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 5

It was an entire week before I saw Harry again.

The first few days went by with me trying to build up enough courage to call him. I might have said five words to Ron during that time, but since we were still at an impasse over our argument, he didn’t comment on the lack of conversation. When he wasn’t at home, I spent a lot of time staring at my mobile waiting for Harry to ring me up and beg my forgiveness. Not that I blamed him, mind you, but I knew exactly how Harry thought; he would most likely be beating himself up over it. Of course, the phone never uttered a peep.

I felt torn. There was certainly a very horrified part of me that wanted to forget it had ever happened—to put it out of my mind and let us go on as if those two hours had been expunged from the records of time—but I didn’t believe that option was truly possible. It was the only thing I could think about, really. The recurring images of what we’d done would assault me at all hours of the day, at every inopportune and awkward moment, leaving me with a constant stain to my cheeks and flushed with the embarrassment one gets from being on stage before an audience having forgotten all of one’s lines. I won’t even go into the torture that arose from every subsequent feeding with Rose. But the fact was that something HAD happened between us and I wanted to know why. More than the shame I felt, I had a driving need to explore this suddenly new incarnation of my relationship with Harry—Harry, who was not just a friend, but someone whose very existence had changed the course of my life. I’d jumped onto the back of a dragon for him, for Merlin’s sake. He was as much a part of me as Ron; as though one served as my right arm while the other functioned as the left.

So, I kept calling and leaving messages, while he continued ignoring me. I can’t say that I was surprised by it, but by the sixth day of his non-communication I was bloody frustrated. Having a secret like that—well, I had to talk to someone. But who else, realistically, was there? If I couldn’t talk about it soon I felt I’d go mad. I had considered popping straight into Grimmauld Place to confront him once I was ready, but wondered how often he was even there anymore other than when he was sleeping. I could hardly find a way to sneak out of the house at two in the morning to rouse Harry in bed to demand some answers. In fact, keeping away from beds with Harry in them was probably a very good idea.

But I did know his schedule during the day. I knew when he was working, and if I managed to get Ron talking to me again, I could find out exactly where Harry would be throughout their shift. And that was when I began working on my conciliatory speech.

The next day was a Wednesday and I arrived at the Law Enforcement wing of the Ministry around afternoon tea, wheeling Rose in her pram. The guard at the desk on the fifth floor was a genial bloke who was quite fond of me; we spent several minutes talking about his family and the news surrounding the Biddingbottom sentence. Tension had apparently been running high around the department, he’d noted; the case had brought up a lot of memories from the war. Once again, I thought guiltily of how much pressure Ron had been under lately and how little he needed me being so difficult. I really did need to give him a break. At the same time, while glancing down to the bustling movement in the atrium below before stepping into the hallway leading to the Auror offices, I realized that I very much missed this place and was longing to be back at work. The Ministry was the pulsing center of Wizarding society and I belonged here.

As I cruised through the halls, I called out my hellos to several of Ron’s bosses that I was acquainted with as we passed their desks. Eventually, after a few turns, the hallway opened up to the main office, the hub of the entire Auror center. I was always impressed by the massive globe that hovered right in the middle of the room; a spell of sheer brilliance that powered the four-dimensional map so that it glowed much like a Patronus, but sharper and with more color, highlighting known Death Eater locations with orange blinking lights. It reminded me of a hologram, something I’d seen out of science-fiction films as a child, but the detail was incredible, more finely etched than anything I’d seen in the technological world. The rotating sphere was surrounded by a morass of cubicles and traveling bodies, their heads bent and noses buried in files. I don’t know how anyone managed to ever find their desks in the confusion, but I suppose it had its own muddled order. Normally, wives and relatives wouldn’t be allowed this far, but because of my standing I’d been given special clearance. I looked around the room to see if I could catch sight of Ron’s coppery head poking out of one of the many boxes. His desk never seemed to be in the same place.

Finally, someone took the time to point him out to me and I headed in that direction, hearing his deep voice being insistent about something to do with an assignment. As I got closer, I could see Ron sitting in his chair, his arms waving around in the air as he avidly proved his point to the person standing in front of him with their back to me—a someone with jet black, unruly hair and a lean frame of coiled strength and power. I couldn’t believe my luck. Ron suddenly did a double take as he noticed me walking towards them, his head poking out from the side of Harry’s arm. He’d looked quite shocked.

            “Hermione? What are you doing here?” he exclaimed, a bit too forcefully.

I could see Harry’s back freeze up instantly, but he didn’t turn around.

            “Rose and I came to take you to tea. Thought you could use a chance to get away from here for a bit. You’ve been working an awful lot lately.”

Ron’s expression was suspicious at first; he slid a knowing look to Harry before looking back at me, his face finally registering some openness.

            “Yeah, well, uh…we’re a mite busy at the moment, but…if it’s just tea…yeah, I suppose I could use a break. Hey, baby girl!”

I’d rolled Rose up to her dad and he’d leaned over to scoop her up, much to her glee. Several grinning heads poked over the partitions around Ron’s desk as they heard her squeal.

            “Is that your little girl, Weasley?” one bespectacled agent asked, his face beaming. “Bless, look at that hair. Knock off the old block, eh?”

            “Well, we’re hoping she’ll take after her mother for everything else,” Ron joked, but I smiled at him with as much warmth as I could muster, considering I had stepped up directly behind Harry by then and he still hadn’t looked at me.

I put my hand to the small of his back very lightly, not quite sure where I was getting such audacity. I felt him tense up under my fingers.

            “Harry,” I acknowledged and it was only then that he finally turned his head slowly to look behind him. His face was smooth and calm, but those eyes…the fury in them left me unnerved.

            “Hey.”

He was making a valiant effort at nonchalance, but I could feel that anger simmering off of him like the summer heat on pavement. Then I further surprised myself when I leaned in close and kissed him on the cheek, my chest hammering as a breast pressed up against his arm. Harry pulled back for the barest second before stilling, letting my lips touch his skin. I heard the click of his jaw as his teeth clenched and a heavy breath from his nose. No sooner had I pulled away then he was making his excuses to go.

            “Yeah, alright, drop off that report when you get back, then.” And then he was attempting to leave, careful to step as far away from me as the space allowed.

            “Mate, why don’t you join us?”

There was almost a note of begging in Ron’s voice, like he didn’t want to be around me, either. Lovely, I thought, what a prize I’d become.

            “Nah, I don’t want to intrude,” was his excuse before he’d muttered a hurried see you later to us and then darted off.

I stared at his retreating back and wondered if I’d be hearing from him that evening, if for no other reason than because I’d pissed him off. But at least I’d seen him and as I congratulated myself my heart rate finally started to slow down. When I looked back at Ron, he actually smiled at me.

            “Right, well let’s be on our way, shall we?”

It turned out to be a rather good tea. I apologized to him, and contrary to why I had come in the first place, I really meant it. I didn’t want us fighting. I told him that I was open to talking more about my return to work when he got home that night and he seemed to find that acceptable.

            “I took the calendar down,” I pointed out.

            “I’d noticed,” he commented with a small smile while his eyes were cast to the table. When he’d looked up, there was remorse in his face.

            “I don’t think you’re a bad mother, Hermione. I’m sorry I said those things. I know you love Rose. I just—I just don’t know how to help you, lately, and it’s been driving me mad. Ginny says that you’re adjusting, that it’s not easy dealing with…the boredom of being at home all day when you’re not used to it. I reckoned she’d know something about it, but I guess I thought—well, I wasn’t expecting that; that you’d be, I dunno, sad after Rose was born.”

I sighed heavily.

            “I’m not sad, Ron. I don’t know how to describe it, exactly. I’ve been overwhelmed and everything has just left me feeling out of sorts. I feel like…a failure. And I don’t quite know how to deal with that.”

Ron stared back at me perplexed, his features scrunched together.

            “Why on Earth would you feel like a failure?” he asked in a tone just as confused.

            “Why, indeed,” I mused with another sigh. Ron looked at me expectantly but I rolled my eyes. “Never mind, we’ll discuss it at home, luv.”

I waited for him to take a bite of his food before I switched the topic onto a different course.

            “You and Harry have been working quite a lot of overtime on this new case. Am I even going to see you for dinner tonight?”

Ron nodded his head briskly as he swallowed.

            “Yeah, I’ll be home fairly early this time. Harry’s been taking the bulk of the paperwork, actually, and he’s covering some surveillance assignments for me. Says he needs the distraction of work right now, but I don’t know if that’s really doing him any good. He’s been a moody bastard all week. He really got into it with Shacklebolt the other day; you should have heard him screaming in Kingsley’s office. Surprised he didn’t get taken off his post as Squad Leader for this one, but then again, it’s Harry. He gets away with a lot more than us mere mortals.”

            “Oh. So, he’ll be covering for you all the rest of the week?” I tried not to let the disappointment creep into my voice.

            “Well, he’s picking up James on Friday after work, so I’ll be home late on that night. But I gather we’ll be seeing him and Ginny at the Burrow on Sunday for dinner. I told George and Charlie to lay off of him while he’s there. It’s obvious that Harry wants to get back together with Gin—I don’t know what her problem is, really. And Harry won’t tell me just how he fucked up, but,” and Ron gave a lopsided shrug, “he’s still family.”

The thought of Ginny and just what her ‘problem’ was sprung into my head with a bleating insistence, making me reconsider my plans for the day. Suddenly, it seemed very important that I talk to her.

            “I think that Harry and Ginny have simply discovered that they’re not relatable in all aspects of their marriage. People sometimes have this fantasy that when you get married you live happily ever after, but the reality is, living with another person is hard work. You’re not always going to see things eye-to-eye, and two people aren’t always going to grow together in the same direction. It’s not always easy, but when you love someone, the struggle is worth it.”

When I looked up, Ron gave me another wistful smile then slipped his hand into mine and squeezed tight. I smiled back, but the tightness in my chest remained.



I don’t know what possessed me to think that I could just stroll into the house at Godric’s Hollow and be fine with it, but as soon as I’d stepped into the Floo a panic seized me that twisted me in knots. The spinning only added to my vertiginous state so that by the time I arrived at the Potter home, I almost toppled out of

the fireplace to the floor, Rose’s weight helping to throw me off balance. Ginny happened to be standing nearby and ran over to straighten me up.

            “Whoa, Hermione, you all right?” She had hold of my left arm while the other went to slide under Rose. “Here, let me take her for you.”

Looking around, I expected to see Harry there waiting for me, but of course he was back at the Ministry. I’d firecalled Ginny the minute I’d made it home, and then gave Rose her feeding. My intention was to put her down for her nap once I’d gone over to see her aunt. I quickly realized my mistake, however, once I was standing there in the living room. What the bloody hell was I going to say to Ginny, exactly? In my zeal to get information, I hadn’t really thought this through. And there was Ginny looking positively beautiful in her jade green dress with the spaghetti straps. I could instantly imagine how desperate Harry must have been feeling at being separated from her. No wonder he’d been acting a little crazy.



“I was so thrilled to hear you were coming over, dear. It feels like ages since we’ve had a nice, long chat. I want to know how you’ve been doing. But first, let me get the kettle on.”



“Oh, let me just put Rose down first. I came over straight from feeding her and she’s going to get cranky in a minute if she’s not on her belly.”

Ginny took me to one of the downstairs guest rooms and handed me Rose so I could get her to sleep. I made an invisible barrier around the bed with my wand and had no sooner draped her blanket over her when I could hear her snuffling breaths as she faded away into the Land of Nod. Looking back at the door, I got nervous again, trying to gear myself up to stare at Ginny face-to-face for the next half hour or so. Would she be able to tell that something was wrong? Would my guilt bleed through? Could I actually pull this off? Well, I was about to find out. Feeling mad again, I dragged my fingers through my hair and then straightened my skirt and blouse, attempting to convey an appearance of confidence and empathy. I still wanted answers from her and I couldn’t let my skittishness get in the way of that. I had a brief flash of that dreadful Skeeter woman, but I decided to use her as an inspiration of sorts. My integrity was already in arrears, I couldn’t dwell on it in that moment.

When I came back to the sitting room, Ginny was already seated and pouring the tea from a tray. The sun slanted through the windows leaving bright squares on the wood floors and her hair flashed boldly in the streams of light. She looked brilliant, on fire; her skin was so warm with all of those freckles. I’ve always thought that Ginny and Ron looked the most similar, outside of the twins. Their faces, their specific coloring, and the fact that they seemed to be the most freckled of the lot. I suppose I expected them to be the closest out of all of their siblings for that reason alone, but in reality, they didn’t talk to each other as much as one might assume. Perhaps it was the influence of myself and Harry that distorted that relationship. As both boys had insinuated over time, Ginny was a delicate spot between them, and I had to question whether Ron had deliberately pulled back from her because of his friendship with Harry. I could just imagine how divided he must have felt having his sister and best friend at odds, wanting to support them both but not knowing whom he should really be finding fault with.

She smiled up at me as she handed me a cup. A shard of pain cut across my sternum as I sucked in a breath. But I managed to comport my facial gestures into something approaching an easy smile in return as I sat down across from her.

            “So, Harry told me that you and Ron are on the outs over something to do with Rose? What’s my brother whinging on about now?”

But I waived it off, not really wanting to discuss my issues.

            “Oh, nothing. We’ve pretty much sorted it out. I think he’s just been holding in a lot of resentment at my…attitude, as of late. I haven’t exactly been a bundle of joy to be around.”

Ginny looked ready to disagree with me but I cut her off.

            “I’m surprised Harry mentioned it. The fight was a week ago. Has he…have the two of you been able to talk much when he’s here for dinner?”

She pursed her lips with narrowed eyes, looking like a child in exaggerated thought.

            “When you say talk, do we mean ‘talk’, like ‘pass the butter’ or ‘how was work’? Or talk talk, like, why the hell won’t you just admit you’re wrong and that you’re prepared to change your entire personality for me? That kind of talk?”

            “Er, I would say the latter. I know how…difficult it can be to get Harry to open up.”

To my surprise, Ginny laughed out loud, her expression quite tickled.

            “No! Our Harry? Mr. Why-Talk-When-A-Glare-Will-Do Potter? Surely, you jest.”

I let my mirth bubble through.

            “Yes, well, as shocking as it may be, the boy can be a hard nut to crack.”

            “The boy hasn’t been one for quite a while, Hermione. He was much easier to handle back in school. All I had to do was yell back, push him around if I wanted to get him out of his moods.” She shot me a troubled look. “He’s a bit tougher now.”

I watched her as I took a sip of my tea, trying to discern what every nuance in her demeanor really meant.

            “I suppose he’s…changed some over the years. We all have. But…he’s still Harry. He’s at least aware of how he gets and he knows when we’re all tired of it. I would imagine that yelling back at him still has an effect.”

She quickly stared down at her knees, rubbing at a spot on the coffee table.

            “Right, well…sometimes it’s not quite the effect I was hoping for.”

I felt like I’d been given an opening. I couldn’t very well get the proper answers if I wasn’t asking the right questions. I took the plunge and decided to be blunt.

            “Ginny, I’ve been chatting with Harry a lot this past month. I know what’s been causing the problems between you two. He’s admitted to me that it’s his…developing interests that prompted the separation, and that he’s trying his best to work on it.”

Her expression turned mortified but I proceeded headlong into my explanation.

            “Please don’t be angry with him for sharing such private matters. I really think he needed to discuss it with someone. He’s miserable right now; I know he’ll do whatever it takes to fix things between you. He loves you deeply, Ginny.”

And as soon as I said it, I’d known how true a statement I’d made. I felt another burst of shame heat up my face, but Ginny had her gaze on the windows to the garden.

            “Does he? I sometimes wonder.” When she turned back to me, her face had hardened. “Has he told you about Narcissa, then?”

I nodded my head but I still didn’t understand her bitterness if she’d been the one to suggest that coupling in the first place.

            “And the whores? Did noble Harry tell you about them, too?”

Once again, I confirmed the news silently, but this time Ginny let out a shocked laugh, seeming rather flabbergasted at the revelation.

            “Has he, now? Wow. I’m a bit surprised by that. Or perhaps I shouldn’t be; it was you he spoke to, after all. You must have had him in quite the mood, Hermione, to get him so chatty. So then,” and her eyes narrowed again, “he’s pretty much told you everything? What he’s into, the things he likes?”

Suddenly, I was hesitant, wanting to tread lightly but not sure how much I should reveal that I knew. I didn’t want Ginny to draw the wrong conclusions. You know, like that I was obsessing over her husband and that I had just shared with him what amounted to a dry hump and a suck that got me off. Ideas like that.

            “Well, he’s confessed that he likes sexual situations that have a—I’ve been looking up the terms, but I would call it a…sadist/masochist type of fascination? He wants to assert his dominance in that arena, and you’re not too fond of the idea, he’s said. He told me that the two of you were looking at alternative ways for him to…get it out of his system, I guess you could say? And he also said that…well…that it was you who actually had the idea for him to see Narcissa Malfoy…and even the women at the…uh, that place.”

Ginny laughed again, but it was deeper, earthier.

            “Not too fond, eh? That’s an understatement.” There was something sad in her features when she met my eyes again, however. “I gave it a whirl, you know. I gave him several years to…play those games with me. But Harry doesn’t seem to understand moderation. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable, Hermione. Honestly, I was at my wit’s end when I thought up the idea of the brothel. Harry had mentioned it after they’d done a raid there. Got all excited about some of the equipment he’d seen. So I thought…why not? Let someone else take the brunt of it for a while. Then maybe I could have my husband back, after it was all over.”

            “What do you mean, have him back? Harry said he tried with a few of the girls there but he had no emotional connection with either, and so it didn’t work for him, this need that he’s attempting to quell.”

More peals rang out, her laughter echoing through the rooms beyond.

            “A few? Oh, Harry really does do understatement with such panache. Perhaps when things started out, but we were going there for two months. By the end of it, it was more like three or four girls…at the same time. They bloody loved him there. I think the girls would have been willing to pay him for the service. What a kinky lot those witches were. Every time we showed up there, it was like that fucking parade after the war; cheering and flowers being thrown. Merlin, I was so relieved when that experiment was over.”

To say that my face registered my shock would not be describing the extent of exaggeration my features had warped into. My eyes felt ready to goggle out of my head and roll across the carpet and my mouth seemed to be stuck in an oval drop. It took a few seconds before I could speak.

            “We?! Ginny, do you mean to tell me that you attended with Harry?”

She appeared unfazed.

            “Well, of course I did. Would you like some more tea?”

I spluttered some more trying to wrap my head around this one detail that Harry had neglected to mention.

            “But—but did you—did you…watch it, as well?” I was seriously starting to freak out.

            “Yes, Hermione, you don’t think I was going to let him go on his own, do you? Obviously, Harry forgot to tell you about that part.” And I don’t mind pointing out that she looked more than a bit smug while she was saying it.

            “How could you even…ugh, it’s just so…why would you put yourself through that?”

She crossed her arms over her belly and appeared to think on it before replying.

            “Well…if I’m being totally honest…I suppose I would have to say that…well, I’m just as possessive as Harry is. I mean, he’s MY husband. And I wanted those women to understand that. I didn’t want them thinking that they had some secret of his…that I was just the poor, stupid cow at home who had no clue her man was catting around. I wanted to still be a part of it. By being there, and watching him put them in such…lowly positions, I was…in control of it. I was above them, more highly regarded. He came home to me and that was all that mattered. And it wasn’t…so horrible, at first. I mean, Harry’s usually dead sexy like that.”

I was still floored, however; not imagining in a million years that I could ever sit by and watch Ron make love to another woman.

            “At first? What changed then?”

Ginny heaved a sigh and then added some more tea to her own cup. I waited for her to drop the sugars in and stir, but when she finally answered, there was a resigned despair that had settled into her voice.

            “It’s not so easy watching the man you love turn into…some kind of monster, over time. He would scare me. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not as though I never enjoyed having sex with Harry. It was bloody brilliant at the beginning, we were like rabbits. He was so…fearless. Confident. Demanding, yes, but loving, too. And he seemed to discover exactly what my body wanted, needed, which he would indulge over and over again until I was a heaping, moaning mess. God, it was ridiculous how often he would get me off, it was like he lived for it.”

She gave me another knowing look.

            “Hermione, you know how I felt about him back then. Even now, I’m still…incredibly attracted to the man. Harry’s beautiful and strong, and there I was, eighteen and insanely in love with a boy who acted as if the very air that he needed to breathe came from between my legs. Of course I was going to give him whatever he wanted. There’s always been something special about Harry—different—and he was shining over me like the sun. I saw something so hopeful in him then. And when things started to get more serious, when he wanted to turn my body into some kind of shrine, I tried to pretend that it was just his intensity playing out, that he was adventurous, and that he’d get bored of his games, eventually. But he didn’t get bored, he got inspired. And he kept upping the stakes until I started to finally feel a little…terrorized.”

There was a slight tremble in my hand as I gripped the saucer under my cup, I could hear it rattle. I quickly put it down as I watched Ginny fold into herself.

            “I actually thought of us as…one of those cool couples. Like Remus and Tonks were, not giving a fuck about what anyone else thought. We were kinky, I was nothing like my mother, and we had secrets we kept from a worshiping public that adored the Chosen One. They’d never guess that he was into tattoos and leather, or that he had a silver ring through the head of his cock, or that he’d had me pierced all over my body. It felt sort of delicious walking down the street knowing we had this hidden life from them—that they’d actually never know who Harry really was, their golden boy. But then—life intervened, and Harry got more…just more. Like every little thing I did had to be passed through his committee of one. I mean, he was charming about it, at first. I would give in when he gave me that smile and promised me things he knew I wanted from him. When he told me he didn’t want me to tour with the Harpies, though, I couldn’t believe it. But by that time, it seemed that all he wanted to do was fuck me. Like, all the time.”

She brushed her hair out of her face, seeming wearier the more she talked.

            “He would complain that he needed it to unwind from his training, which I knew was brutal and exhausting, but I didn’t see why that had to be his only means of relief. Why couldn’t I be enough, right? I felt like some sort of servant to him; even worse, his whore. I threatened to break up with him if he didn’t let me leave. I don’t know that I really meant it—I couldn’t imagine not being with him, you know?—but apparently it worked. He was sorry for acting like a shit, he said. That I drove him crazy with desire and that he couldn’t help himself sometimes,” she rolled her eyes with a smirk, “and I fell for the whole thing. Once he was done with the Auror academy, he’d calmed down a bit. I think he’d been wrestling with too many demons, back then. But he was working on himself and he started to take the time to really listen to me and I thought that perhaps he’d just been going through a phase before. So when he asked me to marry him, I was honestly thrilled. And for a while, things were really great. But by the time I was pregnant…I don’t know, something seemed to change within me.”

Ginny smirked, her bemused tone turned light.

            “I’m making him sound like a complete prick, aren’t I?”

            “Well…yes,” I’d answered, still feeling a bit stunned by what she was telling me. So much of it I hadn’t even realized, having only heard Harry’s version of it, and I put myself in her shoes again, suddenly angry with Harry.

            “Well, he can be, certainly. But you have to understand, this was mostly in connection to sex. There were plenty of times that he could be an absolute sweetheart, and I knew when he was being heartfelt; there was no denying his feelings. Harry’s not the best at expressing himself, but when he does, it’s pretty memorable. And he was positively over the moon about being a father. Harry’s so wonderful with James: patient and tender, and so affectionate. But when he’s in his…element…he can be…quite terrifying.”

            “But you called him a monster, Ginny. I have a hard time imagining that. This is Harry we’re talking about. You make him sound like a—a junior Voldemort, or something. Just what was he doing to those…prostitutes that made you stop going?”

            “Nothing illegal, I assure you. I mean, well, okay, outside of having sex with them. It was just…seeing Harry like that…it was unsettling. He was sort of ruthless and cold and very commanding. To know that that was how far he wanted to go with me—it was a bit shocking, really. I didn’t want that. I had managed to talk myself into doing all kinds of things that Harry wanted, but now I was done with it. You joke about him being a junior Voldemort, but it didn’t feel that far off. He was more like…Tom. Whispering things to me, conniving, making me feel wanted and special, but then getting me to do things that I didn’t want to do.”

Her eyes flashed in warning to me and I could suddenly see Ginny in her first year at Hogwarts, how lonely she must have felt then and how preyed upon she’d been by such evil. Then her eyes fell and she sighed heavily once more.

            “But he is trying. Having seen his darkest side, I know at least what he’s fighting against. I know it’s not easy for him. I thought with Narcissa…well, that I’d stay out of it this time, let him have his…thing, and then we could just be together like normal. But then he started pushing me again. He got mad when I insisted on taking the jewelry out before James was born. There was no way I was going into St. Mungo’s looking like that. I wasn’t interested in being so…bohemian anymore, just wanted to be a proper family like the one I grew up in. When he let the matter go, I figured I’d won, that we’d turned some corner. He tried to tow the line, he really did. After the whorehouse idea blew up in our faces and he’d started up with that Malfoy hag…I guess it wasn’t enough for him. Or perhaps it wasn’t quite what he had hoped from her. Either way, he was getting that nasty side to him that I wanted out of my house.”

            “Just how nasty is his nasty side?” I couldn’t help interject. I really needed to know at that moment.

            “Trust me, Hermione; you don’t want to find out.” She glanced over me quickly, trying to be smooth about it, and I saw a strange glint in her eyes as an eyebrow arched faintly, making her look haughty and dismissive. “And thankfully, I’m sure you never will.”

I couldn’t help feeling as though I’d just been sized up and felled in one blow; I had obviously been declared a non-threat.

Ginny slapped her hands to her thighs, summarily ending that conversation as she gave me another broad smile.

            “Now, should I put on another pot? It’s time we talked about you for a change.”

I spent quite a long time talking with Ginny after that. I already had the notion that I had to be careful not to arouse her suspicions, that I couldn’t ask too many questions about Harry. I let her think she was helping me cope with the strains of being a new mother, and I even went back and filled her in on the argument I’d had with Ron. To be honest, I’m not sure how I got through the visit without having my entire sordid secret play out across my face, but it turned out I’m a better actress than I initially thought, which ultimately worked to my demise.

By the time I arrived home, I barely had time to get dinner started before Ron was strolling into the kitchen, in much better spirits than I had seen him all week. Our talk after we ate proved to be quite fruitful as it was the first time in months that Ron had really let me know what was going on in that head of his. While we didn’t exactly resolve the situation that night, we had definitely opened up with each other and I promised him that I would take his feelings into account. He had a contented glow about him as he sauntered into the living room to firecall his dad while I took Rose upstairs to nurse her. He and Arthur had something of a Wednesday night telly ritual, when work allowed for it, and they’d developed a fondness for watching Red Dwarf together. When I had insisted to Ron that I wanted a television so that Rose could have educational programming growing up (not to mention indulging my deep love of the Discovery Channel), Arthur was positively delighted. Harry had already fitted his house for one right after they’d completed the work on it, so my Muggle-loving father-in-law had previously been introduced and initiated into the wonders of 24-hour cable. I think Ron was only humouring him at first, being so wary of Muggle technology, but he eventually grew to enjoy that time that they shared together. In a magical family, it was a unique way for them to bond, and I think that Ron liked how it made him stand out from Arthur’s other sons.

As the sound of the theme music for their show played in the background, I rocked Rose back and forth in my chair while she nursed, the room dark with only the light pouring through the open door from the hallway. I wondered when I’d be given an opportunity to actually speak with Harry himself or if he was going to ignore me indefinitely. Moments later, a sudden buzzing came from the side of Rose’s baby bag and my eyes widened in surprise. Who else would be ringing me on the mobile? Holding tightly to the baby’s body, I stretched my arm to reach for the bag, fumbling with the latch on the side pocket so I could slip out the phone. Without even glancing at its face, I flipped up the receiver and put it to my ear, my ‘yes?’ sounding breathless already.

            “What the fuck are you playing at?” he snarled right away.

            “Why, Harry, what a surprise,” was my droll reply, “how lovely to hear from you.”

            “Don’t play coy, Hermione, just answer the bloody question. Is this some sort of sick game for you?”

            “Game?! You’re the one—”

Suddenly aware of the pitch of my voice, I seized Rose closer to me again and got up to close the door, leaving it open only a sliver. I could hear Arthur laughing downstairs. When I got back to the rocking chair, I moved Rose to my shoulder, patting her back lightly as I awkwardly held the mobile to my ear with the press of my other shoulder.

            “You’re the one who’s been playing games,” I hissed at him. “You haven’t even had the decency to answer my calls. Just because I saw you at work it doesn’t mean I’m stalking you, for heaven’s sake. I have every right to visit my husband.”

            “I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about your little visit to Ginny so you could blab everything I’ve been telling you for the last month. Are you trying to get back at me or something? Or is this just your passive-aggressive attempt to control me?”

            “No!”

It was little more than a whisper, but my hurt and surprise at such an accusation rang through. Feeling taken aback by his tone, I attempted to redirect the conversation, tried to appease him into a more civil frame of mind.

            “Look, Harry, I won’t lie that I’ve been feeling a little…confused lately, but I only wanted to see how Ginny was holding up. I thought—I guess I thought she could use a…a friendly ear. I wanted to hear her side of things; it’s only fair.”

            “Are you mad?” he’d sneered. “You wanted to run over there and play the concerned friend after what had just happened? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

I cringed inside at his words, but I wouldn’t be put off so easily.

            “Well, what DID happen, Harry? Care telling me exactly what that was? Because I’m a little lost, and since you’ve been avoiding me, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be thinking.” It was difficult to shout and whisper at the same time, but I was getting more agitated the more he spoke.

            “I don’t know what that was, other than a massive mistake, but I don’t see why we have to discuss it, Hermione, and I know that’s what you’re after. Why can’t you just forget about it? I was high, I don’t know what came over me, it won’t happen again. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

            “And how am I supposed to do that, Harry, when you barely acknowledge my existence, like this was my fault, somehow. I feel like you’re punishing me.”

            “Fuck!”

Harry swore loudly into the phone but then it went quiet for a bit. When he finally spoke again, he sounded as though he were calmer.

            “Look, Hermione…it was MY fault. I’m not…punishing you, alright? I just—can’t we just… ? Shit. Just let me work it out. I need a bit of space, that’s all I’m asking. I’m sorry.”

And then I heard the click that signaled he was gone.

I stared at the mobile for a few minutes before flinging it to the floor, utterly disgusted. What WAS wrong with me? Why did I keep after him? I was terrified that I’d lose him over something so…unintentional, but there was more to it than that, and deep down I understood that my fixation with him was growing to unhealthy levels. I put Rose in her crib, but continued to rock in the chair, my head tilted back against the frame as I stared at the ceiling and wished desperately for a Time Turner.

Sunday rolled around and I was back in my subdued state. I had a million feelings battling to overtake me as I was getting dressed for the Burrow. I wanted to see Harry there, but I was afraid to talk to him, not knowing what the outcome would be. I dreaded having to sit around the table with the rest of the Weasleys and pretend that everything was fine; that I didn’t spend my time thinking dirty thoughts about my brother-in-law, for God’s sake, at all hours of the day. It was going to be bloody torture, I assured myself, yet still feeling that buoyant ball of light floating in my chest at the idea of getting to watch him for a solid three or four hours straight.

I know; totally pathetic, right?

When we arrived, it seemed that most of the family had been there some time already and were in quite the rowdy mood. Even Percy was looking very relaxed and sociable as he got cozy alongside Penelope, holding a glass filled with something amber colored while he laughed along with Charlie and Bill. They all appeared a bit kettled and it was only two o’clock.

Of course, the first thing I did was look around for Harry, but the sod wasn’t there yet. However, Ginny was sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner dandling James on her lap, and the sight of her threw me for a second. It just seemed…odd that she was there without Harry; the dawning that they were well and truly split up inserting into my brain with a finality that made my stomach feel funny. Then I reminded myself that Harry didn’t see it that way…Harry wanted her and would find a way to get his family back. Whatever he had been doing with me was nothing more than a momentary lapse of reason. Like he said, a mistake. Harry didn’t have any more designs on me than he did on Narcissa Malfoy.

While that thought left me feeling a bit low about myself, it was further compounded when Fleur came over to grab my hand and pull me over to where Ginny was calling for me. There we sat, the three Weasley witches of fertility huddled together conferring on the apparent ‘joys’ of motherhood (meaning, more like aches) like some upgraded version to Shakespeare’s Macbeth as the men around us got louder and more obnoxious. I sat surrounded by the Veela and the Gryffindor Quidditch Queen feeling totally out of place—the plain Jane of the trio—and my mood continued to plummet. I could see why Harry would go after someone like Narcissa, I thought, while I spouted meaningless words to the others, my mind churning with my self-loathing. Narcissa might have been from a Death Eater family, she might have been a bitch and spawned a complete jerk, but she was definitely beautiful. In fact, she was noted for it more often than not. Like Ginny, she was a trophy wife, men wanted her because she epitomized the perfection they wanted to look at, wanted to be associated with.

No one would ever consider me a trophy.

Except, perhaps, someone like Ron. Ron, who had coveted a woman like Fleur, who felt that a beauty like that would give him an instant credibility, that men would admire and be jealous of him, a desire that he held buried in his heart. But also a man who’d learned over time that he was destined to settle for the best he could get. And the best he could get was me.

You see what I mean? These were the type of thoughts that plagued me in my foulest moods. It seemed to only be getting worse when Harry finally showed up, his godson, Teddy, behind him, which snapped me out of my mental abuse instantly. He looked unsure when he stepped into the living room, his apprehension flooding his face as everyone quieted down and turned to look at him. James squealed for his dad and then Ginny was out of her chair and walking over to him, her features set in a welcoming smile. She transferred James to his arms while she reached up to kiss him, Harry leaning down to give her a buss on the lips as his son wiggled around. Percy and Bill stood up to grip Harry’s hand and ask how he was doing while others resumed their conversations, Fleur and Bill’s oldest running to Remus’s boy. George left the room suddenly, giving Ginny a pointed look first, which she might have returned but I was only afforded a view of the back of her head. She seemed to be playing the dutiful wife, which I found bizarre given her speeches about Harry earlier in the week, but I suppose she was trying to show her brothers that if she held no ill will against him then neither should they. I thought it admirable of her.

Soon, Harry was standing in a group of Weasley men, as Arthur had come into the room from the kitchen to bellow out a warm greeting to him before pulling him into a big, fatherly hug. Ron, also, had gone to lend his support, putting a hand to Harry’s back as he chatted with his brothers and sipped his drink. I kept staring at them waiting for Harry to look over at me, but he never even turned his head in my direction. I debated whether I should get up and go insert myself into whatever discussion they were getting so worked up about, but I was so dejected at that moment I couldn’t be bothered. Let Harry come talk to me when he wanted, I sniffed. I needed to stop thinking about him, anyway. In an attempt to not think about him, I got up and headed for the kitchen with the intention of helping Molly with the preparations. As I trod past their huddle, I couldn’t help darting a glance at Harry again, feeling some kind of magnetic pull. He was staring at me in that instant and my heart made a dash for my throat, but upon eye contact, he immediately slid that green gaze towards the rest of them, suddenly more animated in his chatter. I huffed loudly and continued on my path. Boys.

I stayed in the kitchen until dinner was ready and I stepped out to set the table. Penelope had also come to help and so I chatted with her amiably while the raucousness in the living room threatened to drown us out. There were several tykes running about, including Teddy, and I talked with him, too, which soon eased me into a lighter mood, my thoughts distracted for a bit. By the time we were moving to our chairs for dinner, I had found it easier to act pleasant, even earnest, as I spoke with more and more of Ron’s family. For the briefest of moments, I didn’t even think about Harry until I had looked up to discover Ginny sitting across from me, forcing Harry to sit to her right. I surreptitiously looked over to him again as he took his seat and was once again caught in his penetrating stare. Which he promptly broke as soon as he noticed me looking at him, awkwardly starting up a dialog with Fleur who sat next to him. I snorted with a shake of my head, finally turning to my right and muttering to Ron that we wouldn’t be able to stay long after dinner, as I was quite tired.

But dinner—and Harry—proved to be an exasperating affair. There was a strange, creepy feeling that kept coming over me every few minutes, and it was only after I snapped my head to my left once I’d felt it again that I caught Harry staring in that maddening way of his once more. I widened my eyes with a lift of my eyebrows, hiking up my shoulders at him as I tried to silently ask what the fuck he was looking at. But he’d look away in a flash. Until I could feel his eyes return to me not even thirty seconds later. So I ignored him. Two could play at that game, I thought snootily. I even went so far as to wrap my hands around Ron’s bicep and hang on him with an adoring expression after he’d made some innocuous comment that I can’t even remember. I beamed up at Ron and it was like the fire of a thousand suns was suddenly hitting up the side of my face from Harry’s direction. What was he doing?! I gave a disgusted sigh and dropped my fork to my plate, not really up for this game, after all.

            “Is everything all right, Hermione?” Ginny asked from across the table.

            “Oh, yes, of course. I’m just a bit…tired,” and on the final word I flashed a glare at Harry. He was steadfastly assaulting his potatoes, his eyes downcast.

            “You poor dear, I don’t doubt you’re exhausted. It gets better, I promise. You should come and do yoghurt with me and Luna sometime. She started me on it a month ago and it’s absolutely amazing for stretching your muscles. It’s very relaxing.”

            “You mean yoga?” my voice dripped sarcastically, coming off like a raging bitch, and at my tone, Harry snapped his eyes up at me in something akin to surprise; everyone around us droned on in their own conversations.

            “Are you sure? I could have sworn she called it yoghurt. It’s an ancient practice, apparently.” Ginny had either not noticed my annoyance, or had decided to forgive it. But I guess I wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness.

            “Yes, I’m sure, Ginny. My mum has only been doing it for the last seven years. I can give you a rundown on its history if you would like.”

This time, she acknowledged my rudeness, pausing to give me a look that screamed, what’s your problem, bitch?, before making her face blank.

            “No, that’s quite alright. I just like doing it, I don’t need to know everything about it,” she replied in something of a bored monotone.

Ron nudged my shoulder and when I turned to look at him his face showed concern. I shook my head at him and got up to be excused for the bathroom, clearing my plate and silverware as I stepped away from the table.

I helped Molly again in the kitchen after everyone had journeyed back into the living room. We ended up having a nice chat. It was nice to feel her affection fold over me once more after having endured her withholding it for so long. We sat at the kitchen table to have some tea when we were done and she told me that I needed to eat more in that familiar way of hers, as she pushed a plate of jam biscuits towards me. Once some of the other wives had come in to share in the conversation, the talk turned more towards gossip and so I left to go and find Ron to convince him it was time to go home. I saw him in a corner of the living room regaling two of his brothers with some work-related story judging by his movements, and as I was heading over to them Fleur stopped in front of me.

            “ ’ermionee…have you zeen Beel? I ‘ave looked all over ze house.”

I looked around her to see if I could spot him amongst all those ginger heads, but noticed that I didn’t see any messy black hair, either.

            “I haven’t seen him lately, but I’ll help you look for him, Fleur. Are you sure you checked the loo?”

I sent her upstairs to double check the bedrooms while I cut through the kitchen and waltzed to the door leading outside. Molly and the girls didn’t even notice me they were so caught up in their tales, so I let myself out quietly and headed for the backyard.

I had just rounded the back of the house to set foot towards the potting shed when I saw two dark silhouettes under the moonlight, a flare of light sparking up into a flame as they leaned into each other beside the back wall. As soon as they heard the crunch of my footsteps, the shorter one backed away in a hurry, a choking noise coming from the shadows.

            “Bill?” I called, making sure to step into the light from the outside lamp so they could see me.

Bill stepped forward so that the moon’s phosphorescence fell onto his face, the scars there glowing darkly in jagged lines.

            “Hermione? Did you need something?” He smiled lazily, looking very, very loose and at ease.

            “Oh. Um, Fleur’s been looking for you. I told her I’d help find you. What are you two doing out here?”

Bill had the good sense to look sheepish as he waved over to the other person still in shadow.

            “Uh, just, uh, sharing a bowl.” He had a high-pitched giggle. “I try to keep it away from Mum. Did you want some?” And he offered me a strange looking pipe that still had embers glowing inside.

I gave him a look that suggested he should rethink who he was addressing and he slowly realized his mistake, pulling it away with his apologies.

            “Well, I think we’ve got one more, Harry, before it’s cashed out. Fleur gets anxious easily so I shouldn’t leave her waiting too long.”

I heard a husky reply from the darkness.

            “Yeah, okay.” Then he stepped forward into the ring of light that was cast around me, reaching for the pipe and putting one end to his puckered lips as Bill used his wand to bring forth a flame at the other end of it. They looked quite intent in what they were doing, appearing strangely intimate with Harry’s head bent towards Bill as the sound of him sucking in smoke rose above the crickets. I moved closer to them, curious in spite of my judgmental feelings. Harry pulled back and then sucked in again, his head tilted so that he was looking at the night sky while Bill bent over to take a draw of his own.

            “Are you staying much longer, Harry?”

It just came out, I don’t even know why I asked, but I felt a little bewitched as I watched him doing something so…un-Harry-like. His eyes scraped over me as he considered the question. When he answered, his voice was tightly strained, as he was still holding the smoke in.

            “Don’t think so.” Then he let out a long plume of smoke that wafted above his head and seemed to float towards the moon. “I’ve already sent Teddy home, though.”

Bill finished his own exhale and then used his wand to cast over himself, the powerful aroma of the herb dissipating at once.

            “Well, I’m off. Good to see you tonight, Hermione, we were getting worried about you.” He turned to Harry and put out his hand, waiting for Harry to grasp it in a forceful shake. “Good to see you, too, mate. You know you can come over to the cottage whenever you need and I’ll have some set aside. Don’t fret about George too much, he’ll come around.”

Then Bill was gone and I stood there watching Harry lean up against the wall, those eyes steady on me. There was something…different in them; restless, but wound tightly. Like he was ready to pounce on something.

            “I don’t appreciate you staring at me all night long as though you were trying to bore into my brain with your eyes,” I started. “Go learn Legilimency on someone else.” There was a pause.

            “Maybe I just like looking at you,” he answered; his voice gravelly.

            “You were sitting in between your wife and Fleur,” I balked, “surely you had other women you could gawk at for the evening.”

            “Whatever,” he responded flatly.

There was another long pause as we stood there staring at each other some more. I reckoned I might as well take advantage of the moment.

            “Are you through with needing your ‘space’, yet?” I crossed my arms as I glared back.

He surprised me suddenly when he stood up from the wall and started to walk towards me, getting quite close before he answered.

            “Not really, no.”

I got nervous, taking a step away from him and feeling slightly alarmed when he took two more steps nearer, putting his hands to my hips and gripping them tightly as he leaned his face right up to mine. His lips seemed awfully close. I could smell that sweet smoke on his breath again. I reared back a bit with a gasp as he dragged my hips towards his body, just shy of pressing my pelvis into his.

            “You should probably stay away from me for a while, Hermione.”

It sounded like he was growling at me, his voice so low and dangerous. I gulped, my throat dry all of a sudden, and then he’d let go and was walking away from me, the back of him stealthy and graceful. He called out a weary goodnight before he was swallowed up by the house.

I stood there a long time gaping at the door before I eventually heard Ron calling my name from the kitchen.

Another week went by. My funk became worse and worse, until I was bloody unbearable at home. Poor Ron looked stumped, and sorely disappointed, the more I stomped around the house demanding some help with keeping it clean. He had thought we’d made some progress only to find that my bitch flag was unfurled once more. When he asked about it, I tried to explain it away again with menstrual cramps and exhaustion, but I don’t know how convincing I was.

Yet it seemed the more I dwelled on the issues between me and Harry, the angrier I got. How dare he! Who the fuck was he to decide our friendship should be put on hold? That it was his whim that denoted when and where we could meet, or how often? Just because he couldn’t stand facing the truth, that he’d rather hide out in that sorry old house and play the suffering hero; oh, so tortured by his guilt for feeling up a tit or two. Well, alright, they were off-limit tits, and it was more than just a touch up, but who made that rule anyway? It was my body! I railed to some imaginary patriarchy in my living room. Shouldn’t I be the one who got a say in who I allowed to grope me? Yes, I was married—to a wonderful man, even—but did that mean I suddenly wouldn’t experience feelings for anyone else? That perhaps my body might find it pleasurable to have another man touch me? And if I was okay with it, then what the bloody hell was his problem?

These arguments went round and round my head for days, and they mostly rambled incoherently much like the one above, but I couldn’t seem to find an emotion to stick with other than sheer indignation. It wasn’t BLOODY FAIR! Harry shouldn’t get to control everything. I had been involved in the event as well, and if I wanted to talk about it, then I was BLOODY WELL going to talk about it! He’d just have to sit there and listen, I decided, whether he wanted to or not.

It was getting late on the night I was lying on my bed having another furious row in my head as I stared unseeing at the novel before me. I’d had enough. Suddenly, it was as if I couldn’t stand one more minute of this banishment from Harry. I had to have action. I threw the book at the foot of the bed, startling Crookshanks who’d been curled there asleep. The poor thing was getting on and I felt a twinge of guilt for causing him to move that fast as he darted off into the hall. But moments later, I followed him, slipping on some sandals as I shuffled along the carpet. I was still in my sundress from that day, and as I came downstairs, I made a determined march to the cupboard to fish out a jumper and slip it on. Ron was lying on the couch, watching another program with fascination, but as I strode over to stand in the path of the television, he sat up with a start.

            “What?” he inquired, looking immediately guilty.

            “Ron, I need to go out for a while,” I told him in exasperation.

            “Hermione, it’s nine o’clock. Bit late, isn’t it? Where are you planning on going?”

But I was driven; there was no talking me out of it, although I suspect from his perspective I was possibly hysterical.

            “I need to talk to my mother!” I declaimed, sounding slightly unhinged. “Right now; this instant!” I think I may have even stomped a foot.

Ron was alarmed, that much was certain, but he didn’t ask any further questions, only humoured me the best he could.

            “O-o-okay, if you must.”

I felt bad for a second and so I gave him more information, trying to reign in my tantrum with a more softened approach.

            “I’ll try not to be too long. Rose is fast asleep and she should be out for the rest of the night. I just have to get out of here for a bit.”

Ron nodded his head in encouragement.

            “Yeah, alright. Tell her I said hullo. Rose and I will be fine.”

I let out a gust of breath, my chest heaving.

            “Thank you. See you soon.”

And with that, I Apparated right from the living room, my body sucked into space.

I didn’t even bother with landing on Harry’s front doorstep but went straight for the Grimmauld drawing room, barely a crack resounding in the air at my materialization. Harry was sprawled on the couch, as well, holding up a sheet of paper as he read while folders and reports lay all over his coffee table. He was wearing black, silk pyjama bottoms with a very lovely silk robe, the latter in greens and golds with some kind of swirly print. The robe was open to reveal pale skin underneath, the sash hanging to either side of him as the corners trailed by his hips. When he saw me, he literally jumped up to his feet, his expression almost comical as papers flew everywhere.

            “HERMIONE! What the bloody fuck.. ! You can’t just Apparate in here like this! I’ll change the wards again!”

But I held my ground, my arms crossed like a barrier to his outrage with my wand clutched tightly in one hand.

            “Harry, we’re going to talk about this, and I’m not interested in how you feel about the matter. We need to clear the air and it needs to happen tonight.”

Harry didn’t exactly wither at my proclamation.

            “Uh, you need to get the fuck out of my house. Like, right now.”

I was not prepared for quite that much hostility, however, and I blinked back at him in a bit of shock. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so willful.

            “Harry…there’s no need to talk to me to that way,” I whined, sounding hurt by his attack, but he didn’t appear to be backing down.

            “Well, why can’t you ever listen to me, for fuck’s sake! I think I’ve made myself more than clear how I need you to stay away!”

And then it was like everything from the past few weeks came crashing down on me, the frustration and pain of rejection bursting free.

            “WHY?!” I yelled, bitter tears tumbling onto my cheek. “Why are you ruining everything? Talking to you has been the only thing I’ve been looking forward to, anymore! Why are you doing this to me?”

Harry stalked up to me, grabbing at my hand, and I flinched for a moment before letting him pull me towards the stairs leading down. He was just about to hit the top step when I dragged backwards, my feet planted. He turned to me looking furious.

            “You’re leaving, Hermione; if I have to push you threw the damn Floo, I will.”

            “No,” I insisted. “Not until you tell me why you’re being like this.”

Harry just glared at me for a full minute before he stepped back up to the floor and began to steer me backwards. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his, my steps staggered and blind as he continued to move me back until I finally came up against something solid, his bulk slamming me into the wall behind me. He was suddenly invading all kinds of personal space as his face was mere inches from mine; hands pressed to either side of my head making me shrink into the faded wallpaper.

            “You really don’t know? The brilliant and decorated Hermione Granger can’t figure out any reason at all why I might want to be avoiding her after I noshed on her perfect and succulent tits for an evening? Are you purposely trying to be thick? Or is this some sort of act?”

            “N-n-no. N-n-e-ver,” I stammered, feeling aroused and terrified all at once. I tried to get my bearings, but it was impossible with him so close. “It was a mistake, you said so. I didn’t—didn’t mean for it to happen. I swear.”

Harry gave a sarcastic laugh.

            “Yeah, maybe you didn’t.”

I gaped at him, not quite getting what I was hearing at first, until it started to penetrate my fog of incoherency.

            “Wait…are you saying…you planned that?”

Harry balked at me like he couldn’t believe how slow I was being.

            “Well, obviously, I couldn’t know exactly how things would play out, but yeah, why do you think I showed up off my face?”

It was all starting to get too much for me and I wished that Harry would just take a few steps back to let me breathe already.

            “I don’t know why you do half the things you do, Harry, what am I? A mind-reader? I don’t even know—where would you get that—what—what—”

But then Harry’s hands were on my waist and he was pressing against me, much closer than before. I felt dizzy and I really, really couldn’t breathe very well, my stuttering ceased instantly.

            “I’m not buying the innocent act, at all, you know. I know you’ve felt this, too, whatever it is; our attraction to each other. I watch you, Hermione, when you talk. You’re very aware of everything that’s going on around you. You know exactly what you’re saying with every word that comes out of your mouth, and every gesture of your body. So don’t play beleaguered and surprised with me.”

A thumb trailed up the center of my torso as he spoke, ending with a swipe across my left breast. Suddenly, I felt him pinch a nipple and I cried out, my eyes so big they hurt from the strain.

            “You were pretty into what we were doing that night. Are you going to deny that, too?”

I was breathing very hard at that point; I didn’t know if I had any breath to answer him, but I tried once again to gain back some control of the situation, deciding that honesty was probably the best course.

            “I—I don’t deny it. I can’t stop thinking about it, actually.”

Harry closed his eyes in a sigh, his head bowed and then twisting around like a serpent as he stretched his neck. When he looked back into my eyes, that pouncing gleam was back, the green of each iris having turned a dark jade.

            “Well, that makes two of us,” he purred. His gaze strayed down to my mouth before speaking again, watching my lips as I licked them nervously. His voice stayed husky and low. “I’ve been fantasizing about you every night since we went to that Vietnamese restaurant together.”

I was honestly shocked. I’d had no idea, and I imagined that he must have seen that plain in my face when he looked up again.

            “Do you realize how shitty that’s made me feel this past month or so? Every time I see Ron in the morning I’ve felt like throwing up, because I know that I’d just been having filthy thoughts about his wife the whole night. The wife who happens to be my best friend, just to twist the dagger in a little more. But you get your sights set on something and you won’t let it go, will you, luv?”

He shook his head at me as if to criticize my penchant for sticking my nose in other people’s business.

            “You decided you’d just solve all my problems for me, patch things up between Ginny and me as though we’d even bothered to ask you, and yet, I couldn’t help noticing how,” he loomed closer, his lips right above mine for a moment as he breathed out slowly, “…excited you would get every time we talked about the way I fucked other women. How you positively glowed while you listened, your voice all breathy when you thought you had me all figured out. Do you even have a clue what kind of picture you made, Hermione?”

He paused, as if he were awaiting my reply, so I shook my head, my sight getting blurry from the tears surfacing and my arms starting to ache from my frozen lock on them. He stepped back just far enough to glance up and down my body, his hands now shamelessly sliding up my sides and then smoothing over my breasts, coming back down to cup them tightly, pushing them up so that the tops peeked out of the elasticated bodice of my dress.

            “Well, it was pretty fucking glorious, to be perfectly blunt.” He glanced at my face again. “When did that happen, Hermione? When did you become this…graceful, confident woman who strides into a room like she knows exactly what a good fuck feels like; like there are things about her that are begging to be discovered, a treasure box with layers upon layers of secrets that you know are exquisite and you can think of nothing else put sliding open each drawer until you bring her out into the light, this…creature…this sexual diamond in a stream of fakes. Do you know when, Hermione? Because it would have been nice if you had warned me beforehand that it was going to happen.”

By now I was trembling so badly that I could feel a shudder seize up in my sternum as another thumb passed over my right nipple this time. I made an attempt to speak.

            “I…,” it came out more of a squeak and I cleared my throat to try again, “I couldn’t—couldn’t say,” I finished, my eyes blinking in quick succession as one of his hands slipped lower to the space between my legs. The pads of two fingers slid up and down the material of my dress, right where the tingling nub of my cunt lay underneath. I choked but then tried to talk some more, mortified that my knickers were soaked through.

            “You—I mean—I thought you fancied me a bit dull in bed, what with everything Ron spilled about us. I’m—I’m not exactly the type of woman you’re after,”

            “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Hermione.” He tipped his head and he gave me a lopsided smile, looking expectant. “You don’t even know what you are, do you?”

            “What is that supposed to mean?” My voice sounded hollow and scared.

Harry turned suddenly serious, backing away as he peeled himself off of me. His fingers were tight against each other as they slid under his glasses, rubbing at his eyes tiredly as he let out another long sigh.

            “Fuck me,” he moaned to no one in particular. “Why can’t my life be uncomplicated for once?” His hands dragged from his face and carded into his hair in one motion, he left them grasping the back of his head with elbows in the air as he gave me another good, hard stare. His chuckle sounded forlorn, coming deep from inside of him.

            “I want to fuck you raw so badly right now…you really have no idea, Hermione.” He smirked, but his derision seemed to be fixed upon himself. “I suggest you leave here in the next thirty seconds. I really don’t think I’ll be able to hold off much longer than that, and I’ll no longer be able to guarantee your safety. Just… go home, Hermione. Please.”

I couldn’t leave, however. I couldn’t even move, to be honest, but after a speech like that I didn’t want to leave, I wanted Harry to deliver on his promise. I’m sure there were guilty thoughts floating around in the back of my head like sprites at dusk, but for the most part, all I could see and hear and feel was Harry—Harry’s entire bloody being flooding my senses and his desire calling to me like a plaintive howl under a full moon. I grabbed his wrist tightly as he moved to step away from me. He stiffened for a moment.

            “Please don’t do this. Leave,” he begged in a whisper, but I couldn’t let go of him.

My hand snuck out and I curled it around his waist, pulling him back to me. His skin was on fire, the muscles so taut beneath my fingers. As soon as he was close enough, I let my grip loosen, my fingers traveling across his belly; so hard and hot, but then that furry trail sending my fingers downward until they were sliding over the silk, my breath catching when I felt what was waiting for me.

I don’t know what I was expecting to happen after that. That it would be like out of some romance novel with those women lying back in a swoon as some brutish rogue ravished them? I’d been married for a while, for Merlin’s sake, I knew what real passion looked like. But with such a lead-up, I started to picture Harry as the hero again, snatching me up in his arms as he carried me upstairs to throw me onto the bed. The reality of it, however, was much more…of an overload.

When Harry pressed back against me, he ripped my jumper from my arms before he took hold of my wrists and slammed my arms above my head, keeping me pinned as he buried his nose into my neck.

“You asked for this,” he hissed, my heart galloping as he bit into the soft spot right where the tendons in my neck sat above my clavicle.

His head moved down, his teeth continuously nipping at me as he bit at patches of my breasts. I jerked forward with a cry, the pain surprising me, and then Harry had his hands on my shoulders, taking hold of the thin straps on my dress and pulling them down as he swung my arms with them.

“Get this fucking thing off,” he growled, yanking the top of my dress down with a viciousness that further scared the crap out of me. I had nothing on underneath except for my panties and when his hand dove inside, I sucked in another breath and struggled to keep from shouting as I felt his fingers go straight for my cunt.

“Fucking hell, Hermione,” he muttered, and I was embarrassed by how wet I was, feeling like I must have been coating him instantly. He didn’t waste any time burying them deep inside of me, though, and after a full grip around my whole pubic bone, his thumb brushing over my clit, he pulled out of me suddenly. I jolted, but then his hand was at my face; he was holding two of his fingers apart in a vee as they glistened from the light overhead.

“Open your mouth,” he casually demanded.

“Wh-a-what?” I felt disoriented by the question.

“Do what I say, Hermione,” he insisted and that time, I did it.

Something about the way he said it to me, it was like everything had just cleared out of my head and there was only the sound of his voice. When both fingers entered my mouth I made another startled noise, but I didn’t close my lips around them until he told me to. And then his mouth was finally on mine, the intrusion of his fingers still a party to our tongues. It was like having a Dementor suck out your soul; Harry was everywhere, teeth tugging at my bottom lip, his mouth trying to bruise mine as if he wouldn’t be happy until they were purpled and swollen. But I flung my arms around his neck until he was lifting me up, molding my legs to grip around his waist and cross over his arse. We didn’t exactly make it upstairs to a bed, he chose instead to stumble across the carpet with us both still locked together until he hit the back of his couch. He deposited me over the side with a flump, but I had barely caught my breath as I landed when he was on top of me again, his robe long gone and his hands pushing the low hanging tops of his pyjamas off of his hips.

I reached up to help him remove them, just as eager for him to be naked, but then he…smacked my hand, stepping off the couch as he’d undone the drawstring and then let them drop. I didn’t even get a chance to study his body before he was grabbing at my legs and pulling me to the end of the couch, taking hold of my thighs and dragging me further up and over the armrest, until my bum sat on top and my back was stretched painfully with my head still on the cushioned seat. He positioned my right leg so that it was draped over the side of the couch’s back, his grip around the ankle of my other leg as he spread me wider. I’d never felt so exposed in my entire life.

And then he attacked my quim like he’d been starving for weeks. I know it’s overused and a rather gauche expression, but really, there’s no other way to describe it. He feasted on me, his tongue buried so far inside me at one point that I came all over it from just one finger stroke across my clit. But I hadn’t even recovered from that before he was flipping me over and I shouted in something like fear. I had absolutely no idea what to expect from him and I was seriously concerned, even as my body thrilled from such a laying to waste that Harry was providing. It was like some sort of sexual blitzkrieg, and I was about to protest whatever Harry was going to do to my backside as I hung over the upholstered arm feeling quite on display when he spread my legs open again and then slapped the side of my arse.

            “I hope you know what you’ve got yourself into, luv,” he intoned darkly a second before his cock burrowed into my cunt.

It’s quite hard to put into words how it felt to have the boy I grew up with, whom I’d always suspected saw me as nothing more than a friend like all of his other mates; the boy that I fought beside and adored through the years with a quiet admiration; the man who held me tight on my wedding day with tears running down his cheeks; just how it felt to have this same man ram me so deep that I literally saw stars, all while listening to him mutter threateningly the list of the things he was about to do my cunt.

When I came the second time, he gave me a whole minute before he was dragging me to one of the overstuffed chairs, sitting me against the wingback with my bum near the edge while he flipped my legs over the sides. He was licking me again; sucking on places that I didn’t even think could be sucked like that. His tongue didn’t seem to care where it ended up, either, and I think I moaned in shame when I felt it tickle against spaces I didn’t find particularly erotic. He sat up at one point and his face…Merlin, it was coated with my arousal, like he’d slathered himself with the stuff. I was fascinated and repelled at the same time, but I didn’t have much chance to decide which when Harry was inside me again and leaning over to grab my head. When he pulled me closer for a snog, I blanched for a moment; it seemed a bit much. He really had a quirk for this. Ron had gone down on me, sure, but he’d never gone so far as to make me taste myself all over him. Harry stopped upon my reaction and narrowed his eyes, his glasses lost somewhere to the floor.

            “Lick me up,” he directed but I only stared back at him uncomprehending.

            “I beg your pardon?”

He snorted a laugh at me but quickly turned serious again.

            “I said, lick me up. Lick my face free of your juices. I want to suck it off of your tongue.”

I gawked for another second before Harry squeezed my hips and drove into me. It propelled me into action. I was halfway into cleaning him off before I even noticed the flavor. And then Harry was doing his sucking thing again, practically swallowing my tongue as he started to pump into me much harder. I hadn’t thought there would be any way I’d manage another orgasm that night when he’d started again, but unbelievably, I found my body responding to each of his thrusts with a ratcheting enthusiasm, eager to feel that wash over my senses once more. But then Harry slowed down, winding his hips as he moved with more calculation, and when he pulled me to the floor, I didn’t really care anymore, about anything, other than what he was making my insides feel. He was on top of me, dragging my arms over my head once more as he held my wrists in a death-grip, and soon he started to speed up. My moaning was ongoing by then, I couldn’t shut up, and when he stopped for a bit so he could hoist one of my legs up against his shoulder before lying on top of me again, I was pretty much screaming in delirium. He hit my cervix deep for a third time, blossoms unfurling before my eyes as I shouted out his name, and when he moved, it was like the pistons of an engine, well oiled and sleek as he pummeled my twat with a dedication that was impressive.

I’ll admit it. I came like a banshee.

I don’t even recall Harry’s own release but figured it must have happened as we lay there panting on each other like we’d been chased by Snatchers for the last hour. I couldn’t move. Not the least because Harry’s body was heavy on top of me, but my arms and legs had felt leaden, slow to respond to my commands. I was wiped out thoroughly, quite in shock that this was how sex could feel with the right amount of…determination. I used the heel of one hand to push at Harry’s shoulder, too exhausted to ask him to move. He finally, wearily, rolled off of me, his hand lazing against my stomach as I tried to get up.

            “What time is it, Harry?” I breathed, not having any idea where my wand was right then.

I saw his hand poke around the top of the coffee table, looking detached like some creature hunting for food, but then it gripped around wood and his wand floated into sight. He cast at the air and orange-ish numbers flickered into being. It read 12:30.

            “OH MY GOD!” I bolted upright and took hold of the chair closest to me, using it to heave my body up on its legs. “Where are my clothes, Harry? Oh, shit; help me find them!”

Harry apparently understood the need for my distress and was quick to move with me, using his wand to summon his glasses so he could get my things together.

            “What time did you get here? I hadn’t even noticed.” He threw my knickers at me and they flew right by my face. I scurried after them with a scowl.

            “It was three and a half hours ago. If Ron tries to call my mum….” But I left that thought unfinished. It wouldn’t happen, I insisted to myself, Ron would most likely be fast asleep by then, and that was what I had to believe if I wanted to Disapparate in one piece.

Harry had found my dress and was trying to fit it over my head as I struggled to pull up my panties. We looked ridiculous, but I think he was getting as panicked as me, trying to get the tangles out of my hair with a brush of his fingers. It didn’t work.

            “Owww! For fuck’s sake, Harry, just use your bloody wand to cast a Scourgify over me! There’s no time for a shower until I get home.”

I heard the spell and then the light puff of air wafted over me, my knickers suddenly drier.

            “Do you want to call me later to let me know everything’s turned out alright?” he offered, but I was too incensed to be diplomatic.

            “Harry, I’m not about to call you from my kitchen to assure you that I’m not dead yet. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow when you can call me from work, the minute you’re alone.”

I was slipping on my sandals with my arms tangled in my jumper and still looking for my keys and wand when Harry wrapped his arms around me and kissed me on the mouth, significantly more tender this time. When he pulled back, he had both of the items I needed in his hand.

            “All right. I’ll wait until then. Be careful.”

It was such a strange thing for him to say, but then it hit me what we’d just done. The tightness in my chest from before I had even arrived was back. I ran a hand through my hair, doing what little I could without a mirror and brush.

            “How do I look?” I asked, my stomach galloping along with nervous dread.

            “You look gorgeous,” he told me, appearing almost surprised by such a thing. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but right before I left, I leaned over to take hold of his arms and reach up for one more kiss. I had obviously gone totally insane.

The next second, I whirled around and let the power of my spell take me out into the night, feeling like I’d just taken the mother of all sucker punches to the gut.

Thanks again to Daye for his beta help. And thanks to everyone reading and commenting on the story.
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