Chapter Forty One
Original Author Notes -A/N: As we are coming to the Christmas chapters of"Vox Corporis", I need to make acomment here,not knowing how necessary it will ultimately be.
In case it isn't painfully obvious from my writing, I'm an American. I don't have any British friends, so when I wrote this part of the story I had no idea how British Christmases are different from American Christmases (if they are at all). So if it turns out that Christmas is different across the pond, all I can say is that Harry and Hermione have a very American Christmas :)
Hermione liked to think of herself as a good friend to Ronald Weasley. She helped him out in his classes to such a degree that it would give some teachers cause to call it cheating. She verbally dueled with him, their little games of give and take, bickering and heckling each other like siblings.
She'd tear the arm off of anyone who would think to hurt him, and with the power of a lioness at her disposal now that could be a literal threat.
And because she tried to be a fast and true friend, she did her best to commiserate with Ron when he laid into the varied shortcomings of one Seamus Finnegan from the moment they boarded the Hogwarts Express to return home for Christmas holiday. She could certainly understand why Ron would take exception to their classmate dating his little sister. He was a good big brother, or at least he tried to be. No matter that Ginny had asurplus of big brothers to watch over her and resented Ron's meddling with a fiery passion. At least it made sense, and Hermione approached Ron's displeasure with that angle in mind. She did the bit of a supportive friend and listened to Ron slander poor Seamus seven ways from Sunday.
But Hermione was starting to reach her limit of just how long she could listen to Ron prattle on about the vile and wicked Seamus. To hear Ron talk, one would think Seamus was the foremost of Voldemort's henchmen.
They'd been on the train for hours and Ron's indignation and anger about his little sister's choice in dating partners was wearing Hermione's compassion thin. Seamus wasn't really that bad, and Hermione thought in some ways Ginny and Seamus were a good match. They had a similar spunk to them, a bit of wildfire in their personalities. If nothing else they probably had a good time together, be it snogging or just taking the mickey out of each other in ways that would make Molly Weasley blush.
And Ron was starting to repeat himself. He was running out of new insults to fling Seamus's absentee way and rehashed old indecencies. Hermione stole a glance at Harry sitting next to the window on the same bench as she. She absolutely gave up when she saw that Harry, Ron's mate, someone to take the guy's stance on this as almost an honorary brother to Ginny, was not paying attention at all. He was watching the snowy landscape race by as the train sped down the track.
He must have felt her eyes on him, because just then Harry glanced over at her… and he offered a very apologetic smile for being unable to hang in there with Ron's crisis any longer. He'd bailed on Hermione, and she wondered just how long she'd been suffering Ron's tirade alone.
Suddenly a fiendish smile flickered over Harry's mouth, a glint came to his eyes, and he turned to Ron. "It really is wretched of Seamus. Can't figure what Ginny must be thinking."
"I know!" Ron yelped.
"So Ginny's riding with her friends, then, I expect?"
Ron's face hardened when the implication sank in and his color darkened to a worrisome scarlet. "She'd better be!" Ron stood at once. "If she's in the same compartment as Seamus I'll… I'll…"
They never heard what he would do, because he vanished into the corridor of the rocking train, off to track down his little sister and ensure she wasn't holed up with Dark Lord Apprentice Seamus.
When they were alone in the train compartment (save for the stowed familiars over their heads), Harry looked at Hermione and smiled.
"Oh, you're terrible," she said, but her relief to have Ron out of their car was palpable. The resulting silence was a godsend.
With a chuckle, Hermione slid across the sparse bench space between them. Harry held out his arm, Hermione tucked up against his side, and he dropped his arm down around her and held her close. She snuggled contently against him and rested her head on his shoulder.
"You know," Hermione said teasingly, "if Ginny and Seamus are off somewhere snogging Ginny's liable to give you a black eye for setting Ron on them."
"I'd take the black eye right now, thanks," Harry returned in a likewise playful tone of voice.
Hermione rolled her eyes, poked him in the side, and Harry gave a strange chirrup and flinched away. Hermione brought up her head at once, a smile blooming on her face. "Why, Harry Potter, are you ticklish?"
"I don't think so," Harry answered plainly, "but then, no one's ever bothered to try tickling me before. I don't think Dudley's little love taps with the boxing gloves count. In any case, I never laughed about it."
Hermione smirked and like any good, methodical academician she poked him in the ribs again to see what happened. Harry jerked, made a strangled noise… and a quick smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. Hermione grinned and poked him again, really starting to enjoy this new game."Hey," Harry said, breaking into a full smile even as he tried to sidle away, "cut that out."
Hermione giggled. "Oh, not a chance." She poked him again. Harry wriggled but he was already backed into the corner, no way to escape. He laughed, and he sounded surprised that being poked in the ribs could make him laugh.
"Hermione, really, stop. That…"
"Tickles? That's the point, Harry." She used both hands this time, a flurry of fingers digging at his side. If Harry had never been tickled before, she meant to do a bang on job.
Harry chuckled, then he laughed, then he was howling with laughter as he feebly tried to fend off her attack. Hermione's breath caught at the sound. She'd never heard Harry laugh like that. Never. It was like music. Deeper than his 'that's amusing' laugh, throaty and rich, both older and younger atthe same time. It almost hurt to think this might be the first time Harry had ever laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes. The first time he'd ever belly- laughed to the point where he couldn't breathe. From the first time anyone had ever cared enough to tickle him.
Hermione found herself laughing along with him for the joy of his laugh. When he could stand no more, Harry grabbed her wrists and tugged.
Hermione was thrown off balance and fell into him. Harry met her with hismouth on hers. That worked, too. Hermione opened to his tongue when it teased her lips. They may have kissed for minutes on end, but they were still breathless from their tussle and Harry broke first to take a deep breath.
Hermione, content as a cat in a sunny patch, purred, "Not fair." "I was desperate."
"You're ticklish." Hermione pulled her hands free from his grip to wrap her arms around his neck. They were inches apart, their noses almost touching. Harry's eyes were bright with laughter, his cheeks pink, his mouth still upturned at the corners. "Guess I am," he said, and it seemed a wondrous new discovery to him, too.
Hermione leaned in and kissed him, languidly and deep. Harry tangled his fingers in her hair and drew her closer. He gave as good as he got. Hermione might not have any means for comparison, but she thought Harry a very good kisser. He rendered her nearly senseless every time, and she thought that should say something. But kissing was one of those gut- instincts things that always came naturally to Harry.
Harry's hand drifted to the side of her throat, which Hermione knew meant he was about to brush her hair aside so he could nibble on her neck, when they were rudely interrupted.
"Oh, for pity's sake!"
They broke apart to find Ron standing in the car doorway looking reproachfully at them.
Managing a contrite smile, Hermione backed away from Harry.
"Sorry, Ron," Harry said, even sounding a little abashed for having been caught in the middle of snogging their mutual friend.
Ron grunted and moved into the compartment. With a scowl he dropped down on to the bench across from them.
"So, um, did you find Ginny?" Hermione asked.
Ron's face twisted. "Well, the good news is I showed up before her and that wanker Seamus got as far as you and Harry."
That actually surprised Hermione… not that she'd say as much to Ron. Ginny might be a year younger than her, but she was generally three years braver when it came to boys.
"I thought it was gross watching you two go at it," Ron groused, "but watching Ginny snog someone is even worse."
"Umm… thanks?" Harry said uncertainly.
Ron's lips pursed as though he'd bitten into a sour grape.
"Oh, look," Hermione sat up straighter and leaned forward to peer out the window, "we're coming up on King's Cross." And she couldn't help but think it saved them a dreadfully awkward, ugly moment with a grumpy Ron. If they were lucky, they could shove off that initiated train of thought and part ways on a good note.
Ron let his next insult to Seamus's character, or maybe something a bit testy about Harry and Hermione acting their age for once, die unvoiced on his tongue.
It was a press of students, with their luggage in tow, pouring out of the train on to the platform. It was almost as noisy and boisterous as the beginning of term when classmates were seeing one another for the first time in months.
Clusters of friends were bidding each other a happy Christmas then hurrying off to find their guardians. Families were reuniting left and right.
Crookshanks and Hedwig were in their respective cages, but Kimmy was running circles around the trio in her Chihuahua disguise. She'd tied a bit of red and green ribbon around her neck in celebration of the season, but it might serve to pass for a collar if any stationmaster got finicky about an unsupervised animal.
Not that anyone was likely to even notice little Kimmy in the throng of people.
Ron was the first to spot his parents. Molly Weasley's trademark red hair and exuberant arm-waving were not easily missed. Ron sighed.
Harry nudged Ron in the arm. "Hey, look on the bright side, at least Seamus won't be at the Burrow."
"Maybe I'll be able to talk some bleeding sense into Ginny with him out of her sight."
Hermione just had to say something, Ginny was her friend, too, and she'd been wholly on Ron's side since this entire Ginny/Seamus situation blew up in Ron's face… quite literally. "Maybe this whole Ginny and Seamus thing isn't all as bad as you think it is, Ron."
Ron goggled at her. "What? How could it not be?" "Well, it could have been worse."
"Yeah, how?"
Hermione smiled, rather devilishly, if she did say so herself. "It could have been Draco."
Ron shuddered and narrowed his eyes at Hermione as though he was having a go at wandless magic in the hopes of hexing her… but at the very last second he smirked. "You're a pistol, you know that?"
Hermione chuckled and pointed her thumb in Harry's direction, "Best ask ifhe knows that."
Ron snorted. "Harry? Please, he's fought dragons, should make for good practice for keeping up with you. Kind of think he must be barking if he thinks he can, though."
"You know, I'm standing right here," Harry protested, but his voice was not the slightest bit angry or indignant.
Hermione gave Ron a hug. "Try to have a good time this holiday, all right, Ron? Who knows, maybe by the time classes start up again Ginny will have forgotten all about Seamus."
"Wouldn't that make my Christmas." Ron glanced over at his mother, who had already gathered the rest of her brood about her… all but Ron. "Well, should probably go before it becomes a shout out across the whole bloody train station. Happy Christmas, you two."
"Happy Christmas, Ron," Harry returned and waved as Ron left to join his family.
Hermione turned to Harry and stepped in close so she could lower her voice,even though with the multitude of voices filling the station and Ron already a fair distance away it was unlikely he would have overhead anyway. "I propose we don't even mention the name Seamus Finnegan the rest of this entire holiday."
Harry smiled. "Brilliant idea. I knew there was a reason I liked you."
Hermione quirked a look at him as she turned to her luggage trolley."I should hope that's not the only reason or I might have to take offense."
"Best not let that happen, I might not be able to handle you," Harry quipped.
Kimmy jumped up on Harry's trunk, next to Hedwig's cage, and looked around from the new vantage point. Though she seemed to be having a very good time, peppy as a dog on a car ride (before realizing it was a trip to the vet's office), Hermione did not doubt for a second that the transfigured house elf was alert to every tiny hint of a threat.
Hermione stood on her tip-toes and craned to search for her parents in the crowd. She saw her father first, decked in the green jumper she'd gotten for him the Christmas before last. Unbidden, that made her grin. Miranda was at Jake's side, scanning the faces of the children disembarking from the train. Her mother spotted them it seemed at the same time Hermione caught sight of her parents, for just then Miranda perked up and waved at Hermione.
"I see Mum and Dad," Hermione said with a tug on Harry's sleeve. "Let's go."
Hermione started toward her parents, already grinning like mad, when Harry snagged her by the elbow. "Wait, Hermione…"
"What?" she turned to find Harry with a very uncertain look on his face. He looked toward Miranda and Jake apprehensively then asked, "Have you told them about… you know, us?"
"Not yet, but we will." She could see Harry was ill at ease with that idea. She had a fair guess why he'd balked and why he was stalling even now. Harry had a few recurring themes where it concerned her parents; it made deciphering the cause of his wary disposition rather simple. She did her best to assuage his concerns before they got the best of Harry's nerves. "Harry, it'll be fine. They're not going to stop liking you just because we're together now."
Harry looked dubious, even looked like he was about to say something, but instead in the end he took a steeling breath and nodded for her to carry on.
Hermione pushed her trolley toward her smiling and waving parents. She was sure they wouldn't think any less of Harry now that he was her boyfriend. He was still Harry.
"Hermione!" Miranda said jovially when the two teens reached them, "happy Christmas, honey."
Hermione abandoned her trolley to launch herself into Miranda. Mother caught daughter in a tight embrace. "Happy Christmas, Mum!" She gave her mother one last squeeze for good measure and stepped back. Miranda cupped Hermione's face and looked down lovingly at her, then turned to look toward Harry. "Harry, it's wonderful to see you could make it," she beckoned Harry forward with a hand. When Harry complied and came closer, Miranda pulled him into a hug much as she had Hermione.
He looked startled for a moment, but only a moment, then he carefully brought up his arms to tentatively return the hug. "Umm… thank you for inviting me, Missus Granger."
Miranda chuckled, "Don't be silly, dear, we're happy to have you."
"And where's my hug?" Jake asked behind Hermione in a mock-petulant tone of voice. She spun around and wrapped him in a bear hug at once. Jake hugged back and chuckled, "Yeah, you'd forgotten about your old dad, hadn't you?"
Hermione giggled. "Really, Dad."
Miranda released Harry from her hold; he looked a little dazed and confused but in a good sense.
When Hermione and Jake broke apart, Jake offered his hand to Harry.
"Harry. You look well. How's school been?"
Harry shook Jake's hand and very briefly glanced over at Hermione. He looked to be rather relieved at the reception he'd gotten so far. She beamed in encouragement, almost longing to say 'see, Harry?'
"Uh, yes, sir. I'm well, and school's… out for Christmas holiday."
Jake laughed and let go of Harry's hand. "Well, I can sooner understand that than our Hermione here who starts talking about going back just as soon as we're in the car leaving King's Cross."
Harry cracked a smile at that.
Miranda touched Harry's shoulder, cocked her head, and looked toward her husband. "Gracious, Jake, I think he's got another inch on him. How are your clothes fitting you, Harry?"
"Fine!" Harry answered swiftly.
Jake barked. "Ha! Come on, son, you and I will see to the baggage, leave the women to catch up a bit," he clapped Harry on the shoulder and steered him away from Miranda and her critical eye. Harry returned to his trolley, gripped the handlebar, but before he started to follow Jake as he pushed Hermione's trolley Harry tugged at the bottom of his pant legs with his trainers, standing on one foot then the other and raking the sole of his shoe down the bottom of his trouser legs, to ensure there was no peek of sock when he started walking.
Chapter Forty Two
Jake Granger liked to think himself a decent chap. His colleagues at work were more his friends than not, he got along well with his mother-in-law, and he had a loving wife and daughter who were his world. He couldn't be a bad bloke to have been so lucky with the people in his life. In addition to all that, he tended to believe he was easy to get along with, and that he could get along with others just as well. All and all, a likeable and liking bloke.
There was only the nagging question of where to fit in one Harry Potter.
Jake had conflicting feelings about the young wizard who attended Hogwarts with his daughter, and Jake was not a person typically torn. He knew whom he liked and whom he did not. It was a simple matter. But Jake discovered, with Harry, things weren't so plain and simple. Nor was he stupid as to the cause for his ambiguity toward Harry; it all came down to Hermione.
On the one hand, Harry was a very nice young man. Soft-spoken most of the time and always well-mannered, though perhaps a great deal of that was shyness, as the boy seemed rather prone to it. He was a sportsman, Jake had learned that early on, and the purportedly talented seeker really knew how to infuse his recounts of Quidditch matches with life and excitement.
And Jake noticed that when he was consumed with the telling of a Quidditch match, Harry wasn't quite so quiet or shy. Jake had never heard Harry be anything but kind and courtesy to people; even his dreadfully brusque aunt and uncle at King's Cross were shown more kindness than Jake felt they weredue. For someone his age, that kind of restraint should be commended. Miranda was very fond of him, that was clear beyond any shadow of a doubt.
Weeks before the start of Christmas holiday, when Jake was in a good mood knowing his daughter would be coming home soon, Miranda had approached him with the suggestion that they invite Harry to spend the holiday with them. Jake had been blind-sided. Sure, Harry was a consummate houseguest and well liked besides, but Jake had never considered the idea of sharing their family holiday with Hermione's school friend. Not that he was unilaterally opposed to it, but he'd just never thought to consider it. After all, there'd been no owl from Hermione, like there had been last time, asking if she could bring her friend home. He'd said as much to Miranda.
"I suspect they're a bit more than friends by now," Miranda had said with a sagacious smile.
Jake hadn't been ready for that at all. But a little voice in the back of his head told him he should have been.
And therein lay the rub, the other hand to the whole matter. Jake honestly liked Harry, Miranda was well and fully taken with him, and Hermione was downright smitten. The last was what really got underneath Jake's skin and made him squirm. It woke a thing of disquiet in his bones, and part of him had to dislike Harry for it. It was like a paternal writ, necessary and unavoidable that he should object to the notion of a boy taking up his with little girl. Jake genuinely hated that conflicted feeling that arose in him. He didn't care for strife; it made life tedious and stressful. It was much easer to get along with people, and if they were decent enough then mores the better. And Harry was most certainly a kindly, good-hearted young man.
Usually, that would be all that Jake required from another person to garner his favorable opinion. Outwardly, there would seem no reason for Jake to find himself torn about the boy. Not unsurprisingly, Miranda had nailed the crux of his issues with Harry in that same conversation about having Harry over for Christmas… the crux that was Hermione.
And Miranda's matter-of-fact remark that, while their little girl was off attending school, she'd turned her eye to fancying boys, and not just any boy, but Harry, nettled him.
Just what made Miranda so certain? There'd been no letters from their daughter professing any manner of 'boyfriend' come into her life… boy, did Jake hate that word. Hermione adored her books and her lessons. She wasn't a typical teenager in that regard. She was an academic, she courted learning. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea of her dating.
"Jake, love," Miranda had said in that patient kind of voice when he tried to fight her logic, "I know it's hard to hear this, but our little girl is growing up. She's fifteen; I was near her age when I first fell in love."
Jake did not like that notion one bit.
"And you think that Harry… Miri, she's fifteen. Don't you think love is a bit strong a word?" He wanted Miranda to tell him yes. "I mean, I'll grant you, they're close, best friends and all that, but she wouldn't fancy Harry."
Miranda had only kissed him softly on the cheek. "She does and has for a long time, dear."
Bugger of it was, Miranda was usually right. He'd married a cracking smart woman (Hermione got her brains from Miranda, that was certain), and Jake knew better than to dismiss anything she said out of hand. Though he might want to ever so terribly, as he did then. He resisted at first, but in the end he had to concede to the truth. His little girl was a young woman, and she'd begun to have grown up feelings that he'd sooner she save for much, much later in life.
Jake had never doubted that Harry probably had some ignoble intentions toward Hermione. He was a teenage boy, and Jake knew only too well how a teenage boy's mind worked. And in the presence of an intelligent, funny, beautiful girl like Hermione… Harry might be chivalrous enough, but he was an adolescent young man and he'd have impure thoughts. He'd just never figured on Hermione being just as bad. Somehow she should be… above all that, better than the poor mooning sods that were thick as flies during the teenage years. But then, Miranda had always said he saw their daughter as unrealistically perfect. Was it such a crime to be so proud of one's child?
The whole notion of Hermione taking a fancy to a bloke sat ill in his stomach for days, as though he'd lost a loved one, and he couldn't rightly say way.
Miranda had curled into his side one night and explained it all to him, as she was wont to do.
"Hermione's realizing she can love a man besides her father. It's not an easy thing for a father to admit that he'll have to learn to share his little girl."
"She's fifteen…" Jake retorted, his flailing protest to the whole idea.
"The very age when we might have expected her friendship toward Harry to blossom into something more. If it hadn't been this year, it would have been the next."
"You act as though this was bound to happen," Jake groused.
Miranda had sighed, resigned to the new facet of their young daughter with far more grace than Jake was finding within himself. "Hermione's been taken with Harry since first year, whether she knew it or not. It was in every letter she wrote and every story she told when she was home on holidays. I think the ground was laid for her to develop a crush on him long ago. We should be thankful that Harry had the sense to develop feelings for her, too."
"Thankful?"
"You remember how horrible unrequited love was back in those days," Miranda answered simply, with years as a buffer able to look back on those youthful heartbreaks with bittersweet recollection. "And you know how Hermione is… once she's committed her heart to something it's a force of nature to change her. A one-sided crush that had been allowed to build so long would have been awful for her to bear."
Jake couldn't decide how to side on that topic. Yes, Hermione would have been crushed if she cared for someone who didn't care for her, but then again if the boy didn't return Hermione's affections then there was no need to bother with that dreaded 'boyfriend' word.
"And we should count ourselves lucky that Hermione chose Harry," Miranda added.
"How is that?" Jake was a long way from considering his daughter in a relationship with anyone 'lucky'.
Miranda had smiled at him and said, "Because Hermione could not have found anyone who thinks more highly of her than Harry does."
Despise it though he might, Jake had to confess that point to Miranda. Even Jake could see that Harry thought the world of Hermione. As well he should. Hermione was an absolutely wonderful person, a shining light to anyone who bothered to spend as little as five minutes with her. And it irked Jake when his own certitude turned against him. 'Harry does see that,' he had to acknowledge with a foul taste on the back of his tongue. He might not have been the sharpest eye in the crow's nest, but he'd seen that much when Harry was staying over with them during summer holiday.
"Give him a chance, Jake," Miranda had pleaded then. "For Hermione's sake, try to like him."
"But I do… I mean, I did… I liked him when he was just her friend, I had no problem with that, but boyfriend… well, that's just such an ugly word."
"Best get used it to, because Hermione's not a child anymore. She'll have a boyfriend, and one day a fiancé, and one day a husband if life is good to her."
"Please, I can only take so much," Jake protested, his chest a cage of ache,"you don't presume to say that Harry will be all those things?"
Miranda had smiled in that wise, knowing way she had that made Jake think he had to be one of the dumbest blokes in England. "Perhaps he will. And for that very reason we best welcome Harry to join us for Christmas."
"How so?" At that point, Jake merely wanted to know why it was so critical.
"Because the truth is that one day Hermione won't pick us anymore. A girl's parents will win out in her heart over all others for only so long. Eventually, her boyfriend will become more important.
"If we don't make it clear that Harry's welcome in our home… we may start to lose her piece by piece. If she's fallen in love with Harry, and I'd wager she has, then a choice between us and him won't play to our favor.
"If we turn Harry away I fear we'll be turning her away, too. I don't want to start the chain of events that means we lose our daughter. She'd probably visit now and then at first, then it would dwindle to coming by only on holidays, and before long we'd see nothing more of her than an occasional post."
"Not Hermione," Jake said firmly. "She wouldn't do that."
"She already has," Miranda said plainly. When Jake frowned, she spoke gently. "We didn't have her here with us last Christmas because she stayed at Hogwarts… with Harry."
"Bollocks," Jake grumbled.
"But if Harry's invited I'm certain Hermione will come home."
"So Harry's the cross we must bear to have our daughter?" Jake countered sourly. It was the principle of the idea that bothered him more than the prevailing theme of Harry coming to their home for Christmas.
Miranda looked quietly at Jake. "Is he such a cross? He's gentle and kind, he has a good heart, and you've seen how good he is at making Hermionelaugh and smile."
"You'd almost prefer Hermione take up with this Harry chap for the rest of her life, wouldn't you?" He wasn't angry, just blunt, because all the ways Miranda had described Harry were accurate. Miranda had taken a real shine to Harry, and the part Jake hated to admit was that a great many of the reasons behind Miranda's fondness for Harry were not lost on him, either.
He'd liked Harry for many of those same reasons. A part of him stubbornly continued to like Harry for those reasons, even as the father in him riled at the boy moving in on his little girl. Were it not for the contention point that was Hermione, Jake could easily like Harry without reservation. It made it all so much harder, in his estimations.
"Maybe I do," Miranda had answered. "He's been good for her so far, I don't really need to tell you in how many ways. He's been a wonderful friend to her when we'd begun to fear Hermione would never connect with someone her own age. You know, at times… I think I can even see myself one day coming to love him as though he were my own son."
Jake's eyes had widened at that pronouncement. Miranda was not one to blithely throw around such predictions. She had a very loving heart, that was without question, but not one prone to cavalier attachments. She didn't shower that level of affection on people who came into her life; she wasn't predisposed to that kind of fickleness. She could be very fond of people, friends and colleagues, but that was far from love. She gave her love intensely but sparingly. It's what made it so special.
"And I think you could, too," Miranda said earnestly, "if you give him the chance."
Jake had thought several days on that. It had haunted him, if truth be told. Harry part of the family. It was strange to imagine. For so long it had been him, Miranda, and Hermione. But Miranda had the right of it. Just because Jake didn't care for the idea of Hermione with a hormonal teenage boyfriend didn't mean he wanted her to be alone the rest of her life. And he knew it would be so dangerously easy for Hermione to be alone. She turned to her books and her inner world to such exclusion that most of life could pass her by without her knowing it. In her first year at Hogwarts, when she'd written them and told them about the two friends she'd made, they'd breathed a sighed of relief to see that her life wasn't still set on that solitary path that had been her destination practically since she learned how to talk… and chose to talk to adults as opposed to other children.
But he'd seen how Harry drew her out of that self-imposed, leather-boundexile. She was a different person around him. She was happier.
And for that, Jake decided in the end, he could deal with Harry in their lives.
The next day, he'd told Miranda to go ahead and mail the kids inviting them home for Christmas.
By the time he and his wife had gone to pick them up at King's Cross, he was even a little more amenable to the idea. He'd had a lot of time to think, and not without a little help from Miranda to coax the subject. There were things to be said for Harry that threw their lot in his favor. He was kind, that much was true. He would never be cruel or mean to Hermione. Harry was always polite to him and Miranda. He cared about their opinions, which was more than Jake could have said for some of his own attitude toward his girlfriends' parents when he was that age. That was good; it meant Harry would take them into consideration if any silly, half-baked ideas like him and Hermione running off into the sunset together came to their addled, lovesick brains. He definitely thought Hermione had hung the moon as far as respect and adoration went. Honestly, Jake couldn't say he'd been as respectful or as properly doting to his own teenage girlfriends before Miranda came into his life.
Harry wasn't likely to get cross with Hermione or try to order her around. If anything, Harry would probably obey Hermione to a bloody fault and do anything she asked of him. Which was just the sort of bloke Hermione ought to have, because his girl deserved that kind of devotion.
And though he felt guilty to admit it, the fact that Harry would sooner be ridof his family was a boon, because it meant that if Harry and Hermione by some wild chance ended up married some day in the distant future (which Jake was still not willing to concede out of hand), he and Miranda would never have to fight the in-laws for the couple. Every holiday, every special occasion, every whimsical vacation or impromptu outing, Hermione would be there, albeit with Harry in tow. That wasn't so bad, really. And he and Harry might even go to some football games together, or even a Quidditch match or two. Jake could see that being a good time, and Harry did have quite a grasp of sports. It'd be nice to have another bloke with whom to talk guy- stuff.
Besides, this was all based upon Miranda's assumptions about this newly- changed status in their friendship. Harry and Hermione might not even be boyfriend and girlfriend at all. He wouldn't let himself get in a fretful state over nothing, and if it turned out Miranda's instincts were on the mark… well, as Miranda had said herself, Hermione could have done a lot worse than Harry Potter. He wasn't good enough for her, but no bloke ever would be.
Jake would have to settle in any case, and he could settle for Harry better than most others.
At King's Cross, Miranda had hugged Harry same as she had their daughter, and Jake shook the boy's hand and had been very well-behaved. With the pair of them standing in front of him, he admitted that it wasn't so bad.
Hermione looked more beautiful every day, more and more like her mother, and Harry wasn't half the bashful, reticent boy he'd been when they met him at the start of summer holiday. He was more comfortable around them now. Jake was glad for that; it bothered Miranda to have Harry so twitchy. She hated that it said so many unsavory things about his early childhood.
They'd piled into the car, driven home with the kids in the back (Hermione giving them a recount of their midterms, as expected), and it was all right. Nothing to really set off Jake's radar as far as Harry and Hermione's predicted 'relationship' was concerned. They weren't acting appreciably different from the way they had acted around each other previously. They looked just as they had during the summer, though Harry was taller and Hermione's hair longer. At the house, Miranda fixed them lunch first thing, and they'd sat down together at the table. Miranda chatted classes with Hermione; Jake got the highlights of some of the latest Gryffindor Quidditch matches. When lunch was over, and the kids retreated to their rooms with their trunks to settle in, Jake was feeling pretty good about everything.
Miranda had been premature to think Hermione and Harry were dating. Christmas might be merry after all.
Jake joined his wife in the kitchen as she was washing the dishes from lunch. He stepped up behind her and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, a smile on her face, he smiled back.
"You saw it, too?" she asked.
He nodded, in a good mood. "Yes."
Miranda put aside a plate on the drying rack.
"Harry looked scared half to death, the poor boy, but knowing Hermione I imagine we'll have the announcement before the end of the day."
Now he was confused. "Huh?"
"Now remember to be nice about it when they tell us. Harry's a good kid. Just keep in mind how my father used to scare you," she said with a teasing smile.
"Your dad didn't scare me any more than he would have scared any bloke with sense, he had those horseman's hands, you know, but just a moment… what are you talking about?"
Miranda turned to face him and favored him with a sympathetic look, "Oh, Jake, it was obvious. They hardly ate any lunch, I'm sure their stomachs were all in knots. Hermione barely finished a sentence without getting a terribly distracted look on her face. Didn't you see how they kept looking at each other during lunch?"
"No." Really, he hadn't. He remembered Quidditch and feeling relief that Miranda had been off the mark for once. How did Miranda pick up on these things? He wondered if perhaps she wasn't just a little bit witch herself.
Miranda gave him a peck on the cheek to placate his recently demolished cheerful mood. "Be happy for Hermione, love. She's at a wonderful point in her life. You remember what those years were like, don't you?" Her smile then made him remember those years all the better.
But still… "I remember being a rutting teenage boy with very off-color thoughts toward the opposite sex."
"Yes, well, I have an idea as to that."
Jake frowned. "What do you—" but before he could question Miranda further they were interrupted by Hermione's voice. "Mum, Dad."
Jake turned and his heart broke just a little. He knew at that instant that Miranda had been right all along. About everything Hermione and Harry.
Hermione came into the kitchen leading Harry by the hand… or rather, almost dragging him. Harry looked frightfully pale and his hold on Hermione's hand was a death-grip. For half a second, Jake felt sorry for the boy. He'd had his fair share of 'breaking the news to the girl's parents' when he was young, and they'd been nerve-wracking without exclusion.
Meeting Miranda's parents had been the most nervous he'd been in his entire life… except for maybe when he was asking Miranda for her hand in marriage. Whether he cared to or not, he could relate to Harry's predicament.
Hermione, in contrast, was determined and resolute. She had a stubborn set to her jaw, a flinty hardness in her eyes. It was immovable, pugnacious Hermione to a fault. When she was in such a state she could not be swayed. It was small wonder Harry looked so scared but had accompanied her for the 'announcement' just the same.
Jake cast Miranda a sidelong look, and the light in her eyes seemed to say gently 'I told you' when she met his gaze.
Hermione came to a stop in the kitchen a few paces in front of her parents, Harry halting just behind her shoulder. Jake was struck, because now there was no denying a new closeness between the teens, by how Hermione was smaller than Harry but just then she undeniably seemed to shield him. There was a fierceness to her presence that dared even her parents to hurt Harry as he stood behind her, his hand entwined with hers. Jake knew his little girl could be a lion when it came to defending things dear to her, but to see that passion stirred to safeguard a boy… it was sobering. And it was vindication of Miranda's earlier assertions, the ones Jake had tried so hard to dismiss. If it came down to her parents and Harry, a choice between them, Hermione had already made hers. Maybe she wouldn't follow that final decision for years to come, but it would be only an eventuality postponed.
Fortunately, Jake and Miranda would never force her to make that choice; they were willing to make room for Harry in their family. Still, it was eye- opening to see the truth of it in front of them.
Kimmy, in her house elf form, came trotting into the kitchen after the pair of teenagers. She wore a pair of green boxers with a pine tree pattern on them that twinkled with multicolored lights just like a Christmas tree. She scrambled up on to the counter, turned, and sat with her feet hanging over the edge like it was a front row seat to a show. She seemed the most unconcerned individual in the entire room.
Hermione stood a moment and looked between her parents, as though trying to gauge their mood. Harry was still as death at her side, and nearly as pallid. He was looking everywhere but at Jake and Miranda.
"Mum, Dad… Harry and I have something that we need to tell you." 'Here it comes,' Jake thought.
"What's that, honey?" Miranda asked, and she even sounded unaware of the bombshell about to be dropped in their laps.
Hermione glanced back at Harry, and if Jake wasn't mistaken she seemed to draw even more courage from him. It was like staring at the sun, too brilliant to bear but too powerful to ignore.
For a brief second, Hermione's stony expression of certitude cracked to offer Harry a tiny smile. She looked back to her parents and said, "Harry and I just wanted you to know that he and I have started dating."
At that, Harry looked up and met Miranda's gaze first. The boy might be scared witless, but he wasn't about to look anything less than Hermione'sequal in the moment of reckoning. Jake had to credit him that resolve. The look Harry next turned to Jake was a little less confident, but all the same he looked Jake square in the eye. That said a lot to Jake.
Miranda broke the silence first. "Well, that's quite an announcement. But as long as you're both happy, then we're happy for you."
They'd expected something more along the lines of fire and brimstone, to read their faces. At least Harry had. He looked absolutely flabbergasted that Miranda was taking the news so well.
Hermione had to fend off a smile… it was plain to see that immediate acceptance of her relationship with Harry had elated her. Jake had to concede once more to Miranda's wisdom in matters of the heart. She'd managed to make a potentially nerve-wracking moment for their daughter a reason to love them all the more.
Miranda turned calmly to Kimmy and said, "Kimmy? I wonder, do you think I could ask a favor of you?"
Kimmy nodded at once, her ears wiggling with the motion of her head. "Of course, Missus Granger, what can Kimmy do?"
"Well, as it seems we have a couple of love-struck teenagers in the house, and Jake and I will be at work for most of the day, do you think you could keep an eye on them for us and make sure nothing too inappropriate happens?"
'Miranda, you're nothing short of genius,' Jake thought with an inward smile.
"Mum!" Hermione squeaked, a great departure from the brave face she'd been parading thus far. Harry's cadaverous hue gave way to beet red.
Kimmy grinned broadly, imperfect, off-white teeth bared."Kimmy would be happy to make sure nothing naughty happens."
"Kimmy!" Hermione said in dismay, as though betrayed to have the house elf side with Miranda and Jake, then she turned to her mother and said, "Mum, really."
Miranda smiled warmly. "Just humor us, honey… I don't think it's asking too much since we are letting your boyfriend stay over."
Hermione looked mortified, and Harry just a shade shy of that, but it was he who said, "You're right, Missus Granger."
Jake stepped forward then. "Harry? Can I have a word with you? Inprivate?"
Harry looked like he'd rather run naked through the midwinter streets, but he nodded. "Yes, sir." He looked at Hermione a moment then let go her hand.
Hermione looked like she would chew off her own arm to be able to go with them, but this was a strictly father-suitor discussion.
Jake led Harry away toward the library, leaving Hermione to her mother.
When they entered the library, Harry was horribly tense and very wary. Jake never thought to be regarded as though he were a dangerous wild animal. It was well that Harry afforded him that much, though. Jake liked to think he could still have some say in his daughter's life, and Harry's concern for his reaction would suggest that he did.
"Have a seat," Jake bade to the younger man.
Harry hesitated then went to one of the chairs at the library table. Jake sat down across from him. He regarded the boy closely. Harry was a picture of nerves, but he looked Jake straight in the eye. For all the bumbling and shy he seemed to exude a lot of the time, there was an inarguable streak of bravery in him, Jake thought.
"Don't be so wired, I'm not here to tear into you."
Harry looked doubtful but he nodded. "Yes, sir."
"To be honest, I've never been on this end of these conversations, so this will be new for both of us.
"I love Hermione very dearly and her happiness is of great importance to me. I couldn't suffer her to be hurt in any way, so tell me honestly, Harry, are you toying with her?"
Harry flinched as though gravely insulted. "Absolutely not, Mister Granger."
Really, Jake had expected as much. Harry hardly seemed the type to be that cruel, least of all to Hermione."Good to hear that. See to it that it stays that way. I might not be a powerful wizard, but if you break Hermione's heart I'll break your legs."
"I'd never hurt her."
Jake tapped his index finger against the tabletop and let Harry sweat a little.
"No, I don't believe you would. I'm not trying to scare you away from her,Harry, don't think that. You're a nice fellow, and you seem to care about my daughter a great deal. If that's the case, then I don't have a problem. Just make her happy and I'll not have any complaints against you or your relationship with Hermione."
"I'll do everything in my power to make sure she's happy, sir," Harry replied.
'For a wizard like you,' Jake thought, 'that might be quite a lot.' "Good, then. Well, I suppose we should get back out there before Hermione comes beating the door down."
Harry smiled because he, too, knew that wasn't far from the truth.
Jake moved to rise but paused. "One more thing, Harry. I have to wonder, do you have any idea what a treasure you've found in Hermione?"
The light that flickered in Harry's eyes told Jake his answer, as well as the sudden softness of his smile and the gravity of his words. "I've a fair idea."
Jake really thought that the boy just might.
They both rose and moved toward the door. Jake clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "Don't forget that, and you and I will be just fine."
If that was the extent of Jake's demands, then it seemed to leave Harry greatly relieved. He relaxed noticeably in Jake's company as they left the library to rejoin the women.
Chapter Forty Three
Reposting Guys's Notes - Aplogigies for the late upload. Had a nasty accident. Recovered somewhat this evening. anyways. enjoy reading.
She had nowhere to go. His body pressed into hers, pinned her solidly to the wall behind her as his hands circled her hips, slid between her and the stone at her back, drawing her insatiably closer to the madness that she'd awakened. She bent one knee to hook her leg around his, her calf and inner leg raking up toward his hip. He let his hand follow the angle of her thigh.
He suckled at her neck, the warm haven beneath her hair that called so to him, like siren's song made flesh. Her skin was hot and sweet on his lips. Her sigh in his ear was even sweeter. He pushed against her, wild with the way it made their bodies crush together. Her hands were sliding between them, tugging at his shirt. Then his shirt was gone, and her fingers were leaving white impressions over his back and shoulders. She clung to him hungrily. She moaned when his hands moved. And then her shirt was gone, and it was skin touching skin, heat on heat. He dipped to taste her chest, inebriate himself on her body, and her deft fingers went to his belt.
A soft click tore Harry from the land of dreams and he lay quietly in bed, still in a state from the images that had been dancing in his mind's eye. He listened for what had torn him from his slumber and it was more a sense of another person in the room than any true noise.
He roused the sleeping jaguar just enough to know by smell alone that his visitor was Hermione. Perhaps being jarred from sleep wasn't so terrible after all.
It was edging toward noon judging by how rested he felt. He'd slept in. His bed at the Granger house was sinfully comfortable, so much better than the hand-me-down mattresses he'd always inherited from Dudley with a huge dip in the middle where most of the massive boy's weight had been borne and spotted with multiple food stains and their accompanying funny smells. It was better than the standard beds of Hogwarts that were not supposed to encourage sleeping in, lest a student miss their morning classes.
Harry knew Hermione was padding toward his bed, but he kept his eyes closed and pretended he'd not realized she was there. He was curious to learn what exactly she'd do. The mattress dipped and jostled as she climbed up on it. Harry was having to fight the impulse to smile. Then it was her voice, directly above him.
"I know you're awake," she said at last.
Harry gave in, smiled, and opened his eyes. She was on her hands and knees over him, one hand on either side of him so she was hovering right over him, near enough that he could make out her features without his glasses. She was in her pajamas still as well. Her hair was loose and falling over her shoulders, tickling his cheeks and making him chuckle.
Hermione grinned back at him. "Morning."
Harry batted her hair away, only to have it brush against his nose. "What time is it?"
"About ten-thirty. Mum and Dad are gone."
The devil on Harry's shoulder thought that that was a very important detail… and an exciting one. Harry tried his best to push that thought away. "Morning… you know, I was going to have a lie in. I'd been looking forward to it all week." His intent was playful, even if he pretended to protest her waking him.
Hermione beamed, fully aware that Harry was funning with her. "Thought you might. Got room for one more?"
His eyebrows rose. Then he lifted up one end of the covers in invitation.
Hermione quickly wriggled in beside him and snuggled down at his side. Harry tucked the covers snug around them both and had to bite the inside of his cheek when Hermione slid her arm over his torso, turned on her side to partially drape over him, and moved one of her legs to tangle with his… and in the process came in contact with the evidence of his rather vivid dream.
But he didn't have to be embarrassed about that with Hermione, she'd proven remarkably unbothered by Harry's 'physiological responses'. True to form, she didn't pull away or make a disgusted noise… instead he felt her smile into his chest where her face was pressed against him.
It didn't help his problem, in fact it was fair to say it made his problem worse, but there was good and bad with that. Such was the torment that was Hermione Granger. He snaked one arm underneath the curve of her neck and crooked it at the elbow to rest his hand lightly on her back.
Absolutely blissful torture.
"Can I ask you something, Harry?" she said without lifting her head to look him in the eye.
"Sure."
"Does that just happen, or do you have to dream… certain things?"
Harry's stomach flipped. They never really talked about that, and he supposed that fact should make him dreadfully uncomfortable, but he found he didn't mind Hermione's curiosity.
"You mean in the morning? Because I imagine it's fairly obvious how that happens during the day." She would know all too well. Hermione had played with that razor edge of sanity, dangling Harry over the edge countless times once they'd become a couple, and Harry was reasonably sure she did it on purpose. It was the curiosity in her that could not be vanquished. She wanted to see what would make him react to her… which she learned soon enough was just about anything and everything. He was pretty certain she was immensely pleased to discover that she need only make the barest of efforts to play him like a harp. He was just ecstatic that that sort of thing would please Hermione, that his responding to her would be seen as a good thing.
"Yeah. I know it happens to guys, but I never knew it if was just a… you know, on its own kind of thing."
"Well, for me, it's usually a certain kind of dream."
Hermione's fingers were tracing the seam of his shirt sleeve absently. "You were dreaming?" There was the slightest hint of the minx in her voice, and he really ought to know to watch himself by now when that particular side of Hermione showed itself.
"Uh huh."
"What were you dreaming about?" Her voice was low, throaty and intoxicating. She was driving him crazy. Positively stark raving mad.
"You."
Hermione squeezed him like a giant teddy bear, she shivered, and Harry groaned when it registered in every nerve ending he possessed.
Hermione drew her head from his chest, propped herself on her elbow to look down at his face. Harry studied her expression. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes looked nearly black. She looked incredible in a ruffled, morning way. "You dream about me?" she asked, sounding honestly moved by the admission.
'Only all the time,' he thought miserably, but as an answer he said, "Yeah."
Hermione smiled, lovely and enchanting, then bent down and kissed him on the jaw line. Then she kissed him again, slow and feather-light. She peppered little kisses toward his ear, where her breath was the softest sound he'd ever known. He reached up, moved her wild hair aside, lifted his head from his pillow, and nipped at her neck. Hermione made a noise, somewhere between a whimper and a chuckle, and her fingers splayed over one side of his chest. She let her supporting elbow slowly slip, settled her upper body at an angle atop his, and he felt the shape of her breasts on his chest through the twin layers of pajamas. She wasn't wearing a bra. Merlin, she'd kill him, he knew it.
But he must have been one suicidal guy, because he drew her closer, one hand still wonderfully tangled in her hair, the other tracing up her arm to her shoulder and back. Hermione trembled as he nibbled and kissed at her throat, and one of her hands smoothed over his waist, so desperately, unbearably close to the flash point of all this insanity.
She had just started to move her hand up under the hem of his shirt, her fingers had only just danced against the tingling skin of his stomach, when there was a pointed "Ahem" from the door.
The two teens broke apart to look and saw Kimmy standing in the doorway of the bedroom, wearing a pair of rose-covered boxers and a very 'tisk tisk' look on her face. Harry had never wished Kimmy ill before that split-second.
"Kimmy!" Hermione breathed a greeting first.
"You knows Missus Granger wouldn't be liking this, Miss Granger and MisterHarry Potter."
Hermione blushed fiery red and moved away from Harry. "Honestly, Kimmy, we were just… we weren't…" she glanced at Harry's face. Harry just watched her to see how she intended to handle Kimmy's intrusion. Hermione seemed to relent to their compromising state and sagged. "Well, perhaps we were getting just a little carried away."
"Best cure for that's to get out of bed!" Kimmy said cheerfully. Hermione grumbled and extricated herself from Harry's sheets. Kimmy,
seeing that her work was done, gave a satisfied nod and trotted off into thedepths of the house looking quite untroubled for having spoiled Harry's good time so thoroughly. Hermione was still flushed as she brushed back her hair, still looking quite enticing to all of Harry's overwrought senses.
"Well, um… getting close to lunchtime anyway," Hermione said after a moment. "Would you like to go to the park later today? It's quite lovely at Christmas; they string lights on some of the trees, and if the clouds are in they might even be lit by early afternoon."
"Err… sure… sounds great." Or it might, later, when he wasn't still painfully reminded of what his morning had consisted of so far. Hermione in his dreams and then in his bed, and the activities for both shockingly similar. It was probably the first instance of Harry being cursed for being so lucky.
Hermione moved toward the door to leave the room, paused, and glanced back at him. "You coming, Harry?"
'Oh boy,' he thought. "Um… yeah… give me a couple minutes."
It took a second, during which her lips pursed and her brow crinkled. Then Hermione's gaze turned positively… feral. It hit Harry in the stomach… and sank lower. 'Maybe just a minute if this keeps up,' he lamented silently.
She was too damn smart for his good. "Oh," was all she said.
Now she was just teasing him. "Just go already," he waved her away.
Hermione smiled devilishly and left him to it. Ron had the right of it; she was a pistol. Who knew that had been inside Hermione all this time? Innocent, studious, focused Hermione Granger, constant haunt of libraries and top scorer of tests, a wily seductress.
He liked it.
Hermione's head was in the clouds, and for someone as grounded as Hermione Granger that did not happen often. Her mother had even commented during lunch that she was looking a bit 'dreamy'. That had warranted a quick look from Miranda, quickly followed by a whispered conference with Kimmy, the 'naughtiness look-out'. Harry had hummed most of the time he was cooking lunch, effected for the better by Hermione's mood.
She was still high on the fact that Harry had dreams about her… those kinds of dreams.
Logically, one might think she would expect him to. She was his girlfriend, after all, and they'd snogged a fair bit. Only made sense that Harry's unconscious mind would take it to the next level, what with him being a teenage boy and all.
But, in fact, Hermione hadn't thought on it. And she hadn't because she knew if she did allow herself to think on it, she would decide that Harry probably dreamed about other girls in those dreams.
She didn't doubt his devotion. He was exclusive to her, she knew him better than to question that. But she also knew she wasn't half as pretty as most girls. Harry couldn't really be held responsible for dreaming about being with someone prettier. It stung to think he would, she privately owned up to that, but she knew it wouldn't be fair to blame him for what he did in dreams.
Of course, she had some rather… intense dreams herself that included him, and her, the two of them together. But then, it wasn't really the same on any level. Hermione didn't have the same problem Harry did; she had a perfectly good-looking, attractive partner to dream about. And she had to take into account that girls' brains were just wired differently… she'd be more apt, even in dreams, to factor in the aspect of emotional attachment. That wouldn't necessarily be true for Harry. Boys were psychologically built to think more in terms of purely physical, visual aspects. For that, she'd sooner expect Harry to have erotic dreams about Cho Chang than her.
She decided it didn't matter, because no matter what Harry might do when he was dreaming, it was her that he woke up and kissed and held and cared about. She was happy for that.
This morning, however… she'd actually been curious about the so-called 'morning wood'. Sometimes, the way it was made out to seem, it was as though boys and girls were from entirely different planets. She feltcomfortable enough with Harry to ask. She never thought she'd hear him say that he dreamt about her the way she always assumed he dreamt about Cho. Her. Plain, nothing-special-to-look-at Hermione. That she was the reason he woke up in an aroused state.
She wouldn't hold Harry's dreamscape philandering against him, but it seemed she was content to give him credit for making her the girl of his dreams, in a manner of speaking. Every time she looked at him she wanted to kiss him breathless.
'It's just as well we're out in the cold,' she thought with a sense of embarrassment. It was helping to combat the heat that kept stealing over her cheeks and coiling in the pit of her stomach.
After Miranda left to return to work, she and Harry had dressed and left for the park, as they previously discussed. They were currently walking side by side, unrushed, hands entwined, not saying a word. Kimmy was weaving around them in a sloppy satellite orbit as they went. Fitting, as Hermione was beyond the atmosphere with how good her mood was today.
Hermione gave Harry's hand a random squeeze. She smiled stupidly when he squeezed back. She used to think so much of Harry when they were just friends, and when she first developed a crush on him of course she thought a great deal more of him. Harry was a very special person, after all, with qualities rare in many other people. But as his girlfriend… it was more than she'd ever imagined. If nothing else in her life ever went right, at least she was lucky enough to have this.
They arrived at the park to find it less populated with children than last time when it was summer. The chill had chased them indoors. There were a few hardy youngsters on the swings, as though the rushing wind couldn't hope to freeze them out of play, and parents at the benches trying to wrestle squirming children into additional layers of clothes. The trees along the paved walkway were strung with lights, as they were every year, and they were turned on as Hermione had predicted, but the day was bright enough that the limply hanging strands of bulb-infested electrical cords looked more an eyesore than magical; they needed the night to unveil their splendor. But it was all magical to Hermione today.
By the time they reached their bench under the naked maple tree, Hermione's nose was red, her cheeks prickly in the winter air, and the only extremity that wasn't partially numb from the cold was the hand holding Harry's.
Rather than sit on the bench, Hermione turned to regard Harry. His breath was an intermittent white cloud in front of his face, and his features were similarly reddened by the nip in the air. But the grey of the sky made his hair all the blacker, and the cold somehow made his eyes impossibly blue. But more than that, there was a calm about him. He looked at ease. The same unconcern that had shined in his eyes when he smiled up at her that morning.
She wished she knew the secret to keeping that untroubled air about him always.
"What?" he finally asked to her unspoken scrutiny.
Hermione untangled her hand from his, stepped into him, and put her arms around him in a hug, without speaking so much as a word. His body was wonderfully warm and smelled so good, like safe harbor and home all in one.
If he was surprised by her action, and it was a really unexpected thing to do on her part, his surprise lasted only a few seconds. Then he brought his arms up and put them around her. Hermione was completely happy.
"You're good at this, you know," she said after a time standing in the park held in his arms.
"At what?" he asked without moving away from her.
"Being a boyfriend."
Harry was quiet a moment. "I think I'm good at being your boyfriend."
Hermione chuckled. He'd proven her point spectacularly. But maybe he was right more than just saying the right thing. Taking into account Harry's upbringing, she'd expected him to be a bit more of a mess when it came to relationships. He might not really nail a 'healthy relationship' as it was widely accepted on his first go at courting, if ever at all. When she discovered she felt things more than friendship for Harry, she concluded that she could be content with a less-than-perfect relationship, were she ever to date him (which she never anticipated happening, anyway) because Harry was worth it. But their relationship had been nearly flawless once they'd made the decision to embark upon it. And maybe it was because it was with her, his best friend for years. They knew each other so well already, it was only a slight shift to take it to being boyfriend and girlfriend. There need not be new, extraordinary demands on Harry; Hermione wouldn't expect anything more than what he'd always been.
Hermione burrowed deeper against his chest, almost fit to purr, and she felt Harry's torso jerk as he silently chuckled at something.
"What?" she asked, still nestled against him.
"Nothing." There was humor in his voice, blessed Harry joy, understated though it was when it made it as far as his lips.
She pulled away from the hug enough to look up into his face. Her arms were still looped around his waist; she wasn't quite ready to let him go. He had a strange amusement glittering in his eyes and toying with the corners of his mouth. "What nothing? Come on, tell me."
Harry gave a lop-sided smile."It's stupid." And it was doing a fair job of embarrassing him. Now she was dying to know what had crossed his mind.
"Honestly, Harry, I'm sure it's not stupid. And if it is… well, it's me. I won't laugh."
Harry studied her a moment, then he took one arm away from her to bring his hand up and brush back her hair from her face. His fingers ended up tangled in her curly locks. She really liked it when he did that.
"Just… when we're like this, you know, hugging and stuff, my stomach gets all… flip-floppy."
Hermione smiled sweetly. She had the same stomach flutters around him, not to mention the snitch in her chest and the racing of her heart. It was the way her body let her know she was in love. Stood to reason Harry's body would speak a similar language.
"And I know what it means now, but thing is… well, I mean, it just hit me that my stomach's done that around you for a while now. You know, before we decided to be boyfriend and girlfriend it did that."
Hermione grinned. "Mine did, too."
Harry blinked, as though he'd not thought that she could have such a reaction to him as he did to her, then he smiled. And it was beautiful. And then they were kissing. Not passionately, but softly and tenderly.
They may have continued to kiss forever, Hermione wouldn't know, because they were pulled from each other by a growl.
Hermione looked down to see Kimmy growling menacingly at something tothe right. Hermione followed Kimmy's gaze and started to see Belinda Hernandez a few benches over from theirs, where the ringing trees and seats curved to enclose the park. Hermione tensed reflexively. She almost looked around for Grace, as the two were always a matched set of tormentors, but her eye locked on Belinda when the state of the girl registered. Rather than the arrogant, haughty beauty with the world at her slender fingertips, she was hunched down on the bench, braced feebly against the wind. Her dark hair was flowing around her, and when it was whipped out of the way of her face Hermione was shocked to see Belinda was crying.
That was almost too bizarre for Hermione, student of a witchcraft and wizardry school, to comprehend. She couldn't conceive of a Belinda Hernandez reduced to tears like a normal, feeling human being. But she was, crying and hiccupping.
And her unearthly beauty made her tears look mythically tragic.
What happened? Had Grace been killed? Was that why the other half of the mean team was gone and the survivor weeping alone in the park? Belinda might not have it in her to care about boys' feelings, or the feelings of those she tormented, but maybe she had enough heart to grieve the death of the likes of Grace. They had been inseparable ever since grade school, after all.
"Oh, great," Harry grumbled when he, too, followed Kimmy's gaze.
"I wonder what's wrong," Hermione mumbled. Harry grunted ambivalence.
Hermione reluctantly withdrew from Harry's hold. "I'm going to see if she's all right."
"Seriously?" Harry asked.
Hermione frowned. "I'll be right back."
As she approached Belinda, the sound of her sobs filled the winter air. They were enough to make the gray of the skies dole and dreary where just a moment ago Hermione had been so content under the expanse. Belinda was oblivious to Hermione's arrival at her side until Hermione said, "Belinda?"
Belinda started, looked up, and she looked a terrible mess. Eyes red and puffy, nose runny, expression twisted in grief… it made her just like anyone else. She wasn't the unimaginable beauty with tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Granger," she said… then looked away. "What do you want?"
"Are you okay?"
"Like you care."
"Where's Grace?"
Belinda tensed. "Don't talk to me about that… that… back-stabbing tramp."
Hermione tentatively sat down next to the older girl. "What happened?"
Belinda blew her nose, and it sounded just as disgusting and unattractive as when anyone else did it. She held her composure a moment, almost a melancholy repose, then she broke down sobbing again. "She knew… he was mine… she knew I… she didn't care! Shagged him like some… like… He was different! How could she do that to me? She was supposed to be my friend!"
Hermione put together what had probably happened, though she couldn't rightly believe it. Belinda Hernandez, the emotional harpy, had gone and lost her heart to a boy. She'd made the mistake of falling for one of her prey… and Grace, apparently, had been eager to play the same old games as always with Belinda's paramour.
"I'm sorry…" Hermione said carefully.
"What kind of friend does that?!" Belinda cried. Then her face screwed angrily. "How could he do that! He said he cared about me… but he slept with her! And he wasn't even… even… sorry!"
Hermione had to think that maybe Belinda had met her counterpart of the male gender, a womanizing hunk… and had been burned. Thing of it was, Hermione didn't feel too terribly sorry for Belinda's predicament. She'd left many boys in the same heartbroken mess that she was in now. It was a strange justice of its own for Belinda to feel the kind of anguish she'd so long inflicted upon others.
"I don't understand…" Belinda whimpered, and Hermione thought that she probably honestly didn't understand. She'd never had reason to try before.
Hermione weighed her potential words a moment, then leaned just barely closer. "I think, sooner or later, you were bound to find some bloke who wouldn't play your game like you wanted him to."
Belinda looked up at Hermione, for a moment furious… then she just wiltedon the bench. She hung her head morosely. "But… how else would you go about it?"
It never occurred to Hermione that the cat-and-mouse games Belinda had loved to play were the only way she knew to interact with boys. For the first time it made Belinda a truly sad, pitiful creature.
"Not all men are as lack-witted as you think, Belinda. The ones that are worth it aren't going to be taken in by tricks… not in the long-run, anyway."
Belinda looked up at Hermione, seemed to really see her for the first time, then her eyes settled on a point beyond Hermione's shoulder. Hermione turned to see that Belinda was watching Harry, who'd inevitably drawn closer to them, worried Belinda would upset Hermione. He looked positively primed to jump in and give Belinda what she had coming to her if she started getting disagreeable.
But the only tears today would be Belinda's.
"I… Harry, right?" Belinda asked faintly.
Hermione looked back at the weeping girl."Yeah." It was a strange reversal of roles for Hermione, of the two, to be the one with a guy waiting on the fringe.
Belinda regarded Hermione closely, an odd, introspective expression on her beautiful features. "You know, I… well, I always thought, when it came to boys, that I was smarter than you."
'I know you did, and for the longest time, I thought you were, too,' Hermione thought, but instead she gave a shrug. "I just never saw them the same way you did. As… playthings. Conquests."
Belinda pinched her lips in thought and dropped her gaze to her lap. She seemed to mull that remark over with great care. After a moment she glanced back up and looked toward Harry. A wounded smile twitched at her perfect mouth. "He wants you."
Hermione looked back toward Harry and saw him fidgeting, his hands in his pockets and his attention on them. He wasn't even being subtle about it.
Hermione didn't need Belinda's translation of boy-language to know that Harry was anxious for her to come back to him.
She looked back toward Belinda. "Are you going to be all right?"
Belinda gave a shrug. Hermione didn't know what else to say. With a frown, she got up off the bench to return to Harry.
"Gra—Hermione?"
Hermione turned back to Belinda.
Belinda looked awkward. "I just… you're not as ugly anymore as you used to be. Really."
In her own way, Hermione knew that was a compliment from Belinda.
Harry had edged ever closer to them, and when Hermione caught his approach from the corner of her eye she turned her head to look. Harry's eyes were questioning and he held out his hand to her.
Hermione looked one last time at Belinda, went to Harry, and took his hand in hers. She moved in close to his side and walked off with him.
When they were a distance away from the weeping young beauty, Harry asked softly, "What was that about?"
"She finally got a taste of her own medicine," Hermione answered.
Harry didn't answer to that, but he extricated his hand from hers only to wrap his arm around her shoulders. Hermione leaned into him gratefully as they left the park behind them.