, Ron and his long time girlfriend Luna Lovegood decided to get married about a year after Harry and Cho had been together. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been sharing a house. They thought that it would become awkward after Ron was married, but it really hadn't. They were a happy little family, eating together and enjoying peaceful nights together simply talking and visiting with each other. Hermione had always felt a bit more secure about the whole situation because Harry was there to help her along. But now what would happen? Harry and Cho would be married, and no doubt, would decide to stay in the house. Hermione would curse herself before she would live with those two happy couples under the same damn roof.

She tried to muffle her cries in the pillow, but to no avail. She tore her face away from the make-up streaked sheets and angrily charmed them clean. Hermione huffed off of the bed and whisked across the room to her closet. She reached around to unclasp the dress but let her hands fall to the side as another flow of tears shook her slightly. She placed her hand on her mouth and sobbed uncontrollably into it. She wiped at her face to clear away the mussed make-up and turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror. She bent down and hiked the bottom of the dress up and tore her pantyhose off. Hermione reached up and took her hair out of its stylish bun and let it fall below her shoulders freely. She couldn't stand it curly like this. She charmed it straight and pulled her skirts up again as she walked to her bathroom to wash her face.

A tear found its way down her face and to the corner of her mouth. Hermione wiped it away, barely noticing it amongst the water that adorned her now clean face. She dried her face and returned to her room, almost shrieking at the sight of a bleak looking Harry Potter standing in her doorway. He stared at her, confusion evident in his gaze.

"Are you okay, Herms?" he asked, taking a step into her room. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes feverishly.

"Fine, fine. You should get back," Hermione said, waving a hand at him. "They'll be expecting you to make some type of acceptance speech for your award."

"I know, but are you sure you're all right?" he asked, coming to stand next to her.

"Yeah," she said, trying as hard as she could to keep her emotions under control. "Go," she commanded. "I'm just tired. Long day. I just need to get some sleep," she said, brushing past him and walking to her closet. She reached behind her to unzip the dress, but Harry's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Leave it on," he coaxed. "Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?"

"No," she said. "If you did I must have missed it," she said, unzipping the gown halfway. She had no problem changing in front of Harry under the circumstances. She was adequately covered underneath. Her black silk whalebone corset covered her entire stomach and her black panties covered her behind and her front, so what was there to be ashamed of?

"I think that you look beautiful just like this," he said, hugging her from behind. She shrugged him off and finished unzipping the dress. She pulled it down and stepped out of it, picking it up and shaking it out, walking over to the closet and finding the hanger that it had occupied earlier. Harry just stood there, stunned at how willing she was to unveil herself to him.

"You don't look half bad this way though, either," he commented as she walked over to her dresser and pulled out a pair of loose gray sweatpants and a plain white tank top. She smirked at him as she retrieved a white sports bra and walked behind the changing screen in the corner of her room. It's not as if she felt uncomfortable changing in her own room when she was alone, but it did seem nice sometimes to have the screen there.

She pulled at the strings at the back of the corset and it immediately unlaced itself and loosened away from her body. She loved magical corsets. They laced themselves up and they knew just how tight to do it so you weren't suffocated. Hermione put her bra on and pulled the sweatpants on before quickly tugging on the tight white wife-beater. Hermione stalked out from behind the screen and walked over to her vanity, beginning to brush her hair out. Harry stared at her from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Hermione sighed.

"You might as well just leave," she said, tugging the round brush through her long, now straight chestnut hair. "I'm sure Cho is wondering where you are," Hermione added, tugging the brush a bit harder with her next stroke.

"Hermione..." Harry started, confused. "What's wrong? You seem a bit cross."

No shit, she thought to herself. She wanted to slam the brush down, but refrained from doing so. Hermione set the brush down on the vanity gently and turned to face Harry who was still in the exact same position as before.

"What do you want?" she asked angrily.

"I want to know what's wrong, that's what," Harry explained, taking a step towards her. She backed away quickly.

"Nothing is wrong, thank you very much," Hermione spat. "Now, if you don't mind," she said, walking towards him and pushing him out of the door, "kindly sod off," Hermione said, shutting the door in Harry's face, still an awed expression on it.

She was halfway back to her bed when she heard a rapping on her door. She sighed agitatedly and walked back to the door, flinging it open to reveal a determined Harry. Hermione opened her mouth to say something but Harry stopped her with a hand over her mouth. He pushed his way back into the room and shut the door behind him. He released her mouth and cut her off with his own words before she could say anything.

"Something is wrong and don't try to tell me otherwise, Hermione," he stated fiercely. "Now, either you tell me what is wrong or I'll have to force it out of you," he said with a sly grin.

"I doubt that you could force anything out of me," she spat back at him.

"Oh, really?" he asked.

"Yeah, really," she replied bitterly.

"I bet that I could force a laugh out of you," he said, closing the distance between them to come within inches of her face.

"You think?" she asked skeptically. "Try me."

He grinned wickedly and dove in, tickling her right in the spot where he knew she was the weakest. He attacked her stomach and the backs of her knees. She writhed beneath him, doubled over in laughter, the joy lighting up her face. She was breathless as Harry sat up, straddling her waist as they had long since fallen to the floor. Hermione smirked, then hooked her heel behind his knee and flipped them over so that she was on top. She giggled and went right for his sides, up his ribcage and across his stomach. He was hopeless. He was done for. Harry was laughing breathlessly as Hermione abruptly stopped and slumped over to lie beside him, laughing hysterically. He rolled over onto his side once he caught his breath and propped himself up on one elbow to gaze at her.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"I win," he muttered silently, a wicked smile overtaking his face.

Hermione started to laugh, but then remembering what had happened earlier that night, pushed him to the side and got up off of the floor in a fury and stalked off down the corridor, down the stairs and into the kitchen where she began to rummage around in search of coffee. She heard Harry trudging after her and she immediately charmed herself a cup of steaming coffee and scurried up the stairs, right past his unsuspecting form. He turned around just as she jogged by and began after her as she slammed her bedroom door shut behind her. He pounded on her door for what seemed like hours; but Hermione merely wept silently into her pillows, leaving the coffee on her bedside table, cold and forgotten in her anger.

As time passed by, she heard him finally give up and walk back downstairs. A few moments later, she heard the front door open and the familiar sounds of Ron tossing his keys onto the table by the door and throwing his coat carelessly into the front closet for either her or Luna to pick up later. Hermione sat up slowly, wiping at her face once again with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, easing the stress out of her body. She pushed herself up from the bed and walked slowly to her door. She rested a trembling hand on the doorknob and forced herself to turn it. The door made an echoing squeak as the hinges strained in their old age. She cursed the door as she walked down the corridor and to the door of Ron's study. Hermione raised her arm and knocked quickly on the door.

"Come in," echoed from inside of the room.

Hermione turned the knob and pushed the door open, letting it swing to the side and hit the wall with a slight bang. Ron looked up from his work and straightened his glasses as he looked strangely at her.

"What is it, Hermione?" he asked as she walked quickly to his side. He stood to meet her as she gave him a pleading look, then flung herself into his arms, weeping freely into his chest. He stood stock still for as moment, then slowly brought his arms around her and held her tightly to him, rubbing her back gently to soothe her. He calmed her as best he could, then drew her away from him so that she could look him in the face.

"What's wrong?" he asked lightly, placing a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. She shook her head in denial, but Ron wouldn't take it. "Come on, Hermione. I know you better than that. Something is wrong. Tell me what it is. I want to help," Ron pleaded, an aching tone in his voice.

Hermione took a deep breath in and turned to look at the open door behind her. She walked to it and shut it silently, hearing the click of the lock echo in the room. Her shoulders dropped as she turned back to him and walked to an available chair in front of his desk. He sat across from her, folding his hands in front of him tightly, ready to listen.

Hermione cleared her throat and wiped underneath her eye to clear away the trail of moisture left behind by a stray tear. She looked directly at him and said as calmly as she could, "I love him."

Ron looked almost relieved at her explanation. "Thank Merlin that's all it is," Ron said, loosening the grip he had on his hands. "You know, Hermione," Ron said, "he felt the same way about you for...Merlin I forget how long. I'd say seventh year. You intimidated him, and then Cho finally came around and he took what he could get."

Hermione gaped at him. "He what?" she asked.

"I don't know if he still does, but there was a time when he was bloody nutters about you. Fancied you to death, he did. Got quite annoying actually," Ron said, leaning back and placing his hands behind his head, reminiscing. "Harry talking about you all the rime and what not. Non-stop. Not that you're not an interesting person and all, Hermione," he interjected, seeing the glazed look that passed over her eyes, "it's just that there was only so much that I could take before I became completely fed up with the thick git."

"He really felt that way?" Hermione asked again, hope reflected in her eyes.

Ron nodded. "I would actually be quite surprised if he didn't still feel the same way."

"Really?" she challenged.

He shrugged. "Possibly; but with this engagement, it would be difficult. I'm not saying you should give up, I'm just saying, maybe you should give him time to come around. Drop some more hints, and if all else fails, jump him."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, surprised at the suggestion.

"What? I doubt that any bloke with half a brain wouldn’t register what a witch meant if she bloody raped him."

"I would never!" she exclaimed loudly. "Ronald Weasley," she started, "you've got some nerve just assuming that I am so desperate that I would resort to jumping one of my best friends just to get him to realize that I fancy him. And he being engaged for Merlin's sake!"

"Hermione," Ron said knowingly, "you came in here practically in pieces because the bloke you fancy is going to marry someone else. If that doesn't hint at desperate, or at least crushed beyond recognition, then I don't know what does."

Hermione sighed, kneading her forehead with her left hand. "Maybe you're right," she muttered.

"About what?" he asked.

"Everything," she admitted tiredly. "I just don't want to lose whatever chance I might have with him."

"Then just tell him," Ron rationalized sleepily, letting out a long yawn.

"It's not that simple!" she exclaimed, jumping from her chair enthusiastically. "You think that if I just go up to him and confess my undying love for him that he will just drop Cho and come to my rescue? Christ, Ron. Didn't think you were that thick."

"Trust me," he said, leaning forward in his chair, "I'm not being rash. Honest. I have no doubt in my mind that if you would simply tell him that he would come around."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then let out a long and heavy sigh. She slumped back into her chair and placed her head flatly in her hands. She mumbled something inaudible into her hands.

"What?" Ron asked intently.

Hermione looked up at him, sorrow in her eyes. "Maybe I should just give up."

"Hermione..." Ron started, only to be silenced by her hand in the air.

"How is it my place to just intrude on his life and break up what could be a true and meaningful love?" Hermione asked, emotion hanging on her every word.

"Trust me, Hermione. This isn't love. What you feel for him and what he feels for you, that's love. What he feels for Cho, it’s just desperation. He’s afraid that if he doesn’t take advantage of this opportunity that he’ll be alone forever.”

"I just don't see how it's worth it."

Ron shrugged. "I can't make up your mind for you, Hermione. I'm simply saying, you would be bloody nutters to not at least give it a go. Who knows, you may be wrong."

"And if I'm right?" she asked, standing to leave.

Ron shrugged. "Then for the millionth time you would prove me wrong. But, Hermione," Ron said, "be honest with yourself. You're always right. Do you want to be right this time?"

Hermione stared at him, then let out a deep sigh through her nose and shook her head, closing her eyes and dropping her chin to her chest. She mumbled a quiet thank you to Ron as she turned to leave the office.

"Think about it, Hermione!" he called after her as she shut the door with an audible click and turned back to the corridor. As she began to walk back to her room, her head still hung low, she could hear heavy footstep coming up the stairs. She turned frightfully, expecting to see Harry, but let out a breath of relief when she saw Luna in all of her tired glory ascend the stairs. She worked herself to death at the Ministry every night and they all sympathized her greatly. Hermione knew that with just one look Luna could tell that something was wrong. As Luna opened her mouth to speak Hermione called a quick "G'night, Luna!" and darted off to her room. Sleep overtook her quickly that evening and she barely gave a thought to Harry as she drifted off into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

## 2. Deux

Author’s note: All information concerning ‘St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries’ was taken from the Harry Potter Lexicon © 2001-2006 (http://www.hp-lexicon.org/wizworld/places/mungos.html).

Chapter two - Deux

Hermione trudged down to the kitchen the next morning, hoping that she wouldn’t have to encounter Harry. She was greeted that morning by the sounds of someone retching in the loo, and although it was quite sickening, she couldn’t help but be concerned for whoever it was. She hesitantly pressed her ear to the door and listened as someone let out an echoing cough before flushing the toilet and closing the lid. Well, it definitely wasn’t one of the boys. Hermione knew that much. Neither of them ever put the seat down, and it annoyed her and Luna to death.

She could only assume that it was Luna in the bathroom, so she waited patiently while she heard the water in the sink running and a gentle splash echoing around the room. The water shut off and muffled footsteps began to approach the door. The knob turned and a red faced, exhausted looking Luna Weasley emerged.

“Luna?” Hermione asked, coming to stand in front of her. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Luna coughed gently into her hand and nodded through her coughing fit. “Fine,” she stammered, making her way towards the steps and descending to the kitchen. Hermione followed close behind, concerned for her friend. The young witch sauntered lazily into the kitchen and slumped down into one of the kitchen chairs, resting her forehead on the table. Hermione walked over to her and sat down next to her, resting a hand lightly on her back and gently running it up and down her spine trying to soothe her aching muscles.

“You’re sure that you’re alright?” Hermione asked. She looked expectantly at Luna who merely nodded her head against the table and sighed heavily.

“Well…” Hermione tried, “could you maybe be sick? I’m sure that we could floo Molly and get something for your stomach,” Hermione tried.

Luna chuckled into the table, lifting her head to look at Hermione with bright eyes. “Trust me, Hermione. I’m far from sick.”

“But, Luna…” she started, pondering what she meant, then Hermione gazed at her with her mouth hanging open. “You’re not,” Hermione stated, a broad grin spreading across her face. Luna merely grinned and sat up a little straighter in her chair. “You are!” Hermione squealed, leaning over and giving Luna a huge hug around the shoulders. Luna laughed out loud as Hermione refused to let her friend go.

“A bit excited, aren’t we?” Luna asked with a chuckle.

Hermione drew back and smiled at her. “You’re going to have a baby!” she exclaimed. “How can I not be excited?” Hermione asked. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Have you told Ron yet?”

Luna scoffed. “I only found out for sure a few days ago, Hermione. And Ron has been so busy with everything I just didn’t want to trouble him.”

“Trouble him? I’ve never heard of anything so preposterous in my entire life! Ron doesn’t want anything more than he wants a family with you.” Hermione said.

“I know, but I guess I just don’t want to give him a heart attack is all. I was planning on telling him tonight. Actually, I was going to announce it tonight at Cho and Harry’s celebration dinner.”

Hermione’s mouth hung open in surprise. “Cho and Harry’s what?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, gracious, of course you wouldn’t know. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night,” Luna said. “You just ran right on past me. I meant to tell you that Harry stopped me last night as I came home and said that Cho was planning a small gathering tonight at her flat of the families so that they could announce it properly, although with all of the publicity it probably got, I doubt that anyone in the wizarding world doesn’t know by now.”

Hermione scoffed. “I don’t doubt that.”

Later that afternoon, as Luna sat on the edge of Hermione’s bed and watched as Hermione flung clothing at her, she couldn’t help but laugh at the scene that was unfolding in front of her. Hermione turned and looked at her. “What?” she asked with a smile.

“You love him,” Luna stated matter-of-factly.

“And why do you say that?” Hermione asked, holding a black cocktail dress up to herself and looking at herself in the mirror that hung on the back of her closet door. She then tossed it onto her bed on top of the large pile of rejected clothing that was forming.

“You want to impress him tonight,” Luna explained. “I understand, Hermione. If I were you I would do that same thing.”

Hermione looked at Luna, ready to deny her accusations, but then reconsidered. She sighed. “I know. I’m pathetic.”

“Not at all! Look, why don’t we go into London and look in some shops there? I need a new dress as well. All of mine are a bit, well, snug.”

They both laughed and Hermione smiled at her, agreeing. Together they apparated into London and walked to their favorite little boutique where they both entered, instantly finding comfort in the racks, shelves, and piles of colorful clothing that surrounded them. Luna found a flowing peasant dress that was a light yellow, very complimentary of her light hair. Hermione searched and came up with many possibilities, her favorite of which being a dark plum colored dress, which was strapless, and tea-length. They made their purchases and walked out of the boutique, dress bags in hand.

As they rounded a corner on their way to grab coffee from their favorite café, someone bumped into Hermione and spilled coffee all down the front of her fitted white tee shirt and dark denim jeans.

“Oh, drat,” she said, wiping at the front of her shirt. Luna took her bag from her as the person who had bumped into her handed her his handkerchief. Hermione looked up and stopped. The man standing before her, a slight smile on his face, was gorgeous. His dark brown hair and tanned skin complimented his icy blue eyes. His lips curved into a smile as he obviously took a good look at the slightly disheveled woman in front of him. Her long straight hair was falling in her face and the offensive brown stain running down her front tarnished her perfect appearance.

“I am so sorry,” he said, trying to hide his smile.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she tried to reassure him, attempting to hide her impending smile.

“Hermione,” Luna said. “I’m heading home. Ron’s calling my mobile and I’m guessing he needs me to pick out his clothes for tonight.” They both chuckled.

“It’s ok. I’ll bring you a French vanilla,” Hermione answered. Luna thanked her, turned and began walking towards the apparation point in the back alley around the corner. The man in front of Hermione cleared his throat and she turned and smiled at him.

“Well, since I’m out of coffee, I’m headed back to the café. Could I buy for you? It’s the least I can do.”

She smiled at him. “Sure,” she responded, walking with him the short distance to the small café.

“I’m Marc,” he said to her as they sat at an outside table with their steaming cups.

“Hermione,” she responded, shaking his hand. They made eye contact and smiled shyly at each other.

Marc cleared his throat again and tentatively said, “So, um, I was wondering if I could possibly get your number…”

Hermione returned home that evening humming and swinging her purse back and forth. Luna was in her and Ron’s room, telling Ron to tuck in his black dress shirt as she looked in the mirror and adjusted the clips in her hair. He did as he was told immediately and Hermione chuckled. Luna turned and smiled excitedly at her.

“Oh, Hermione, how did things go with your clumsy bloke?” Luna asked quickly.

Hermione smiled. “He took my number and said he would call me about going out to dinner or something.”

“Oh, how wonderful. He was quite fit.”

“Hey!” Ron exclaimed from behind her.

“Oh, love, if you had seen him,” she said, turning to him and laughing.

“Well, as long as he’s a nice bloke, then the best of luck to you, Hermione.”

“Thanks.” Luna retrieved Hermione’s bag from beside her and Ron’s bed.

“Cho said people are going to start coming at seven.”

“I’ll be ready,” Hermione said, turning and walking down the corridor towards her room.

After her shower Hermione slipped on her new dress, admiring herself in her full-length mahogany mirror. Her hair was dried and straightened and a small amount of makeup was added to her face. She chose white gold and diamond stud earrings and a white gold necklace with a simple white gold heart charm hanging from it. She also put on her black strappy heels with the open toe. After adding a little perfume she retrieved her small black leather clutch and continued on to the living room where she was supposed to meet Ron and Luna. They told her that Harry had been at Cho’s already for the better part of the day. Great, Hermione thought sarcastically.

They apparated together to the front door of Cho’s large flat that was located in the center of London. Ron knocked heavily and they were greeted with the excited face of Cho’s mother. She was a short woman with long, silky hair. She led them into the flat where they were immediately introduced to Cho’s father, a much taller, incredibly skinny man wearing thick glasses. They began to mingle and Hermione immediately located Harry, in the corner, talking with Ginny. Hermione approached, smiling at them both.

“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed, hugging her friend to her tightly. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been? You look fabulous!”

“Thank you. I’ve been well. How was the honeymoon?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, well, the most amazing thing I think is that Draco got a tan. I am absolutely amazed. I didn’t think it was possible.” They all laughed as Harry looked to Hermione.

“So, how was your day?” he asked tentatively, hoping she was cooled down from the night before.

“It was actually rather smashing,” she replied.

“Luna mentioned to me that you ran into someone at the café,” Ginny said, giggling.

“Oh, it was smashing! He was such a gentleman. We sat and talked and we’re planning on going out some time soon.”

“Well, good for you, Hermione. You haven’t been out and about with any blokes for a while. Well, aside from Harry,” Ginny giggled, looking over Hermione’s shoulder slightly. “Oh, there’s Draco. Excuse me you two.”

Hermione watched as Ginny walked over and gave a hug to her husband. Hermione smiled at them and turned back to Harry who had been watching her intently.

“So, you met a bloke?” Harry asked, now looking at his shoes.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied. “He’s really nice.”

“Well, I hope everything works out with him.”

Hermione smiled sadly at him. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence fell upon them. “I’m…” they both said at once.

“You go first,” Hermione said sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, about yesterday,” Harry continued. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I was being right nippy come to think of it,” Hermione admitted.

“You? Nippy? Never!” Harry exclaimed sarcastically.

“Oh, stop it!” Hermione said, smiling as she swatted at his arm.

He smiled back at her as their laughter died down. “So, this new bloke, you fancy him?” Harry asked.

“I mean, he’s nice enough. We’ll see how it goes I guess.”

“Is he a wizard?” Harry asked as they wandered towards the dining room where dinner was soon to be served.

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered. “I met him in muggle London, so I wouldn’t know for sure.”

“Just be careful,” Harry advised as he pulled out her chair for her and she sat down.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” she responded. “I know how to look after myself. We’re just going to go out and see how things go.”

Harry looked down at her. “I know,” he said. “I just worry about you is all.”

She smiled. “And that’s why I adore you.”

The rest of the family assembled around the large dining table and Cho and her mother brought the food out. It was the first time that evening that Hermione had seen Cho. She looked absolutely gorgeous. She wore a red cocktail dress that was spaghetti-strapped and fanned out at the bottom and came to just above her knees. Her heels were black and had a pointed toe, accentuating her defined calf muscles and the dark complexion of her legs. She smiled at Hermione as she set the wine on the table and took a seat next to him near the head of the table, across from Hermione who was seated next to Ginny. As Cho leaned over and spoke quietly to Harry, Hermione took the opportunity to admire Cho’s true beauty. Her delicate yet sharp facial features brought out her thin, rosy lips and her rounded face was accentuated by her dark hair which was gently curled and hanging about her face in a casual, yet sophisticated manner. Her icy blue eyes turned and caught Hermione’s gaze, who quickly turned to her left and began to talk to Ginny about the amount of work she and Draco were going to have to endure this coming week at the hospital.

Hermione and Draco had been healers at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for close to three years. Ginny was a reporter for the Daily Prophet. Hermione and Draco both worked on the fourth floor, Spell Damage. They took care of those who were afflicted with unliftable jinxes and hexes and incorrectly cast charms. Ginny was always incredibly interested in the goings on at the hospital so it made a perfect option for Hermione when caught staring at Cho.

“So,” Ginny said, “have you given any thought to my suggestions about the robes?”

“Gin,” Hermione said, laughing, “there is nothing we can do about the robes. They’ve been that way since the 1500s.”

“Which is precisely why they should update them! I mean, that green color is simply ghastly.”

Hermione chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Excuse me,” Harry said, standing and holding up his wine glass. “I would just like to thank everyone for being here tonight so that me and Cho could share this marvelous news with our families and friends.” He looked down at Cho who took his hand and smiled lovingly at him. “I’d just like to give a toast to Cho’s parents, who have been incredibly supportive throughout the past few years, and to the Weasleys,” Harry continued, looking to Molly and Arthur, “who have really been my only true family.”

As Harry sat everyone clapped and Cho’s mother began to serve the food with the help of Mrs Weasley and Cho’s older sister, Lin, who was tall and thin, dressed in form fitting black slacks and a white button-up shirt. Hermione couldn’t help but be jealous of the sisters’ impeccable beauty and perfect bodies. It almost made her want to be sick right there on the table. No wonder Harry loves her, Hermione though sadly as Harry poured her a glass of white wine and smiled at her. She’s perfect.

Luna and Ron then stood and politely called for the attention of the room. Everyone turned and looked expectantly at them. Luna was smiling from ear to ear and Ron had his arm wrapped around her waist protectively.

“Thank you, everyone; and congratulations, Harry, to you and Cho,” he said as he raised his glass to them. “I wanted to take this opportunity to inform everyone that me and Luna,” he paused then, for dramatic effect Hermione guessed, smiling, “are going to have a baby,” Ron finished as the room broke into thunderous applause and Mrs Weasley ran up to her son and daughter-in-law and grabbed each of them in a crushing hug.

“Oh, another Weasley baby!” she exclaimed, tears brimming in her eyes. “What a wonderful evening this has turned out to be,” she said, smiling at everyone.

Yeah, Hermione though, finally realizing that she was going to be the fifth wheel in all of this, just swell.

A little more than a week later, Hermione stood in front of her mirror once again, examining herself before her first date with Marc. She wore a pair of dark denim jeans and a gray sweatshirt with a dark khaki blazer over it. He had told her to dress casually, so she did. She grabbed her trainers from the floor of her closet and slipped them on her feet before slipping her keys and her mobile into her blazer pocket. Just as she threw her hair into a straight ponytail there was a knock at the front door. She walked quickly down to the front corridor where Ron was opening the door. She smiled as she heard Ron welcome Marc inside and tell him Hermione wouldn’t be long. She turned the corner at just that moment and caught Marc’s gaze with hers. He was looking dashing in dark jeans and a fitted white tee shirt with a blue zip up sweater on over it. He smiled at her and held his arm out to her. She took it happily and he led her out of the front door after bidding Ron a good night.

“So, where are you taking me?” Hermione asked as Marc helped her into the passenger seat of his car.

“Well, I figured the festival would be a lovely place to start.”

“Oh, sounds smashing,” Hermione said with glee as Marc started the car and they sped off.

As Hermione awoke the next morning, her head pounding and feeling slightly dizzy, she felt the onsets of a hangover.

Oh, shite, she though as she clutched her mouth, stood quickly and ran for a bathroom.

## 3. Trois

Chapter three - Trois

Harry awoke the next morning feeling incredibly guilty and nearly sick to his stomach.

I can’t believe I just let her go out with that Marc bloke, Harry thought. I didn’t even get to meet him before they took off.

He threw the covers off of himself and headed off to the loo where he splashed some warm water onto his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He sighed deeply, clenching his fists, resisting the urge to hit something, anything.

Stop fooling yourself, Potter, he thought. Oh, bugger it all. You’re bloody jealous. He slumped to the floor and placed his head in his hands. Why does it have to be so fucking hard? Why can’t I just let her live her own life? Why can’t I just let her go and get over her? Shite.

Just then there was a knock at the bathroom door. He struggled to get up, nearly slipping on the slick floor. “Yeah?” he said aloud as he opened the door to a patiently waiting Luna.

“I was just wondering if I could use the loo,” she said lightly.

“Oh, sure,” Harry said as he stepped out of her way.

Harry walked slowly down the stairs and to the kitchen where Ron was sitting at the round kitchen table, reading the Daily Prophet and sipping at a steaming cup of tea.

“Morning, mate,” Ron said.

“Morning,” Harry responded, rummaging in the fridge before taking out the pumpkin juice and pouring himself a glass.

“How was your night?” Ron asked, setting the paper down and working on his plate of toast.

Harry shrugged. “I stayed in. Went to bed early.”

Ron nodded. “Me and Luna had dinner at that new restaurant in Diagon Alley.”

“Good?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry got anxious and asked the question he had been aching to ask since he had woken up that morning.

“So, uh, is Hermione up yet?” Harry asked casually.

Ron chuckled. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t think she came home last night.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed.

Ron simply stared at him, completely taken aback. “I…uh…” Ron stammered, not sure what to say.

“You just let her stay at that Marc guy’s house, with him, alone?” Harry challenged.

“Well, Hermione is a big girl, I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

“She doesn’t even know him, and you just let her shag him?”

“You’re making this out as if it’s my fault. I didn’t let her do anything,” Ron responded, now becoming angry himself.

“What if she’s somewhere hurt, or lost?”

“She’s a bleeding witch, Harry! She’ll be fine! That Marc bloke is a muggle anyways. There isn’t much he could have gotten away with before Hermione hexed him into next week.”

“But…” Harry started.

“Oh, shut it already,” Ron interrupted. “If Hermione wants to start a romance of her own then it’s none of your business. If she wants to shag him after their first date, then by all means, it’s her bloody choice. It’s her life, Harry. Step off a bit, would ya? Merlin.”

Harry stood in the middle of the kitchen, stunned beyond words. Ron was right, and he was being a right git about the whole thing. Harry sighed as he sat down across the table from Ron. They stared at each other a moment, not knowing what else there was to say about the matter. Ron folded up his paper and folded his hands in front of him, frowning slightly.

“What’s wrong, mate?” Ron asked. “Ever since Hermione met Marc you’ve been acting really wonky. You’ve been cold towards Hermione and you’ve been really touchy about the whole ‘her dating’ thing.”

“I just…I…” Harry stuttered, trying to come up with a valid excuse. He looked at Ron hopelessly, realization overtaking his face. “I really don’t know.”

“Harry,” Ron said seriously, “do you realize what this looks like, you being all weird now that Hermione is dating again?”

“I know, I know,” Harry said, irritated. “Christ, I’m an idiot,” he continued, resting his forehead in his palm.

Ron shook his head, standing and taking his empty plate and setting it in the sink. “I don’t know what to tell you anymore, Harry. If you don’t know what you want, then I don’t know what I can do to help you.”

“What do you mean? You think I don’t know what I want?” Harry challenged, lifting his head and looking intently at Ron.

“Oh, come on, mate. Don’t keep fooling yourself. You’re torn between Cho and Hermione. Isn’t it obvious?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. “I proposed to Cho. I’m marrying her!” he shouted.

“But you’re bloody nutters about Hermione!” Ron blurted out, throwing his arms up into the air, surrendering his prior reservations about how he was going to approach the subject.

Harry’s mouth hung open, completely awestruck by Ron’s exclamation. “And don’t you dare act surprised,” Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been dancing circles around this whole problem for years. You love her, she loves you, just admit it already and put the rest of us out of our bloody misery.”

Ron walked off, not looking back and not really caring what Harry’s reaction to all of this was. He was tired of watching the two of them together, denying the feelings they had for each other, avoiding the undeniable truth that the sexual tension between them was absolutely screaming to be dealt with. He saw the subtle exchanges between them, he heard the way Harry would speak to Hermione, his words soft and caring, completely different than the annoyed and frustrated tone that he usually took with Cho.

And who can blame him? Ron thought. Cho’s all fur coat and no knickers. All superficial, absolutely no substance.

Harry stared at the wall in front of him, completely confused. Ron’s right for once, he thought, absolutely dumb struck.

But what if he’s wrong? I mean, I love Cho, right? He didn’t know what to do. The only thing he could do was to go and see her, try and clear everything up. He walked to his room, threw on dark jeans and a plain fitted white tee shirt, slipped his trainers on, and hurried out the door, hoping to catch her and take her out for an early lunch so that they could talk. He could only hope that this all turned out for the best.

What the hell happened last night? Hermione thought with a groan as she sat on a cold, tiled bathroom floor, clutching her head and praying for death. Her hair was hanging in her face and she was wearing only her black knickers and a white tank top, the only things she could quickly locate from the floor they had been carelessly tossed onto.

She moaned quietly as she leaned against the wall behind her, knees drawn to her chest as she fought with herself as to how to handle this. She peaked back into the bedroom, and seeing no one, grabbed her purse from the floor and found the hang over potion that she had placed into her bag for emergencies. She downed it quickly, shaking her head and sighing as she dropped her purse back onto the floor, completely lost. She heard a door close nearby and she panicked, wondering what she should do. She rushed back to the bathroom and shut the door quietly, pressing her back against it and shutting her eyes tightly. A sudden rapping at the door shocked her and caused her to jump away from the door.

“You in there, Hermione?” she heard from the other side of the door.

“Um, yeah,” she said weakly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay,” came the reply as Marc backed away from the loo and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. She let out the breath she had been holding slowly, pacing around the small bathroom, waiting for the hang over potion to kick in so that she could remember what had happened the night before.

“Ah,” she muttered, clutching her hair as a slightly familiar pain shot through the front of her head, letting her know that the potion had done its job. A sudden rush of air seemed to hit her directly in the chest as memories from the night before began to bombard her.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked as Marc drove her through a part of London that she didn’t recognize. “I thought we were going to the fair.”

“Well, I had a better idea,” Marc replied turning down a long, dark alley. “There’s this place that a friend of mine just opened up. I thought that we could go there, maybe have a few drinks.”

“Oh, well that sounds fine I guess,” Hermione replied, looking down at her clothes and frowning. “I’m not really dressed for a fancy place though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marc reassured her. “I’m sure no one will care. And I wouldn’t even consider it fancy. It’s fine, you’ll fit right in.”

Hermione smiled nervously, fiddling with her newly manicured nails as Marc turned into a somewhat crowded parking lot and parked the car. He opened the door for her and led her to the back door of a completely brick building, towering over her head at an intimidating height. It was dark inside, the only light coming from hazy red lights strung above their heads in thin rows. Marc said hello to a few people and introduced her to a few of them on their way to the bar. They sat down, Marc immediately ordering them a round of drinks.

They made idle conversation, the alcohol flowing as more and more of Marc’s friends decided to join them. Hermione was not a typically heavy drinker. She tried to consider herself slightly classier than the people who drank themselves into an unconscious stupor. Not that she didn’t drink. She had been known to go out and have a good time with friends and had even found herself slightly tipsy a time or two. This was different though.

At one point during the evening, as Hermione stared into a glass of dark liquid that one of Marc’s friends had insisted she try, she felt the sudden urge to turn and run for her life. She realized too late into the evening that she didn’t want to be with Marc. He was a nice enough guy, but he wasn’t Harry, and that’s what killed her about the entire situation. She had figured that she could go out with another guy, no problem, and not have to worry about Harry in the back of her mind. It hadn’t been about making Harry jealous or proving something to Ron, that wasn’t even it in the slightest. It had been about proving to herself that she could have feelings for Harry but still maintain a healthy relationship with someone else; and she had failed miserably. Here she sat, drinking herself into a hole, and all she could think about was what Harry would say when she showed up at home, a complete wreck and drunk off her arse.

She downed the mystery drink and called for another, way past logical thought at this point. It wasn’t Marc’s fault. She had to keep telling herself that. He really didn’t mean any harm to her, and it wasn’t his fault that she was in the process of doing something that she would eventually regret. Through her somewhat glazed over state of vision she could see him lazily smiling at her. He had his arm around her, grasping her waist through her jumper.

The night flew by with numerous drinks and a few feeble attempts by her to dance, all of which were miserable failures on her part. Before she knew what was happening she had her back against the door to Marc’s flat and was being kissed feverishly with complete and reckless abandon. All thoughts of Harry were gone from her mind, the alcohol causing her to simply go with the flow, a much more careless side of her taking over. As they entered his flat clothes were discarded quickly and a type of animalistic instinct overtook Hermione as she did the one thing that she had never envisioned herself doing: she shagged someone while she was completely smashed.

She shuddered as the more embarrassing, intimate moments from last night began to flow through her mind. She shook herself slightly, opening the bathroom door after she had had a moment to compose herself. She found her jeans folded neatly on the now made bed. Her jumper was next to it, her jacket hanging on the back of a nearby chair. She dressed quickly, throwing her hair back into the ponytail it had been in at the beginning of the previous night. With her jacket thrown over her arm and her purse slung over her shoulder she slowly made her way out of the bedroom and down the corridor into what she remembered to be the kitchen. She cringed as she looked upon the small wooden table in the center of the room, remembering what they had done on that table upon entering the flat the night before.

“Morning,” she heard, looking to her side at a very miserable looking Marc who was in the process of making coffee. He smiled weakly at her as she remained cemented to the place where she was standing.

“Morning,” she replied, watching as he poured himself a cup of dark coffee and then turned back to her.

“Coffee?” he asked. She shook her head, smiling at him. He retrieved his cup and turned around, leaning on the counter behind him.

They stood in complete silence for a moment, neither of them wanting to breach the subject of last night.

Marc cleared his throat and finally spoke. “I just want to let you know that I didn’t plan for what happened last night to…happen. I mean, I really like you and I wouldn’t want you to feel disrespected or anything. It just happened, ya know?”

Hermione looked at him, sadness in her eyes. He really was a sweet guy, but once again, he just wasn’t Harry. And if she was going to have to spend the rest of her life hooking up with guys that “just weren’t Harry”, then so be it. But she wasn’t going to string him along in her hopelessly complicated and distressing life.

“I appreciate you saying that,” she started, wanting to break it easily to him that he just wasn’t for her. “I don’t normally do things like that. That’s actually the first time that something like that has happened.” He frowned at that, looking as if he was going to apologize, but she stopped him. “I’m glad that you’re such a caring person, and that you’re able to handle something like this the way you are, but I really have to be honest with you.” He nodded his head, still frowning. “I just can’t do this,” she sighed, looking down at her shoes.

“It’s ok. I understand,” he said, taking a few steps towards her. “You’re a really great girl, Hermione,” he said, smiling at her. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.” She hugged him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

He chuckled. “Well, since I did sleep with you, I figure I could pay you a little respect in return.” She drew away from him and gave him one last peck on the other cheek before turning and walking towards the door.

“Oh, and Hermione?” Marc said, walking to the entranceway.

“Yeah?” she replied, turning back around and looking at him expectantly.

“Make sure you let the bloke that catches you know how lucky he is.”

Hermione smiled sweetly at him. “Thanks,” she chuckled. “I will.”

He waved at her as she shut the door behind her, looking up and down the corridor, seeing that it was empty, and apparating back home – back to Harry.

Harry found himself standing stock still in front of the door to Cho’s flat just staring at it, not making any movement to knock or enter. He took a deep breath, shrugged his shoulders back, and unlocked the door with his key. He opened the door slowly, peaking his head into the entryway and looking around, seeing it deserted and walking further into the flat. He entered and walked around, calling out Cho’s name once and receiving no answer. As he walked down the corridor that led to her bedroom he heard the shower running and figured he would wait for her to get done so that they could get something to eat.

On his way down the corridor a photograph on the wall caught his eye. It was a photograph that had been taken the night that Cho and Harry had announced their engagement to their friends and family. They were all seated in the living room of Cho’s flat, all smiling and projecting the illusion of one big, happy family. Cho was seated on the large couch with her sister next to her and her mother and father on either side of them. Harry stood directly behind Cho, but what really caught his eye was the woman standing to his immediate right in the photograph – Hermione. They were standing close to each other, their shoulders touching. In the picture, Cho would look to her mother and father before tilting her head to the side and smiling at Harry. As soon as Cho looked away to smile at her sister, Hermione chanced a glance at Harry and their eyes met, even if for only a moment, and they both smiled the most genuine, bright smiles in the entire picture. If Harry hadn’t known any better, he would have figured that he and Hermione were the ones who had just gotten engaged in the picture.

Harry’s hand was only stiffly resting on Cho’s shoulder, and as soon as Hermione looked at him, it was removed. Ron and Luna were standing to the right of Hermione and they both turned and looked at her and Harry, smiling knowingly. It caused Harry to stop and catch his breath for a moment, not wanting to accept what he was seeing laid out right before his very eyes.

As he was looking at the photograph he heard the shower shut off. Harry turned around and leaned against the wall next to him, patiently waiting for her. The door opened and Harry smiled, taking a step towards the loo, and then stopping, confused.

“Who are you?” he asked loudly as a tall bloke with blonde hair and tanned skin exited the bathroom, standing in the corridor wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and dripping water onto the hardwood floor.

“What?” the man challenged.

“I said, who the bloody hell are you?” Harry asked again, raising his voice even more.

Just then the door behind Harry opened quickly and Cho entered the corridor, hair in a complete mess and her face more flushed than Harry had ever seen it. She was wrapped in her plain white bed sheets, making the scene before Harry look all the more incriminating and compromising.

“Harry…” she whispered, sighing and darting her eyes all over the place, looking extremely nervous.

“Don’t you dare even try and make excuses,” he said, turning on her, pointing his finger at her and clenching his jaw, refraining from completely letting loose on her. “I…I trusted you,” he stammered, disappointment and sorrow etched on his face. “Why?” he asked, at a complete loss.

She looked at him, at an absolute loss for words. Her mouth hung open slightly as she searched for the right words. “I’d like to know what’s going on, too,” the man behind him interjected. Harry turned around and stared at him, daring him to say something else.

The other man shook his head. “I’m out of here,” he muttered, walking to the bedroom and retrieving his clothes.

“Wait, Jon,” Cho started, turning to try and stop him.

“You’re telling him to wait? Are you shitting me?” Harry asked.

“Harry…” she said, turning back to him.

“No, no,” Harry interrupted her, “if this is what you want then fine by me. Merlin, have I been an idiot,” he said, planting his hands firmly on his waist and beginning to pace.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Harry. I met Jon last month at my sister’s birthday party. You were in Ireland for a game, and well, things got a little out of hand and…”

“Oh, will you give it up?” Harry said, becoming increasingly annoyed. “You know what? This would have never worked, you and me. I don’t know why I was trying to fool myself into thinking that we could actually last. What the hell was I thinking?”

“Please, Harry, don’t do this,” Cho pleaded, walking up to him and placing a hand on his chest. He shrugged her hand away and took a few more steps down the corridor and towards the front door. Jon was still standing in Cho’s bedroom door, wearing only his boxers and a pair of beige cargo shorts, the shorts unbuttoned, unzipped, and hanging loosely from his slim hips.

“Don’t do this? Are you serious?” he asked her, stunned. “Don’t try and tell me that you still want to be with me. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. I’m done, Cho. Done.”

And with one final disgusted look in her direction Harry turned his back to her, leaving her standing there, confused and frustrated. Before Harry knew what was happening he was opening the door, but Cho was shoving him out of it, her fists beating at his back.

“I gave you everything!” she screamed at him as he turned back to her, stunned. “Do you know how much I had to sacrifice to be with you? While my girlfriends were out partying I was going to balls and dances, being a good girl, your model girlfriend. And what did I get in return?”

“My love!” he yelled back at her, nearly spitting. “My love,” he said breathlessly, pausing between the words, panting.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I asked for it,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to defend herself.

“Merlin, do you even hear yourself when you speak?” he asked her, approaching her. “You are such an ignorant little…” he began, but stopped himself before he said anything else, fuming.

“How dare you!” she shrieked, struggling with the ring on her left hand. “Take your bloody ring, take your bloody love, and get the hell away from me!”

“Gladly,” he muttered, his deep baritone voice harsh and dry from the effort it took to not cry. She threw the ring at his chest and turned back into her flat, slamming the door behind her.

Hermione crept back into the house, hoping that no one would hear her. It was still early in the day, so there was a fairly good chance that everyone was out and about. She closed the front door quietly and then rushed to her bedroom. As soon as she entered her room she rushed to the calendar on the wall above her desk to double check that she had taken her contraception potion for that week, just to be safe. She let out a sigh of relief as she saw the large red X over the day that she had consumed it. She hurried to the restroom and took a long, hot shower, washing herself of the previous night.

As she dressed and readied herself for the day she couldn’t help but wonder what type of confrontation she was going to have to have with Harry about this. But then again, she wasn’t sure what he had done last night, and he may have very well spent it with Cho, so he may not have come home either. And even though it killed her, she prayed to whatever God that would listen that Harry had gone to Cho’s.

As Hermione put on a pair of navy spandex shorts and a plain gray t-shirt and prepared for a jog in the park a few blocks from their house, she began to wonder why she was so frightened of Harry’s reaction to her sleeping with Marc.

It’s my life, isn’t it? she thought. I can shag whomever I please, right?

Even though all of these assumptions seemed plausible to her, Hermione was having a very hard time convincing herself that Harry would see it the same way. She had known that going out with Marc wouldn’t help her to get over Harry. In fact, it had really only made her feel guilty and disappointed in herself. She had wracked her brain over the subject all morning in the shower.

Was I trying to make Harry jealous? she had asked herself. No. That’s not it. Why would I want to make him jealous? There’s no reason to even try when he’s with Cho. She’s everything that he could want and more. Why would he want me?

She put her headphones in, turned her music on, and jogged out into the oddly warm autumn sun. Jogging always helped her to clear her head, and right now, it needed a lot of clearing. She thought about what would happen once Harry and Cho were married and Ron and Luna had their baby. No doubt Ron and Luna would be looking to move out soon, wanting a place of their own to raise the baby. And there Hermione would be, stuck with Cho and Harry, living their perfect life as she sat in the corner and happily played the third wheel, just like she always did. There was no question that she would eventually need to look for a flat of her own. Her wages at St. Mungo’s were easily enough to pay for the rent on a flat, and with the extra money she made playing her violin, she would have no issue. She would, however, be alone, very alone.

If she did move out she knew that she would see less and less of Ron and Harry over the years and it would eventually lead to all of them falling out of contact, then meeting up years later with tons of kids and enough stories to talk for days. That wasn’t what Hermione wanted though. She didn’t want to leave her friends, the love of her life, and the place she had called a home ever since the end of the war. It didn’t seem fair to her. She was the one that had been with Harry and Ron through everything. She should get first priority, right? Hermione, the best friend? Hello?

Hermione could feel herself slowly but surely fading into the background of this family. She didn’t like the feeling. It was cold and empty. It was like she knew that the train wreck was coming, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. It hurt, knowing that she was being replaced. Well, not replaced, but pushed to the side for something better, something more worth while. She could feel her heart breaking in her chest.

The rhythmic pounding noise that her sneaker-clad feet made on the ground lulled her into a state of tranquility and she barely noticed the time as she ran through the grassy park, the breeze blowing her hair every which way. It wasn’t until she noticed the sun setting that she figured it was time to head back home. She entered the house, hearing the sounds of Luna cooking in the kitchen. She rushed through the living room and ran up the stairs and down the corridor until she got to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Hermione was walking slowly away from the door, beginning to undress when she heard a light rapping at her door. Before she could even get to it to open it she heard hushed tones talking to her through the door.

“You’re going to have to face all of us eventually, Hermione,” Ron’s voice whispered from the other side of the door.

“I know,” she sighed, leaning against the door.

“Just be prepared for Harry to make something of it at dinner. You know him as well as I do and he’s not going to let it go without making a big deal out of it.”

Hermione chuckled. “I know. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Any time.”

Hermione showered quickly and dressed in a denim skirt that hung low on her hips and a plain long sleeved white shirt. Her hair was dried, left curly, and tied up in a loose ponytail. She made her way downstairs slowly, not knowing what to expect when she got there. To her relief she only found Luna in the kitchen, supervising a pot that her wand was currently hard at work stirring the contents of.

“What’s for dinner?” Hermione asked, sitting down at one of the stools at the island dividing the kitchen and dining room.

Luna jumped slightly. “Oh, Hermione, you scared me,” she said, laughing.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s nothing special. Just a pasta dish with some fresh vegetables from the garden.”

“Sounds like comfort food, which is something I could really use right about now,” Hermione said, sighing thankfully.

“So, where were you last night, missy?” Luna asked curiously, snickering under her breath.

“You don’t want to know,” Hermione said, cringing from the memories.

“Was he really that bad?”

“Not from what I can remember, and even so, he was a really nice guy, but…”

“But he’s not Harry,” Luna finished for her.

“Luna,” she hissed, looking around worriedly. “Don’t just say that out loud. He could hear you!”

“Oh, don’t worry. He left for Cho’s around noon and hasn’t been back since.”

“But he was home last night, right?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“Oh, yes. Ron and I went out to eat and he said that he just wanted to stay in. Something about being tired and getting to bed early.”

“Oh, no. He’s gonna let me have it, isn’t he?”

Luna chuckled. “Probably, but you never know. He might be in a good mood,
Luna said, turning and winking at her.

“Oh, gross! I really don’t want to think about Harry’s afternoon escapades with Cho in that stuffy, satiny bedroom of hers.”

“Someone’s jealous,” Luna cooed quietly.

“Oh, hush up,” Hermione said with a smile, getting up to start setting the table.

Hermione, Ron and Luna all sat around the dining room table, patiently waiting for Harry who had phoned and said he was two minutes away from his apparation point and for them not to wait for him. But of course, they had. They heard a distinctive ‘pop’ echo from the entryway and Harry appeared, stone faced and looking completely devoid of any type of emotion; well, except for maybe anger. He sat down heavily and Luna began to dish out the food. They all ate in silence, sensing the tension. Luna whispered something to Ron and he shrugged, continuing on with his meal. As Luna and Hermione cleared the table, Ron and Harry went and sat in the living room, talking in hushed tones.

As soon as Hermione and Luna had set the dishes to wash themselves Luna went to join the boys while Hermione headed up to the study, hoping to find a trashy romance novel amongst the shelves and shelves of books in there. As she was reaching for a book on the top shelf, standing on her tiptoes and obviously struggling, another hand reached up from behind her and took down the book she had been trying to get. Harry handed the book to her and she turned to face him, keeping her head down to avoid making eye contact with him.

“Hermione…” he began, trying to reach out and touch her shoulder.

She took a step away from him. “I really don’t want to talk about this, Harry. I’m entirely not in the mood,” she snapped, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“But, just wait a second…”

“No, no, no. No waiting. I’m just…I’m tired, Harry; and I can’t do this anymore,” she said, hopeless and annoyed. She brushed past him quickly and walked back to her room, a tear running down her cheek.

Hermione slammed her bedroom door shut and slumped against the back of it heavily, letting herself slide down to the floor where she pulled her knees to her chest and rocked herself gently back and forth, letting silent tears fall as she thought of how happy Luna and Ron were and how happy Harry and Cho were going to be. That exact position was how Harry found her the next morning as he flew to her window on his Firebolt and easily forced himself inside.

## 4. Quatre

Chapter four - Quatre

"Hermione," she heard someone prod as she felt her shoulder being shaken. Hermione in took a sharp breath through her nose and sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She took her hands away from her face, nearly screaming at the sight of fierce green eyes meeting her gaze intensely. She pushed her back tightly against the door behind her, trying to get as far away from Harry as possible.

“Hermione,” he pleaded, kneeling in front of her. “Tell me what’s wrong. I only want to help,” he said, hypnotizing her with his eyes. She could almost feel the heat from his gaze. She shuddered as he placed a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. She shut her eyes tightly, turning her face away from him. He brought her face back towards him causing her to open her eyes in surprise.

“Why won’t you just tell me, Hermione? I haven’t seen you this upset in ages,” he said, stroking his thumbs up and down her cheeks in a soothing manner. “If it’s anything that that Marc character did to you, you know that I’ll take care of it,” he said, his face hardening at the thought of her with another man.

She wanted to lean into his touch, to tell him just how badly she wanted him and how much she loved him. She wanted to tell him that Marc had meant nothing and that she had only been with him to try and get over Harry. But she knew that she couldn’t. She forced her eyes shut once again as a single tear found its way out of the corner of her eye. It trailed down the side of her face until it was caught and wiped away by the pad of Harry’s thumb. Her eyes popped open in awe of the loving gesture. His eyes were glazed over in worry. She was surprised with the realization that it was worry for her.

“No,” she said, reaching up a hand and placing it over his, lacing her fingers with his. “It’s nothing really. I’m just being silly,” she lied, trying to convince herself of that more than anyone else.

“No, it’s not nothing. I know you too well,” Harry said.

At that moment Hermione wanted nothing more than to bring Harry’s face those two more inches to finally make his lips connect with hers. That, however, would be crossing the line, and she couldn’t do that, not to Harry, and as much as she despised her, not to Cho either.

“It’s alright, Harry,” Hermione said, her eyes dancing away from his to concentrate on something less tempting and utterly sinful. “You have other things you need to worry about right now.”

“What could be more important than my best friend?” Harry challenged, tightening his grip on her hand.

Hermione shrugged, her gaze still detached from his. “A lot of things,” she mumbled.

“Like what?” he asked sternly, drawing her face back to his gently. She shook her head, refusing to answer his question. “Hermione,” he coaxed, letting his finger rest underneath her chin to steady her gaze, “just tell me. What harm could it do?” She took a deep breath and stiffened at his words.

More than you think, she thought to herself. He smiled at her as she fought with herself, fumbling with words as she tried to figure out what to say. Her brain had completely shut down.

What do you say to the man who has been your best friend through thick and thin when he asks you to confess your deepest secret to him? How do you tell him that you love him more than anyone else in this world and that you would do anything to keep him safe and happy? Hermione knew that it would be as simple as a few words, but she was more afraid of what his reaction would be to those words than she was of actually saying them.

How could she possibly tell him? Why would she do that to him? Harry was engaged, prepared to lead a life with the woman he “loved”, and Hermione was going to completely shatter his world by ruining their friendship? She couldn’t do it, could she? It was wrong, so wrong. She shouldn’t want him like she did, shouldn’t love him like she ached to. They were best friends, and there was a fine line between their friendship and what Hermione really wanted. Crossing that line wasn’t allowed, was it? Was what she wanted worth risking a friendship? Could she go on with her life knowing that she had confessed her deepest, darkest feelings to him and he turned her down? What would the future hold for her if she didn’t have Harry by her side?

Could she let herself simply be his friend for the rest of their lives? Could she watch him love another woman while she stood idly by, knowing that there was no hope of ever getting over him? Oh hell, she though, dropping her chin to her chest.

“I love you,” she whispered, eyes closed.

Then there was silence.

She was just about to open her eyes when she felt Harry’s right hand grasp her behind her neck and bring her to him, his lips slamming against hers. Hermione was shocked, to say the least. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him as close to her as possible. Her mouth opened under his and Harry delved his tongue in and out of her mouth, tasting every bit of her he could reach. His lips left hers and trailed down her neck fiercely, licking and biting as he went.

His hands roamed around her waist and fisted themselves in her shirt, tugging it up so that he could run his warm hands over her cool flesh. His hands traced over her stomach, his palm flat against her abdomen as she ran her hands through his hair, fisting them in his dark raven tresses. She pulled his head back and forced her mouth back against his, her tongue immediately probing for entrance to his mouth. He offered it to her, a groan emitting in the back of his throat as their tongues danced.

Hermione drew back, gasping for breath, laying her forehead against his shoulder and letting her breath come in short pants. She held tightly to his neck, not wanting to even think about letting him go. His arms wrapped completely around her waist and held her close to him, not sure if he should say anything for fear of disturbing the tranquility of the moment.

She tightened her grip on the front of his shirt, her hands holding fistfuls of his blue cashmere jumper. “Hermione,” he coaxed, tilting her chin up to bring her face to face with him. He paused, wiping away a few stray tears that had fallen down her cheeks. “I love you, too,” Harry finished, kissing her on the forehead and pulling her back into his embrace. Hermione sighed quietly into his chest, then drew back and looked up at him.

“What about Cho?” she asked tentatively.

He frowned. “That’s what I wanted to tell you the other night. I stopped by her flat yesterday to surprise her and take her out to lunch and…” He paused, lowering his chin to his chest. “She was with another bloke,” Harry mumbled slightly, his voice heavy.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry,” she said, relieved that he was done with Cho, but angry because of the way Cho had completely disregarded him.

“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “One: you don’t mean it; and two: if it hadn’t happened then I wouldn’t have realized what a thick git I’ve been.” Then he smiled the first genuine smile Hermione had seen from him in a long time. “She’s just not right for me, and it took her cheating on me to realize that. I don’t know. I guess it never could have worked anyways. I guess I had finally found someone that I thought really loved me that I just couldn’t bring myself to let her go.”

“Harry,” Hermione coaxed, taking his face between her small hands and lifting it to meet his eyes with hers, “I love you. I always have.”

Then, Hermione witnessed something she hadn’t seen in years: a tear fell from the corner of Harry Potter’s eye. “Oh, Harry,” she whispered, bringing him into a tight embrace as she wrapped herself around him, refusing to let him go as their happy tears mingled within a sweet kiss. Their lips simply clung together, Hermione smiling as she tasted salty relief.

Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist as Harry slowly stood, his arms wrapped around her waist tightly. He walked the few steps to the bed and laid her down gently, lying on top of her lightly. No questions were asked. The only thing that mattered was that they loved each other and they were finally together.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he whispered as he kissed down her neck and to her collarbone.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she said, breathless. “If none of that had happened I might have never gotten up the courage to tell you that I lo….” Her voice trailed off in a strangled sigh as Harry snaked a hand up her shirt and gently massaged her left breast.

“But what about Marc?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Long story,” she panted as he pulled her shirt completely off, tossing it aside.

“I’ve got plenty of time,” he said, sliding his hands back down her sides to rest on her hips.

She sighed. “We got trashed at a bar and, well…”

“I get it,” he said, returning his attentions to her neck.

She purred as his hands ran slowly along her back, making no movement toward the clasp of her bra. She sighed, almost irritated, as he chuckled against her skin. “Patience, love,” he said softly, tickling her neck with his lips. “We have all the time in the world.”

But that didn’t help at all. It simply made her more anxious and with deft hands she clawed at the back of his tee shirt, lifting it over his head and taking his glasses with it. She tossed it to the side and ran her hands over the glorious new expanse of skin that had been revealed to her. She remembered seeing Harry shirtless, on many occasions in fact, but this was different, so very different. She was lying on her back, in her bed, and Harry was preparing to make love to her. Holy Merlin, she though happily as Harry’s mouth came back to recapture hers in a heated kiss.

Soon, it was too much. Hermione reached behind her and quickly, in a practiced motion, remover her bra with one hand, flinging it across the room. She gasped and her mouth fell open as her bare chest touched Harry’s for the first time. Her nipples grew warm and hard as Harry’s muscled chest bore down on her ever so slightly. She ran her hands down his arms, over his chest, and began to run them over his tight stomach as she rained kisses over his neck and chest. She discretely blew on his right nipple, hearing him in take a sharp breath. She chuckled as she kissed him on the lips again, her hands resting on his slightly protruding hipbones.

“You know,” Harry said, bringing a hand up to gently graze over her left breast, “it would seem to me that you’ve done this before.”

She shrugged, smiling at him. “A few times.”

He chuckled. “If you don’t mind me asking, who was your first?”

She turned her face away, blushing. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Even if I do, it’s my own fault. I’m the one that asked.”

“Oliver Wood,” she said, turning back to him.

“Really?” he asked, surprised. “How did I not know about this?”

“Oh, it was right after we graduated from Hogwarts. I ran in to him at a pub. It was right before he met his wife. I actually introduced him to his wife.”

“What a cruel twist of fate,” he said, kissing down her neck again, down to her chest where he began to rain feather light kisses on her breasts.

“What about you?” she asked, toying with his hair. “Who was your first?”

“A girl named Natalie,” he said, not missing a beat, as if he had been expecting the question.

“How did you know her?”

“I met her the summer before seventh year in France.”

“Really? But Ron and I were with you.”

“I’m a very sneaky, mischievous person,” he said gruffly, kissing her right nipple soundly.

“Don’t I know it,” she nearly moaned, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he began to suck and tease her sensitive breasts.

He kissed down her taught, smooth stomach, coming to the waist of her short denim skirt. Harry unbuttoned it slowly, all the while kissing circles around her bellybutton. She giggled as he ran his stubbled chin over her hairless stomach. He looked up at her, grinning as he slowly slid her skirt from her legs. He simply sat on his heels for a moment, kneeling before her, just looking at her.

She blushed, bringing her hands up to her hair, pulling it out of the mussed ponytail it was currently in. She ran her fingers through her curly hair, fanning it out around her. She looked back up at him, hunger and fire in his eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed, his hand running up her left leg slowly. His lips took over as he kissed all the way back up to her mouth. Before he knew what was happening, Hermione had hooked her heel behind his knee and had flipped them over. He grunted deeply as his back hit the mattress with a resounding thud. Hermione ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders until her fingers were tangled in his hair. She kissed his neck, up to his chin, over his cheek and to his ear where she whispered in a low voice, “Silencio.” A quiet clicking noise was heard, indicating that the charm had been placed successfully on the room.

“Are you really that loud?” he asked, his baritone voice growing deeper.

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” she returned, sitting back up, straddling his waist.

She ran her hands back down his chest, coming to the waist of his black basketball shorts. She scooted back on the bed slowly, pulling his shorts with her. She crawled back up to him, kissing him deeply as he ran his calloused hands over her hips and butt, trying to feel as much of her as he possibly could. He used one hand to push them both up so that he was sitting with her legs wrapped around his waist. His hardness pushed against her delicate black knickers and her mouth fell open in pleasure. He placed her back on the bed as he kissed his way back down her body. He came to her knickers and snapped his fingers, her knickers instantly vanishing.

She propped herself up on an elbow, looking for her knickers. “As impressive as that was, I’m going to want those ba…oh…” she breathed, falling back onto the bed as he kissed her hairless sex, running his tongue along her folds. “You’re forgiven,” she breathed as he slipped a finger inside of her. She bit down on her bottom lip as he added another finger and slowly eased them in and out of her. His lips found her neck and sucked gently as she rolled her hips against his hand. Her eyes were shut tightly as Harry leaned close to her ear, ran his tongue along the bottom of it, and then whispered, “I love you.”

That was her undoing. Her eyes popped open and her mouth fell open as she clenched herself around his fingers and came crashing over the edge. Before she had even finished riding out the final waves of her orgasm she reached for the waistband of his boxers, pulling at them desperately. He laughed at her lightly, pulling them off for her. She gazed at him, really only wanting to look at him for the rest of her life. He was turned on, and it was all her doing. Her hand reached for him and she had barely touched him before he took her hand in his and moved it away from his hardness, lacing his fingers with hers as he placed it above her head. He placed himself at her entrance, kissing her softly and sweetly. He entered her slowly, filling her and stretching her beyond her wildest dreams. She mindlessly arched her back towards him, bringing him even deeper within her. Her eyes opened slowly and their eyes met. A tear fell from the corner of her eye as she attempted to turn her face away from him to hide it.

He turned her back towards him with a hand on her cheek, tears threatening his eyes too. “We’re perfect,” she whispered as he wiped away her tears. He nodded, kissing her lightly on the lips before beginning to move within her. They were one. They belonged together. She closed her eyes, simply letting her body think for itself. Harry brought his lips to her neck, kissing along the creamy column of skin before coming to her ear.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” he said breathlessly. “Look at me.”

She turned to him, his green orbs boring into her brown ones. She whimpered as waves of pleasure rocked her to the very core of her being. She raised her hips to meet his, bringing her legs to wrap tightly around his lower back, causing him to penetrate her even deeper. “Harry,” she moaned, her fingers clawing at his back, trying to hold on as they lost complete control of themselves. There was no longer a rhythm. It was complete, reckless, animalistic instinct at this point. Hermione’s abdomen burned with pleasure as she felt the first tingling indications of her approaching orgasm. Before she knew what was happening, Harry’s name was tumbling out of her mouth in a breathy, continuous mantra as she tensed and quaked, reaching the point of no return. Harry grunted something that to Hermione sounded a bit like her name, biting down gently on the side of her neck. He brought his forehead up to rest on hers, still thrusting into her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, out of breath, but still responsive.

“Making you come again,” he replied, clenching his jaw as sweat began to drip from his body onto hers, running down their bodies to the place where they were joined in the most intimate of ways.

“Wha…” she began to ask, but quickly turned it into a kind of strangled scream as Harry reached between them, teasing her clit with his fingers, moist from their sweat. Her body, exhausted but more aroused than it had ever been, began to thrust her hips frantically, looking for her second orgasm. Harry struggled to hide a slight chuckle at Hermione’s immediate and eager responsiveness to his suggestion.

“Harry,” she moaned in a deep voice, clenching her inner muscles around him.

He groaned into her chest, holding his bottom lip between his teeth and shutting his eyes tightly. “Christ, Hermione. You’re killing me,” he said, a tired smile on his face.

As Harry stroked her side gently, caressing her stomach slowly, she crashed. Her fingernails dug into his back before she brought her hands behind his neck, clinging to him as her entire body shook.

“Hermione,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her lower back as he came with such a terrific force that it shocked him. He laid his head in the crook of her neck and breathed in her scent. She smelled like sweat and heat with a hint of sugary sweetness. It was utterly sexy. She actually smelled like sex. She smelled like sexy should smell. It was absolutely mind-blowing.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” she replied, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You were…”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” he said again, rolling them over so that she was lying on his chest. “You are absolutely incredible.”

She giggled. “Thank you. You aren’t so bad yourself.”

“Well, take into consideration the fact that we’ve been friends for years. Literally, years.”

She laughed again. “Okay. Your point exactly?”

“We know each other so well that there wasn’t any possible way that the sex could be bad.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, smiling at her, rolling them to the side and letting her lay on her back, her head resting on his shoulder as his hand ran up and down her arm.

“Well, I am laying next to mister two orgasms.”

“Three if you count the one before that,” he said, turning and looking at her.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then they both laughed. They laughed deep, hearty laughs that left them both breathless and smiling broadly. She rested her head on his chest, running her hand up and down his bare and very defined abdomen. They simply laid there in comfortable silence until Hermione spoke.

“Have you ever thought about this?” she asked him.

“You mean us, together, like in a sexual way?” he challenged.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied. “I know I have,” she continued, blushing.

“Of course I have. I’m a grown man, Hermione, and you’re a grown woman. It would be odd if I hadn’t.”

“Right, I know, but did you ever think about us on a more, oh I don’t know, emotional level?”

He smiled, running his fingers through her absurdly curly hair. “I think that what we experienced tonight is about as deeply emotional as sex can possibly get. I do believe we just had the best shag that the world has ever and will ever experience.”

She chuckled. “You are very sure of yourself.”

“Well, I mean, I am Harry Potter,” he said, a fake air of pride evident in his voice.

They both laughed, Harry wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he pulled her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. “This isn’t just for tonight, ya know,” he almost whispered to her.

“I know,” she smiled, lacing the fingers of her left hand with the fingers of his right, resting their joined hands on his abdomen.

“I want all of you, every bit of you, to myself, forever,” he said, rolling back on top of her and kissing down her body.

“Now, that sounds incredibly overbearing and possessive to me,” she replied, grasping the top of his head as his lips paid special attention to her flat stomach.

“I can’t help it. I love you,” he muttered between kisses.

She gave him a sweet smile and pulled his head back to hers, kissing him deeply. “I know,” she said. “I love you, too.”

“Good,” he said. “Now that that’s settled,” he finished, throwing the sheets over his head and retreating back down her body.

She closed her eyes happily, grasping the sheets around her as he took her places she now knew that only he could take her.

They made love all day long and slept side by side that night, Hermione snuggled up closely to Harry. But Harry didn’t sleep most of the night, he simply stared at her, watching the innocent and pure expression on her face as she dreamed.

Just before sleep over took him, he whispered to her, “I’m going to marry you. I love you.”

He thought she had been asleep. Her eyes had been closed and the expression on her face extremely peaceful. She let one eye lazily drift open. She saw him sleeping soundly, smiling at what he had just said to her.

“I can’t wait,” she said, kissing him on the forehead lightly, so she wouldn’t wake him. As she laid her head back down on Harry’s shoulder to go back to sleep she caught a glimpse of the moon outside, stars sprinkled around it in the dark night sky.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispered, falling back to sleep quickly.

“Good night, Hermione.”

And they lived happily ever after…

Le fin