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
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Chapter 4

I suppose you think you’ve arrived at the naughty part, do you? Well, don’t bother getting your toys out just yet, you tossers.

Harry did come by that night and we spent the evening chatting about all sorts of things, not just his sexual woes. It was still good to see him open up; Harry grew more comfortable and candid as the night wore on. By the time Ron had made it home, Harry and I were being quite silly, both of us laughing at any and all provocation. Poor Ron looked dead on his feet, but upon seeing the two of us giggling like first years he’d quickly eased into our good spirits. It was well after midnight once I’d finally remarked that we’d best make our way to bed. Harry gave each of us a hug before Disapparating, smacking another wet kiss to my cheek as he bid me goodnight.

            “Blimey, for someone whose marriage is hanging by a thread, he’s sure one happy bugger.” Ron had joked halfheartedly as he’d pulled up his pyjamabottoms and slid into bed.

            “I think he’s just knackered. He did tell me that dinner every night with Ginny and James has been going remarkably well, particularly in the last week. He seems to think she’s softening up a bit. He’s optimistic that their situation won’t be for very long. I hope for both their sakes that he’s right but you know how Harry likes to rush to conclusions. And Ginny can be as stubborn as Harry when the mood strikes her. They really should be seeing a counselor if they’re going to work this out with any kind of success.” I had really believed that, too. I didn’t think that either of them could look at their problems objectively enough to properly resolve them.

            “I don’t know what that is and I don’t care to find out,” Ron grumbled before burrowing into my side, his arm falling heavily across my torso.

Ron really does relish being ignorant of Muggle terms. I used to think he did it purposely to annoy me but then it occurred to me that this was another connection that Harry and I shared; growing up with Muggle concepts, and that ultimately his dismissal had more to do with his insecurities than a desire to antagonize. It was another place where he was on the outside of our experience, and that typically made him tetchy.

But Ron had made a good point even if it was an aside, and it set me to wondering where Harry’s buoyancy had really sprung from. He had confessed that it hadn’t been easy on him to keep to the dinner schedule—he’d been involved in at least two high-profile cases at the time— but he knew it was necessary if he was going to convince Ginny he was serious about their reconciliation. I had never imagined that his devotion to her would ever be called into question; to the rest of us it looked as though he doted on her, and yet, from what Harry had told me about his nature I could just as easily see it from her point of view. Harry had been objectifying her, even going so far as to be making important life decisions for her with apparently little regard for her feelings on the matter. While one could make a case for self-absorption in his youth, this selfish streak of Harry’s was an altogether new face on him, and it seemed to arise solely in his relationship to her. There had to be a reason for it, and I was determined to find out the answer.

That night hadn’t been the time to grill him, however. It felt marvelous just basking in his cheer. It was so rare to see Harry in a genuinely playful mood that one had to extend those moments for as long as possible. Still, I worried that he was setting himself up for disappointment and I considered Firecalling Ginny the next day to invite her over. Perhaps she would shed some light on her true feelings for him, or if the marriage was even salvageable. But I had a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t be that forthcoming with me and the more I thought about talking to her the more my thoughts would turn to just what Harry did to her.

All right, I know this was probably expected, but…well…I ended up buying a few books about alternative sexual practices. Don’t roll your eyes. How else does one expect to become informed on a previously unknown subject? They were actually quite helpful, in terms of identifying specific behaviours and their roots. I started to work out a few theories based on my impressions of Harry’s character and the things he’d gone through. Surely his heightened sexuality could be explained through an intense need for affection? When we were kids, I used to think he was starving for even the slightest bit of it, although a simple hug would turn him stiff as a board. His neglect at the hands of his relatives would certainly have distorted Harry’s view of basic human touch and one’s need for it. While Harry had always been compassionate, you could definitely see him struggle with intimacy through the years. Poor Cho Chang never stood a chance.

But he had changed through his relationship with Ginny, and the birth of his son. No longer afraid of rejection, I imagine, he would often be the first one to initiate contact. He wasn’t inhibited by public shows of affection, either, often wrapping an arm around Ginny’s shoulder or waist in a way that was rather possessive. I used to think it was sweet, but suddenly his attention carried a darker undertone. I summoned a memory of the two of them at some Ministry function, him leaning in to kiss the side of her head as she spoke to some dignitary, and the image had taken a decidedly aggressive sheen. Yet the way he touched me and Ron had changed, too, and I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy this newfound physicality.

Definitely thoughts that kept me up into the night.

A few weeks later I was sitting on his couch nursing a cold cup of tea and ignoring the last bite of treacle tart at Grimmauld. Ron hadn’t made it home for dinner again, but Harry, having just returned from Godric’s Hollow, had called me up to see what I was doing. I took off with Rose in the Floo without a moment’s pause. He looked to be in a more pensive mood that day, and I immediately suspected that something had gone awry with Ginny. Instead of bombarding him with questions, however, I presented him with a gift. Ron’s moods weren’t the only ones I’d learned to manage.

            “What’s this?” he eyed me curiously as I wordlessly handed it over. It was still in the bag from the store. “You’re giving me a book?” He slid the paperbook out of its plastic and took a look at the cover, surprising me with a mirthful laugh.

            “What? I’m serious about this, Harry, and this one seemed to be more useful than the rest. It makes a lot of sense.” I could feel the heat bloom in my cheeks again, but I crossed my arms in the face of Harry’s continued guffawing.

            “Oh, Hermione; you’re priceless, don’t ever change. This is great, thank you. But,” he shook his head as he chuckled again, “I—I already have this one. I bought it a long time ago, actually. And you’re right, it’s been extremely useful to me.” He flashed me a grateful smile. “I appreciate the gesture, though. It’s so…very, very Hermione of you.”

But rather than feeling teased, I was excited about the prospect of Harry seeking out research on his own. You could almost say I felt proud.

            “Well, that’s really excellent, Harry! I was…looking for something in town and I came across this title. I thought it might provide you with some answers.”

He shot me one of those disarming looks he’s prone to and I felt that fluttering in my stomach again. “You just came acrossthis, huh? Funny. Makes me wonder what you were looking for to begin with. Something you need to tell me, Hermione?” He arched an eyebrow in a rather accurate imitation of Snape and I knew I was blushing again.

“Oh, go on. I’m as straight and narrow as they come. I—well, honestly, I was looking for you. I’m happy to hear, however, that you took it upon yourself to learn more about this side of you, Harry. Like I’ve said before, you can’t really expect to control it without understanding it first, right?”

But his smirk only broadened. “Er, honestly? This one was definitely educational, but probably not in the way you’re thinking. Dead useful it was, although I don’t think Ginny appreciated its instruction quite as much as I did.”

I gaped back at him with reproach, but he just laughed again.

“Sorry, I’m terrible. I’ve obviously spent way too much time with the Weasley brood.”

“Well, no wonder Ginny finally had enough, Harry, if that’s your attitude. Why do you always have to take everything to the extreme?”

I had a sudden flash of irritation with him, finally understanding what it must have been like for her but Harry was instantly abashed; his grin dropping.

“I don’t mean to, okay? It’s not like I don’t comprehend the gravity of the situation. It’s just that—”

He clamped his mouth shut, seeming once again like that lost, little boy as he turned away from me, his eyes roving everywhere but my face and his knee jittering up and down like a spasm.

            “It’s just what, Harry? Spit it out. You know I’ll just keep badgering you until you do. I’m only trying to understand. This is for your benefit.”

            “Yeah, well, it’s hard to explain. I mean,” He gave a deep sigh. We were both getting good at those. “It isn’t that I really don’t have a clue as to what’s behind this need; I do—at least, part of it, to a certain extent. The problem is getting the words to come out of my mouth. I don’t know...I just don’t know how to say it. I never thought I’d have to. That’s part of the appeal, Hermione; it’s about doing, not sitting around examining.”

            “Fine, then don’t talk about it. You don’t have to examine a thing, Harry. Ginny will ask for a divorce and you can go do whatever it is you’re doing to your heart’s content and with however many stupid slags you find willing to be tied up and shagged silly by the great Harry Potter. I’m sure seeing James and your new baby every other weekend will be great for you.”

I slammed my cup to the table and stood up hastily, grabbing for Rose’s nearby bag so I could turn my back to him. I couldn’t help it, I was angry. Men can be such idiots, sometimes. But I’d barely taken two steps before I felt Harry’s fingers circle around my elbow and jerk me back.

            “Hey! Don’t be like that. You know how difficult this is for me!”

He’d pushed me back down to the sofa and was gripping both of my arms tightly making me flustered again. That seemed to be my automatic response in the face of confrontational Harry, but at that moment I had something burning in my chest that was demanding I push him. I wanted to pick a fight with him, but only if he reacted the way I intended, and Harry’s moods could still swing around unpredictably on occasion. But the pleading look in his face told me to stand firm.

            “Shit, Hermione, cut me some slack. I’m trying, okay? I—I can’t even talk to Ginny about this. I mean, we start to, but then—it just all falls apart. I say the wrong word, and then…she jumps all over me, arguing over every single thing I give her like I’m making excuses. I’m not. I just went through….”

He paused again, loosening his hold on me and staring down at his lap. I kept perfectly still, my expression stony, but in my thoughts I goaded him on. When he looked back up, his features were set in steely defiance.

            “When I was in the Forbidden Forest,” he began more softly, “…going to meet him, and preparing to…well, to die, I opened the Snitch, Hermione. The Resurrection Stone was inside and I used it. I was scared shitless, I really didn’t want my life to end, but I knew—I knew that was the only way. But I needed…some help. I wasn’t strong enough to do it on my own. And then, there they were. My mum and dad. Sirius. Even Remus was there. It’s why I wasn’t shocked when I got inside the hall and saw his body. I already knew he was dead.”

His eyes followed the slide of his hands down my arms which then tightened around my wrists, pulling my fists into his lap. I didn’t dare breathe in case I disrupted him. My eyes burned as I held in the tears that forever seemed to spring forth at the drop of a hat.

            “I open at the close. I used to wonder what that meant. But I’ve sort of come to understand it over the years. It’s like, one door on your life shuts, but then another one appears. I had a chance to leave a part of myself behind. I can still see…Tom…huddled in the corner, his true essence revealed. He was so pathetic. It’s a reminder for me, Hermione. I wanted all of that…bullshit I’d let myself believe growing up, I wanted to leave that at the close. And it was like—like I was Fawkes, coming back in a blast of fire, starting anew. It was so hard witnessing all of the loss after that battle, how many lives and families were shattered after the war, but I felt—I don’t know, determined in a way that helped me to get over the grief. I felt…acceptance. I had learned to accept fate, that some things were just meant to happen, but I didn’t have to do it in a passive way. I had to…I could see that death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to you. That souls lived on. That the people I had lost still loved me and believed in me. And I had to make this life count.”

Harry’s voice cracked and grew rougher as he squeezed my wrists tighter. I knew he was trying desperately not to cry, but I was still paralyzed, my eyes huge while I hung on to his every word.

            “I promised myself that I would blot out Voldemort’s stain on my whole existence, wouldn’t let those same insecurities keep trapping me. But as Ginny and I started to build a life together, it dawned on me that those darker bits inside of my head? Well, not all of it was from him. Some of my more fucked up thoughts…they were just me. But this is who I am, warts and all, and I owe it to myself to make my own choices, lead my own life. I can’t deny what comes naturally to me, what’s instinctive. And the truth of it is I don’t really want to. I’m just trying to make this work…for all concerned, without obliterating me in the process. I can’t go backwards, Hermione. I can’t keep doing what people expect of me, like I’m some wind-up toy that’s just there to be inserted into history where I’m required.”

He finally let go of me, but dropped his palms to my knees, curving his hands around them as he sighed.

            “The real truth is,” and he snorted sarcastically before staring straight at me, “I’m a bit of an asshole. And that’s my right. I mean, sure, I think I’m mostly a good person. But I’m not a fucking saint! And sometimes….sometimes, I just want to…” but he pulled away from me again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Look, I haven’t had an easy life. I’m not using that as an excuse, I’m just stating a fact. Growing up with the Dursleys certainly didn’t help. I’d be an idiot to say that none of it left its mark on me. No one—there’s no one whom I can compare notes with, no one who can tell me, ‘yeah, I know just what it’s like, mate. Chosen One and all that rot, dying to save the world, we’ve all been there’. So I’ve got to figure this out on my own as I go along. I’m not looking back, ever again. What’s in the past can stay there. But now, right now, this is me, and this what I have to offer. I need someone who can help me play this out, whatever it is, and I want it to be Ginny so badly, you have no idea. But what if it’s not meant to be her?”

His query hovered between us like a blast of hot steam that was too near your skin and I pulled away from him, settling back against the armrest of the sofa. I didn’t know how to answer him, but in all fairness, I was still reeling from what he’d just admitted to me.

            “You’ve never told me that story before. About the stone and your parents. I didn’t know…I can’t even imagine—”

            “I’ve never told anyone. You’re the first.” And his expression suggested the enormity of what he’d just given me. “I’d rather you kept this between us, alright?” I nodded my head. “It’s just that…Ron and Ginny, they’re Weasleys. They all shout a lot and think with their hearts…not unlike me. You’re different from us, Hermione; always have been. I know I can tell you something and that you’re going to be reasonable about it, for the most part. You’re rational and calm and steady and all those other wonderful things that I’m not. When I try to tell Ginny about these feelings I have…she gets upset and yells at me, she wants…I don’t know what. I tell her that I feel guilty about something and she tells me I’m being stupid, because I don’t see the situation the way everyone else clearly does. And when something makes me feel powerful, she thinks I’m just being a dick. But that doesn’t make those feelings go away, doesn’t mean that I can suddenly realize her perspective and go on as if it’s all hunky dory. I’ve had enough people in my life tell me I’m stupid, or that I’m worthless, so—that tactic doesn’t really wash with me.” He gave a lopsided shrug. “You give good insight, though. I’m sure I could probably use loads at the moment.”

I felt in a daze, really. This was as deep as I’d ever seen Harry. And it was inspiring, like I had someone on my level finally, as horrible as that sounds. I wanted to encourage this deep thinking Harry as much as possible, I just had to get my brain working again. I put my hands to my face and tried to rub the glaze from my eyes, wanting my reply to have an impact.

            “Well. That’s a lot to absorb, Harry. I’m…flattered that you feel that way about me.” And it was true. I can still vividly recall every instance where Harry told me, with such unmitigated exuberance, that I was brilliant. His praise always left me feeling like I was walking in the clouds.

            “That helps me to understand quite a lot about what you’re going through. It makes a bit more sense. When you were in school, and even before then, you often felt powerless, probably felt like there were forces which controlled every major event in your life. As much as Dumbledore cared about you, I imagine even his machinations could get hellishly frustrating. You wanted to feel empowered. Fighting was part of you taking active control over what happened to you. But now the fight is mostly over. You still go after the bad guys, Harry, but it’s different, the stakes aren’t as high. And for the first time, you feel like all of the control is in your hands. That can be a pretty heady feeling after being denied it for so long. It’s almost as though you’re drunk on the power. You’re one of the best Aurors in the department, Harry; everyone acknowledges it. Even Ron looks up to you and he’s convinced you’ll be replacing Shacklebolt in another few years. Because you’re in charge and that’s satisfying, fulfilling. It’s your calling, really; you’ve always been a leader. But you don’t know how to keep it in one place, you’re too passionate. It’s not surprising that the thrill would bleed over into your personal life. Sex is pretty powerful in its own right, and your desire to have some control of your life has extended to not only your sexual pleasure, but your partner’s as well. In a partnership, however, you’re expected to relinquish some of that control, unless…you find another way to express it.”

God, insufferable, aren’t I? Bloody pompous twit, right? Like, in what context did I feel qualified to advise just about everyone on subjects I barely knew anything about, anyway? As though I were some expert on the BDSM mindset that I could reel off answers for Harry’s inner turmoil with such conviction? No wonder Snape hated me; I don’t know how my friends ever put up with such nonsense. I think by that point I had really started to believe my PR, too. Brightest witch, my arse. I’d soon come to find out that I knew nothing at all.

Even still, I had expected a scowl from Harry for attempting to psychoanalyze him, but when I turned to look at his face he was smirking.

            “See? Who needs a shrink when I have you to explain my issues for me? And think of the money I’ll save. I’m in good hands here.”

I ate it up, of course, beaming from ear to ear with a pride that was unwarranted.

            “What do you know of psychiatrists, anyway, Harry? They’re not exactly what you’ve seen on the telly.”

            “Well, I know about the ones I had to talk to in junior form. Christ, there were bloody enough of them; always asking me questions about home and why I lied about everything and then scribbling down their notes. The first one that visited the house…Vernon had a fit afterward. I couldn’t sit on my arse for a week. So, they’re not too high up on my list of people I’d like to spend time with. I’d much rather chat with you.”

I frowned at the picture he’d described. As much as I cherished getting these little bits of Harry’s past, they tended to hurt like hell.

            “Blimey, Harry, you’ve never told me that. I remember you mentioning getting into trouble after turning your teacher’s hair blue, but nothing about school counselors.”

            “Yes, well, there’s lots you don’t know about me, dear. I’m kind of a secretive bloke.”

He was still smirking at me, however, so I just slapped at his knee.

            “You joke, but it’s true. I guess, with us, we were always too busy discussing whatever plan Voldemort had to kill you that we never got around to the basics, like what our lives were like before we came to Hogwarts.”

            “Trust me, mine wasn’t terribly interesting. Although,” and he took hold of my hand again, “I should have asked more about your life at home. I was such a shit, so wrapped up in my ongoing drama that I never bothered to find out what you did away from school. I mean, what was primary school like for you? What kind of friends did you have? Who was the first boy you ever had a crush on? I only first met your parents at your wedding, for fuck’s sake. I must hold the record for crappiest best friend ever.”

Then it was my turn to laugh. Nothing like Harry berating himself to totally endear him to me.

            “Merlin, you don’t half like to whine on about how crap you are at everything, don’t you? If there’d been a course at Hogwarts for humility, you’d have scored an O, easy.”

We grinned at each other some more, but I set my face in a semi-serious expression before I answered.

            “Primary school was a joke, I didn’t have any friends, just children who liked to make fun of me, and the first boy I had a crush on was Samuel Billings, although, thank the stars, he never knew. But,” and I inclined my head as I pretended to ponder on the man before me, “Samuel Billings was but a wisp of a memory once I’d met the ONE, the ONLY, Harry Potter.”

My heart swelled to hear the burst of laughter from Harry’s wide open mouth, his head tipping back from the gale of it.   His eyes crinkled when he looked back at me gleefully.

            “Oh go on, you did NOT have a crush on me.” I only gave him a half-shrug and a mysterious smile. “I looked like a drowned rat first year. Talk about puny and pathetic. I was sure I’d disappointed every wizard I met once they saw my scar and figured out who I was.”

            “You did not. You were adorable.”

            “Oh, God, thank you Madame Pomfrey. You always did have a thing for the underdog, Hermione. You’re such a bleeding heart.”

            “Ha ha, so are you. You were unfailingly kind as a child, Harry, and you haven’t changed in that regard. So I’m not going to buy into all of these pronouncements of what a sodding bastard you are.”

I crossed my arms and gave him my best Professor McGonagall glare.

            “You just want to believe that you’re this awful creep deep down and that you couldn’t possibly be any of those glowing things people say about you. But you’re full of shit, Harry Potter. You know you’re a threat in a fight, that there are elements of you destined to make you successful, but you can’t help being good. It’s who you are. It’s in your bloody DNA.”

Harry didn’t say anything but the way he looked at me was a little unsettling. After a few moments of silence, I raised my eyebrows at him trying to extract some kind of response, and it was then that his lip curled up in the most predatory grin I’d ever seen on him. I had a flashback to Malfoy Manor all of a sudden, Fenrir’s frightening leer looming in my thoughts.

            “Well…you always did know me best, Hermione.”



The weeks went by as I settled into a comfortable groove with Harry. It’s an understatement to suggest that my depressed mood had lifted considerably with every get-together. No longer feeling so defeated and angry at a force I couldn’t name, I tried to convince myself it was due to Rose’s even temperament. Her colic had subsided and she was finally sleeping through the night. But I know now that I had been looking to Harry as a solution, a problem that I could tackle and enjoy some success with. If I could help him fix his marriage, or help him figure out how to repair his destructive side, than I would prove to myself that I could still be counted on, that I could get the job done. After all, as much as Harry struggled under his identity issues, I inherently understood how those expectations others had of him could be smothering, and that the sense of rebelliousness it fueled by playing against type might be necessary. We both had labels to bear, and there were times I was fed up with it. I felt like I didn’t know who Hermione Granger really was: war hero, brain trust, defender of the exploited, faithful wife, ideal mother? They were just titles to me that no longer meant anything.

I had taken top honors at Hogwarts. I had an Order of Merlin, first class. I’d gone on to university and received my degree, then started a program for students leaving magical schools who wanted to continue with their education in the Muggle world (it was surprising how easily our Potions and Arithmancy studies could be converted to Chemistry and Maths, for example). Once I’d been hired at the Ministry and joined the Department for Magical Creatures, I had revamped the division practically single-handedly, and had been recognized for making strides in the rights of all beings with several awards. I had given speeches dozens of times, before countless committees and crowds, for memorials, fundraising banquets, grand-openings, whenever they needed me. I had a slew of certificates framed in my office; what Ron jokingly referred to as my ‘wall of shame’. I was Accomplished, as they say, with a capital A. And for the first time, none of it mattered to me. I was no longer interested in topping my last victory. I wasn’t even interested in being a good housekeeper. Rose’s birth had knocked the stuffing out of me, but the more I spoke with Harry, the more I started to realize why it had happened. While still under the impression that my aim was to find out about my friend, it was only later that I discovered I was finding out about myself. And what I learned wasn’t always good. By the end of it all, I would uncover some truly horrifying things about what Hermione Granger was capable of.

The evening that everything changed began on a bit of a strange note. It had capped off an upsetting and exhausting day, one that had seen one of the worst fights Ron and I had had in some time. With the talk of Harry’s future, I’d been thinking a lot of my own, and in preparation I’d hung up a calendar in the kitchen to follow the days leading up to my return to work. I’d come down the stairs to start breakfast, Rose on my hip, and found Ron leaning against the sink, arms across his chest with a coffee mug clutched in one hand, and staring at the row of black crosses I’d marked off for the past week with a furrowed concentration that was blighted by the angry descent of his mouth.

“What’s this, then?” I got by way of a morning greeting. “I’ve been standing here for the last quarter hour trying to puzzle it out and I’m not particularly fond of any of the answers I’m coming up with.”

He tilted his chin in the direction of the current calendar page. At the bottom of it were three more squares of numbers representing the approaching months, and I had circled, in red, October 15^th.

“Well, what does it look like? I thought I should take note of how much time I’ve got left before I’m back at work. I’ve got a lot to get sorted before then, and I might pencil in some meetings with my boss as the date gets closer. I’m going to be snowed under with paperwork as it is, I don’t want to be further behind than I need to be.”

“But October? That’s a bit soon, don’t you think? I thought we’d already addressed this. Rose won’t even be a year old. What’s your hurry?”

I flinched at the implication, but still jumped to my defense. Perhaps it was a bit early, but I didn’t feel like placating Ron that day and my tone took on a hard edge. Obviously, I should have heeded the dark cloud sitting atop his head. I walked right into that one.

“I’m not in a hurry, Ronald, but really, how long do you expect them to do without me? They’ve got two people trying to do my job along with their own. And it’s not like your mum isn’t chomping at the bit to take care of her granddaughter, anyway. I’ll have weened Rose from breastfeeding by then, she’ll be all right.”

“Is that so? Well, speaking of my mum, she raised all seven of us like she wanted to be there. Growing up, whenever I needed her, she was always around. She didn’t just dump us on Nana Prewett so she could run off and play the office superstar.”

“Office superstar?” I’d screeched. “Is that how you see me outside of the house? You think I work for some sort of adulation? Get a grip, Ron. And I take my responsibilities at home quite seriously, for your information. I’m not running off!”

“Right, you keep telling yourself that. Honestly, Hermione,” and he sneered at me in a way that I never thought possible as he threw his cup in the sink, “I thought motherhood might change you, but not like…what we’ve been getting. Has it really been that hellish for you that you can hardly wait to get away from her? Why did you even bother? I thought you were the one who was ready for kids?”

He might as well have clocked me in the jaw; I saw stars for a moment. And then a rage swept over me so fiercely that I shook from the momentum and I had to lay Rose down in her pen before I dropped her.

“How…DARE YOU! We did talk about this, Ron, before she was even born; don’t act like it’s a bloody shock! And I’m sorry that I’m not your mother, but I never WILL BE, so you might as well get over this ridiculous image you have of me bustling around some gigantic brood of babies like that’s all I’m good for!”

“I don’t think that at all!” he boomed back, Rose already shrieking in the background. “But would it kill you to act like you want to be a part of her life? You’ve been a fucking zombie for months!! The only smile I ever get out of you is when you’re talking about Harry and all of these apparently amazing conversations you’ve been having! I tell you that Rose grinned at me the other day and you barely took your nose out of your book! And now I come downstairs to this,” he pointed accusingly at the calendar. “What the hell am I supposed to think? When we talked before, you promised me a year at least, and now you’re hacking it down to eight months? What kind of rubbish is this, Hermione?”

“Is it so awful that I enjoy being valued at my job? Did you think that making your supper every night and washing your laundry is the ultimate in personal satisfaction for me? That changing dirty nappies is what I live for? But whether I do or not, that doesn’t give you the right to question my worth as a mother! You KNOW how hard this has been on me, how terrible I’ve felt for not being…as natural to it as some women, but I want to thank you, Ronald, for finally telling me how you really feel. This will really do my self-esteem wonders, knowing that you think I’m shit as a parent.”

By then, Rose was screaming holy hell, and I turned my back to him so I could attempt to calm her down, but also to hide the tears that were beginning to stream down my face. My hands were still shaking violently as I made an effort to get a bottle together for her. I’d been freezing my breast milk so that Ron could give her occasional feedings, too, and I set a warming charm upon it. I was so agitated that there’d be no way I could settle down to feed her myself for her breakfast. I kept expecting Ron to backpedal suddenly, to realize that he’d gone too far and make some sort of apology. But all I got was silence. When I finally turned back to him, his expression had gone blank.

“I’ll get something to eat at the office. Don’t worry about dinner for me tonight; I’ll be working pretty late.”

And then he’d grabbed for his briefcase and disappeared through the Floo. No goodbyes, no sorrys, nothing but his deep voice calling out his destination before he was gone.

All day I argued with him in my head. One minute I’d be leveling him with an imaginary, ingenious retort, the next I’d be falling into a guilty, sobbing mess. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and called Harry on the mobile, tearfully begging him on voice mail to come over after he was done with dinner. As soon as I had Rose down for her nap, I crawled into a hot bath and continued to cry intermittently over the horrible things that had been said that morning. I just felt so tired. I was tired of feeling like I was wrong, like I was a screw-up. These were foreign feelings for me, you understand, and I didn’t quite know what to do with them. It was as if my depression had never left, the inky blackness swirling around me while I struggled to keep my head above water. In an effort to feel something remotely pleasant for a few minutes, I wanked rather furiously, one hand pinching my nipples as hard as I could stand it, while another pair of fingers pumped inside of me. It took forever to come. I had a leg hanging over the tub’s edge, water splashing like a storm in a teacup as I grunted and thrust at the air. For a moment, I thought I might Firecall Ron at work to apologize, to coax him home for a low-down, dirty, make-up fuck. But when I tried to picture Ron’s face, all I could see were the greenest eyes imaginable staring down into mine. That did the trick and my long, winding moans seemed to seep into the ceramic tiles like mist.

Harry surprised me by showing up rather early that night. I didn’t even bother cooking, merely threw together a small salad for myself, which I was chewing joylessly on the couch when he popped into my living room to block my view of the telly. I startled at first, tossing lettuce up into the air from my plate, but upon seeing Harry’s goofy grin, I immediately felt a calm return to me. I’d tell Harry all about the fight and he’d make me feel better.

He apologized for scaring me with a giggle, which should have tipped me off right then, but I just blithely asked him what had happened to supper with Ginny.

“Oh, right. Well, she’s at her mother’s, her and Jamie. Do you suppose the two of them are complaining about me? My ears have been tingling all night, it’s really rather worrisome.” But he giggled again and gave me an easy smile, looking for all the world like the most worry-free bloke in existence. I chuckled back, feeling like I was missing something, but I held my hands out to him with a wiggle in my fingers.

“Well, your ears are sure to keep tingling for another few hours. I need you to listen to me moan on about the awful row I had this morning with Ron. Come over here and let me cry on your shoulders.”

No sooner had he seated himself beside me, I was throwing my arms around him and nuzzling my head on his shoulder, ready to rehash the entire fight. He felt good, solid, and smelled strongly of a sweet earthiness, like burning basil leaves. The scent reminded me of cigarettes.

“Harry, have you started smoking?” I wrinkled my nose as I pulled my head back, but the aroma was not unpleasant to me. I hated the idea of him starting such a foul habit, however.

“Uh…not, uh, not really, no. I mean, I smoked a blunt before I came over, but it’s not…you know, I don’t do it all the time.”

But I had no idea what that meant and just stared at him in confusion for a few more moments. When a sudden vision of Bill Weasley’s sleepy grin sprang into my head, I made the connection.

“Harry! Oh my God, are you stoned?”

His laugh was deep and made his chest rumble under my fingers. I could only gape back at him, floored by the news. This was definitely not the type of behaviour I was used to from him.

“Relax, luv. I just use it on occasion to take the edge off. It’s been a rough week and today was a real soul crusher. Had to stop by Bill’s so I could make it to Friday without AK’ing someone.” He then slapped my knee rather hard. “But not to worry, my little bushy haired wonder, you’re alright, so I won’t be pulling my wand on you anytime soon.”

“Gee, thanks,” I remarked in a droll voice. “Should I even bother telling you what happened then? Or are you not coherent enough to comprehend what I’m saying?”

Harry laughed even louder before giving me a wry smirk.

“Good Christ, Hermione, I’m not that irresponsible that I’d try Apparating while I’m off my gourd. Do you think I want to get splinched?” And then suddenly his face was right up to mine and he had his hands clutched around my waist, his breath pungent with an herbal tinge. “And I already know what happened, young lady. Ron gave me all the highlights.”

I sucked in my breath sharply before I could answer. It really was ridiculous how much of an effect he could have on my senses.

“Do you think he was right?” I rushed. “Do you think I’m being selfish?”

I couldn’t tell which was making my chest tighter, the idea that Harry might have disapproved of me, or the way he was running his hands up my sides until they pressed alongside my breasts.

“Hermione, don’t do this. It’s not about taking sides, alright? I mean, I get it, I know why you want to be back at work, and there’s nothing wrong with you wanting it. But you have to understand Ron’s side of it, too. Look at his family, look at how he grew up. He’s not expecting you to replicate the whole experience for Rose, but he just wants to know that…well, I guess that family is as important to you as it is to him.”

I was feeling strange then, with his thumbs rubbing the patch of blouse right under my bra, and had to put my hands to his arms so I could push him back while I shouted in his face.

“Of course family’s important to me! How could he think otherwise?! Is he daft?”

Harry gave me that maddening chuckle again, deep in his throat and disturbingly sexy.

“Well, we are talking about Ron…,” he laughed harder then caught himself. “Sorry, that was mean. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Bugger, you’re completely useless, aren’t you?” I muttered before Rose interrupted with her waking wail. “Excuse me; it’s time for someone’s dinner.”

“Ooh, dinner. I could do with a nosh-up, ‘Mione. Do you have any of that lasagna left from the weekend?”

I sent him to the kitchen while I went upstairs to fetch Rose from her crib. Once I’d returned to the couch, I could still hear him clanking around in the fridge, so I positioned Rose for her feeding, unbuttoning my shirt one-handed. Up until that point, I’d only ever fed her outside of our house when we’d been at the Burrow, and then it was usually done in the privacy of a bedroom. This was the first time a feeding had come up while Harry was there, and I tried to be nonchalant about doing it in front of him. He was my oldest friend, after all, and I didn’t want it to feel awkward for either of us. It wasn’t like he was unaccustomed to a woman breastfeeding, I’d reasoned; he’d watched his own wife.

I heard his footfalls come back into the living room, but then they paused at the archway. I glanced up to find Harry beaming at the baby, a chicken leg in hand.

“Merlin, they’re so precious like that, aren’t they? You two make such a beautiful picture.” I smiled back at him, a warmth enveloping me.

He walked towards the liquor cabinet and tipped his head to the glass doors. “You don’t mind if I help myself, luv?”

I shook my head and watched as he stuck the leg between his teeth and poured himself a shot of Firewhiskey. He waited until he sat down across from me before he knocked it back, plonking the glass to the table as he resumed eating.

“Goodness; that must have been some week, alright. Are you going to get pissed, too?” But he simply poked his tongue at me.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I just like a stiff one after supper.” He paused for a beat. “As does my wife,” he added with a motion of his hands and a sound like he was striking the cymbals of a drum set. “Thank you, thank you ladies and gents, I’ll be here all week.”

“Oh God, are you going to be like this all evening?” I complained, eyes rolling. It appeared I wasn’t going to get much opportunity to unload about that morning and I felt a little let down.

“Now come on, don’t be a grumpy bumpy about it. You know how I hate getting caught in the middle of your fights. What do you want me to tell you, Hermione? That Ron’s being an arse? That he had no right to get upset about your eager countdown to your return to the Ministry? That he was under the impression you’d be spending Rose’s first year at home and was a bit taken aback that you’d changed the plan without telling him? Honestly, you’re just going to have to wait for him to cool off and then talk it out. You know he’ll come round. He always does.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” I remarked. In my sensitive state, I honed in on the criticism his tone carried.

“It’s not one thing or the other, it just is. You plant your feet in the dirt and give him a thousand reasons why you’re right until he eventually folds. That’s just the way you two operate. Name one time when you caved to something Ron really wanted.”

“Well, what about you?” I snapped, ignoring his challenge. I was suddenly angry; feeling like Harry was deliberately pushing my buttons. That was a pastime usually enjoyed by our missing third member and I was thrown by it. I had really wanted Harry to be on my side, this time.

“What about me?” he queried, looking stymied.

“You certainly don’t give Ginny a whole lot of choice in the matter when you decide on something, do you? If it’s her career over your desire to have a family as soon as possible, well, we know who’ll win that round. And you did get her pregnant again rather quickly, don’t you think? Did Ginny get a say in that at all?”

My blasts were meant to get a rise out of him, but he just gawped at me for a moment before bothering to comment, looking vaguely curious rather than outraged.

            “What is this obsession you have about me getting Ginny up the duff again? We didn’t plan it, right? But it’s not like she objected to it at the time we found out. She didn’t object to the conception, either, as I recall. Where are you getting all of this Dark Ages crap that you think I’m forcing my wife to make babies for me without her consent?”

            “Oh don’t be ridiculous, I didn’t say that. But,” and Ginny’s face hovered in my thoughts for the merest second before I broke her confidence, “she did admit to me that she wasn’t entirely thrilled to be in her condition so soon after James was born. And she wasn’t too happy with your overbearing sexual demands, said she was getting tired of it. Truth be told, I wasn’t exactly surprised when you told me what was up with you two.”

This time it was Harry who rolled his eyes.

            “Ginny can be full of shit when she’s in a mood. She plays the long-suffering martyr almost as good as me. Believe me, it wasn’t the pregnancy that caused the rift, although the wonky hormones didn’t help much. And I think you’re getting the wrong impression about the sex, Hermione.”

            “Oh, am I? Tell me, what are you doing at Grimmauld Place again?”

            “I’m not saying we don’t have problems to work out, you cheeky bint, but you seem to be laboring under the illusion that I’m this lust-crazed maniac who’s preying on the vestal virgin. Let me make this abundantly clear…Ginny loves fucking just as much as I do. In fact, before the baby was born, she was a complete beast for it. It’s probably why she put up with my kinks as long as she did. The first pregnancy, she was randy all the time, didn’t matter how big her belly was. Even once things got too uncomfortable for penetration, we just stuck with oral sex. She was giving me a blowjob when she had her first contraction, for fuck’s sake.”

            “Okay, Harry, I get your point, no need to go into details.” My cheeks were heating up as I tried not to picture how Harry would look in that pose. “Be that as it may, MY point is that you’re criticizing me for something that you’re just as guilty of, only in your case, it’s more socially acceptable because you’re a man.”

I wasn’t sure what response I might get, but I certainly didn’t anticipate such robust laughter. Instead of replying, however, he just grinned at me foolishly for the next few minutes while I huffed with my displeasure.

            “Hermione,” he told me fondly, “you’re so funny.” And I think he meant it as a compliment, too, but it only perturbed me further.

            “Well, I’m not trying to be, you git.”

            “I know; that’s what’s so adorable. I can see why Ron likes to get you so riled up now,” he’d drawled then, his eyes flitting over me in a way that wasn’t typical from my best friend. “You’re quite sexy when you’re self-righteous.”

            “And you’re very high.”

Another grin like the Cheshire cat.

            “Yes…yes, I am. You should try it some time.”

            “Right, like that’ll ever happen,” I laughed obnoxiously, only to startle Rose who immediately got fussy.

I fiddled with my bra straps as I switched breasts for her, pulling up one as I moved Rose to my other side and then tugging the other cup down as my left boob popped out. Rose made discontent noises at the wait, but went quiet the second her mouth took hold of my nipple. The entire time I could feel Harry’s eyes on me, my skin prickling like ants were bustling underneath it. After a bit he got up to pour himself another drink, but when he sat down he had his wand in hand and waved it at the lights, dimming them instantly.

            “So she can fall asleep,” he explained when I gave him a disconcerted look. His gaze drifted back to my bust. I had a sudden thought about the outcome for his terrible, awful, no-good, difficult week.

            “Um, since things were so tough at work, does this mean you’ve been to see Narcissa again?” I was hesitant, like I really didn’t want to know the answer, but thought it would be good for me to hear it, anyway.

            “Ah, yes, Narcissssa,” he hissed, leaving gooseflesh on my arms and up my back. “Well, obviously not this week, but, uh, yeah, when I told you I was busy on Saturday...” and he held out his hands like there wasn’t much he could have done about it, “we, er, had a meeting.”

I sniffed in disapproval but it was halfhearted at best.

            “Hmmph, that still going on, is it?”

            “What can I say, Hermione, I really needed it that day.”

            “What exactly was it that you needed, Harry? Being able to bully someone around? Or the comfort of another body?”

            “The need to own her. To know that every response in her body, every shudder, every moan, every tremble in her limbs… is because of me. That I can do these things to her and she’ll love every minute of it.”

Harry’s eyes were boring into my own, distracted from my tits for the moment, and I wanted to squirm under the weight of his stare. I didn’t know what to say for a response and I was beginning to feel rather foolish when I saw his eyes drop again to Rose’s mouth suckling her dinner.

            “Harry, will you stop staring at my breasts, please. You’re freaking me out.”

His eyebrows had dashed upward, looking caught with his hand in the cookie jar, before he broke into another of his affable grins accompanied by some nervous laughter.

            “Sorry. Really. I, uh, they’re—fuck, Hermione, they’re beautiful tits, what do you want from me? It’s kind of hard not to look.”

            “Well, you don’t have to be so bloody obvious about it.”

            “Well, normally I’m not.”

I froze for a moment as I stared dully back at him, trying to suss out if he was saying what I thought he was saying. I was already shaken up by his rather overt compliment on my breasts. He answered by way of his laugh.

            “Hermione, I’m sorry, but I noticed you had a lovely rack some time back in sixth year. Just because I wore glasses, didn’t mean I was blind.”

I could feel myself blushing as I looked away, feeling the need to pull my blouse as far over Rose’s head as it could stretch.

            “Aww, don’t do that. I won’t ogle you, I promise. I just love watching a woman breastfeed, really; it’s sort of my thing. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

            “Fine, but perhaps I should do this upstairs. I don’t know what you find so captivating about it. I’m like this milking machine, totally not sexy.”

            “Not at all, luv; not at all,” he insisted. “Please stay. I think it’s the most beautiful sight imaginable, mother and child linked in such a life-giving moment. To be able to give sustenance to another human being like that, it’s got to feel incredible. You both look so peaceful, too, such serenity. I used to spend hours watching Gin feed James; I found it extraordinary. I think she got tired of it after a while and put him on bottle. But he’d be so content and happy with her, and then he’d fall into such a blissful, sated sleep. And then it was…you know,” and he did another one of those slow, deep chuckles in his throat, “uh, my turn. That was always good fun.”

I gaped at him again.

            “You’re joking, right?” My laugh was incredulous trying to envision it.

            “Oh, I’d never joke about that. It’s amazing. Wot, Ron never partook of…the mother’s milk? How could you guys not want to try it?”

            “Because,” I said through my mortified giggles, “it’s absurd!” I started laughing hard enough that I was making those embarrassing snorting noises I hated, which promptly caused me to cease mid grunt. Rose sounded her protest for a moment and then re-attached herself.

            “You’ve got that wrong. Fucking fantastic, more like. And of course, it goes without saying, sucking on her tits for a bit always led to more exuberant activities. The sex would be phenomenal. You two should give it a go sometime.”

I knew I was completely red-faced by then, I could feel the prickling heat run down to my neck and shoulders.

            “I can’t imagine, Harry—”

            “Oh, Hermione, please, what’s there to imagine? It’s a pretty simple concept. Plus, Ginny always comes like a rocket when I do it.” He turned serious for a moment and he glanced over my body again in that way that was making my heart rate increase every time I saw that expression.

            “I bet you’d look fantastic, too. I’d like to see that, actually.”

            “See what, Harry?” I asked my unease spooling into full-blown panic.

            “See your face…when you come. Watch Hermione Granger lose control.”

Once more, my mouth hung slack, looking quite gormless, I’m sure. I felt like words had virtually failed me, no quip ready on my tongue that could disguise how utterly affected I was by his advances. Rose tugging at my nipple as she fed suddenly felt incredibly erotic, my whole body was electrified. Harry had continued on, however.

            “Have you ever orgasmed like that, Hermione? Like you’ve got a dozen spells running through your body at once and you’ve got to scream from the force of it because it’s the only thing that can hold you in one piece? I bet that would be pretty spectacular to behold.”

            “Um. I think, perhaps, we should probably change the subject, Harry.” I spoke softly but all I could manage to hear was my heart pounding in my ears. “This—your questions are rather inappropriate, d—don’t you think?”

            “Nah, I don’t think, actually,” and he’d made a face as he shook his head, eyeing me up and down again. “You do know that Ron likes to chat with me about your sex life, right? He often feels the need to reiterate that it’s him who wears the trousers in the relationship. I know all about what you’re….willing to do in bed, for the record. I had to hear him whinge on about your lack of interest in oral for the longest time until I finally suggested he…you know…reciprocate. So you can thank me for that. All I’m asking is if you’ve ever had a mind-blowing finish. You didn’t deem it inappropriate when you were asking me questions about my sexual exploits.”

To say I was shocked was a bit of an understatement. Apoplectic, more likely.

            “Ron? Told you that? That I didn’t like—like—”

            “Sucking his knob? Yeah, he may have mentioned it a few dozen times. But on a positive note, I hear you’re much more into it these days.”

If I hadn’t had Rose latched to my chest, I would have probably walked out of the room. As it stood, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information, but my skin was enflamed at the thought of Ron…sharing such intimate things. Sure, it wasn’t just anyone he was discussing it with; Harry was almost an honorary member of our marriage, but still…I was outraged. And yet…also the slightest bit turned-on.

            “I—I really don’t know what to say about that, other than feeling even more livid with Ron right now. I can’t imagine what you must think of me. It’s—it’s a bit weird knowing that you...know stuff like that.”

            “Oh, not really, when you think about it. I realized you were a sexual being long before that came up, Hermione. It’s not like the thought never crossed my mind. And I don’t think Ron was trying to embarrass you, or anything. I mean, we’re best mates, we talk about personal stuff, and sex is pretty high up there as a topic of conversation. He probably overcompensates and talks more about the two of you because…well, really, I’m not about to share with him what I do to his sister on a regular basis…and I don’t think he really wants to know. You, on the other hand, seem quite fascinated by me and Ginny. So, I think a little quid pro quo is in order, Hermione. Unless you’re saying you’re off limits? That you’re the only one allowed to bring these things up? It’s quite all right for you to talk about what goes on in your bedroom with whomever you want, but not Ron? Gee, hypocritical, much?”

            “That’s hardly fair. I—I’m not saying that, I’m just…I wasn’t expecting…this is just a shock, okay? Bollocks, you just like to twist my words, whatever I say.”

            “Oh, dear; language, Miss Granger…I must have hit a nerve…but you never my answered my question, luv.”

            “What? What am I supposed to answer for you? Apparently, Ron has kept you on the up and up. Why’d you even pry about the breastfeeding? Surely he’s filled you in?”

But Harry had given me another slow, wicked smirk. I’m not sure when he got so good at those, or if it was simply a side-effect of the pot.

            “Well…I admit, I knew the answer to that already, but I wanted to see…your reaction. It was quite worth it. And I still want you to tell me whether or not you’ve ever had...”

            “No, alright?! I never have! C’or, you’re relentless! I mean, they’re very nice, they feel really good. I enjoy sex, Harry, no matter how much you think I’m a prude, but I don’t have mind-blowing orgasms, they’re just the regular kind. There, are you satisfied now? Clearly, I’m not as liberated as you and Ginny are.”

As annoyed as I felt with Harry’s smug tone, Rose appeared to be getting the brunt of it, and her wet cries as my tit fell out of her mouth yet again signaled her distress. I tried to soothe her with shushing sounds as I worked a nipple back between her doddering lips, trying to lock down my own tangled emotions. The clamp of my cunt as both nipples hardened from the sensation of her gums did not go unnoticed. There was something about Harry’s aggressive behaviour that tilted my ordered view of things, making me question what I’d even been fantasizing about these past months. It was quiet for a few moments while he watched me settle Rose, but when he spoke, his voice had softened.

            “I don’t think you’re a prude, Hermione. I think you’re a very passionate woman, incredibly so. But sometimes I feel…you hold yourself back. Like, you’re afraid to see what you might have lurking inside of you. Maybe you do need to be liberated.”

            “Well,” I replied just as quietly, still mindful of the baby, “I don’t know that Ron is up for the job right now. It seems more like he wants to throttle me.”

            “Who said anything about Ron?”

There was no mistaking such blatancy. I gave him a measured look, staring right into those mesmerizing eyes.

            “Are you suggesting yourself, Harry James Potter?”

That smirk broadened to a full-fledged shit-eating grin that lit up his face.

            “I’m only suggesting a drink between friends. A toast, if you will.”

            “Harry, I’m in the middle of feeding Rose, you know I can’t have any liquor.”

            “I wasn’t referring to Firewhiskey. As you say, you’re in the middle of feeding. It’s only polite to offer your guest what everyone else is having.”

This time, I couldn’t help the smile that overtook me and I burst out laughing. The idea was so ludicrous I couldn’t even entertain it seriously.

            “Alright, now you’re just taking the piss. Either that or whatever you’ve been smoking has really sent you round the bend.”

He chuckled again, in a guarded version, his eye contact never leaving mine.

            “If that’s how you want to look at it. I was being totally serious, however. It doesn’t have to be anything sexual, you know. It’s about the taste. Let’s say, for comparison’s sake. Just doing a bit of research, if you will.”

Was he under the impression that I was such an idiot that I could fall for that one? My expression said as much.

            “Right; and if I were to grab my wand right now, say, and express some milk for you into a wine glass? Would that be satisfactory?”

He grinned again and slowly shook his head.

            “You’re mad, you know that? Obviously this split with Ginny has done you in.”

            “This isn’t about Ginny. It’s not about anyone else except you and me. I’m just craving a bit of intimacy with my best friend, whom I love dearly. Nothing wrong with that, is there? Surely, after all we’ve been through together, Hermione, one lick of your tit isn’t going to bring us to ruin.”

            “And how often do you pose this same scenario to Ron? I suspect he might have an objection.”

He leaned back in his chair with a huff, his arms crossing but an unmistakable dare shining in his eyes.

            “You’re your own woman, Hermione. I’m sure you don’t run and tell Ron everything that you do. What he doesn’t know…”

But he left his thought unfinished, those eyes intense as he waited for me to say something. He’d put the ball in my court, so to speak, left it to me make the final decision. I sat there for what seemed like hours, waging an internal battle in my head. What had I really wanted from him? All of these silly fantasies I’d been having and now, here it was, a proposition dumped right in my lap and I was aghast at my willingness to even consider it. I look back on it now and marvel at the way I tried to justify it—how I’d been feeling off and not myself; that I was still angry at Ron; that I wanted to prove something to Harry—but the truth of it was that I wanted him, plain and simple. And I wanted him wanting me. As crappy as I’d been doing, I would immediately feel good when I was around him and that spoke volumes to me in the way that the three, even the four, of us had changed with each other. As I sat there holding my baby, Harry’s attention was white hot, all focused on me, and it reminded me acutely that I was still a woman, and not just a mother relegated to the land of the chaste.

I know; flimsy at best, but at that moment, I was simply trying to convince myself that what I was contemplating was just a taste. A harmless dare. We were just playing around, right? This ridiculous notion that Harry putting his mouth to my breast couldn’t possibly lead to anything untoward kept repeating in my head like a chant, as though if I willed it hard enough it would make it true. I made myself believe that Harry didn’t see me that way, even though everything he’d said that night was to the contrary, and that, regardless of what I had been feeling, he would stop us in time. The breast that didn’t have Rose glued to it tingled in anticipation and before I even knew what I was doing, I had pulled my blouse away from it and dragged down the bra’s silky cup, our eyes still locked together. He finally tore his eyes away and glanced at my exposed tit.

I hadn’t a moment to react when all of a sudden he was right in front of me, on his knees and his head tilted towards my chest as I gasped loudly. Even then, he stopped himself, reaching instead for the top of my shirt and pulling it halfway off, dragging my arm out of the hole, so that he could move his hand behind me to unhook my bra. I managed to get out one breathy Harry before he was removing it, letting it dangle under Rose on the other side of me while his hand returned to the small of my back and splayed across it, pushing me closer to him.

The second I felt his lips brush my skin, my body jerked upward. I seemed to stop breathing. I felt a hand press against my hip, keeping me still, and then there was tongue and teeth around my hardened nipple to contend with, making me gasp again. I groaned aloud at the first bit of pressure as those soft lips clamped down on me. My nerves felt chaotic, like they were pinwheels from Fred and George’s shop spinning out into the night, explosions of firecrackers in the background and that whizzing whine filling my head. I was aware of Rose’s barely-there gumming of one teat, but then Harry started to suck, and the difference was severe. Everything felt wet; the sweat on my skin; the milk pooled at Rose’s mouth; the slickness of Harry’s mouth as he licked and tongued me; the damp patch in the crotch of my knickers. His hand moved under my breast, holding the weight of it in his grip as he used his teeth to tug at me again. Conscious of the trembling in my arms and stomach, I suddenly worried for Rose, feeling like I might drop her at any moment if my muscles gave way.

            “Harry!” I panicked, “I can’t—can’t hold her up.”

My voice sounded slurred, as though it was me who’d been imbibing all evening. But then I felt his arm underneath her, holding us both in his strong clutch. He pulled his mouth off of me for a moment and I felt his hot breath ghost over my nipple, and then a tongue dart out to catch its drip. I realized my folly in that instant. This was no fucking game; nothing harmless about it. My eyes were shut tight, but I felt everything that was happening to my body, both inside and out. Harry bit me again and my back arched; when he pulled me tighter to him, I was slid forward on the cushion until his crotch was pressed against mine. The moan I emitted said everything in that second, what it was that I wanted right then. It took a few moments before I noticed that Harry had pulled away again, and when I felt his hand at my throat, his thumb pushing my chin up, I opened my eyes. Those eyes were staring straight into me again.

            “I’m going to take Rose upstairs,” he told me carefully, “she’s fallen asleep. I want you to stay right here. Don’t. Move. I’ll be back in a minute and I want to see you just like this, waiting for me. Understand?”

What could I do but nod my head dumbly? I no longer felt in charge of my senses, but was coasting along on whatever Harry was giving me. His voice was so…authoritative. It was automatic that I would heed his instructions, like I was a child in the thrall of a beloved parent. I sat there while he took the baby away and did as he said, my legs still hanging on each side of the chair like I was keeping his spot open for him. My stomach felt sticky; the way my body was curved into the seat the residual secretions of each breast had splashed to my torso and rolled downward. If I could have managed to picture myself in that state, I’m sure I would have running screaming from the room, mortified by my slatternly presentation.

But I stayed frozen, and then I heard thumps coming down the stairs as Harry hurried back. When I saw him step into the room, I had a sharp intake of breath, awakened to my surroundings again. Harry looked…wild. The desire in his eyes had darkened them to a shade of green that could only be found thick inside the forest’s canopy, obliterating all light to the floor below. He didn’t walk towards me as much as he stalked into view. His features were set with the type of determination he had before a fight. As he gained closer, in one sweeping motion he’d pulled his glasses from his face and threw them to the couch, and then in the same breath pulled his tee-shirt up over his head and flung it in the same pile. I sat up swiftly, his name halfway out of my mouth, but then he was right in front of me once more and I felt dizzy with his presence. Back on his knees, his hands were quick to drag off the remainder of my shirt and bra, but then he startled me by pushing me backwards, fingers popping the button of my shorts loose from its hole before unzipping them.

I cried out for him to wait, as another wave of panic surged through me, but he was already tugging them down over my knees, and then they’d been slipped over my flats, one of them falling off in the motion. When his hands came up again, I grabbed hold of both of his wrists, terrified that he was going to go further, but he stared into my eyes again and intoned his demand for me to move them. I let go, caught up in his gaze and the power in his voice, but instead of touching my panties, he propped up my knees with his hands and then spread them to hang over the arms of the chair. He leaned down, his head falling to take in a nipple again, but his chest now pressed tight against my groin, his shoulders almost resting under my legs. I was bent in half by this time, and feeling completely swept away as Harry held nothing back, now eagerly drinking from me with his head turned up, mouth open, like a baby bird chirping for supper.

When I felt a hand squeeze one breast hard enough that a stream shot straight at his face, I shouted in surprise—but I couldn’t tell you if it was from the thrill of seeing Harry catch the spray in his mouth, or complete disgust at the depravity of it. But when Harry had said that this was ‘his thing’, he hadn’t been kidding. I’d never seen a grown man so turned on by such a prospect. I’d never seen a man so turned on, period. I felt drowned by his wave of need as I watched him, double squirts of the watery liquid hitting his cheeks as he moaned, then seeing him devour a boob like a man possessed. He worshipped each tit until I felt delirious from the desire that spread through me. He shifted me again, no protest on my part, until the hard bulge in his jeans was pressed to the sopping crotch of my knickers. Oh, God, the sounds coming out of me were incessant, I couldn’t seem to shut my mouth.

And the excitement burned through me like nothing had done so since our days of running through the countryside to escape Voldemort and the Minsitry. It was a bizarre thought to have at such a moment, but there it was. I’d been living a normal life after the war, getting complacent, maybe even bored. Perhaps I’d discovered that I wasn’t so fond of normal, after all.

Harry’s teeth on each tit continued to intensify, biting me with a growing fervor. At one point, he’d squished them close together, his tongue running back and forth across each nipple in a line as the fluid poured forth. I was so aroused I felt like I’d plugged a finger into a socket back at my parent’s house. Stars kept flashing in front of my eyes every time he sucked on me harder, or rutted against me. I felt that familiar winding up in my groin, the heat running through my lower belly as I got wetter and wetter. I whined louder, trying to warn him, get him to stop, even though it was the last thing I wanted. But the idea that I could come from what Harry was doing to me seemed surreal. And the more I tried to get myself under control, the more I could feel every minute sensation from Harry’s manipulations: his hard-on more distinct as it pressed flush against me, Harry’s hands in a death-grip around my thighs, his mouth working in a frenzied pace still attenuating each breast.

And then it was there, I was right on the cusp. My hands had wrapped around the back of his head as I held him to my chest and continued my long moans. I suddenly wrapped my legs tight around his middle, squeezing my thighs so that my cunt palpitated against the denim like a beating heart. I shouted out when I came, my entire body shaking. It was one of the most extraordinary things I’d ever felt. Everything throbbed around me, my sight filled with black spots when I opened them again. Listening to my panting as I tried to get in a breath, I turned to Harry as though I expected to kiss him or something equally strange, but Harry apparently had an interest elsewhere. He was already sliding down my body while his fingers hooked the waistband of my knickers. As soon as I felt the tug, I put a hand to his head.

            “Harry, wait, don’t,” I’d breathed out heavily, but I doubt I sounded terribly convincing.

            “Wanna taste,” was my answer, his voice sounding rough and dangerous.

I was immediately excited again, totally ready for him to go down on me, when he suddenly stopped, jerking away from me even as he was dragging my pants downward. He unhooked his fingers clumsily and reeled back as though he’d just burned himself, his eyes wide and a clarity returning there that I hadn’t seen all night.

            “Oh my God. Oh…FUCK.”

His palms flew to his face, fingers digging into his eyes as he carried on, refusing to look at me.

            “Fuck, fuck, ho-o-o-ly fuck, what the…oh my God.”

On and on he railed, until I sat towards the end of the cushion, grabbing his arm as I struggled to pull my panties back up.

            “Harry, stop it. It just got out of hand. We don’t—we don’t have to mention this again.”

I don’t know where that bit of logic came from, but it just flew out of my mouth, my thoughts sharpening instantly as I watched the horror grow in his face. He pulled away again and fell back on his bum, before staggering up to his feet and looking around the room as if he’d just realized where he was.

            “I don’t fucking believe this, what the FUCK is WRONG with me!” He stared straight at me then and yelled it again. “What the fuck is wrong with me, Hermione?!”

I reached for him, not even caring that I was mostly nude, but he’d already turned his back and was grabbing for his glasses and shirt, still where he’d dropped them.

            “I’ve got to get out of here. I’m sorry, I need to go.”

            “Harry, wait, we should talk about this…”

Harry’s laugh was bitter as he tugged his shirt down.

            “You just said we don’t. Make up your fucking mind, ‘Mione.” He gave me one last look as he put his glasses on, the regret there etched deep into his face. “I really have to go.”

And then his wand was out and he spun around on the spot, disappearing with a clap in the air.

I sat there, my mouth agape, my blouse tucked into the back of the armchair, my shorts on the floor, with knees bent in and my tits out. I had no idea what had just happened.

I’m not even sure when it was that I made it up to my room. I know that I took a shower before bed, thinking that it was probably due. I lay under the covers staring at the wall beside me for long hours before I heard Ron whoosh through the fireplace. He stayed downstairs for a while and fussed about the kitchen. I could hear the wireless for a bit, but then it shut off and heavy footfalls were on their way up the stairs. As soon as the bedroom door opened, I shut my eyes, my breathing forced as I pretended to be asleep. I heard him sigh as his weight descended into the mattress, but then he rolled to his side, our backs to each other. I felt sick. I continued to lie there, listening to the yells in my head, my eyes drying out as I kept staring into the darkness while Ron’s snores started up.

I think I heard the chirping of birds by the time I finally fell asleep. I awoke to the sound of Rose screaming for breakfast, Ron’s body absent from the bed.

Author's Note: Thanks to Daye and SoftObsidian for their Beta help.
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Folie a Deux

Chapter 4