A Week with Hermione by Yerst

Rating: NC17
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 08/02/2003
Last Updated: 03/07/2004
Status: Completed

Harry Potter must live with the Granger family the summer before his seventh year at Hogwarts.
He and Hermione are left alone for a week due to a family emergency. Can the two remain strictly
friends, or will the flood of new desire grow too strong?




1. Chapter 1
------------

Author's Note: All Harry Potter characters are exclusively owned and copyrighted by J. K.
Rowling, Scholastic Books, and Warner Brothers. I am neither gaining profit nor assuming credit for
these characters.


**Chapter 1**

When the light blue Volvo pulled in to the smooth black gravel driveway of the Granger
household, Harry had mixed feelings. While the anxiety over Voldemort constantly pulled at the back
of his mind, Harry also missed spending the past two summers at the Weasley's. The
Dursley's had pretty much disowned Harry and he couldn't be happier at that. But the dark
fact of the matter was that no wizarding family was safe harboring Voldemort's greatest enemy.
This became almost fatality clear when the Weasley's barely escaped Voldemort's wrath alive
last summer.

Under Dumbledore's advice, it was thought best that Harry spend the summer before his
seventh and last year at Hogwarts with the Granger's. Dumbledore saw it as a great benefit to
Harry that all Death Eaters despised muggles to the point of having no desirable knowledge about
them. Even though it was no doubt well known that Hermione was one of Harry's closest friends,
and a muggle at that, even Voldemort would be hard pressed to find out where she lived. What Death
Eater would want to dirty themselves with such muggle items as a phone book?

With a smile Hermione turned to Harry and chimed, "We're here!" The two teenagers
stepped out of the backseat as Mr. and Mrs. Granger--already out--went to the trunk to pull out the
luggage.

"Welcome to our home, Harry," Mrs. Granger said cheerfully. "I hope you'll
treat it as your own."

"Thank you," Harry said, respectfully.

Harry didn't know how to feel about spending the summer with Hermione and her parents. They
were nice enough, sure. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were more than happy to help protect Harry and even
understood the risks involved. But a summer with Hermione? Harry would be seventeen soon, and
Hermione soon after that. They both had the kind of knowledge that sixteen-year-olds had. As with
any friendship between a boy and a girl, one's mind couldn't leave it at a childhood level
anymore, there were overtones that couldn't be completely ignored, though Harry attempted. He
wasn't blind, despite his poor vision. Hermione had the body of a young woman now, and a very
attractive one at that. But for Harry, the subconscious waters of unconditioned desire remained
stagnant beneath the ice-covering of his conscious mind and the importance of their friendship.

The Granger house was modestly middle class, just one storey as opposed to the many added layers
of the Weasley home. It was situated deep within English suburbia and was clean above all else. The
small porch with quaint little gardens of sideways potted plants on either side of the walkway led
to a solid deep brown door. With clunky luggage trailing behind, the Grangers and Harry shuffled
their way inside. A short tile pathway greeted Harry, with an off-white wall on the right and a
lowered living room on the left filled with a classical piano, chip-and-dale imitation chairs, and
a low coffee table with a glass top. The tile walkway emptied into a perpendicular hallway that led
left "to the bedrooms" and right to the "family room and kitchen."

"I'm sorry to say, Harry but we have only the two rooms, the master bedroom and
Hermione's further down the hall. The couch in the living room turns into a bed, so you'll
have to sleep there." Mr. Granger said. He was a gentle man with light brown hair, slightly
balding.

"Please, I'm grateful for your hospitality," Harry responded truthfully.
"With Ron I had to share a room, but even that was great compared to the Dursleys."

"Yes," Hermione rang in. "Well now you'll have a room to yourself, and the
telly's in there as well."

"You can use the hall bathroom to change, Harry," Mrs. Granger said. She too had a
kind complexion and long, fried brown hair. So that's where Hermione gets it. "Now lets
all unpack."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger headed left down the hall with Hermione's things, but she followed
Harry into the family room to help.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione finally blurted out, she had been fidgeting all the way home and
was finally giving vent to her excitement. "We're going to have so much fun! We can sleep
in and I can show you my neighborhood and after work my parents can take us to my old elementary
school one day this week." Somehow she looked like she was jumping without even moving.
"Then we can have a real celebration for your birthday and we have a pool too in the backyard
we can go swimming in and there's a field a block away I can show you. Oh, and when we get our
new books from Diagon Alley we can read through them together before classes start! Oh, we're
going to have so much fun!"

Everything sounded fine with Harry except reading all those books at the end. But honestly he
was excited too. No summer with the Dursley's and not half as much anxiety about Voldemort as
with the past two summers. For once he could take a break from it all. Did he even have a pair of
swimming trunks?

As the two finished unpacking Harry's trunk, there came a sudden pecking at the kitchen
window that looked out into the backyard. The two ran over and their suspicions were confirmed by
the sight of a dirty little owl.

"Erol!" Harry said as Hermione ran to the sliding glass door that led into the back
patio. Erol found his way to the patio doorway, dropped off the little note in his beak, and
squeaked before flying off, slamming into the backyard fence before clearing away.

"I think I'll get Ron a new owl for his Birthday," Harry said.

"Yes, but it wouldn't be half as funny," Hermione said, giggling. She picked up
the note and opened it before the two read it aloud.


Harry and Hermione,




Hey! I hope you two made it safely back home. The family and I are back in Romania
with Charlie to stay safe this summer, but you can still reach me by owl. In case you're
wondering, Dad and Percy are doing better. Dad is walking again, and he's getting a lot of
support from the Ministry of Magic to help rebuild our home. And Percy can still see out of one
eye, but we're still working on the other one. We'll keep you posted. Tell the Grangers
that we're okay, and try to enjoy yourself this summer, Harry. Forget about You-Know-Who for a
while. I'm sure our seventh year won't be pretty. I'll see you back at Hogwart's
safe and sound.




Ron

P.S. Ginny says hi.


Now if Harry would just get a letter from Sirius he could really relax.

"Well, I'm glad everything's alright," Hermione said. "That was a nasty
scare last summer."

Harry nodded.

"But no more talk about that. Like Ron said, let's forget about it for a while. Now
come on, let me show you my room."



2. Chapter 2
------------

**Chapter 2**

Hermione certainly wasn't joking. Harry's summer was like a dream, and most of it went
by just as quickly. Waking up every afternoon, Harry and Hermione helped themselves to beef and
provolone sandwiches or tomato soup--whatever they wanted. Since both were generally clean, Mr. and
Mrs. Granger scarcely had a complaint and gladly took them around town after work. They went to the
cinema, but the horror movies seemed dull compared to their own lives. They went to creameries and
split huge Neapolitan mountains. They walked around malls and outlet stores, and Harry picked up a
few new pairs of pants and shirts. Hermione came back one day with a new sun dress, some jeans, and
summer tank tops.

Harry tried to pay back the Grangers for taking him everywhere and even buying him movie tickets
and clothes. He promised to buy all of Hermione's wizarding books and accessories at Diagon
Alley when the time came for a visit, but the Grangers wouldn't have any of it.

"You're our guest, Harry," Mrs. Granger would say with a smile. "You enjoy
your summer, we're getting by just fine."

When Harry's birthday came, the Grangers went all out to celebrate. They got up that morning
of July and quietly dressed up the house with ribbons in Gryffindor colors. They had ready a large
chocolate birthday cake handsomely decorated and neatly covered with seventeen lit candles.
Hermione gently woke up Harry in the family room while his parents walked in with the cake singing
'Happy Birthday!'

Harry woke up smiling and when asked to make a wish and blow out the candles, he closed his
eyes, wished that the summer could last twice as long, and blew. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had to go to
work right after the cutting of the cake, but Harry and Hermione relaxed the rest of the day, and
almost got sick of chocolate.

Though Harry had three gifts waiting for him after getting up (a new winter sweater, a leather
wand case, and the three volume set of "Contemporary Magic Discoveries"--from Hermione),
two more came in at noon. Errol returned with a gift from the Weasleys (a surprisingly nicely woven
broom cover), and, to Harry's great relief, a slick black owl came with a bundle and letter
from Sirius. Before even looking at the packet, Harry ripped opened the letter and read it out loud
to Hermione.

Dear Harry,

Dumbledore has sent word that you have arrived safely. I apologize for keeping silent for so
long but I have been busy with a number of risky affairs. Please don't worry, I'm keeping
safe, and I want you to keep safe as well. Tell your keepers thank you for their hospitality and
enjoy your birthday. It's not every day that a young man turns seventeen. Enjoy the gift and
relax the remainder of the summer, you'll have to be sharp when September comes. Love
always.

Sirius

With smiles and sighs of relief, the two ripped open the bundle and found within a thick golden
chain complemented by a round golden pendant with a lion roaring at its center. A small note
attached to it had scrawled on it: "A chain clasp to complete your father's cloak."
Harry stood there, eyes gleaming. He wished he could see Sirius again. But that will have to wait
after all this darkness ends.

"Did I ever tell you thank you, Harry?" Hermione had suddenly said.

Startled, Harry looked up at her and with a look of confusion said, "What? Why?"

"Well," Hermione blushed slightly. "My summers were never this fun. Aside from
one or two family vacations, I'm pretty much stuck at home reading. That's how I can come
back to Hogwarts with all my textbooks completely read--twice over. I don't really have any
other friends. Before Hogwarts everyone just thought I was strange and they avoided me. It's
been nice to finally make friends. And . . . it's been great to spend this summer with my best
friend."

Harry smiled and blushed in response, and his face grew beet red when Hermione leaned over and
hugged him.

Hermione pulled back with smiling eyes and helped Harry reset his glasses on his nose.

"I'm, uh, I'm glad I came too," Harry finally said. "I'm having a
blast."

While the summer was still hot, Harry and Hermione gave the pool a try. Harry finally picked up
some blue and black swimming trunks at the mall. With the sun stuck in the center of the sky like a
searing yellow chunk of coal, Harry stood at the edge of the pool waiting for Hermione and the
towels.

Without warning, he felt a pair of slim hands smack against his back and push him forcefully
forward. A wall of cold water hit him flat, and with a slight sting traveling through his chest he
shivered back into motion and jerked his head out of the water. He cleared his wild black hair out
of his face, reached for his round glasses at the pool's edge and looked up at a giggling
Hermione wearing a red and white stripped bikini.

Harry stopped.

Still laughing, Hermione leaned down and said, "I'm sorry, Harry. Did you belly
flop?"

Harry felt a ring of cold around his stomach, but his face was warm and a shot of frantic heat
coursed up his chest.

"Harry?" Hermione said, sounding more concerned. "Harry, are you
alright?"

Harry jumped and shook his head. He wasn't staring was he? What if he was? All that skin.
Harry was getting accustomed to the water but he wished it was colder.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he finally said. "Just a little sting."

"Oh," Hermione slid into the pool in front of him. "I'm sorry, Harry. I
didn't mean to hurt you." She placed her right hand on his chest.

Harry backed away. "No, no really, I'm alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." Harry forced a smile and exhaled heavily out of his nostrils. For good
measure, he slapped the surface of the water and splashed Hermione. She screamed and a playful
water fight ensued. Crisis averted.

The two went swimming every day after that and Harry became accustomed to seeing Hermione in so
little. Almost. Still, he played it off well.

Weeks continued to pass and Harry took a trip to Diagon Ally with the Grangers to get the
student's their supplies. As their last year, accessories and books were more expensive, but
after a trip to Gringott's everything went well. Harry and the Grangers returned home with
seven extra books, a cauldron--standard size 5--, and an astrology chart each.

Two weeks before the return to Hogwarts, Harry still could not avoid Hermione's planned
study sessions. They had read through two of their books ("A Revised History of Hogwarts"
and "Dark Wizardry in the Middle Ages") before something caught Hermione's notice.
Harry thought it might have been the silence, which was solid since noon; all that broke it was a
phone call her parents picked up three hours ago.

"Shouldn't dinner be ready?" she said.

Harry, though dazed, looked up at Hermione.

Silently, and with a crinkled brow, Hermione got up from the coach and walked into the hall
toward her parent's bedroom. Harry quietly followed.

"Hermione, what are you--"

"Shhh!" Hermione replied severely. She tip-toed up to her parent's closed bedroom
door with Harry trailing close behind. Turning their heads and straining ears, they overheard
frantic talking.

"I know it's short notice, honey, but he really needs us. Dad could fail us any day
now, we have to leave," the voice was Mr. Granger's.

"I know, I know. But what about the kids? We can't just leave them here. Are you sure
we don't have enough for two more tickets?" Mrs. Granger held worry in her voice.

"Even if we did, Dad doesn't have enough room at his house to hold all of us and we
wouldn't have enough for nights at a hotel. We'll have to be there for at least four days
from what the doctors have said."

There was a long silence except for what Harry took as pacing.

"And no one we know can sit for us?"

"Honey, everyone I've called is either out of town or won't be free enough to sit
for at least four days. Honestly, they're old enough to watch out for themselves."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Jeremy. I know they're self-sufficient . .
. but they're also teenagers."

"Sweetie, really. We're talking about Harry Potter of all people. And we couldn't
ask for a daughter who's more level-headed. We've seen how they've acted all summer.
They're just friends."

More silence and then a long heavy sigh.

"We have to tell them now."

Hermione's eyes widened and as quickly and quietly as two teenagers can, the two jetted back
to the living room to put on a veneer of relaxed study.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger walked slowly into the living room moments later with stoic faces.

Mr. Granger spoke first. "Harry, Hermione . . . we have some bad news."



3. Chapter 3: Monday
--------------------

**Chapter 3: Monday**

For the first time in months, Harry and Hermione had to wake up before noon--at seven
o'clock no less. Neither of them begrudged the fact, but kept somber faces as they helped Mr.
and Mrs. Granger load up the Volvo. Mr. Granger's father, Hermione's grandfather, was
showing symptoms of kidney failure, and at his age the results were expected to be fatal. When
everything was ready, the Grangers approached the teens before leaving.

"Stay safe, you two," Mr. Granger said. He wasn't smiling, neither was anyone
else. "If you need to go out, take the bus, but be home before dark."

Harry and Hermione nodded their heads slowly.

"And don't do anything . . ." Mrs. Granger started, a worried look stapled to her
face. ". . . that we wouldn't approve of." She ventured a smile but it was weak.

"You know where the emergency numbers are, Hermione, and don't hesitate to call Diane
at the office if you need anything. From the sound of things . . . we should be back by
Friday." With that, Mr. Granger gave his daughter a hug and shook Harry's hand. Mrs.
Granger followed, hugging them both before she got into the car along with her husband. A minute
and a wave later the car was up the street, turned the corner, and then gone.

Hermione sighed. "Grandpa."

Harry stood silently next to her. He wanted to hug her but settled for a comforting pat on her
shoulder. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "It's alright. It happens eventually . . . right?" She
said this in a curt manner and turned briskly, walking back into the house. Harry followed, not
sure of what to say.

"We can go back to sleep if we want," Hermione said meekly.

"It's okay, I'm not tired," Harry said.

"Neither am I."

Still solemn, Harry decided that Hermione would cope on her own terms; that's just the way
she was. He tried to at least lighten the atmosphere a little by walking to the kitchen and
grabbing the loaf of bread.

"Want me to make you a sandwich?" Harry ventured. "That salami is just waiting to
be eaten."

"No thanks."

"Come on, I'll put some freshly cut tomatoes and a slice of Muenster cheese on it.
Don't make me eat all your food, 'cause I will."

At that Hermione softly snickered. She looked up at Harry and with a shy smile said, "Okay.
How can I say no to tomatoes?"

By noon Harry could see Hermione was feeling better. After vegging in front of morning cartoons
neither had ever really seen, they played a few movies and reminisced about Hogwarts. The warm
anticipation at returning to school that Harry had gotten so used to feeling the first four years
was now tempered and shadowed by dark uncertainty and a tangible danger. The two chose to ignore
such unpleasantness.

Despite the looming cloud brought on by the failing health of Hermione's grandfather, the
morning and early afternoon went by like any other weekday. It was as if the Granger's had just
gone to their dentistry practice like they did every Monday morning.

While the sun was still high, Harry and Hermione got into their swimming trunks--which were
always moist from constant use--and jumped in the pool to relax. Harry put his glasses on the pool
edge, thankful for the blurred vision. In such a delicate situation and with Hermione distraught,
the last thing Harry wanted was flaring guilt brought on by unwanted desires. Before Harry could
dwell on it further a wall of water smacked him the face and cheerful laughter quickly
followed.

"Why you--!" Harry cried, sputtering, before responding with his own army of
waves.

When the sun went into hiding between a bundle of low clouds near the horizon and their fingers
looked like plump raisins, Harry and Hermione got out and dried off. They made it inside just in
time to catch the ringing phone.

"Hello! Hello!" Hermione said, picking up the receiver frantically.

With slight strain Harry could heat a tiny voice in the tone of her father. "Hermione?
Where were you?"

"Sorry, Daddy," Hermione replied breathlessly. "Just got out of the
pool."

There was a suspended pause at the end. "Are you alright, honey?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Really, we just came inside." Hermione stood by the kitchen
counter in her bikini with wet brown hair streaming down her shoulders. Harry decided he'd
better go change now, ignoring the short exchange between Hermione and her father. As he exited to
the bathroom he heard the mumbles of another, deeper voice come on the other end of the line.

"Grandpa?" Hermione said in a surprised tone.

Harry dried and dressed slowly in order to give Hermione some time alone while she talked on the
phone. It was dark outside now, and even though it was just past eight, Harry started feeling
heavy-headed. Waking up so early really reset his system.

He walked down the hall toward the family room slowly, trying to gather a convincing nonchalant
demeanor, when he heard Hermione's voice tremble as she said, 'good-bye.' Harry turned
the corner just as she put the phone back on the receiver and looked up at him with glazed
eyes.

"Oh, Harry," she managed to say. "He sounds so weak!"

A tear escaped and traced down Hermione's left cheek. Her hair was still wet and starting to
puff out a little. As she stood there trying to suppress a sob, Harry felt his throat tighten and a
pain rise through his chest. Without thinking he stepped forward and put his arms around Hermione.
Almost instinctively she folded her shoulders against Harry's chest and rested her head on his
collar. Only then did she begin to cry freely.

Harry tilted his head and laid it gently on hers, speaking soothingly the only comforting words
that came to mind. "It's okay. It's okay. It'll be alright." He began to
softly rock from side to side. "It's okay."

And Hermione cried and cried. Her tears soaked Harry's shirt collar more than her hair did,
and as inhibition fled, her meek cries turned into loud chokes and gulps. Harry wished he could
make the pain go away. His jaw tightened in yearning as thoughts of somehow healing her grandfather
with magic floated through his mind. But such acts were illegal for a student and outside of the
school. Couldn't something be done? Maybe he could send word to Dumbledore or Sirius?

After Hermione's bout of crying ebbed and steady sobs and sniffles took its place, Harry
made her a glass of water and absent-mindedly rubbed her back as she drank. Tired of standing on
their feet, the two sat down on Harry's make-shift bed.

"I miss him," Hermione said between sniffles. "I rarely visited him, but I miss
him. I wish I could see him now; I feel so guilty." She started choking over her words and
Harry hugged her again to calm her. As emotional fatigue took its toll the two laid down, Hermione
still nestled in Harry's arms. Harry barely said a word, he just listened to her few anecdotes
about her grandfather, and when she last visited him. When a wave of sadness would strike her he
would hug her tighter and whisper, "it's okay, it's okay."

It wasn't long before words grew more mumbled, thoughts grew fuzzy, and awareness faded from
their minds. The two descended into deep sleep still lying on Harry's bed, still moist from the
swim, still holding each other, cheeks touching.



4. Chapter 4: Tuesday
---------------------

**Chapter 4: Tuesday**

The morning broke, yet Harry and Hermione still slept. Their inert bodies shifted during the
night, bothering the bed sheets. Harry's pillow found its way to Hermione's feet; the
comforter became a crumpled pile under Harry's head; and the sheets gathered round
Hermione's body, which was still wrapped in just a bikini. Yet her head remained on Harry's
chest and his arm held faithfully to her shoulder. It wasn't until noon that the two finally
woke.

Fully rested, Harry was stirred from his sleep by a warm weight on his chest. Opening his eyes
slowly, he saw Hermione's matted brown hair laid out under his neck and her deep peach-colored
body resting comfortably alongside his. His heart caught in his throat. Harry was torn between
wanting to get up before Hermione woke to avoid an awkward situation, and relaxing, enjoying the
touch of Hermione's warm body against his. He had never held anyone so close before. It excited
within him an intense desire to protect her, to save her from the world, to kiss her. A flood of
more thoughts followed quickly and Harry began feeling dizzy, like when he would fly too high on
his broomstick.

Mentally shaking away the tendrils of such thoughts from his mind, Harry nervously and slowly
tried to ease his arm out from under Hermione's bare shoulders. It did no good, for with the
slightest movement Hermione's eyelids fluttered open, and soon a look of confusion found its
way to her face. Puzzled, she looked up and her eyes widened as she looked into Harry's face.
Her cheeks turned red and Harry, transfixed, knew that she realized they were both still in his
bed.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, getting up quickly and folding her arms across
her chest. She cleared her throat and said "I'm sorry" again, this time more
controlled.

Harry got up after her as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. "No wait," he
called. "Hermione, it's okay." He reached her and they stopped. Feeling more
comfortable, he placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. "It's okay. We were both
tired and you were upset. You worried me."

Hermione looked sadly into Harry's eyes. What was she thinking?

"Hermione," Harry said, but paused, trying to decide what to say and how to say it.
"I care about you, and it hurts me when you're hurt," Harry stumbled through the
words, hoping they sounded platonic enough. "I want you to know that I'm here for you.
That it's okay to cry and to be upset around me." Hermione's eyes still looked sad,
but a hint of a smile worked through the corners of her lips. "It's okay."

With a sigh and a more prominent smile, Hermione leaned forward and hugged Harry. As they pulled
away she kissed him on the cheek and said, "Thank you." Harry's cheeks flushed with
color.

Hermione turned and, stepping lighter, made her way to her parent's bathroom, no doubt to
change. Harry stood in the hall with the specter of Hermione's lips still clinging to his
cheek. Feeling giddy and lighter himself, he went into the hall bathroom to take a shower while
still entertaining thoughts of magically healing Hermione's grandfather. It was doubtful. After
all, magic couldn't fix everything--why else would wizards still walk around missing a leg or a
finger, or die from very common ailments like heart attacks?--but still it nagged him. At the very
least, it was worth hoping.

After showering, Harry put on his boxers and jeans, and opened the bathroom door to air out the
residual steam as he prepared to shave. It had been a few days and he was getting scruffy. He took
the bottle of shaving cream from his toiletry kit and sprayed a good-sized dollop of the white
fluff into his hand. As he finished lathering up his jaw, Hermione shocked him by coming around the
corner with a smile. She was fully dressed now, wearing a tight pair of blue jeans and a maroon
halter top. Harry was beginning to realize that no matter what Hermione wore, she looked good. The
sight of her was beginning to make his heart ache.

"You're shaving!" Hermione said, a giggle flitting around the back of her throat.
She certainly had her spirits back. In an ocean of dark tidings, there were still small moments of
happiness that stayed afloat.

"Um, yeah," Harry replied, still startled and a little embarrassed. "I need to.
How are you feeling?" He felt weird talking to Hermione with a white beard of shaving cream on
his face and neck.

"Much better, thank you. Can I watch?" Hermione rang with glee. "In elementary
school I got up early enough to see Daddy do it and it always just amazed me."

"Um, okay, sure," Harry said with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Even though he
was just missing a shirt--and wore even less when they swam--, he felt like he was exposed for some
reason, the way he would probably feel if his swimming trunks accidentally came off while jumping
in the pool. He discarded the anxiety though, and was simply glad that Hermione was feeling
better.

"You're certainly brighter," he said with a smile.

"Yeah, while you were in the shower my parents called. They say Grandpa is actually doing
better. Can you believe it?" Relief lingered in her throat.

"Wow!" Harry couldn't believe it. "That's fantastic!" How did that
happen? He didn't even send an owl out to Dumbledore in desperation. Whatever good fortune it
was, Harry just hoped it would last.

"Yeah, I said the same thing," Hermione continued. "The doctors still don't
want to get our hopes up, though."

Harry wished he could hug her again, if only his face wasn't covered in cream.

"No come on, shave!" Hermione ordered, laughing.

Feeling suddenly flirtatious, Harry replied with, "Okay, but I get to watch you shave
next."

"Ew, no!" Hermione cried, suppressing a smile. "I keep my hairy legs to myself.
Besides, I can only do that in the shower."

At that Harry turned his head, looked Hermione straight in the eyes, and grinned. Hermione's
eyes widened and pinkness crept into her ears.

"Uh, and any . . ." she stammered. "I--I already shaved."

"Aww," Harry said in exaggerated disappointment as he picked up his razor. Seeing
Hermione's reflection in the mirror, she was still blushing. Maybe he went too far with that?
He kept a calm demeanor while going through the motions with his razor, deftly gliding the blade
down his jaw, around his cheeks, and along his neck. Hermione hung in the doorway all the
while.

After Harry finished shaving, he cleaned off his jaw with water, showing a nice smooth face.
Hermione came up to him and without warning placed her hand on his cheek, rubbing it softy.

"Good job," she said, but she didn't pull her hand away. Instead she slid it down
Harry's jaw line and neck, fingering gently at Harry's throat. That light-headed feeling
struck Harry again and his knees felt weak; he started to sway. He looked into Hermione's brown
eyes, eyes that he'd never really looked into before, not like he did now. She returned the
gaze, looking just as focused, just as entranced.

Harry lost his balance and fell backwards, but caught himself on the bathroom sink in time. It
was enough to bring them both out of their daze, though. Hermione started clearing her throat as
she helped Harry straighten.

"Good job," Hermione said again, fumbling. "S--so, what do you want to do
today?" She put on a smile too wide to be naturally.

"Um," Harry decided to glance at the floor. "We can continue reading our new
school books." Did he just suggest that? What was wrong with him!

"Oh that's right!" Hermione said with renewed vigor. "I think they're all
still spread out on my bed." Harry wondered if his subconscious was starting to sneak out.
Though, he admitted to himself that this felt like more than just indiscriminate attraction.

With more on his mind than just studying--no matter how hard he tried to ignore it--Harry
followed Hermione through the hall and into her bedroom. Keeping knees on the carpet and heads
propped over wizarding books and manuals on the bed, the two read. Harry couldn't help but
throw a few furtive glances at Hermione now and then. Hermione did the same, and when their eyes
would meet, they would turn away blushing.

Taking liberal breaks in-between studying to eat, watch TV, and even have a tickle fight that
end awkwardly, Harry and Hermione passed the time. The two were getting somewhat used to being
alone in the house most of the day, having a summer long to practice, but when the evening came it
grew uncomfortable again.

They occupied themselves with making dinner. Harry put some green beans in a pan on the stove
with a healthy blot of butter while he helped Hermione thaw and season a couple of steaks. Hermione
was impressed with Harry's cooking skills.

"It's nothing," Harry said, after smiling at Hermione's praise. "When I
lived with my aunt and uncle, they had me do quite a bit of cooking. It made me sort of a
perfectionist really. If I did the slightest thing wrong, 'whap!'"

Getting out clean plates and silverware, Harry fixed two plates of food and set them on the
dining room table. The two made glasses of water for themselves, and as an added gesture Harry
pulled out Hermione's chair for her to sit in.

"Quite the gentleman!" She said, laughing.

Amid talks about the school books, both agreed to actually get out of the house tomorrow and go
out on the town. They'd go to the cinema, or the video store, even the mall, wherever they felt
like. Harry felt content, realizing that he was enjoying Hermione's company more and more, and
thankful that they would return to Hogwarts together.

When they finished their meal, they cleaned their plates and headed back to Hermione's room
to continue their readings. Sprawled out on the bed, books surrounding their bodies and stacked in
front of their eyes, Harry and Hermione read into the night. They read to each other until their
voices became sore, until their eyelids grew heavy and stiff, until their heads nodded lower and
finally rested on the piles of books beneath them. With the light still on and the sheets turned
up, the two feel asleep, dog-eared pages mingling with long brown hair mingling with wild black
hair.



5. Chapter 5: Wednesday
-----------------------

**Chapter 5: Wednesday**

The sun crept through the blinds of Hermione's window around nine in the morning. Beams of
light followed along the carpeted floor, climbed up the bed, and tickled the faces of the sleeping
forms surrounded by books. As the light glinted through his lenses, Harry squinted before opening
his eyes. His first sight was of Hermione's face. She lay next to him on her side, her hair
cascading down her cheek in disheveled tresses. She was awake and looking right at Harry's
face. Had she been watching him while he slept? For how long? Light danced over her face, and Harry
thought for a second that he could wake up every day for the rest of his life to such a sight.

Harry smiled, forgetting himself, and at that Hermione jerked her head away as if to erase or
cover the swoon that clung to her face. She sat up on the bed and faced away from Harry, it looked
like she was trying to hide a smile.

"This is becoming a bad habit," Hermione said, no doubt referring to their falling
asleep in the same bed. Harry, however, was getting to like it.

"Yeah," Harry managed. "It's a good thing your parents aren't
here."

Hermione stood up and whirled around. "What do you mean by that," she said with a
smirk.

Harry swallowed his tongue. "Oh. Oh! No, no I didn't mean--that is, I was thinking
that--um."

Hermione kept grinning as Harry stumbled over his words.

"They'd think we were up to something . . . is all," Harry finally managed to
say.

"Who says we aren't?" Hermione said in a syrupy voice.

Harry's jaw dropped. Hermione left him shocked as she turned and walked coquettishly out the
bedroom door.

Fully awake and struck by exhilaration, Harry ran after her. He caught up to Hermione shortly in
the hallway and started tickling her mercilessly, fingering her sides and squeezing under her arms.
With squeals of shock, and what sounded like delight, Hermione jerked and kicked. She twisted
around with searching hands trying desperately to find Harry's sides and retaliate.

Laughing hysterically, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and started tickling him in return. As
he weakened his grip, she bolted out of his hold and sprinted down the hall still laughing.

Hermione was a surprisingly fast runner. By the time Harry made it toward the living room he had
lost her around the corner. He peered cautiously over the couch back, thinking she might be hiding
beyond the cushions.

Before he knew what hit him, Harry was pushed over the couch from behind. She must have been
hiding in the kitchen! Harry tumbled onto the cushions with Hermione toppling over him, tickling
him all the way.

Harry let out yelps of laughter, gasping for air as Hermione straddled him, pinning him to the
couch. Digging at his armpits, Hermione lowered her head to his, a big grin plastered on her
face.

"Gotchya now!" she said, faking a cackle.

When Harry's sides were about to burst he looked up at Hermione wide-eyed and stopped. He
realized their noses were almost touching. Hermione must have realized too because she had stopped
tickling.

Hermione's cheeks became suddenly florid and she got up off of Harry as smoothly and quickly
as she could.

"Sorry," she said, still red. "Guess I got carried away."

"It's okay," Harry said. "I did too."

The two made their way stiffly to the kitchen to get some breakfast.

"You want to head out to the mall afterwards?" Hermione asked.

"Absolutely!" Harry replied, thankful for the shift in focus.

After a twenty minute wait at the bus stop filled with idle chatter, Harry and Hermione headed
off to the mall. They went from store to store, though didn't find too much they cared to buy.
They didn't have very much money and most of the stores sold clothing line products; neither of
them cared for clothes much beyond practical purposes. Harry enjoyed the atmosphere more than
anything, and the company. He caught himself several times reaching for Hermione's hand as they
walked side-by-side and pulled his arm back sheepishly.

Outside the creamery, enjoying chocolate and strawberry double-scoop ice cream cones, the two
sat down to rest. In the middle of their conversation though, an older boy who had brown hair and
looked college bound walked up to Hermione, completely ignoring Harry. He said a hey, how's it
going? with a smile and oozing tone. Harry's jaw tensed, the stare the guy was giving Hermione
made Harry feel a streak of violence that was wholly different from his thoughts about
Voldemort.

Fortunately, Hermione responded coldly to the stranger. "Excuse me," she said.
"I'm in the middle of a conversation."

"What, is he your boyfriend or something?" The grease in his voice reminded Harry of
Professor Snape.

Hermione looked at Harry with a smirk, and without looking up at the guy said simply,
"Yes."

This made Harry jolt, and he couldn't help but grin stupidly.

"Whatever," the guy said, giving Harry a dirty look and slinking away.

"Sorry if I embarrassed you," Hermione said to Harry once they were alone again.
"I only said that to make that creep leave.

"Oh," suddenly Harry felt a little sad. "It's okay, I didn't
mind."

"Oh, good," Hermione replied, beaming.

Hermione got a few more stares as they walked around the mall some more, and they finally
decided to leave when she was approached again. Even if he wasn't her boyfriend, Harry thought
it was pretty rude for guys to just come right up to Hermione with Harry obviously walking with
her.

The two left the mall and got on the bus heading for the library. Harry wasn't sure how to
feel about this. He had enough reading last night, even if it did end pleasantly with them falling
asleep together. At least at the library he got to choose a book on anything he wanted to rummage
through.

When they arrived, Hermione curiously asked Harry if they could split up to find their own
books. Confused, but being agreeable by nature, Harry assented and Hermione walked swiftly off,
making her way upstairs and disappearing being a random aisle of books. Harry shook his head but
just as soon went on his own way. He didn't really know if he wanted to look for anything
specifically. A casual look over at a nearby aisle of nonfiction books made up his mind that
Hogwarts had a far more impressive and infinitely more interesting library. Still, he attempted a
search in order to avoid a crawling sense of dismay that was making its way through the back of his
mind. He felt lonely.

Harry decided to forget about the nonfiction section the minute he saw a book on drills-it
reminded him unfavorably of his uncle Vernon. He found his way to the fiction section and read a
number of dusk jacket inlets from Douglas Adams to Brian Jacques. He tried to read a few pages into
Redwall, but the nagging feeling of separateness kept him restless. He was growing so accustomed to
Hermione's presence, he realized, that he felt like he was suffocating without her. He wondered
what she was doing, what she was reading about.

Discarding Redwall, Harry thought that enough time had passed. He saw no harm in casually
finding Hermione and seeing what she found of intrigue. Knowing her, it was bound to be more
interesting at the very least. He walked out of the aisles and nonchalantly worked his way
upstairs, sure she was still there. It shouldn't take long to find her; the second floor was
small, holding only a few rows of books, a series of computer terminals, and an information
desk.

After a brief search, it was evident to Harry that Hermione was no longer on the second floor. A
tinge of panic crept over him. Where was she? He felt like he was in a pool, and too far below the
surface of the water to make it up in time. He inhaled deeply. She probably just went back
downstairs while he was looking through the fiction section. Going down the grand spiral staircase,
Harry searched from aisle to aisle of the children's section, the young adult's section,
the fiction, and still had no luck. Where was she? He had to find her soon.

He made his way quickly through the nonfiction section, walking toward the short huddle of
tables in between the stacks near the far wall. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. There was Hermione
sitting down and stooping over some book. Harry made his way quickly and quietly over to her desk,
being mindful to act casual about everything. When he got close enough to see over her shoulder at
the large book opened up in front of her he took a glance. Then froze. Was that--

"Is that a book on sex?" He said before realizing he was talking out loud.

Hermione slammed the book shut the minute she heard him speak one syllable. Standing up, she
reeled around with the book clutched tightly in hand.

"What? No! Yes. No!" Her face grew pale. "I--I must have picked up the wrong
book." She rushed off past Harry to return the book to its shelf, trying hard to conceal the
cover.

All the while Harry stood stunned. He didn't know whether to smirk or blanch. Why was she
reading such a book? Did she really find it by accident? Their stay at the library ended there.

"Well," Hermione returned, trying to hide the red in her face and acting as if nothing
out of the ordinary happened. "We better head back. It's probably getting close to dark
outside."

Harry agreed wordlessly and the two used the last of their meager money to catch a bus back
home. When the bus finally rounded the corner and came upon Hermione's neighborhood, Harry got
up the courage to grin. Luckily, Hermione didn't appear to see it.

After such a silent ride, Hermione finally spoke up and asked Harry what he had found while at
the library. Harry told her all about his short foray into the fiction section as they walked past
the houses along Hermione's neighborhood.

"That's neat," Hermione said generically to Harry. "See, 'cause, I was
looking for information on witches given in muggle books, and I was looking for books on
'spells' when I guess I picked up that book by mistake." So that was her excuse.

"Someone must have snuck that book in the section I was looking in, because it's not
alphabetical, and-" Hermione fumbled through her reasoning as they approached her door. Then
she stopped.

Shuffling along the porch was Errol, looking all the more like an old duster. He had a note of
parchment in his beak and finally squeaked as Harry and Hermione walked up to him. Dropping the
note, Errol made a running hop, failed several times to take flight, then finally caught air
halfway across the street.

Harry picked up the letter while Hermione waited. The embarrassment that hung over their heads a
second ago disappeared as Harry unfolded the parchment and skimmed the short, clipped paragraph
with his eyes.

With an ashen face, he looked up at Hermione and in a half-whispered tone he said, "Ron. .
. ."

Author's Note: Greetings. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have
reviewed my fanfic so favorably. I appreciate the praise as well as your constructive criticism and
plan to take it into account for future chapters. Those who asked for more flashback about the
previous summer with the Weasleys won't have to wait long, and to those curious about a
possible "intimate" moment . . . well, you'll just have to wait and see. I would also
like to thank Goddess Of Camelot for beta reading the more recent chapters and providing me with a
number of great suggestions. The progression of the story wouldn't be half as good without her
insight. Once again, thank you all.



6. Chapter 6: Thursday
----------------------

**Chapter 6: Thursday**

*"Ron!"*

*Green light filled the front windows.*

*"Go Ron, now!"*

*"I'm staying with you, Harry!"*

*Fred and George fumbled quickly up the stairs, Percy trailing as he tugged violently on
Ron's shirt collar.*

*"No, go!" Harry screamed*

*The door swung open and a dark figure filled the threshold.*

*A deep, chilled voice said, "Potter…"
A green glow at the end of a dark wand. And then…A man crashed on the figure in the doorway from
behind.*

*"Run, Harry!" Sirius yelled.*

*"Sirius?"*

*"Run! Now!"*

*Harry started running up the stairs after Ron, but his legs felt like lead. Green filled the
room. High pitched laughter filled his mind and his scar burned like a thousand torches.*

*"No!" Harry yelled as green flames engulfed him.*

"No!" Harry yelled as he jumped up from the bed sheets, drenched in sweat and panting
frantically.

Harry's heart was beating so fast and loud in his ears that he hardly heard the whisper of
Hermione's voice. She was at the kitchen counter behind his fold-out bed trying to talk low but
excitement kept raising her voice. Harry turned to look at her and she paused for a moment, no
doubt to consider why he had jolted so violently from his sleep; yet a smile still lingered on her
face from whatever the voice on the other line was telling her.

"Okay," Hermione spoke into the receiver. "And Harry's up now, so I'll
tell him the news. Okay, Daddy. Okay. Love you too."

Harry sat half-turned toward Hermione, still panting and partially covered by the bed sheets.
The clock on the kitchen wall said five in the afternoon. He had been up all night.

As Hermione hung up the phone, he saw that her face looked brighter than it had been all week,
like a thin, almost invisible shadow had lifted itself from her features. She looked more stunning
than ever. But his nightmare lingered, sticking to his mind like a leech.

"That was Dad," she said, brimming with happiness. "He says Grandpa is actually
going to make it!" She was so elated by blurting this out that she jumped toward Harry and
gave him a long, tight hug. He hugged her back, trying to work out the emotions in his mind between
being indescribably happy for her and feeling the looming threat in his head.

"That's great!" He finally spit out.

"I know! I know! The doctors don't know how he recovered. It's like a
miracle."

Harry didn't know what to think of it. No one in the wizard world knows of it, let alone
would likely help such a seemingly minor matter with Voldemort threatening. Maybe it was truly one
of those unexplained events. He was indeed happy for her. But Voldemort…

"Mom and Dad are going to have to stay an extra day, though," Hermione continued.
"Just to double check everything and call all the relatives. They said they'll be back
Saturday."

All Harry could do was nod and smile, and say "I'm happy for you" as Hermione
jounced around in her joy and relief. After a moment she stopped and stood still, looking at Harry
questioningly.

"You're upset," she said simply. The shadow that had settled in Hermione's
features over the past few days had left her entirely, but had now decided to nestle nicely on
Harry's face. It had been growing darker by the minute.

Harry sighed. "I really am happy for you, Hermione. I know that's a big weight off your
shoulders. But--"

"But now Ron's in trouble," Hermione said, growing sullen.

Harry nodded.

"That's why I let you sleep," Hermione said. "I figured you'd be up all
night after yesterday's mail."

There was a pause as Hermione looked towards the hallway for a moment, and then turned back to
Harry. "Harry," she started. "Remember that field I told you about a few blocks
away?" She didn't give Harry time to answer. "I want you to go there with me.
We'll get dressed, eat a good lunch, and then head over there. It's absolutely beautiful;
clear skies, clean air. It'll give us time to think, and talk."

Harry sniffed and nodded. He needed to talk.

The sky was indeed clear, with just whispers of thin white clouds playing along the crisp tree
line of the horizon. The field stood out like a huge green blanket, grass fanning out from the
tapered end of the neighborhood into the undeveloped countryside. The sun sprayed down its fading
warmth from the western corner of the blue sky as Harry and Hermione trekked the six blocks, chose
an arbitrary spot of green, and sat down comfortably amid the grass blades. A slight breeze picked
up just then, comforting Harry a little and momentarily lightening the weight that sat uneven on
his mind.

The two sat cross-legged, facing each other in silence, letting the surrounding tranquility calm
their thoughts. The gentle song of birds in the distance helped Harry settle and with a sigh he was
able to bring to words the anxiety that was on his mind.

"It never stops," Harry started, starring out into the trees as he spoke. Hermione
sat, focused and listening. "It just never stops. I left the tyranny of the Dursley's for
the tyranny of Voldemort. At least living with my aunt and uncle wasn't
life-threatening."

Harry paused to stop his mouth from trembling. He didn't want to cry in front of Hermione.
Inhaling deeply, he continued. "Hagrid was right when he said I was touched by a curse. I
don't think he realized just how wide it surrounded me though, like some black cloud looming
over me, always, never shrinking after each storm. And now . . . now it's starting to hurt
everyone I know."

"Ron . . ." Hermione said meekly.

Harry nodded and snorted cynically. "I'm the boy who lived. Maybe things would have
been better if I hadn't been; then everyone I cared about wouldn't be at constant risk, and
Ron would still be coming back to Hogwarts . . ."

"Harry, don't say that!" Hermione protested, putting her hand on Harry's
shoulder, leaning him toward her so he looked her in the eyes. "If you didn't survive,
Voldemort would have still been a constant danger to everyone. He probably would be even more
powerful by now, and half the wizarding families would have either turned to the Dark Side or been
murdered by now, including the Weasley's."

Harry sighed but remained silent. If only she saw what he saw last summer. Voldemort just has
that way of finding things out. He destroyed the Burrow, and nearly killed Ron and his family.
Harry wouldn't be surprised if the Malfoys had somehow helped in the matter. It always made an
icy shiver blaze down his back, bringing with it a horrifying sense of déjà vu; the green light,
the high laughter, his burning scar, it all reminded him so much of his nightmares in his youth. It
all must have happened the same way with his parents. At least the Weasley's all made it out
alive. Harry hoped that it would continue to stay that way.

"Harry, it's not your fault Ron and his family had to go into hiding. Everything is
Voldemort's doing, everything has resulted from his maliciousness, his greed, his lack of
respect for human life. Aside from Dumbledore, Harry, it's you who has stood up to him
successfully all those times; it's you who has defeated him again and again; it'll be you
who defeats him for the last time. I don't have a doubt in my mind about that."

A hint of warmth crept back into Harry's eyes and a smile was thinking of forming on his
mouth. How did she do that? She made that black cloud look smaller; made him feel like maybe, just
maybe, the storm would pass eventually.

Hermione leaned in and hugged Harry tightly. She spoke softly into his ear, "Ron will be
back. He and his family will get through this. With any luck he'll return before the year is
up. Dumbledore won't let any of his students be intimidated out of completing their education,
especially by Voldemort."

Yes, it would feel better going back to Hogwarts, living once more under the vigilant eye of
Dumbledore. And Hermione would be there.

Hermione pulled back slightly to smile into Harry's face.

Harry was struck by a sudden desire to protect her. Hermione's very life was in danger by
being so close to him. And if the Malfoy's played a part in the destruction of the Burrow, it
would make Draco even happier to see Hermione destroyed.

Hermione's eyes locked with Harry's, and his mind raced as he fell into her beautifully
brown gaze.

An intense fury for Draco seized Harry's heart, and he didn't know what he would do when
he saw him again in a week. Everything would be okay if Hermione came out of this unharmed.

Hermione's hand reached up to stroke Harry's cheek. Her fingers trailed through the
tangled tresses of his black hair and found their way to the nape of his neck.

Hogwarts, England, the entire world would all be alright if Hermione stayed safe.

A distance sense of pressure came to Harry; Hermione was pulling gently on the back of his head.
Her beautiful face was filling his vision.

Everything would be alright so long as Hermione was alive. So long as she was with him.

Their lips met.

Like a beam of sunlight, Harry's being shot in on one sensation--Hermione's mouth
pressed against his. The soft double flesh of her lips touched his with a longing, wonderfully
assertiveness. Every neuron in his brain fired off as fireflies filled the edges of his vision and
pins danced beneath his skin. A fevered intensity filled his stomach, his shoulders, his lips as
they reciprocated and kissed back on her mouth with certainty. His hands, mindlessly, found her
cheeks and rubbed at the skin behind her jaw. Her hands traced the line of his shoulders and rose
up to his head, pulling him eagerly closer. Their mouths would part only to come crashing onto each
other again, all the more demanding the more selfish for each other's taste and touch. Their
breath mingled, tongues flirted, fingers trailed the textures of faces, feeling the delicate
connection of their lips to assure their reality. Everything was lost in this moment--a break in
the black cloud where a ray of sublime passion warmed the dark soil of their bodies with the glow
of this kiss.

Everything after that had shifted for Harry, not blurred, but shifted. The waning hours of
kissing, the sun sluggishly finding its way comfortably back to the horizon hours ago then sneaking
away and leaving them in the dark without realizing it, the slow walk home across those blocks.
Everything had a subtle sense of auspice to it. The very air was electrified, and was particularly
intense around Hermione. They held hands absentmindedly as they walked home, staying silent, a
wordless agreement flowing between them.

They reached the house at 11:55 in the evening and Hermione unlocked the door.

They entered, locked the front door, and made their way to the kitchen to discard watches and
earrings at the kitchen counter. Ron's note sat folded and over-read on the counter, holding
its short, simple sentences in its rushed, black script: "Harry. Won't be returning to
Hogwarts. Too risky. Will keep in touch. Stay safe. Ron." The clock hit 11:56.

Kicking off their shoes and sloughing off their socks, they walked down the hallway as the clock
struck 11:57.

The way seemed longer as they walked closer together, stopping twice to kiss against the walls.
11:58.

They stood in the doorway of Hermione's room kissing, tickling at each other's collars.
They starred at each other, the current in the air stopped for one breathless second as they read
the meaning in each other's eyes. 11:59.

Slowly, so slowly, Hermione tugged on Harry's shirt, pulled him into her room, and shut her
bedroom door. An audible click resounded in the hall as she locked the door.

Midnight.

Author's Note: First and foremost I would like to apologize countless times for having taken
so long to get this next chapter out, it's been over a month I believe. I know many of you have
been looking forward to this next installment for a long time, of which I am completely
appreciative, but rest assured it was not without some reason. I posted Chapter 5 around
mid-December and had hoped to write, complete, and post the final chapters of this story before
having to go out of town for the holidays. Unfortunately, this failed to happen due to academic
responsibilities (Final Exams), and I left with my girlfriend and parents to North Carolina--three
states away, and with little enough computer access to keep writing and posting--to spend the
holidays with relatives. I returned just in time to prepare for the approaching semester (I'm
in college) and have since been preoccupied with adjusting to a new semester of classes and also
with Grad school applications. This explains the circumstances but doesn't necessarily justify
them. However, as this chapter is hopefully a sign of, things are simmering down a little and I
will hopefully be able to complete the last two chapters of this story soon. Again, I sincerely
apologize for the delay and want to express my complete gratitude and appreciation for all the
accolades and praise, and especially suggestions that you have provided me. I only hope this
chapter and the remainder of this tale lives up to your anticipation and expectations.

Also, in response to a review: I was told that it seemed out of place that Ron was using Errol
instead of Pig for his owl-mail, and the reviewer wondered if I had done it intentionally or not.
My response is that it is a complete and utter mistake on my part. ;) I read the books about two
years ago, and am just now starting to reread them. Right now, I'm precisely on Book 2, chapter
title: Aragog. So I haven't gotten to Pig yet, and have been kind of relying on the second
movie for the owl name, which is also why I initially spelled Errol wrong-I had heard it, but
couldn't remember reading it. I also more or less forgot about Hermione's cat Crookshanks,
which is why I haven't mentioned him. Though that may be excusable because doesn't
Crookshanks end up being an animorph? I can't remember. Oh well, I guess I'll find out when
I hit book 3. Thank you all for your wonderful comments. I hope you enjoy the story despite my
discrepancies.



7. Chapter 7: Friday
--------------------

**Chapter 7: Friday**

**Warning* This chapter contains graphic sexual content which justifies the otherwise curious
R-rating I have given it. Do not read ahead if such explicit acts of love offend you.*

Warm. Warmth. Softeness. A thrilling hint of moisture. Harry stood, after the quick chill strike
of adrenaline deep in his sides, after his brain went numb, with his arms wound around the sweet
thinness of Hermione's back. Their lips were pressed together for what seemed a timeless moment
of existence. Her fingers traced gently up his neck and through his unruly black hair, sending
shocks through his shoulders. As the numbness faded slowly from Harry's mind, he found that his
hands were automatically stroking Hermione's shoulders . . . and the kiss lingered. Her lips
were so small and soft yet they covered his mouth perfectly, and with each tiny movement of those
two petals against his, a deep and strengthening longing was forming were the electricity of their
touch traveled through his core and nestled below his navel. Harry had kissed a girl once before-or
rather was kissed-and though pleasant, he realized that this kiss had brought with it something
more, a feeling new yet ancient that held the promise of secret knowledge and fulfilling
desire.

A part of that secret knowledge was forming into a tight ball in his lower stomach and arousing
Harry so thoroughly that embarrassment clouded his mind for a moment as he concentrated with worry
on their hips-an erection was blooming uncontrollably and threatening obvious discovery. Harry
pulled away, the subtle stickiness of their lips as they parted exciting him even more. Their arms
unraveled around from each other mechanically and he only now realized his eyes were closed-never
did a sensation make the common darkness found behind his eyelids seem so bright with color.
Hermione too had just opened her eyes, slowly, and with her lips just slightly parted. Her cheeks
were flushed and she sighed deeply as full awareness struck her face.

"Harry…"

"I'm sorry…" Harry said, flushing both with excitement and humiliation.

"What?" Hermione replied, looking suddenly perplexed.

Harry fumbled with his pants. His hands shot into his jean pockets and he tried to be as quick
and nonchalant as possible as he rearranged his aching hardness to look less conspicuous. He was
thankful that his shirt was at least untucked and acting as a visual blocker.

Hermione looked down without a word, curious as to the source of Harry's frustration, then
looked back up into his face, the ghost of a smile borne on her soft lips. She stood for a moment,
considering, thinking, as Harry stopped messing with his pants. Then with a look of cool
determination and control, a look Harry had seen countless times, Hermione walked around Harry
toward her CD player, picked up a music CD Harry didn't recognize and placed it in her player.
When she pressed play, soothing yet sensual music alive with violins and chantings resounded
through her room. She adjusted the volume to a somewhat low, comfortable level and walked over to
the edge of her bed where she sat down. She was smiling to herself.

Hermione looked up at Harry, still smiling. With a determined look she said, "Harry, I want
you to give me a massage."

"What?" said Harry, feeling suddenly disoriented.

"I want you to give me a massage," she repeated resolutely.

"What…what just happened?"

"Come on, it's not hard." Hermione turned slightly and patted the spot of the
comforter next to her. With her left eyebrow raise, she said "I'm sure you're very
good."

Harry sat down, suddenly trembling as his nerves gave out. What happened to the confidence that
held him so securely only a few minutes before? They were kissing and tickling; now suddenly he
felt very insecure. Hermione pulled the brown mass of her hair around to her front, exposing her
thin shoulders clothed partially by her shirt. Harry sighed deeply, wondering what happened to
himself and began rubbing along the gentle slope of Hermione's shoulders. His fingers slid down
her back and rubbed in slow circles around her shoulder blades.

Did she get embarrassed too? No, she seemed so calm and assured. She put on music.
Hermione gave sudden moans of approval as Harry's hands worked and the pulsing in his pants
grew more frantic.

"A little softer," she said.

"S-sorry."

"It's okay. It feels really good," her sentence faded into a purr.

Every now and then Harry would accidentally fumble with her shirt collar, pulling it down too
much or bunching it up at the neck. His cheeks grew red with frustration whenever this happened,
but Hermione never acted concerned. In fact, that constant smile of hers grew more pronounced as
time passed and Harry's fingers faltered.

Finally, Hermione spoke up. "Here," she said as she reached for the hem of her shirt
and quickly, deftly, brought her top over her head and off her body. "This may make things
easier."

Harry paused. Now he was facing her otherwise naked back covered by the sharp white contrast of
her bra strap.

"What's wrong," Hermione said, laughter playing at the back of her throat.

"Um . . . nothing," Harry said, exhilaration and fear building in his muscles.

"You've seen me in my bikini. This isn't any different, right?"

"Right," Harry said curtly and placed his palms back on her shoulders. But it was
different. Though Hermione was still technically more clothed now in a bra and jeans, it somehow
felt more intimate and private. Maybe the fact that they were on her bed was part of the reason, or
that bras held a special taboo, being an undergarment and all. Harry didn't care to speculate
on it much, he was too enraptured in the smooth touch of Hermione's back. The perfect symmetry
of her figure made him ache as he pressed and squeezed at her muscles and shoulders. With every
sound she emitted he found his lips straining to trace down the back of her neck. He controlled
himself, but after a while he resorted to tracing invisible shapes lightly over her neck and back
with his fingertips, and she grew all the more complimentary for that. Harry closed his eyes,
focusing on the wonderful feel of her skin. On their own volition his fingers wound their way
beneath her shoulder straps.

"They're in the way aren't they?" Hermione suddenly said clearly.

"What?" Harry opened his eyes, jarred from the touch and the sensual music flowing
over him.

My bra?" She replied, a vague tremble in her voice.

"What?" His mind went blank. What . . . ?

"Here . . ." Hermione reached her hands around to her back, and with the deftness of
someone accustomed to this action daily, she released the taught clip of her bra with a flick of
her wrist. Harry watched transfixed, excited, afraid as she brought her arms forward and the straps
floated down her arms, the bra soon off and discarded on the floor by her bed. He now starred at
her bare back, completely aware of the equal bareness of her chest hiding just out of eyesight.

Hermione turned her head to peer at Harry out of the corner of her eye, and said, "There.
Now there's nothing to fumble with." Her voice trembled slightly stronger now. "No
clothes anyway."

"Hermione . . ." Harry could hardly even say her name. His chest was so tight with
want he felt that he would burst.

"Actually," now she was whispering. "I think I've had enough
massaging."

Hermione turned around and faced Harry. Her cheeks and neck were flushed and her brow furled in
worry. Harry looked her in the eyes, struggling desperately to keep from looking down, though he
could still see the small red blurs of her nipples just on the edge of his peripheral vision. He
was sweating now and his desire boiled in his belly. Hermione drew a deep breath and leaned
forward, kissing Harry rough on the mouth, her jaw slightly shaking. Harry's brain went numb
once more as his arms groped around Hermione's back to hold her. She was shaking, he needed to
comfort her, hold her, keep her. Perhaps she was as scared as he?

They kissed more passionately now, their lips widening and their breath mingling. Each press of
her lips renewed the ache in his belly and sent shivers blazing down his spine and through his
limbs. For a moment Harry thought he felt the fleeting wetness of her tongue graze against his, but
that thought was lost when she swiftly brought her hand back to grab his wrist and placed his palm
over her right breast. Both of them jolted where they sat. The shiver that had settled in
Harry's back flared up again and he widened his eyes staring into Hermione's own.

He broke away, breath growing ragged, and said "Hermione . . ."

"It's okay . . ." she said, her own breath shortening.

Their mouths closed around each other again, Harry's hand still cupping Hermione's
breast. Harry's mind, far from numb now, was overactive. He was wholly focused on their
maddening kissing, and feeling the knot in his chest pulling at the knot in his groin. Yet his hand
was concentrating on the infinite softness of Hermione's breast. Her breast filled his hand
wonderfully, not too big but enough to feel slightly weighty. A small squeeze and the skin gave so
wonderfully beneath his fingers. His palm rubbed slowly over her thrilling slope while his fingers
chanced to touch at her nipple, hardened and pebble-sized. He gave a gentle pinch and Hermione
moaned, a deeper moan than when he massaged her. And the kissing continued, this time their tongues
touched, exploring each other, and Harry was entranced by her exquisite, secret taste.

Feeling a rush of boldness, Harry allowed his lips to creep from Hermione's mouth and down
her chin. Showing that she was willing, Hermione tipped her head up, exposing her neck as he
trailed along her throat. He felt the rumble of her moans beneath his lips and teasingly traced his
tongue tip down over her collar. Almost imperceptibly, Hermione arched her back and leaned back
farther, Harry moving with her until she was lying down on her bed and he was poised over her, his
mouth still wandering down her chest. When he reached the plumpness of her breasts, he gave subtle
suckles here and there, making a ring around her left nipple, not yet daring to touch its pink
center.

While his lips moved, Harry's hands massaged along Hermione's shoulders and down her
arms, tickling at her sides and stroking her flat, jittering belly. When his lips closed in on her
nipple and gently suckled, Hermione arched her back and squirmed, breathing heavily as her fingers
wound their way through Harry's hair. As he kissed at her left breast his hand found her other
and began massaging. Writhing and moaning, Hermione pulled at Harry's shirt, and with
surprising force she tugged it up over his back and he lifted his head so she could strip it from
him.

The room was slightly cool, but his skin was hot and so was hers. Arms shifted and wandered,
lips explored along necks and chests, kisses fluttered and wavered between them as they moved and
shuffled on Hermione's bed. With a great shock, Hermione's hand pressed onto Harry's
pants, cupping where he throbbed. They stopped. Hermione looked up into Harry's face, her hand
still on him; both of them were panting and red. Harry stopped thinking. That ancient knowledge
returned-something older than magic or science. Everything was new to him but he knew how to move,
and so did Hermione. His awareness flitted in and out, as both of their jeans were suddenly on the
floor, the comforter ruffled half off the bed.

Harry was struck by Hermione's sheer beauty. Her figure lay in front of him, almost bare,
and something greater than lust erupted within him. He could spend forever looking at her. Her body
was perfect, she was perfect. He touched her again with his lips, this time on her knee, kissing
slowly up her thigh, while his hand massaged along her other leg. Her hands pawed and scratched at
his back and she continued to purr under his kisses and teasing licks. He loved the way she tasted,
slightly salty with a deep and unknown spice. His erection still fighting against his boxers, Harry
caressed her body with his own, and they moved closer to each other, the space between their hips
closing.

Their bodies pressed tightly together, Harry felt the heat of their waists. Their underwear
acted as a thin veil keeping them from truly touching, but they could feel each other nonetheless.
Hermione pressed him closer, her hands on his lower back, and began to slide. Jolt after jolt hit
Harry's brain and he wrapped his arms under her as he began to rock. He began to lose himself
in the feeling, the music still floating around them. He felt time waver, then she stopped. They
looked into each other's eyes wordlessly. This wasn't stopping. This wasn't making out,
or heavy petting, or fondling. Her fingertips rose to play with the hem of his boxers. She traced
around to his belly and the tip of her finger passed over the head of his penis, making him jump.
Still blushing, she smiled, and began to pull the last vestige of Harry's clothing down. Soon
enough they both sat naked in front of each other, eyes furtively glancing at each other's
body. Harry and Hermione both tried subtly to cover themselves, embarrassment written on their
features. Feeling the inevitable, though, they lay open the mystery curled or nestled between their
legs and gazed curiously and longingly at each other's body.

Finally, it was Hermione who acted. She reached forward, placing her hand timidly, testingly, on
Harry's hardness, clasping it gently. Harry gasped at the sheer bareness of her touch, foreign
flesh on his most intimate of places. He felt himself throb again her warm palm and she looked at
him, her bottom lip held under her teeth, promise brightening on her face. She tugged, just a
little, pulling at him, beckoning him towards her.

He stopped.

"Wait . . ." Harry said.

"Shhh," she lisped.

"B-but . . . what if you get . . ."

"It's okay," she whisper, her mouth now near his ear. "I've prepared for
that."

"What . . . ?" Puzzlement only surfaced for a moment in Harry's mind, as Hermione
was still pulling him toward her, the ache and yearn strengthening as her legs rose around his. He
lowered himself heedlessly over her and their lips met once more. His hands traveled thoughtlessly
along her body, and as their hips came closer together his fingers grazed through the small, tight
dark down of brown nestled over the mound waiting where her thighs met. And the lightening
continued striking through Harry's body unabated.

Amid the heated kissing and lip tugging, he felt the tip of his penis trace over her inner
thigh, and finding the deep warm moistness there, he felt something ignite. She guided him lower,
her thighs clasping him higher on his waist. When she placed him against a hot spot of giving
flesh, she held his cheek in her other hand, looking into his eyes. Harry could lose himself in the
black ocean of her pupils if he did not feel her pushing him still closer to her. He felt something
hot, and then the point where they touched gave and he slide slowly, slowly, into a boiling
tightness, surrounding the very point of his pleasure. Hermione's eyes were half-closed and her
brow furrowed. Her lips parted and she gave a barely audible yelp-whether of pleasure or pain,
Harry couldn't tell. Though the pace was maddening, he did not want to hurt her, so he focused
on the burning sensation of such secret skin touch, sliding. Her fingers squeezed and scratched at
his shoulders and her eyes widened as he continued to enter her.

Then they locked, and the fire burst out. Everything stopped. They were as close as humanly
possible and he felt the deepest part of her, a heat so burning it amazed Harry that it didn't
hurt. She tightened her legs around him and he strengthened his hold around her back. Then they
kissed. Harry could no longer tell where he ended and she began, for this moment they were one.
Never had a sensation been so colorful and loud. They held on tightly to each other, trembling with
a pleasure ready to consume them both.

He pulled out slightly, feeling the wetness against him, the fire spreading as they both gasped.
He wanted to ask her if she were okay, but her response was answer enough. She pulled him back to
her with her arms still clinging to his shoulders, nails still digging into his back. And the
source of the fire burst forth again, the knot wrenching in his groin as he thrust into her again,
this time slightly faster. Harry felt himself contract, his being was shrinking into the sensation
at their core and he was growing numb to the tightened muscles and movements of his arms and
legs.

Hermione moaned more frequently now, her pitch becoming higher, her breathing more fevered. With
that ancient knowledge, Harry pulled and thrust again, sending an explosion coursing through them
with each push. They were melting together, their ecstasy rising like steam from their moving
bodies and their lips pressed firmly together, their bodies connecting fully. Moving, shaking,
riding together, their hips gyrating together, they kissed and licked and longed and forgot the
world. Fire blazed through their necks, wracking their brains with pleasure, losing themselves in
it, becoming part of it. A tide of feeling and awe and rising, rising, and falling, they moved and
thrust and ached, ached they pushed into each other. Harry kissed Hermione's neck and exquisite
pleasure rose from her mouth in sound and steam as he pushed into her faster, faster, picking up
speed, bucking and jumping, their hips crashing, ebbing and flowing like the tide, the feeling
breaking onto the shores of their selves, eroding more and more the barriers that separate
them.

Fevered, feverish thrusting, pumping, losing, gaining, gaining greater speed, moaning, yelling,
screaming out into the forgotten world, into the unseen void, their boiling, rising greatness.
Hearts pounding, bodies pounding into themselves, the racking pulsing beat of their love,
lovemaking unbelievable sensation of themselves, giving, giving of themselves. Reaching, reaching
for it, building, falling, falling away, almost there. Grinding, pushing pulling legs arms jumbled
into hot, wet flesh, hair flinging sweaty, mouths clinging tongues churning, yes. Oh, yes, almost
there. Screaming, screaming, taste of a neck, scent of their heat, yes. Lost in it all, consuming,
burning, hot, hot, yes. There, almost, there, feeling muscles contract, squeezing, licking flames,
rise rise, rise!

"Oh . . . Oh God! . . . OHH!" Hermione screamed out. Her pleasure reaching crescendo
as it reverberated off her bedroom walls. Wave after wave struck, relentless striking. Her back
arching, trembling, legs shaking. A blast of blazing hot ecstasy thrashing through her belly, her
neck, wracking her mind. The feeling of it. Oh, the feeling of it so overwhelming, so good, so
good. Oh God. It's coming. It's coming!

Harry felt, he felt her, felt her mind wrapped in pleasure, felt her inner body bucking wildly,
he felt them. Then a ball of lava starting at his neck rolled down his shoulders, turned toward his
stomach, built up greatly low in his groin and all his muscles contracted as tendrils of feeling
pulled into him. He pushed forward with one great leap and felt her tighten around him over and
over, her body jumping and throbbing with orgasm after bright orgasm. The lava pumped through him
and he felt an amazing push as he released his boiling liquid into her, their hips crushed
together.

The world melted. They melted. Lost from everything. Lost. . .

. . . . . . . . . . who . . . where are they? They? Hair. Hair in the face. Breathing. Panting.
The bedroom light. Soft music. Oh . . . my . . . God.

They were still for a long time, their bodies trembling. Then Harry began to become aware again.
He was back in Hermione's room, they always were. The overhead lamp light had always been on,
the CD playing its sensual music, the night still existed outside her bedroom window. Harry was
Harry, he remembered himself once more. And he suddenly felt completely solid inside his body and
self. His muscles ached with exhaustion, his abs burned, though no longer out of pleasure. His skin
was coated with sticky sweat and his hair felt greasy. He was still panting wildly, as was Hermione
who also felt wet all over, the brown tresses of her hair were darker now from their mingled sweat.
And she was cooing.

"H-hermione," Harry finally said through wheezing breath. "Are you . . . okay . .
. ?"

She didn't speak for a while, she was still rasping. ". . . yes. Harry, yes." She
opened her eyes.

He pulled himself upward, peeling his skin from hers. Their hard breathing was slowing now. He
could still feel the formless heat resting where their hips were melded. Its power had receded.

"That . . . w-was amazing," Harry said.

"Beyond . . . amazing," Hermione corrected, a giggle escaping her throat.

Calling their lovemaking a miracle would not have been justified-it was stronger than
that-though looking around now Harry realized that the CD player was on its back, the books that
were so ordered and properly stacked along the edge of the carpet had toppled back against the
wall, a disheveled pile, and her closet doors had swung open. Her room looked like something
powerful had blast out at it. When did this happen?

Though Harry didn't care. Looking back at Hermione, he was enraptured by her. A fire still
burned deep in his chest, one that, far from diminishing, had burst forth brighter. He would do
anything for her, do anything to keep her safe.

"Hermione . . ." he began.

"We better get cleaned up," she spoke suddenly, laughing, her voice sounding normal
now. "These sheets will need to be washed, and so will we."

Harry pulled out unceremoniously, feeling the slickness that had been burning heat moments
before. They unclenched their legs from each other and, naked and sweaty, hair going in all
directions, they stood up off the bed on their weak, wobbly legs. Acting surprisingly normal,
Hermione pulled the sheets and comforter, wet from their lovemaking, off her bed. When they walked
out into the hall, Hermione pointed Harry to the master bedroom.

"Wait there," she said, then walked down to put the sheets in the laundry. He missed
her presence for that intermittence. He always felt like laughing in her company now. When she came
back, she guided them into the large walk-in shower at the other end of the master bedroom. Under
the soon hot water, they washed each other, growing familiar and comfortable with their nakedness
with each passing moment. The steaming water cascaded through their messed hair and over their
bodies, cleansing them of their exertion. They rub and caressed, soaped and lathered, massaged and
teased, shoulders, breasts, bellies, legs, their most tender parts.

When Hermione reached again for Harry's sex he found himself growing hard once more. She
stroked him, and the well-known thrill returned, the flame ignited. Harry wanted her again, against
the wall of the shower, but he stopped.

"Wait . . ." he said. "Why aren't you worried? What if you get
pregnant?"

Hermione smiled and giggled. "Silly, aren't I always prepared? I have my books and
potion supplies with me here. I can simply create a 'morning-after potion.' It will keep me
from getting pregnant."

Harry was stunned by her resourcefulness. She never ceased to impress him. "How long have
you been considering this?" Harry asked, mirth bubbling in his throat.

"On and off over the past few days. When I heard that my grandfather would be alright, that
made me all the happier and I wanted to focus strictly on us. I wanted us to escape from the stress
in both our lives."

Harry smirked. "I think you succeeded."

He nuzzled her neck with his nose as the spray of the shower warmed their bodies, and they
pressed together once more, aroused and consumed with love and lust intermingled. She straddled
him, her back against the cool tile of the shower wall, and when Harry entered her this second
time, that blast of fire struck comfortably between. She rode and he thrust, and the steam of the
shower was soon lost among the steam from their bodies. Her moans and yells echoed off the corners
of the shower, sounding louder, rising higher. Harry felt the intense pleasure plateau, felt like
he could go much longer, having spent his initial desire earlier. Harry felt, though, as if
Hermione was rising to crescendo quicker, still excited by their first encounter, the jagged sparks
of pleasure seized her stomach and her legs, making her toes curl.

The shower water was cold by the time their pleasure was spent, but they didn't care, their
bodies kept them supremely warm and pulsing. They exited the shower and dried off with the same big
russet-colored towel. Kissing, stroking, Harry couldn't keep his hands off her body, he never
felt so alive, he never wanted to stop touching her. And he suspected with a sense of surprise that
he penetrated her mind whenever he penetrated her body, experiencing her pleasure with her. He
discovered this truth more and more as they made love on Hermione's bed again, fondled and
licked, exploring each other in the living room next, the dining room, the kitchen. The world was
lost to their swooning pleasures and spontaneous orgasms. They experimented inside the pool and on
the pool deck, cushioned by several swimming towels.

By the time their desires were completely sated, the sun had already risen and their exhausted
bodies now ached for sleep. They stumbled panting into Hermione's room, pulled up the
disheveled covers, and cuddled together amid the shapeless sea of sheets. Holding her tightly,
closely, smelling her sweet-scented hair and feeling her warmth cascade along his body, Harry
thought over and over again how much he loved her. He whispered this truth sleepily into her ear
and felt her smile against his chest.

"I love you too, Harry," Hermione said, before the pleasant oblivion of sleep found
him, filling his contented mind with beautiful images of her, of them, together. There was nothing
else but them. Concerns with Hogwarts, with Ron, with Voldemort were countless years away. It was
all just . . . them.

Author's Note: It seems that I am beyond reproach for the excessive amount of time I have
keep you readers waiting in updating my story. I do apologize for this, truly I do. Unfortunately,
I began this story in the midst of academic strife, which continues unabated and has strengthened.
The first four months of the year were consumed by my final semester of college; classes mixed with
preparing for graduation and applying to Graduate school allowed for very little free time. Once I
graduated in May, I had to start packing up my apartment while preparing to move temporarily to
Virginia. I am currently at the University of Virginia struggling through an intense two-month
Tibetan Language program before I began working towards a Master's Degree in Tibetan and
Buddhist Studies. However, these are not real excuses; I should have at least informed viewers of
my situation and I apologize for keeping everyone in the dark for so many months. I must confess
that a hectic half-year was not the only deterrent to my writing; I lacked the muse as well.
However, a three-day weekend has found me, and freshly inspired I have finally completed this
seventh chapter. The arrival of "The Order of the Phoenix" has inspired the muse once
more and I have this to prove it. We'll see how next weekend fairs for my possibly writing the
eight and final chapter. I can only hope to make up for my long hiatus by making this chapter
slightly longer than average. As you have no doubt discovered, everything that has taken place in
the previous chapters culminates in this one. I am partially concerned as to how graphic this piece
is. I'm not certain that fanfiction.net will allow this chapter to be posted since it borders
on NC-17, but I'll attempt it. If anything I have other venues that I can post to and inform
readers of. We'll see how things go over the next few days. Again, I apologize for my
irresponsibility and I thank those of you for your immense patience and those of you for expressing
your dismay and concern. With any luck I'll have this story completed soon, and I may very well
start on another one-though I'll strive to be more punctual with it. Thank you all again for
your interest and support.

P.S. To respond to one reviewer's query, I can no longer remember if I made this explicit in
an earlier chapter, but the events of this story take place the summer before Harry and
Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, they are seventeen years old.



8. Chapter 8: Saturday
----------------------



Chapter 8: Saturday

“Sweetie, we're home!” Harry heard the strong, deep voice of Hermione's father.
“Honey?”

“Hermione, are you awake dear?” her mother chimed in.

Harry had just enough time to register that he was lying next to Hermione in her bed, both naked
and barely covered by the disarray of her bed sheets, when panic filled him. He jolted out of bed,
startling Hermione awake. Standing naked he scanned the floor for his clothes. He found them
cluttered along the edge of the carpet amid the crash of books and trinkets still dashed against
the wall from the mysterious burst they must have emitted the day before. Already the sound of
shoes clopping down the hallway could be heard and Hermione scrambled for her own discarded
garments. Neither of them had time to put on anything before a tall figure loomed in the doorway.
Hermione's father looked at the rawness of what stood before him.

*Her* *mother followed quickly on his heals and let out a scream of shock and no doubt
dismay when she registered the scene.* *“**Oh* *My Gooooood!”*

Harry didn't shoot up in bed, but his eyes split open and his heart was racing. He was
beginning to really hate dreams like that. He was lying in bed with Hermione still asleep and
wrapped around his right side. She was breathing steadily, softly. They were both still naked and
barely covered by the disarray of her bed sheets. The room was dark but sunlight filtered in
through Hermione's window blinds. Goodness knows how many hours they slept. They must have
finally passed out from the exhaustion of constant, wonderful sex sometime in the middle of
yesterday. Somehow, Harry was pretty sure it was Saturday now, sometime in the morning, and he
moved his body gently to search out Hermione's alarm clock. He spotted it still overturned on
Hermione's nightstand and crammed against the wall corner with her lamp and some framed
photographs, all gathered and bunched together. Trying not to wake her, Harry slowly rose and
stretched to reach it. When he did, and saw that it was indeed a little after seven in the
morning--they must have slept something like sixteen hours!--, Hermione began to stir. It
wasn't long before her eyelids parted and fluttered open, showing the beautiful liquid crystal
consciousness of her eyes beneath.

A smile spread on her cheeks, now pale from sleep, “Morning, sexy.”

The way she said it made Harry grin, and made his heart skip a little. It was so adult, so
familiar now. They were so comfortable with each other in a deep way Harry never fathomed was
possible. He leaned down to kiss her quickly but with care and feeling, and absently stroked her
shoulder and stray tresses of her hair.

He pulled back, smiling openly to her, “Morning yourself, beautiful. Cor, I'm thirsty!”

“Me too!” Hermione nodded sleepily then yawned. “We had quite a work out yesterday!”

Harry kissed her again, he couldn't stop doing it! “Care for a repeat performance? Once we
drink a gallon of water first, of course.”

Hermione grinned devilishly and a deep, throaty laugh escaped her throat. But before she could
answer, the sound of a car engine was rising up the street and came to a quick humming stall most
definitely in the Granger driveway. The two looked at each other wide-eyed. If Harry's dream
was a possible premonition, it was a thankful one. They burst off from the bed and gathered their
respective garments before Harry ran naked out of Hermione's room.

Hermione followed shortly after. “I'll run into their bathroom, you run into the hall
bathroom! Start the shower and everything will look normal! I hope.”

Harry nodded wordlessly, and as he made it into the hall bathroom he heard the clanky
key-in-lock sound and closed and locked the bathroom door. He turned the shower on just as he heard
the front door open. Thankfully, he was now hidden by the timeless anonymity and privacy of the
loud shower spray. Harry relaxed and placed his clothes on the laundry basket by the toilet before
stepping into the shower and cleaning himself in earnest. While he washed his body, Harry went
through the previous day and checked off any possible signs of suggestion they may have left behind
in the house and was pretty sure they took care and cleaned up after themselves. He reminisced
pleasantly at their frantic day-long lovemaking, remembering every detail to further impress it all
into his mind. He entertained a moment of panic at the blasted mess in Hermione's room, but
felt that they could sufficiently chalk it up to Harry's weird and spontaneous
emotionally-triggered magical outbursts. In a way, that's probably what it was. He marveled
over the previous day and got lost again in the pleasant and unique memories of the excitement they
felt when they fell into each other. When he started contemplating again how he seemed to have felt
Hermione when she climaxed, how he found himself in her head at those moments, Harry was pretty
certain it happened to Hermione too. No doubt she fell into his head as well, the connection was
just that close, and he would be sure to ask her about it when next they had a private moment.

As he was finishing up, Harry spent the last moments of his shower calming his mind. When he got
out of the shower and toweled himself dry, he worked on putting on a veneer of genial humor and
simple surprise. Once he was dry and dressed he did what he could with the black mess of his
hair--as always--and stepped outside the still steamy bathroom.

When he walked out into the hallway and shortly through the kitchen threshold, he was greeted by
three smiling faces, two adults and one Hermione. Hermione obviously finished her shower first and
was dressed comfortably with her hair still wet. They all three were sitting placidly at the
kitchen table, chatting idly. Harry greeted them with a genuine smile.

“Morning!” he said.

“Morning!” All three returned. When Hermione's parents were looking right at Harry, Hermione
snuck a wink at him, which he wished he could have returned inconspicuously.

“Sleep well, Harry?” Mr. Granger asked cheerfully. “You two are up awfully early.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Granger spoke up. “We were hoping to sneak in and catch a few winks of sleep, but
both of you were in the shower when we got in. Come join us. Now you kids didn't do anything
you weren't supposed to do while we were gone, did you?” She grinned.

Harry and Hermione both laughed a little too loudly. “Oh, Mother, please. What kind of
irresponsible teenagers do you take us for?”

Harry grabbed a seat next to Hermione, who spoke again to swiftly change the subject. “I was
just telling Mum and Dad about our rather harrowing week. About Ron's safety and Voldemort.
They were telling me about Grandfather's improved condition. I'm so relieved!”

“So are we, we can tell you,” said Mr. Granger. “But I am concerned about all this business
here. Harry how are you feeling?”

How to answer that question. The truth was infinitely more complex considering the deep personal
connection he had made with Hermione over the past week, and especially the day before--the fruit
of years of silent longing, Harry now realized. But he responded with the dark cloud that had been
tainting his mind over most of the summer. Yet now…it was lighter. It wasn't so much that he
had forgotten the bad feelings and the tightness in his chest that he was so used to by now. It
seemed rather that a good amount of it had lifted. Something else was taking up its place, he
didn't quite know what though, and would have to examine it further.

In the mean time. “I'm feeling alright, I suppose. It's stressful, but now that I know
Ron and his family are safe, I can rest easier.” And this was true.

“Voldemort is out there still,” Harry continued. “But I guess…I feel brighter knowing that I
don't have to face him or these feelings.....alone.” He finished then glanced at Hermione.
Could that have been it?

“Smart lad,” Mr. Granger replied. “Yes, I imagine with Dumbledore around and the Ministry of
Magic--indeed the entire Wizarding world--against Voldemort and looking for him, you're safer
than you think. Especially with your return to Hogwarts and under Dumbledore's watchful
eye.”

“Speaking of Hogwarts,” Mrs. Granger interrupted. “You two better get packing. Perhaps it is
best you got up early today. We'll need to get you to the train station by this early afternoon
so that you can be nice and settled back at school.”

Harry and Hermione agreed silently and the conversation continued while Mrs. Granger fixed
breakfast. After being stuffed with buttered muffins, Hermione left to her room to gather her
things and Harry did the same in the living room. He folded up his conspicuously well-made bed and
searched the house for his various accoutrements, including cleaning out the hall bathroom of his
toiletries.

While Harry was finishing up, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger went back outside to unload their
luggage, Hermione innocently called Harry back to her room. Everything in her room was orderly
again and he saw when he walked in that any items he had left there, such as books or his wand,
were set in a neat little pile by her bed.

Hermione peaked through her bedroom window blinds to make sure her parents were still outside
struggling with the remaining luggage in their trunk. Satisfied that they were, she turned to give
Harry a relieved smile. “That was so close!”

“Tell me about it,” Harry said. “I don't think my heart has ever pounded so fast…..except
for yesterday.”

Hermione giggled. “You're sweet.” Then she paused and stared at Harry, who returned the
look. Finally she spoke. “That was wonderful, Harry. All of it.”

“It was,” Harry said contemplatively. Another pause. Then, “I love you, Hermione.”

“I love you too, Harry.”

Harry reached for her hand and they sat down simultaneously on the corner of her bed. They
kissed, a short and sweet message, and then sat holding hands in silence for a while until they
heard the front door open and the commotion of Hermione's parents. They dropped their hands
away, but it wouldn't be the last time they would sit in loving silence holding hands and
kissing, not at all.

The rest of the day came with a grateful amount of normalcy and routine. Harry, Hermione, and
her parents lounged and talked for a few hours, laughed and joked. The two young Hogwarts students
were cool and casual around each other the whole time, fully relaxed. When the time came, everyone
loaded up the car with Hogwarts luggage and piled in for the long trip to the station.

On the road, when Mr. and Mrs. Granger were consumed in the traffic and directions and chatting
between themselves, in the backseat Hermione scooted closer to Harry and leaned her head on his
shoulder. He looked down and saw that she closed her eyes and sighed, even though she obviously
wasn't tired. Harry sighed too and felt a connection. He knew then that yes, she too fell into
his mind just as he had fallen into hers at the height of their almost cosmic ecstasy. Wait,
perhaps it wasn't that. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that they did in fact become one,
their selves merging along with the sensation. And Harry was fine with that, happy and hopeful
about it.

At one point, Mrs. Granger looked over her shoulder at the two of them to make sure they were
okay in a logic that made sense only to mothers. When she saw them cuddled next to each other,
Hermione's head on Harry's shoulder and his head on hers, a vague look of alarm flitted
across her face. Harry looked right at her and saw her relax and the ghost of a smile replaced the
temporary moment of concern. There was understanding in her eyes. Harry didn't know what kind.
Could she tell? How deep is a mother's intuition? She recognized a truth in their sweet,
relaxed pose though, and what's more, she accepted it. Whatever she knew, as much or as little,
that little part of her that recognized something there was satisfied with it, glad for it even. At
least Harry was want to speculate. A smile passed between him and Mrs. Granger and then she faced
forward and returned to the traffic and quiet conversation with her husband.

She did see something. Harry felt his own intuition awaken at the knowledge. What was it? A
connection. And Harry felt it too, something as old as the stardust and magic that made up his
body; older still. Harry smiled, he knew what it was. It was sappy and true and greater than love,
it was the deepest of human connections, and he had it now with Hermione; something that could not
be lost. He would feel it constantly now. It would be there when they arrived at the train station,
when they arrived at Hogwarts, when they would have to temporarily part ways--a true moment of
agony it will be--to fill in their respective quarters. It would be the foundation of the young
heat that would continue to grow between them as they would plan secret liaisons and hidden kisses.
It would be there when they graduated. It would be there when Voldemort came. That dark cloud was
not gone but it was no longer so threatening or so terrible. He felt now a power, a strong power,
akin to the magic that has protected him all these years, given to him by his mother. A primal
love. No matter what happened, no matter what lay ahead in the black times yet to come--and they
would come--he would face them with all the confidence and strength in the world because he had
Hermione, and she had him. They were one now and always would be.

And that was the most powerful thing in the world.

The End.

Author's Note: The end. Wow, that took longer than it should have. I took a year and a half
to write something 39 pages long total, and which I could have started and finished during one
feverish weekend. I would like to thank all of you readers, faithful and new, who have complimented
and criticized this endeavor. And I'd like to infinitely apologize for taking so long to
complete it, especially taking exactly 264 days (1 day shy of a complete year!) to finish this last
chapter, which comes to less than five pages. In many ways this venture was very much removed from
my usual lifestyle, as those of you know who have actually cared to read my boring author's
notes. It was infinitely enjoyable though, and I feel greatly rewarded that I have completed it,
given that I am of the type that has trouble finishing things once I start them. Anyway, this was
my first Harry Potter fanfic, and quite possibly my last. I have two other story ideas, one
that's short enough to possibly churn out in a good day of writing--at least a rough draft. The
other, however, is a bigger idea than I have the inspiration for. But who knows; maybe Book 6 will
bring it out of me. In either case, this exists and I am happy for it. I hope you have enjoyed this
final chapter--as well as the story as a whole--and that the ending satisfies you as it does me.
Happy Casting.
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