Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Folie a Deux	By : SalonKitty Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 206364 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
A/N: It's been a while getting through this chapter. It's pretty dialogue heavy, but then, you know Hermione, always wanting to talk about everything. Hopefully, the next update won't take as long, as their will be a considerable amount of action for that one. It just seems likely to me that there would be a slow build-up to Harry and Hermione's attraction for each other. To magentasouth: Things will get 'interesting' in the next chapter. Meanwhile you can work on getting me some hot Tom Riddle/Harry/Hermione action in your First Horcrux fic. To everyone else, reviews are appreciated.

Chapter 3

Rose was in a strop by the time we got to my end of the Floo. I leapt out of the fireplace and onto the carpet, wildly flinging off my shoes before running towards the stairs to get up to her room. Craning my neck in a panic every few seconds, I kept expecting Harry to come hurtling into the living room behind me, but the fireplace stayed quiet even as it was eclipsed from view by the second floor. Trying to get Rose out of her carrier and into her crib with shaking hands was no easy feat, and her wails only grew louder the more I fumbled with the straps. I felt like I was holding my breath the entire time, my heart in my throat, and I couldn’t get the image of Harry holding on to that woman’s legs out of my mind. What the bloody hell was he doing with her? The thought was like a shout in my head and as I attempted to calm Rose down I posed to her the questions that were twisting around my brain. Had Uncle Harry gone mad? Had the split with Ginny finally sent him around the bend? Was this somehow connected to an assignment for work? The theories grew more absurd as I rambled on, but the sarcasm edging my voice helped me achieve a sort of balance and gain control over my nerves.

My chatter seemed to have an effect on Rose, too; her eyes widening as she studied my face in rapt silence as though she were seriously contemplating the situation at hand, but my incredulity remained. There was something afoot. I couldn’t think of any reason that Harry would even be associating with that woman, let alone…ugh, I didn’t even want to think of the words to describe what they’d been doing. Had Ginny known about her all along? Had this affair caused the split or was it something new? I turned my attention back to my baby and pulled out my wand, using it to dim the lights and cast a musical charm on the teddy that sat in the corner of her crib. A slow, soothing lullaby floated out of the animal’s stuffing while I reached down to rub Rose’s belly, continuing my meanderings in a sleepy whisper. It didn’t take but a moment before she was yawning and then closing her eyes. As soon as the steady up and down of her chest indicated she’d fallen asleep, I made a dash for my room.

Throwing myself on the bed, I buried my face in my pillows, but the recurring image of Harry’s naked back only sharpened in my mind’s eye. Had it always been that gorgeous and I just never noticed before? And the swell of his bum, the way it moved so slowly as he…fucked her, Harry’s thrusts deliberate and in charge. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him caught in such an overt display of carnality. This remarkably different side to my best friend was fascinating, even after our talk had hinted at what lay coiled inside of him. I rolled over on my back with a heavy sigh, my hands slapping the mattress in frustration. Did Harry get a good glimpse of me? Of course he did, I chastised myself; there was no mistaking the look of surprise on his face before I’d disappeared. But what was he going to do about it? My body stiffened as I listened intently to the ringing silence of the house, just the tick tick of the clock in the downstairs hall disturbing the hallowed hush, as if the chairs and the sofas were waiting for Harry to show up as much as I was. But I detected no sound of intruders, and I sighed again as I wondered what in Merlin’s name I was going to say to him the next time we saw each other. I doubted I’d have the courage to look him directly in the face, let alone speak.

I thought about my mobile tucked in a pocket of the baby’s nappy bag. I couldn’t imagine that Harry would call me after a scene like that, but I thought about running to get it all the same. It was the idea of his voice left in a message that made me consider retrieving it. I might have been too disturbed to confront him at that moment, but wanting to hear that deep burr saying my name was another thing entirely. My breathing grew rougher as I re-envisioned the sight from the fireplace, watching Harry call out my name this time before being whisked away. I could see him there clearly as I closed my eyes, see his hand reach out toward me. Harry.

Open your legs wider, Hermione.

My head flew up with a jolt, eyes scouring the room for any sign of him standing there.

I was alone. I dropped my head back to the bed with a grunt, but after a pause, I shifted my bum so my right leg could fall open. I felt that tickling in the slickest part of me as air hit my knickers, my skirt riding up to settle on my thigh. A hand slid down to cup my crotch as though it were detached and acting of its own accord, but I felt like I was on autopilot, noticing the rapidness of my breathing as I gave my bits a squeeze, my heartbeat seemingly lodged in my cunt.

Isn’t this what you want?

No…inconceivable, I was in love with my husband. I had been taken aback by my friend’s behaviour and my body was simply reacting to a highly charged and arousing scene; that was all.

One finger stroked over the slight bump protruding from the wettest patch of silk, the blood filling under the skin making it pulse. I had a sudden vision of Harry’s long, lovely fingers stroking over that same spot. The intensified throb told me I was lying to myself. I wanted something, all right, but it was more than a desire to get off.

Before I could even formulate a denial, that damned autonomous hand was reaching out to the night table and fumbling for the knob to the drawer. Tugging at it while my eyes were still shut tightly, I’d practically wrenched it out of its slot, pieces of jewelry and debris scattering all over the carpet. But I quickly closed my fist around the cylindrical object which had just rolled to the front panel. It was nothing I would ever have thought to buy on my own, and I rarely used it, but Ron had really wanted to include it into our foreplay the first year of our marriage. This was the first time that I felt I had a real need of it, however, that I could do this without embarrassment.

I didn’t even bother to pretend that I wasn’t fantasizing about Harry’s cock inside of me as I drove the vibrator in.



The evening that followed was wretched. I could barely get dinner together once Ron got home. My face felt lit up like a fluorescent bulb ready to explode from its ultra-heat. I darted around the kitchen avoiding the blue eyes following my every move. I couldn’t tell which was more galling, what I had caught Harry doing or my response to it. Either way, I wouldn’t be able to talk to Ron about Harry without stammering or going beet red, so I bowed my head down and mumbled something about ‘female stuff’ when he asked me why I was so jumpy. This fixation was getting ridiculous, I told myself. I was carrying on like I was mixed up in some seedy affair with my best friend, the likelihood of which was as far removed as a wild fling with a resurrected Professor Snape. I was simply displacing my anxiousness to another person, creating a scenario that would feed my need for action without having to deal with my present situation. By involving myself in Harry’s troubles, I was provided a good distraction, but the fascination I’d developed with him was as pathetic as those girls in school who used to fawn over him. I had to keep things in perspective.

For two days I struggled with the news of Harry’s infidelity. When Ron and I had discussed the possibility before Harry and Ginny had even made their announcement, Narcissa Malfoy was not a name that we’d bandied about. She wasn’t even in our comprehension as a viable candidate. Part of me was dying to find out if Ginny knew or not, but I couldn’t face her, either. Guilt seemed to be assaulting me from all sides and I walked around the house with slumped shoulders, my arms wrapped around me, as if I were slogging my way through a blizzard on the frozen tundra. I was at a complete loss as to how I should approach Harry with this knowledge. But as it turned out, I didn’t have to. On the third day after my shocking discovery, Harry came for a visit.

I had been in the middle of cleaning out the kitchen cupboards and there were tins and boxes of food all over the counters when I heard the knocking. I had taken up the afternoon to thoroughly scrub the room free of all manner of dirt, dust, and debris using a few cleaning spells, but mostly with some good old-fashioned elbow grease. I was not typically a neat freak, mind you, but my anxiety demanded some penance. The kitchen had taken up as stand-in for my soul and needed a proper purging, I had decided. When I was interrupted by the rapping coming from the front room, I immediately felt my stomach plunge to my knees. I took a deep gulp and attempted to control my breathing as I made my way to the door, pulling the bandana off of my hair and running fingers through my tangled curls to straighten them as best I could. That nagging sense of dread left me no doubt in my mind as to who was on the other side of the entrance, but I still hoped for a postman or one of those missionaries with their black briefcases and thin little ties.

Harry stood on the front landing with a rueful smile. Wordlessly, he held out his hand. Sitting in his palm was a pink dummy, the rubbery teat still bearing a bit of fluff from a roll around on the carpet.

            “I believe this belongs to Rose,” he said casually, ignoring the tension that flooded the space between us. “It seems you were in a bit of a hurry to leave.”

I stood there and gaped at him for a moment before I had grabbed the dummy from his hand and turned to march into the living room. He followed me soundlessly after shutting the door. I had plunked myself on the couch, expecting him to sit across from me, but he dropped down right at my side, instead, causing me to rear back a bit. I was acutely aware of my ratty attire and the pit stains on my shirt as the slightly spicy tease of Harry’s cologne wafted over me. He was still dressed in his uniform, so I assumed he was on his lunch. I sat there like a fool, eyes blinking rapidly like the shutter of a camera, having no idea how to proceed to a normal conversation.

            “I suppose I have some explaining to do.” He sucked in a deep breath as his smile turned pained. I gave a dumbfounded shrug, but my eyes never left his. Harry exhaled the air from his lungs with a great gust. “Would you believe me if I told you that it’s not what it looked like?”

I attempted a dry laugh but all that escaped me was a rather butchered bark.

            “So you mean, it wasn’t a bizarre sexual tryst with the mother and wife of your two most despised foes?”

Harry gave another sarcastic smile but appeared resigned to my mockery.

            “Right; well…technically…she’s not Lucius’ wife anymore. And to be honest, I wasn’t thinking of either of them while I was, uh…with Narcissa. That’s not what this is about.”

Just hearing him utter her name aloud had snapped me back into myself, the anger suddenly swelling up into my breast.

            “And exactly what is ‘this’, Harry,” I demanded, my hands raised and fingers dropping into quotation marks. My voice turned shrill. “An affair? You’ve been having an affair with Narcissa Malfoy? A very disturbing one at that, may I add. How long has this been going on?! Is this why Ginny was so bothered about her the night the two of you told us you were separating? Because she knew you’d been…screwing that--that woman?” I had gotten myself quite worked up by that point, forgetting all about the weird feelings I’d been having for Harry and zeroing in on my outrage, telling myself it was on Ginny’s behalf.

Harry held up his hands in protest, no longer glib.

“Hang on, Hermione! Don’t get yourself into a tizzy before you hear me out, for fuck’s sake. Of course Ginny knows, and yes, she doesn’t like her much, but things had only started up with Narcissa after we’d decided to take a bit of a break. It took us over a fortnight to tell you two about our decision, you know. But we’d already explored…other avenues, and they didn’t work. Believe me, I’ve tried, Hermione. We did our best to meet half-way, but…she couldn’t live with it, won’t live with it. Narcissa wasn’t even the last straw,” he pleaded, “getting mixed up with that woman was basically Ginny’s idea.”

He looked away, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “Fuck,” he groaned, “I’m really sorry you had to see that.” His head dropped as he slid fingers under his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

I felt a returning sense of guilt heat up my skin as the picture of a naked Harry and that Malfoy woman assailed me again. Instinctively, I gripped the top of his shoulder.

            “I’m sorry, too.” I exhaled a deep sigh, feeling a weight drop and the tightness in my chest loosen up. “I had no business just dropping in on you like that; I’d gotten our plans confused.” I cringed when he turned to face me. “I’m ridiculously embarrassed about witnessing…what I did. I didn’t have a clue how I was going to talk to you the next time we saw each other, so I suppose I should be thanking you for making the first move.”

Harry gave me a sardonic grin. “Really? You mean, I’d rendered Hermione Granger speechless and I didn’t take full advantage of that? Surely this only comes around once in a blue moon.”

I rolled my eyes at him but his weak joke couldn’t dispel the seriousness of the moment. I lumbered on in my awkwardness.

            “Look, Harry; I admit I don’t really understand a whit of what’s going on with you. I thought that I did, but what does ‘other avenues’ even mean? Why on Earth would Ginny recommend you have sex with another woman? None of this makes any sense.” I’m sure my expression was as incredulous as I sounded, but the hurt tone layered underneath had caught me off-guard. I shrunk inside myself a little bit to feel so exposed all of a sudden.

There was a pause before Harry answered me. I could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, his gaze fixed straight ahead to the fireplace.

            “We were looking for outlets. Um, for me, I mean. She and I were at a stalemate in the bedroom, and then Ginny suggested I work off my aggression elsewhere, on other people. She said that maybe we could finally have something resembling a normal sex life if I got it out of my system with someone who liked that sort of thing.” He darted a sideways glance at me before looking forward again, but I cut in before he could continue.

“Ginny Weasley said this?” When he meekly nodded I could only roll my eyes at the ceiling again. My, how we had changed, I scoffed. “Narcissa wasn’t the first choice, I presume?” It just didn’t seem plausible that she was what Ginny originally had in mind when she’d made such a mad suggestion.

I was staring back into bottleneck green again, and his eyes stayed on mine as he cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice had gone quiet.

“Uh, no. We went the professional route, first.”

Again, my mouth dropped. Who were these people that I called my best friends? I couldn’t even begin to imagine how a conversation like that would be introduced between the two of them.

            “Bloody hell, you’re joking, right? A prostitute, Harry? Are you both mental? You’re an Auror, for God’s sake, if this little bit of information were to surface it could ruin your career!”

Harry’s expression turned abashed, but he sighed heavily before falling back against the couch.

            “Hermione, I hate to be the one to tarnish the high esteem you hold for the MLE, and I don’t know what Ron has told you, but Aurors are hardly a group of saints. While it’s nothing like the corrupted den of fools from Fudge’s reign, there are areas of the Ministry that are…not exactly…uncorrupt.” He took off his glasses and scrubbed at his face in weariness. “There are a few establishments that provide services you wouldn’t find advertised in the Daily Prophet, if you know what I mean. And more than a few high-ranking law enforcement types like to frequent those places, as well as an impressive assortment of powerful people. Being an Auror is ridiculously stressful, right? And some of us are under an enormous amount of pressure. There are those who like to let off some steam after work and guess where they go? I’m not proud, but back when I was just a rookie, I learned the hard way that you just didn’t talk about who liked to visit which house and there’s a lot of looking-the-other-way. We do a routine raid every now and again, as a reminder of who’s in charge, but these places are on the bankroll, Hermione. Their clientele are left alone for the most part, and that’s under strict orders. It’s just the way it goes.”

            I gritted my teeth, willing my immediate disgust to the sidelines so I could keep the discussion focused. “Fine, whatever. So, as Saviour of the Wizarding World and rising star of the Ministry, your visits to a whorehouse won’t be investigated. That’s just wonderful news,” I deadpanned, “I’m so relieved. But I’m still trying to fathom why you or Ginny would even consider that an option.”

Harry had scowled, bristled by my obnoxious tone, but he seemed determined to convince me.

            “Look, I didn’t just go to a whorehouse, if you’re going to insist on calling it that. The place we chose is a little different and a lot more upscale than you might imagine. They’re incredibly discreet—well, they sort of have to be, don’t they? They cater to…specialized interests, if you will. And those interests happened to coincide with mine, all right?”

With crossed arms, I glared at him with the full strength of my disapproval, a look that would wither most men to blithering idiots, but didn’t even provoke Harry to bat an eye.

            “I usually tell Gin about my busts after a case is over. And on occasion, I fill her in on details that I should probably keep to myself. It’s not terribly professional, I know, but I just need to…I don’t know, confess to her, I guess. At work, we see so much shit; I mean, really gruesome, soul-crushing stuff, and at the end of the day, I just want to be able to come home to my family and feel clean again. Talking to Gin…it’s like she absolves me, somehow. They’re not even my sins, but some of the things we have to do as Aurors…it’s like I’m being saturated with filth every day and it’s wormed its way into my skin. Gin is the strongest person I know, next to Ron. She never shrinks from the ugliness I share with her, just takes it in stride. And she always knows just what to say to make it better. Except…she just doesn’t understand the…physical part of it for me. Or maybe she understands, but she’s tired of me forcing her into playing that role. She can be pretty willful, that one,” a bemused smirk struck his face, “which is one of the things I’ve always loved about her, ironically enough. But, regardless of her feelings concerning me, the prostitutes were actually helping for a time. I did feel like I could leave that side of me apart from her, apart from our family, and being with Ginny could just be about making her happy, you know? I wanted her to feel good during sex, not put upon and suffering in silence.”

Harry paused as a lost look stole over his features. He stared into space as though scenes from his life were replaying before his eyes, a sad, hint of a smile gracing the side of his mouth. I had a strong urge to wrap my arms around him seeing my friend like that, but my chest was too tight and it was difficult to breathe. It was as though I were waiting for Harry to reveal a truth that would unravel us both, would speak to my troubled state in a way that would suddenly make clear what I was meant to be doing. And in that moment, I realized that I had wanted Harry to save me, to rescue me from this pit of despair, and that I had been expecting him to do so since Rose had been born.

As Harry continued, he gave a doleful shake of his head, the smile disappearing.

            “But I was kidding myself, of course. The fact of the matter is I didn’t have an emotional connection to any of those women, and without it my acting out amounted to nothing more than a really elaborate wank. I needed more than that. Eventually, my appetites started to creep their way back into our bed. Things began to get really unbearable again. The Narcissa Solution arose out of happenstance, really, but the damage had already been done well before that.”

I could hear the disgust sharpen in Harry’s voice, watched the muscle in his face harden to stone as he fell silent. Once more I was beset by the impulse to hold him, and I marveled fleetingly that only Harry’s stoic countenance, predictable as a lunar cycle, could ever induce such a protective instinct in me. Seeing him shut down always elicited the same reaction: a desire to crawl inside of him and tug that little boy out that I knew was hidden there, wanting to nurture that child and love him the way that he had been denied for so much of his life. Harry couldn’t even learn to deal with those feelings before he had been thrust into the role of a modern day Atlas, yet he had shouldered that burden with unflagging grace and great empathy. It had occurred to me that Ginny had been given a golden slot, not because she was the chosen one of the Chosen One—and Harry certainly had many more appreciable qualities than merely his legacy—but because she had a power in her hands that most wouldn’t ever come close to obtaining. I had begun to wonder if she was even aware of it.

            “I expect you think I’m a complete and utter asshole, now. To which I would wholeheartedly agree. Still,” he had peered into my steady gaze searching for something, some glimmer of understanding or perhaps my judgment. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Hermione. You must believe that.”

I grabbed for his hand and squeezed it tight.

            “I do, Harry. But just like when we were kids, you’ve gotten yourself into a royal mess, haven’t you?”

            “Yeah, I have a made a mess of it. And I don’t know what to do to fix it.” Something flashed in those eyes and he went suddenly sheepish, his sight cast down to my knees. “The other day…well, it was a diversion more than anything. Narcissa and I had arranged the meeting before Ginny and I even spoke to the two of you at our place. It was admittedly ill-advised to go ahead with it, but…I think I really needed it, Hermione. The contact, I mean.”

His last statement made him sound so lonely, but I was still perplexed by the Malfoy woman’s inclusion into the equation.

            “Well, I can understand needing a shag, Harry, but why Narcissa? I fail to see how you or Ginny could expect you to have “an emotional connection” with that ice queen, especially in such a short time.”

            “Um,” Harry regarded me curiously, “she, uh, did save my life, if you recall. That certainly left an awfully big impression on me. Look, she’s not…who you think she is. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that she’s probably one of the most misunderstood women of her time. There’s…” and it was then that Harry’s cheeks finally reddened, “there’s a very fragile person underneath that exterior, a vulnerability that I never expected to find. I don’t know, I think I sort of get her in a way that helps me to—to put stuff in perspective, I guess.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Stuff?”

            “Yes, stuff, Hermione. Like, my urges, or my perversions, or whatever I’m supposed to call them. You know, trying to get a handle on my freakish desires. Her involvement has helped me to compartmentalize better. She’s very good at that.”

Another short grunt signaled my amusement at such an understatement.

“No kidding. How long was Voldemort her houseguest, again? Plus, she’s a Malfoy and a Black. I imagine it would have been a necessity to shut off a whole host of emotional responses. Plus, I seriously doubt her intervention on your behalf was anything other than self-serving. But that was during a war, Harry, and neither of you are required to act a role, anymore. You can be whoever you want to be, you’re under no obligation to play the perfect hero for me or anyone else. You never were. You need to get more in touch with your feelings, not box them away only to be opened when you can’t deny them any longer. That’s not exactly healthy. And stop referring to yourself as a freak. You’re nothing of the kind.”

He shook his head at me and gave a sad chuckle.

“Oh, Hermione, ever the analyst, aren’t you? But I don’t know if I can really, properly explain it to you so that you can understand this. I don’t even think I possess the vocabulary for it, to be honest. You…you’re such a good, decent person. You always do the right thing, no matter what. There’s never been a reason for your morality to waver and you hold on to that rope as tightly as your dedication to help others, especially those that can’t help themselves. It’s one of the many reasons I admire you as much as I do. But I’m not like you, and I don’t think I ever can be. I need those boxes.”

I sat quiet for a moment, watching him closely. On a whim, I brushed a few fingers over his cheek. Those eyes sparked feverishly, I could hear his breathing quicken.

            “Funny,” I finally commented. “You just described exactly how I see you.

Our conversation ended shortly after that as Harry had to get back to work, but it gave me plenty to think about that day and on into the rest of the week. It was disconcerting hearing Harry discuss himself as some sort of degenerate, but it made me consider his upbringing once again in how it had influenced his current opinion of himself. Harry was a bona fide hero and the notion that he still saw himself as…wrong was so egregious as to be upsetting. As disappointed as I was in him for screwing around on Ginny, I acceded that it could hardly be condemned as cheating if she was behind it, which had me questioning her frame of mind and what kind of desperate state she’d have to be pushed into to come up with such a plan. Obviously, the things they were dealing with were much more complicated and pervasive than most couples would ever have to go through, which I suppose was par for the course since this was Harry Potter involved. He had never been one to do anything in check. Even his fuck-ups were spectacular.

Still, while acknowledging that my friend’s psyche had taken a beating over the span of his life, I was bothered by the fact that there was so much I still didn’t know about Harry. Not that I didn’t know his personality through and through and couldn’t instinctively predict his behaviour in most situations, yet I was mostly ignorant of the events and details that led up to and shaped who he was as a person before he’d ever come to Hogwarts. I knew snippets about his childhood only because Ron and Ginny had repeated to me various oblique comments he’d made about it over the years. Ron is actually a lot sharper and more observant than most people give him credit for—he would have to be to get where he is in his career—and from what he’d seen at the Dursley’s house, he had put together a very disturbing picture. Harry had confided to him about a few extreme punishments he’d endured under Vernon Dursley back when they were at Hogwarts, and I remember being visibly upset upon hearing about them from Ron many years later, after we’d already been married. But even though Harry would make occasional sarcastic jokes about his relatives’ treatment of him, the three of us had learned not to bring up the subject around Harry or ask him pointed questions about them. Except for that one, unfortunate time I’d drunkenly confronted him during Seamus’ wedding reception.

This was a few years on from the war, after Harry and Ginny had already announced their engagement, and we were all still feeling our oats. It was a Gryffindor reunion, for the most part, and we’d all been in a rather massive celebratory mood that night; the champagne was flowing quite heavily. Harry and I had tucked ourselves away in a corner while watching everyone on the dance floor and somehow we’d gotten into an intense discussion about the past. I don’t even recall what prompted the comment, but I’d spouted some line about him trying to protect himself emotionally because he was an abused child, after all, and you should have seen him go off. He was quite vehement, insisting that while he may have had some hard knocks growing up he was far from abused and that I should get that silly notion out of my head immediately. I was gobsmacked by his reaction, and I felt like a right idiot for sticking my foot in my mouth. I never suggested such a thing again. What was even odder was that when I’d mentioned it to Ginny several days later, she’d gone tight-lipped and grave, only to remark that I needed to leave it alone.

Growing up, I had always understood that Harry was just naturally closer to Ron, and that part of that closeness was due to the fact that Ron never pressured him to talk about anything. It was my belief, however, that things changed a bit after our Horcrux hunt. After Ron had deserted us in the Forest of Dean, it seemed to have an irreparable effect on the way Harry regarded us both. Well after things were back to rights between them and we were picking up the pieces from the last battle, Harry tended to consult me for advice more often and spent considerable more time simply hanging out with me. It was quite welcome on my end, I was positively thrilled that some of his earlier reticence had faded and that he’d chosen me to open up to. Nonetheless, I found it a hairy endeavor to not push him too hard to reveal things that he wasn’t quite comfortable with yet. I was still so fucking curious. We’d had some really good chats, though, and that was all that mattered. Once Ron and Harry were in training for the Auror program, Ron sort of jockeyed to the forefront again as far as being Harry’s confidante, but I regained my position once we were all firmly ensconced at the Ministry.

Alright, I admit it; the whole who’s-his-bestest-friend/who-knows-him-better thing became sort of a competition between Ron and myself at times, but it was never too serious. And as I said before, we realized that when Harry really needed to be pulled out of his misery, it was better to have the two of us pair up and tackle the job. But none of that ever detracted from the unique relationship we had with Harry separately. I never begrudged the boys going off to do things together, and over time, Ron grew less prickly of the time I spent with just Harry. It felt as though we had grown into different roles for each other as we’d matured, and it was satisfying to have that familiarity and trust deepen into something that suited the next phase of our lives. So, it was a big deal for me to have Harry come clean about his problems with Ginny. I had to push away my natural inclination to judge their questionable actions and focus on what was most important: that Harry needed me to help him through this.

The next week saw Rose visiting the Ministry cafeteria for the first time as I brought her along to meet up with Harry for lunch. I picked a day that I knew Ron was going to be busy in the field, so when I casually reminded him that morning before he left for work that I would be coming by I was able feign forgetfulness and disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to join us. I know what you’re thinking, but really, one had to play these games with Ron on occasion so he wouldn’t feel left out. I knew what I was doing, and in the long run, it was just easier to let my husband think that I had expected him to be there than to deal with his hurt ego. Ron was a much more secure person in adulthood…and yet, old habits tended to die hard.

The first ten minutes I was there, I got swamped by a slew of my old co-workers and several well-wishers from various departments. Everyone wanted to fawn over the baby. I was asked over and over how I was acclimating to motherhood as curious eyes scraped over my appearance and it was making me anxious. By the time Harry had made it down to the dining hall, I was dying for him to rescue me. I still wasn’t feeling particularly up to large gatherings—especially when I felt I was being scrutinized—but if I wanted to see Harry during a weekday I didn’t have a lot of options.

            “There’s my two gorgeous girls,” I heard as I fiddled with Rose’s bootie, trying to keep it in place on her wagging foot. I turned in time to get a full face of Harry bending towards me. I felt flustered for a second and sucked in a breath before his lips planted on my cheek. They were warm and wet and there was a slight brush of fingertips against my hip that only added to the inexplicable twisting in my stomach.

            “Harry! Where did you—” I gasped as I tried to step back for some breathing room, trapped by the table behind me. But Harry’s attention had already moved to Rose as he leaned over her carrier and poked at her nose; a big, loopy grin lighting up his face as she squealed delightedly at his presence. She kicked her foot even more excitedly as he tickled his fingers down to her belly, her gurgles drawing everyone’s eyes in the cafeteria. I felt like a spotlight had suddenly been switched on over me, that the entire assembled crowd could see the awkwardness in my face and were silently judging the inappropriateness of it. Why was I acting like a silly schoolgirl? I chided myself, but the fluttering butterflies remained there when he grabbed for my hand the next second.

            “Hermione, have you looked out of the window today? It’s absolutely glorious! There’s a great, little bistro just down the street from the Ministry phone box. What’s say we head over there and have lunch outside?” He looked to be in a very good mood, and one that was immediately infectious. I crooked a smile at him and nodded my head.

A few minutes later we were sitting at a small table on the cobblestone patio of the café. The sun was blazing up the city and fueling the energy of chatter around us. The warmth of its rays left you with that I-can-do-anything tingle along your skin and I couldn’t help but beam at Harry once we’d sent our waiter off with our order. The nervousness from a moment ago had been replaced with a giddy sense of optimism that seemed to infuse my entire frame.

            “My, don’t you look positively radiant,” Harry remarked as he rewarded me with another huge grin. “You’re going to get some tongues wagging, no doubt, everyone wondering what you’ve been up to since you’ve been on leave. Reckoned I’d better get you out of there or else we’d never stop getting stared at.”

            “What?” I laughed brokenly, feeling my face burn. “What on Earth are you on about?”

Something sharpened in Harry’s gaze and his lip curled with an almost wicked glee.

            “Oh, come off it, Hermione. Surely you noticed that every man in the room was gawking at you? And I do believe there were a few women who looked mighty interested, as well. Eloise Midgin looked like she was trying to catch a few flies the way her mouth was hanging open.”

I think I actually felt the colour in my cheeks deepen about three shades redder, but I balked at his teasing.

            “Go on, pull the other one, why don’t you.” I shook my head. “They all just want to get a look at Rose and then rate how flabby my arse has gone since the pregnancy. I’m nothing more than gossip fodder, at the moment.”

            “Right, you keep telling yourself that, luv. Bosie from Magical Artefacts was definitely checking out your arse, but judging by his expression, I’d say you rate quite highly in his book.”

I pshaw’d him some more before attempting to steer the conversation to safer topics, but Harry wouldn’t let it go.

            “You know, Hermione, one of these days, you’re just going to have the face the fact that you’re really a very attractive woman. You always stand out in a crowd, and I’m not just saying that as your friend.”

            “Harry! Can we please change the subject, already? This is embarrassing. Why are you even going on about this?” But Harry turned impassioned as he leaned forward and tugged lightly at a swatch of my curls.

            “Because I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, ‘Mione. Sure, you’ll readily acknowledge that you’re a smart girl, even brilliant, but you never see what everyone else can see, which is that you’re a remarkable person, in all ways. I don’t just mean your accomplishments, vast though they may be, but also in the way that you carry yourself.” He paused to shake his head in disbelief. “It took some getting used to, working with you here at the Ministry. I was so complacent seeing you as simply my best friend—good old, dependable Hermione—that I was a bit unprepared for the reaction you inspired in others. Men, in particular. It was an eye-opener, I have to admit. You have quite a fan base, by the way.”

God, he really wasn’t going to stop, was he? I rolled my eyes at him.

            “Look, that’s very sweet of you, but I don’t need a…”

            “It’s the truth, luv. Not only are you brilliant and incredibly pretty, but you’re an amazing friend, too.” He grabbed my hand and gripped it tightly in both of his then stared right into my eyes. “And you’re a wonderful mother. Just watch, you’re going to be great at this just like you are at everything else.”

Tears immediately sprang to my eyes and I gulped hard trying to keep them at bay. I felt a bit blindsided by this emotional pep talk right out of the gate; I really hadn’t expected it from Harry, of all people. The whole thing was starting to annoy me.

            “I’m a lousy flier. And I’m not that good of a cook. Stop trying to make me sound like I’m perfect; I’m not.”

            “Yeah, well, who cares about that stuff? Where it counts, you’re extraordinary, okay? Ron knows that he’s insanely lucky to have you. Believe me; he’s very aware of this. We’re all lucky to have you, to be honest.”

Something had suddenly clicked for me then and heat seemed to rush through me.

            “Has he put you up to this? What’s Ron been telling you about me?” My tone had been harsh and Harry’s concerned expression went grave for a moment. I threw up my hands to cover my face. I was being a bitch again when he had only been trying to help. “God, sorry. I’ve been a complete ogre to him, Harry. Truly awful. And he doesn’t deserve any of it. I don’t know how he can stand me right now,” I wailed, feeling the tears burn as they threatened to come.

            “He hasn’t told me anything,” he blurted, but I dropped my hands in my lap with a look that told him I didn’t appreciate being lied to. Harry turned sheepish as he recanted.

            “Okay, so, we’ve talked a bit about…you know, your depression. He’s worried about you, is all, and he has every right to be. But I told him that you’re going to bounce back from this better than before. Because you will. I’ve known you a long time, Hermione. You’ve never let me down.” He had leaned back in his chair, but reached across the table to take hold of my hand again. This time I squeezed it back, still trying to keep myself from falling into a weepy mess. His easy smile made his conviction in my ability to shake this blackness off feel all the more possible but I worried that it was a challenge I wouldn’t be able to meet.

            “Look, I know what it can be like. I’ve been there. And it’s hard to explain it to people who aren’t in it, that self-doubt and the utter despair that turns everything to shit. But you’re going to get through this, luv; you just need to stop putting all of this pressure on yourself. Do you know what I mean?” I gave him a slight nod, but I couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe. “And I want you to understand that…if you need anything from me, anything at all, even just to talk; you know you can come to me, right?”

I sat back against my chair and crossed my arms, feeling something close off inside of me. Expelling a great swoosh of breath, I watched Rose gum her fingers, her face solemn and eyes big while she stared back at me. Harry offering to talk with me about complicated, emotional matters seemed surreal. I thought about the many times the shoe had been on the other foot and how he had always brushed off my attempts to help him ease out of his moods.

            “Talk about confusing a girl, Harry,” I cracked, “one second you’re commenting on my arse then before I know it you’re dropping all of this heavy advice on me. Bit unfair, don’t you think? I thought we were going to chat about your kinks today and you set me up, instead. Prat.” Harry just gave me another one of those winning, ‘I’m-Harry-Bloody-Potter’, grins.

            “Yes, well, I did learn from the best,” he smirked before angling his head and eyeing me distrustfully. “And what made you think I was going to discuss my kinks with you, especially here?” He glanced around and then lowered his voice. “I would have thought you’d seen plenty enough the other day, dear, and then receieved quite an explanation. What else do you need to know, for fuck’s sake?”

            “Well, you must admit, Harry, it’s a pretty fascinating subject. Boy-Who-Lived with a hero complex discovers he’s got major control requirements and a dark, dominant sexual side. I can’t help but be intrigued. I mean, plastic sheeting as a restraining device? Really? What other depraved things have you come up with? Inquiring minds would like to know.”

Seeing Harry’s complexion turn beet red was enormously gratifying and I mentally checked off a scorecard in my head as I watched him gawp at me like a fish on land for a few moments. Finally he gasped, “Are you serious?” His nervous giggles were endearing so I pressed on.

            “I’m dead serious. You don’t think this bears some reflection, Harry? How are you ever going to get it under control enough to satisfy Ginny if you don’t explore where it all stems from to start with? We can all agree you have issues. So what are you going to do about them?”

He was taken aback, at first. His mouth formed an angry ‘o’ to retort before stopping suddenly to look around at the nearby patrons of the café. He reached for something by his leg and then leaned into the table, his arm making movements underneath it. An instant later, I heard the low buzzing of a Muffliato spell in action.

            “You’ve got issues, too,” he hissed. “Everybody does. I—I’m working on mine the best that I can. How is describing my fetishes to you supposed to help any?” He made a petulant face. “Nice way to get the topic off of you, by the way.”

            “I’m bored to death of my problems. Yours are infinitely more interesting. Now, out with it; when did this start, exactly?”

He was saved momentarily by the arrival of our food, but he glared at me while the waiter set several plates on the table. As soon as the server walked away, however, I tucked into my salad and waved a hand at him to carry on. One eye gave a slow blink while he contemplated what he was going to tell me, but eventually he sighed, picking up a fork as he started on his chips.

            “Fine. It started about, I don’t know, maybe a year or so after Ginny and I had begun having sex. I don’t think I can pinpoint the exact moment, but uh, yeah, it was probably around that time when I first asked her to…to…” I stayed calm as he struggled to finish the sentence, his skin going blotchy again, but with another gusty sigh, he continued. “The first time I asked her if I could tie her up.” He studied my face for a reaction, but I kept my features placid even while dirty images of the two of them invaded my thoughts almost instantly. “She thought it was funny at first.”

            “And what about you, Harry; did you think it was funny? Nothing more than a strange quirk? Or did it feel like something bigger?”

            “It felt like something much bigger. Massive, actually, and that I was just grazing the tip of the iceberg.” he stated without a moment’s hesitation.

            “Well, I gather she let you go through with it, regardless of how amusing she found it. How did it go? When did she start getting difficult about this...alternative play?”

It was quite something to see Harry squirm so uncomfortably in his seat as he pondered over just how much he should tell me. He’d discarded his Auror robes before we’d left the Ministry, but he still gave off an air of authority in his sharp Muggle attire, and yet the years rolled back as he reminded me of his fifth year self, so out of his depth in his grief and loneliness as he dealt with the animosity that had been directed towards him then.

            “She didn’t put up a true fuss until much later, after she was pregnant and I had asked her to do a lot more. But it was great that first time, she seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. Even…” he’d blushed again, “even the, uh, the spankings.” A cough as he looked away from me. “She didn’t complain about that, either. It was…pretty, bloody intense the more we kept at it. And we, uh,” he gave me a sideways glance, still looking mortified. “We kept at it a lot. Every day, pretty much. By the time she was asked to go on the road with the Harpies, I—I didn’t want her to leave my side for a second. It’s horrible, I know, I was totally selfish, but I tried to convince her to pass on their offer.”

I was shocked by that. Ginny had never implied that he’d been against her playing Quidditch professionally so early on. Of course, a month after their wedding, she was already announcing her pregnancy and that she was leaving the team. That had been a surprise; I had expected them both to be focused on their careers before starting a family, but with Harry’s reveal, suddenly, I could see an ulterior motive afoot.

            “It was like I felt addicted to it, the more she let me get away with…controlling her. Merlin, every time she was back in town, it was like, I had to possess her or something. I needed to have more and more of her body.” He laughed, looking a bit sick. “I—I started getting really creative with the things I was doing to her. I’d—borrow ideas from my training modules in class and try them out on her. And there were all kinds of …techniques we had to learn that were really...inspiring, you could say. It didn’t matter how exhausted I was when I got home, she was my main priority the minute I stepped through the door. Sometimes, it was like I got off on the ritual of preparing her more than the actual sex.”

I stayed quiet while he hung his head, but when he looked into my eyes, I could see the desperation in his face, as though he’d felt doomed to repeating the same mistakes.

            “I don’t know why I’m like this, Hermione, but sometimes, I’m—I’m scared of finding out. I don’t think I really want to know. I realize that none of this comes from a particularly good place. What if I open those doors and I let loose a flood?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, but I thought about that flood and what it might look like. Something in me wanted to see Harry unleashed and wild. And that was a part of me that I found a bit scary, too. No longer feeling like taunting him, I acknowledged that we were hardly in the proper place for the type of discourse this was likely to lead to.

            “I want to help you, Harry. Ron has to work late tonight for this case he’s on. You should come over for dinner. You can keep me company and we can talk more about this.” I let my hand rest on his. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”

His smile was so wistful and sad that it made my breasts ache. Rose gurgled in the sun as her feet kicked at the air. When Harry’s thumb slid along mine, I tried to ignore how my stomach did another flip-flop.
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Folie a Deux

Chapter 3