Iuga Sortis III: The Beginning

Thirteen

Hermione frowned as she watched Harry pace in front of the fireplace and check his watch every time he pivoted. He ran a hand through his hair and groaned, shoving his hand in his trouser pocket, and continued his march, repeating the motion every other cycle.

"What's with him?" Hermione asked Ron, who was sitting beside her against the couch and actually working on his Potions' essay--and during the Easter holiday, no less.

"He's meeting Nia soon," Ron muttered, crossing out a line and not looking at her. Hermione glared at him then shrugged.

"What's so special about that? They train together all the time . ."

Ron snickered and glanced her way. "This is a different type of training, if you get my drift . . ."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she was dangerously close to squealing. "You mean--"

"In about . . ."--Ron checked his watch--"thirty minutes, his first date with Nia will begin . . ."

A large smile graced her face, and she grabbed Ron and kissed his cheek hard. "This is perfect!"

He chuckled. "I'll say! Harry goes on a date, and I get some lovin' . . . I'm liking this arrangement!"

She rolled hers eyes and slapped his upper arm lightly. "Is that all you ever think about?"

His eyes grew darker, and he kissed her lips softly. "You should know by now you're always on my mind, love. Matter of fact, the line I crossed out was, 'Hermione Granger-Weasley . . ."

She grinned and kissed him again, running her fingers through his hair. "I like the sound of that."

"Me, too. Looks even better in writing . . "

She was about to kiss him again when a shadow overcame them. They both groaned, and Hermione rested her head on Ron's shoulder.

"Hermione, I need to talk to you . . ." came a shaky voice from above them. It was disconcerting to hear Harry's voice tremor as it was, but Hermione thought it so endearing all the same.

"Work on that essay, you," Hermione warned Ron with a light kiss before following Harry out the portrait hole.

The black-haired young man ran his fingers through his hair again, and Hermione grabbed it to prevent it from duplicating the gesture anymore. "Relax, Harry. Everything will go fine."

He looked at her plaintively. "All I can remember is the disaster with Cho. What if she's like that or worse? She's much more powerful than Cho ever was . . ."

"And probably more stable, too," Hermione muttered under breath as she rolled her eyes.

"Pardon?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't worry about Nia Roberts being another Cho Chang . . . besides, she knows Ron and I are together anyway . . ."

"Yes, but--"

Hermione shook her head and placed a free finger to his lips. "No buts . . . just make sure you and Nia have a good time--for me."

Harry nodded and swallowed, moving her finger and grasping both hands tightly. "I want this night to be perfect, Hermione . . . this could set the stage for the rest of our relationship!"

It was then Hermione realized Harry's behavior went beyond nerves . . . it was genuine fear. This date might as well be a boggart to Harry. She squinted her eyes, a small smile appearing on her face. "You care for her, don't you?"

He shook his head. "I love her, Hermione. More than I could've possibly imagined. It's been almost a month since we had our breakthrough, and since then the feelings I've had for her have only grown stronger. I don't know how I'll be able to go through the next three years without seeing her every day!"

She cupped his face, and he leaned into it, peering at her through unsure green eyes. Hermione shook her head and kissed his cheek before drawing him in a full embrace. He returned it gladly.

"You'll be able to because you're Harry Potter," she whispered. His arms tightened, and she grinned. "You have to because until Voldemort is destroyed, he'll never give you a moment's peace."

"But--"

"And you have to be an Auror to do so. I know Ron's going with you, and--"

"What about you?"

She pulled away and tucked her hair behind her ear as she stared at the ground. "What about me?"

He frowned, grasping her shoulders. "You're coming with us, right?"

She bit her lip and shrugged. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?!"

"I want to be a professor! I want to do research, so you and Ron and other Aurors can put it to practical use--that's what I'm best at, anyway!"

Harry's eyes widened, and he gestured furiously. "But you're the bloody best at everything! You would be a top-notch Auror and probably be Head Auror by the time you graduate!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms at her chest. "Honestly, Harry!"

He blushed and adjusted his glasses, a small grin on his face. "Well, maybe right after you graduate, but bloody close all the same! It's always been us, Hermione! The Golden Trio--"

"Ugh, I hate that bloody name!"

Harry's grin widened, and he shrugged. "We are pretty golden, Hermione."

She sighed and began to walk. "It implies we're perfect, and we're not. At the fore in my mind is that debacle at the Department of Mysteries in our fifth year--"

"But everything worked out in the end! Nia brought Sirius back--"

"It never should have happened! If someone would have researched more, we could have avoided a trap like that!"

She glanced at Harry and saw the pensive look on his face. She grabbed his hand again and squeezed. "It will still be us, Harry; we'll just be doing our part in the fields where our talents would be used best. I think--no, I know--my place is in a school. It's not to say I cannot fight with the best of them, but my love for books and learning would do the Order and the side of Light much more good than if I train. Besides, I can always ask Ginny or possibly even Nia for some pointers . . ."

Harry said nothing and continued to look ahead, his face pinched with a frown. Hermione felt a small sense of dread, thinking if Harry were acting this way, Ron would be infinitely worse. He stopped walking and grasped her shoulders, eyes wandering over her face. She returned the intense stare, swallowing hard as she waited for him to speak.

Except he didn't; he merely smiled and squeezed her shoulders before hugging her.

A huge sigh escaped her, and she returned the hold tightly. "Thank you, Harry."

He shook his head and pulled back. "Don't thank me, love. You're not the cleverest witch Hogwarts has seen in an age for nothing! Know I support you on this, okay?"

Hermione nodded and hugged him again, taking comfort in the friendship he offered. Nia is one lucky girl . . .

"How do you think Ron will handle this?" she asked, her voice a bit smaller than before.

Harry began to chuckle and squeezed her briefly before letting go. "Honestly?" Hermione nodded, a bit of a curious frown on her face. "He's been trying to pluck up the courage to ask you not to go into Auror training!"

Her mouth dropped open slightly, and her eyes narrowed. "What?"

He bit his lip and nodded timidly. "He didn't want you to be in the crossfire of a battle. He kept going back to the Department of Mysteries battle and you taking that curse . . . sometimes he even has nightmares about it--except the curse is Avada Kedavra . . ."

She gasped and clasped her hands at her mouth, heart swelling for her beloved. And here she was wondering if he'd be upset she decided to be a researcher or a teacher. He wanted her out of harm's way. And while she felt a little bit of annoyance at his desire to keep her out the field, she could hardly blame him for why.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you that, Hermione," he said with a shake of his head.

She nodded and took a deep breath. "I know you weren't, but I'm glad you did. That makes my job easier."

"Don't tell him I said it?"

She smiled and cupped Harry's cheek. "I won't . . . you're a good friend, Harry--a brilliant friend."

He smiled softly. "Same goes for you . . . thanks for helping me calm down a bit."

Hermione snorted and brushed his thanks aside. "Please, Harry, I had to! You'd scare the girl with your constant pacing and wild hair!"

Harry gave her a mock scowl and tugged one of her own wild curls. "Pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

Hermione giggled and nodded. "It's so good to hear a Muggle expression, and there be comprehension from both parties. I say them to Ron sometimes, and he gives me a blank look--"

He snorted. "When does he not have a blank look?"

Hermione gaped at him and slapped his shoulder lightly. "That's my future husband you're talking about, and your best friend!"

"Basically, you're the only one to say such a thing," he noted dryly.

"Exactly!"

They both giggled at that, and Harry caught her hand, his face suddenly serious. "Whatever happens, 'Mione, it'll all work out in the end. I know it will. You two will get married and have your two Quidditch teams of kids, and I'll be a godfather to every one of them!"

Hermione blushed and rolled her eyes. "And as I've said, we're going to hold interviews for the mothers of the other twelve children, because I only plan on having two!"

They shared another laugh, and Harry nodded, checking his watch. He took in a deep breath, pushing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his hair. "It's crunch time . . ."

Hermione shook her head and kissed his cheek. "I'm sure it will be a lovely date. Where is it, anyway?"

"In one of the greenhouses, but we're meeting in the Room of Requirement."

Hermione frowned. "You're making her come all the way up here for a date? That's not very gentlemanly!"

He chuckled. "No . . she's in Jamilah's room, which is only accessible from the seventh floor--our floor. She's not out of her way; in fact, she's in a better position than I!"

She snorted. "God forbid you walk twenty paces down the hall . . ."

"I'm good with a broom, not with my feet."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted in agreement. "You do make a horrible dancer . . ."

He merely raised an eyebrow.

She laughed again. "You know I wouldn't a good friend if I didn't tell you the truth!"

"But Nia isn't a horrible dancer! What if she wants someone who can dance!? Like Brandon--"

"Who?"

Harry pouted. "Brandon Jordan, Lee's cousin in Ravenclaw . . . he was dancing with her at the New Year's Dance."

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from grinning. "I'm sure if that were the case, she'd be going on a date with him and not with you! I promise, Harry--it will go well. Just have faith."

"Faith . . ." he murmured and turned in the direction of the Room.

"I'm going to go now. We're going to want details when this is over, you know," she said conspiratorially.

He gave her a grin. "Thanks again, Hermione."

She kissed him one last time. "That's what friends are for! Have a lovely night."

He nodded once again and went to the Room, and she went back to the Tower. There were more students now than before, most working on schoolwork, though a few were playing Exploding Snap near the fireplace. Ron was still reclining against the couch, frowning and scribbling away on the parchment. A fringe of red hair hung in his eyes, and there was nothing Hermione wanted to do more than brush it away. She sidled up next to him and did just that, kissing his cheek and resting hers on his shoulder. He grinned at her and kissed her forehead before frowning again and writing.

"What's giving you trouble?" she asked, a hand rubbing his back in comforting strokes.

He sighed and clucked his tongue. "At present, this lovely woman who insists on touching me and creating a rather naughty reaction in my lower bits . . "

She giggled into his neck and tickled him briefly. "Besides that. You keep frowning at the parchment."

"I'm writing a bloody essay for bloody Snape! When have I ever been happy about that?"

"But what did the parchment ever do to you?"

He scowled. "Be a foot long--which is the length of the essay. It's bloody awful, Hermione."

She kissed his cheek again and read over his work. "Why don't you discuss the uses of the potion rather than the properties, especially when it reacts with skin. I think that could get you a foot, don't you?"

He brushed the quill's feather against his chin in thought. "That could work . . thanks, love!"

"I'm only helping you because there are things I'd rather be doing than watching you write an essay," she whispered in his ear before biting the upper curve of it. He growled, and his quill flew across the parchment. She giggled again and moved away from him.

"Where are you going?"

She twisted her hair atop her head then let it fall in a heap across her shoulders. "Slipping into something more comfortable . . . this outfit is not made to lounge around . ."

Ron gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing tantalizingly; then he grinned. "I was thinking the same thing . ."

She was positively red then, not missing the innuendo. "Get that foot done, and maybe you can . . ."

Ron didn't need to be told twice, and he wrote quickly. Hermione grinned at his new burst of enthusiasm and went to her room, undoing the buttons of her blouse as she did so. She changed, putting on some sweatpants and a T-shirt that read "Cannons"--one of Ron's favorite shirts. She forewent a bra, reaching her limit of endurance with the contraption, and laid on top of the covers on her bed--stomach down--picking up a book to read for pleasure.

Hermione had managed to find a loophole with the barring of boys from the Head Girl's room and put up a list of names of people who were allowed access. Ron, of course, was at the top of said list, followed by Harry, Ginny, and, quite grudgingly, Malfoy--but only because he was the Head Boy.

Crookshanks bounded on the bed and sat next to her elbow. She petted him lazily as her eyes darted across the pages. The cat purred in contentment, and she grinned. She planned to be purring soon, as well.

Hermione hadn't even read ten pages when the door burst open, revealing a panting and flushed Ron to her. She hid her face in the book to hide her grin as she heard the door slam shut and felt the bed sink with Ron's weight. The cat screeched and jumped off the bed, hissing indignantly. Ron huffed, muttering something about "dumb cats" and "getting lost."

"There you go with your nose stuck in a book--as usual," he teased in her ear. She ignored him, thumbing the pages in a show of reading. "Hermione?"

She turned a page. "Hmm?"

He kissed her neck. "I'm ready to slip into something more comfortable . . "

She snorted. "Then what are you doing in here? I have no clothes for you to wear--unless you fancy skirts!"

It was his turn to bite the shell of her ear. "'Mione!"

He was possibly the only person she knew who could sound sexy even when whining. As it was, she was becoming damp "down there," but that could have something to do with the fact he was rubbing her bum with those large, magical hands of his.

She suppressed a shudder and turned an unread page. "I'm reading, Ron! This book is simply fascinating!"

He huffed and tilted the book towards him. "This is possibly worse than Hogwarts: A History!"

"So you've heard of it, then?"

He sighed and rolled onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Why in Merlin's name are you reading about the history of N.E.W.T.s?"

She pursed her lips primly. "I want to get a leg up! If I get enough N.E.W.T.s in Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, Potions, and Charms, I can get into a top research university and--"

"Research university?"

She tried to shove her face farther into the book. Though Harry reassured her Ron didn't want her to be an Auror, Ron could be a bit ornery sometimes. "Ron . . ."

"I thought you wanted to be an Auror!"

"That was back in fifth year, and even then I wasn't too firm on the idea. But since sixth and now this year, I've discovered I can't leave my passion for learning! I love it too much to leave it, and if I can help the Order doing something I love and in something I can succeed at, then I'll research spells and potions that can help you and Harry and everyone else and make sure you'll come back to me when it's over." By the time she finished her speech, tears had crept into her eyes and voice.

Ron moved closer to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Oh, love," he murmured as he kissed her temple.

"I couldn't stand it if something happened to you, Ron! I couldn't!"

"And I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, love, which is why I'm bloody glad you decided not to be an Auror."

She grew irrationally angry. "So it's all right for me to sit on sodding pins and needles, but not you? I have half a mind to join just to spite you!"

"And you'd be miserable, and if there's one thing I know, Hermione Granger gets mean when she's miserable."

She pouted and kissed his neck lingeringly. "Then don't leave me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, love. And we'll work it out somehow. Maybe we could share a flat, so we wouldn't be away from each other--"

Hermione snorted and shook her head. "Your mother would never allow it!"

"I'm a grown man now, Hermione! My mum doesn't control my life anymore!"

"And Voldemort loves Muggles."

He was rather put out by that and moved away from her. Hermione thought it was just as well. She began reading again . . . or rather, running her eyes over the same sentence because she was so very aware of the man next to her. Perhaps that was bad form on her part, but he needed to realize his mum's thoughts meant more to him than he realized, and everything he'd done was to make his parents--particularly his mother--proud of him. She admired Ron so much for that, which was why she squashed any mention of them "living in sin."

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

He groaned, and she smothered a giggle. "You're right, Hermione. My mother wouldn't like the idea . . but maybe we can get flats in the same building--that would appease her somewhat."

"I may have to live in the dorm," she murmured and flipped another unread page.

"I can Apparate, you know."

She shrugged. "Then it's settled. We stay where we're supposed to stay, and we'll Apparate if we want to see each other. Good idea, Ron."

"Good! Now let's get comfortable . . ." he said, his voice growing husky.

She smothered a laugh in a cough. "I'm already comfortable, love, thanks."

"Hermione!"

Hermione smiled and stretched her body, the ends of the shirt riding up her torso. Goosebumps broke out as her skin met the cool air, and she let out a hiss at the contact of his lips against her flanks. The hem of the shirt and his lips continued their northerly journey until they met the underside of her right breast. She shuddered and sucked in a low breath.

"Ron," she growled, pressing her face into the bedding, her book long since forgotten. He moved his kisses along her spine, drawing the shirt completely over her head. He groaned, and her nipples peaked at the sexiness of it.

"I'm going to slip inside you, love," he muttered against her shoulder blade. "I'm going to make you cry out in ecstasy . . ."

He was alarmingly close to doing that now, and Hermione bit her lip to contain her moans. She loved the feel of her sensitive nipples against the rough cotton of the spread, but she wanted to feel his hands on her instead. It seemed Ron had a similar thought.

"So bloody beautiful you are . . ." he murmured against her skin, his hands cupping her soft globes. She grasped the covers and writhed under his ministrations. He turned her over, and she looked into his eyes, so dark from desire for her.

"I love you so much," he whispered, framing her face with his palms. She opened her arms, and he rested on top of her, her arms holding him close.

"Make love to me, Ron . . . make love to me . . ."

"Yes . . ." he whispered against her lips, pressing light contact to them with his own. His hands moved her sweats and knickers past her hips.

She kissed all along his hairline, whispering, "I love you," after every buss. His own lips traveled down her sternum, then laved each breast with tender loving, eliciting moans of pleasure from her. Her hands sunk in his head, running the silken strands through her fingers.

"My 'Mione," he murmured against her bellybutton. She gasped at the feel of his rough tongue inside the button, and she sighed.

"My Keeper . . ." she breathed, her eyes rolling in the back of her head when his lips went even lower. And as his mouth took her to new heights, Hermione's thoughts of the future drifted away, leaving only the here and now with the man she loved.

~~~~~~~~

A smirking, lounging, all around git-looking Draco Malfoy was not what Harry expected when he went into the Room of Requirement, nor was the highly bare and highly unaccommodating room--with only a chaise and a wooden table for furniture.

Harry frowned. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's smirk grew larger, though not by much. "Nia told me a while back about this strange phenomenon of fathers sitting on the porches with shotguns, ready for their daughters' dates to come to the door. It is meant to intimidate and give warning."

It was Harry's turn to smirk, and he crossed his arms at his chest. "Three things wrong here then--you are not Nia's father, you don't have a shotgun, nor are you intimidating."

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "I don't want to intimidate you, Potter. I want to make sure you know if you hurt Nia in any way, I'll be worse than the six Weasels Ginger calls brothers and Voldemort combined--got that?"

Harry merely snorted and sat down in a straight-backed chair. It creaked under his weight, and he scowled somewhat.

"Might want to lay off the treacle tarts, there, Potter. Jamilah's been saying you aren't as light on your feet as you have been in training."

"Why am I the discussion during your training sessions?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows yet didn't answer the question. "Nia's to be downstairs in the dungeons no later than 9:30 or--"

"Nine-thirty?! That's not even an hour and a half!"

Malfoy smirked again. "She's only fourteen, Potter, and you being considerably older and by all accounts a heterosexual male means you'll be thinking with the southern head instead of the northern one--9:30 or you'll never have a date with her again until she hits menopause."

Harry snorted. "And you honestly think she'll allow you to keep her away from me?"

Malfoy shrugged, resting his ankle on his knee. "She loves me . . . she listens to me . . ."

"Much as Ginny loves and listens to Ron, I'll wager," Harry said dryly.

"Ginny is only a year younger, and as of June 13, she'll be legal--"

"Which means she's not legal now; which means if Ron finds out you've been doing more than training whilst together, he'll have your head. Makes me wonder why I hold on to that bit of information myself . . ."

Malfoy glared at him, a bit of color rising into his cheeks. "Tell him and die. I may not work for Voldemort and Set, but I'm still a Slytherin, and I still don't like you all that much!"

Harry pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. "I tremble with fear, I tell you."

Malfoy only rolled his eyes in response and bounced his foot in agitation. Harry watched the other boy look around the room, a slight curl forming on his face.

"What?" Harry growled.

"I'm glad you decided not to have your date here. You may not have even got to 9:30 if you did!"

Draco Malfoy needed to leave and now. Harry felt his annoyance rise with every breath the Slytherin took. It was all Harry had not to shoot a nasty hex at him.

"Maybe the room reflects your heart--empty and bare."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You cut me to the quick," he said, lackadaisically putting a hand over his heart. "Really, you do."

"Not that you are all that quick . . ." Harry muttered as he crossed his arms at his chest.

Malfoy snorted and chuckled. "Your wit astounds me . . . or rather, the lack thereof . . ."

"There's nothing keeping you here. Why don't you just leave?" Harry snapped.

Malfoy tsked, wagging his forefinger. "Temper, temper, Potter. I'm here to give you some sound advice, actually."

"Why don't you give it to me later--like never!"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "This isn't about me and you, Potter. This is about you and Nia and how to keep yourself in her good graces. Point one--don't throw a tantrum when things don't go your way."

Harry scowled. "I do not throw tantrums!"

Malfoy snorted. "You throw them harder than Ginger does a Quaffle. You're such a baby it astonishes me you don't suck on a pacifier all day!"

"You mean like you suck on Goyle's?"

Malfoy blanched, but recovered quickly. "As if you hadn't been permanently attached to Weasel's from the moment you two met. It must be difficult for Granger to get her kicks . . ."

Harry shot up and towered over Malfoy. "Why, you little ferret!"

The blonde stood lazily and sneered. "Dear me, Potter. That's so fourth year. A wonderful thing called puberty happened, and now I have a rather large ferret. You should ask Ginger about it sometime--"

Harry got Malfoy in a headlock and wrestled him down to the ground, surprise working to his advantage. Malfoy recovered quickly, kneeing Harry in the gut, effectively relaxing the black-haired boy's hold from around his neck. Harry grunted at the force, then fell flat on his back as Malfoy tackled him to the ground. They were so caught up in their fighting they were unaware they had visitors.

"You know what they say: there's a thin line between love and hate . . "

"Yeah, Nia; I just never suspected it would be between Harry and Draco . . ."

"At least it's not between them and Voldemort and Set."

"Eww!"

"My sentiments exactly . . ."

The boys stopped wrestling and, with a look of abject horror, separated quickly, scrambling to their feet as far away from the other as possible. Harry looked to their guests, blushing furiously at the sight of Ginny and Nia whispering and laughing.

"You smarmy git!" he hissed at Malfoy. The other boy shrugged as he went to Ginny. She moved away from him and frowned.

"You dare come to me after your little tumble with you paramour?! I'm not that kind of girl, I say! I'm not that kind of girl!"

Nia snickered and covered her mouth.

Harry got a bit of satisfaction at Malfoy's blush and turned his attention to the younger girl. "What about you, Nia?"

"'What about me,' what?" she asked, an eyebrow arched. There was a grin on her face, and Harry's mouth mimicked it. "I'll admit I feel a bit miffed about what's going on here. It seems I was just a scapegoat . . ."

Those luscious lips of hers drew into a pout, and he felt a stirring below the belt. Dammit! Malfoy was right . . I am a randy bastard!

"C'mon, Nia . . . let's leave the lovebirds to it--"

"The only lovebirds who are leaving are you and I, love," Malfoy growled and gave Ginny a very thorough kiss. Nia and Harry shared a look of discomfort before she glared at the snogging couple.

"A'ight, a'ight! Leave! Jesus! You'd think you two hadn't seen each other thirty minutes ago!" Nia muttered as she all but dragged them to the door.

Ginny turned and gave Nia a hug with a kiss on the cheek. "I want details!" she whispered none too softly.

Malfoy hugged and kissed Nia as well. "I don't!"

Harry rolled his eyes, and Nia shook her head as the door clicked shut. The room changed then, going from bare and unwelcoming to lush and warm--though the furniture didn't change.

Nia chuckled. "He's such a liar! The minute I walk in the common room, he'll be aggravatin' me about the date. Nosy punk!"

Harry would've answered had she not rendered him speechless. Her hair was thick and full around her shoulders, with two peach rosebud clips pulling it away from her face. She wore minimal makeup, but it matched the coral sleeveless top and skirt ensemble she wore. Her shoes were flat ecru sandals with light brown soles and showed off iridescent pink toenail polished feet.

"Harry?"

He jumped slightly and shook his head, only to see her looking shyly at him. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and he wanted nothing more than to release it and capture her lips with his own.

"You look real nice, Harry." He looked down at his own button down white shirt and khaki trousers, glad he opted to keep the shirttails out, rather than tuck them in. There was a red t-shirt underneath to give his outfit a bit of color, and he was slightly relieved it didn't clash with hers. The brown Clarks McCarran shoes he wore were actually Dean's, but what the boy didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

Harry approached her, but not too close as to invade her personal space. "So do you."

She snorted and looked over his shoulder. "Right. Talk about feelin' like a fish outta water . . ."

He guided her chin to him and looked into her eyes, wanting nothing more than to take the uncertainty out of them. "You're beautiful, Nia . . ." he murmured as he kissed her forehead.

Her breath whooshed, ruffling the lapels on his outer shirt. "Whew! That's a relief! Harry Potter thinks I'm beautiful! I can now go to sleep with good conscience!"

He tickled her side, listening to her happy giggle, and drew her into a hug. She felt so good in his arms, all soft and pliable. "I love holding you . . ." he whispered.

She chuckled even as she held him tighter. "That's not the first time you've said that."

He pulled away from her and smiled. "Because it's true."

She smiled slightly and tugged at his hand. "C'mon. Let's get this date started--"

"Anxious to get rid of me already?"

She smirked. "No. Just hungry!" She tugged his hand again. "Aren't you hungry?"

Not for food . . .

"I've been too nervous to eat," he admitted, heat rising into his cheeks.

She dropped her eyes and squeezed his hand. "Me, too."

He entwined their fingers, and they went down the stairs and out of the castle to the greenhouses. He took great pride in the gasp she let out when they reached the one he set up with the help of Ginny. It was an abandoned greenhouse with broken glass in the ceiling, allowing the starry night to be visible from the inside. There was soft green lighting, creating a calming effect for the both of them. A picnic was laid out--complete with a green and white-checkered blanket with clear plastic cutlery and dishes set upon it. Their dinner was roast beef sandwiches and cherry pie for dessert.

Nia loved cherry pie.

Harry wanted her "cherry pie."

Bad Harry, bad!

But when Nia threw her arms around his neck, he had a hard time controlling his urges. He gently, yet firmly, separated them and internally winced at the hurt look that flashed across her face. Harry rubbed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, and she closed her eyes.

"What are you doing to me?" he murmured softly. Her eyes opened, and he drowned in the molten gold of them.

She hesitated a moment then smiled, and he thought it was the sexiest smile he'd ever seen. "Kissing you . . "

It was so light and so chaste, yet Harry never reacted more strongly to anything in his life. In all the intimate moments they'd had, he was always the one to initiate them. For her to take the reins aroused him to the point of pain.

As much as he wanted to deepen the kiss, he separated them again, but placed a firm buss on her forehead.

A stomach growled.

"Seems I'm not the only one who's hungry," she giggled.

Harry scowled at his stomach, but chuckled anyway. "I guess I'm not so nervous anymore," he admitted.

"Good! It's just lil' ole me! Nothin' to be nervous about!" she said, nudging him with his elbow.

He shook his head as he grasped her hand. "There's plenty reason to be nervous, love. This date could set the tone for our relationship . . . I want everything to be perfect for you, just as you're perfect for me."

She ducked her head again, and he tilted her chin with his forefinger. "Don't get all shy on me now! It's just lil' ole me!"

She narrowed her eyes at him and sucked her teeth. "Let's just eat before our stomachs get so loud we can't hold a proper conversation!"

He chuckled and helped her sit on the blanket, then settled beside her as they unpacked the basket and ate. The conversation started hesitantly at first, but as the meal went on, the uncertainty vanished, and ease appeared.

As it was, Harry held a forkful of cherry pie before her, antagonizing her with it, so she couldn't take the bite.

"You're such a punk!" she exclaimed, throwing down her napkin in a huff.

He laughed at her frustration and placed the bite in his own mouth. "It's soo good, Nia . . . you should really try some!"

She merely arched an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled and placed another forkful within her line of vision. "I'll let you have this one."

"You just put your mouth on that fork! I ain't takin' that bite!"

"I placed a cleaning charm on it before I got another bit of pie . . ." She frowned, clearly disbelieving him. "Okay, so I didn't--but I don't have cooties!"

She looked at the ceiling and began to whistle badly. He put down the fork and tickled her again, and as she thrashed to get away from him, they both fell to the blanket, he on top of her writhing body. He froze immediately, warning bells going off in his head as he settled in the cradle of her thighs. Nia's eyes widened, and Harry knew she felt him hot and throbbing at her center.

She swallowed thickly, her throat oscillating from the action. "Harry?"

His eyes were closed, and he muttered, desperately trying to hold onto the feelings desperately trying to erupt. "Nia?"

"I'm sorry . . ."

He peered at her then, clearly confused. "For what, love?"

She stared at him for a moment before darting her eyes to the side. "For being too young . . . for not being ready . . ."

Harry shook his head even as he captured her lips with his, putting all the tenderness he could muster into the gesture. Her fingertips touched his cheek and caressed it lightly, and it was all he could do not to groan at the touch. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, looking deep into her eyes. "I can wait forever until you're ready, love. We go your pace or no pace at all . ."

She bit her lip and stared at his throat. "But I feel things I--"

"What things?" He'd muttered the words against her hairline and relished in her shiver. Her legs opened more, probably to make herself more comfortable, but his member throbbed for the one place that was off limits to him.

She let out a whimper, and Harry felt a little relief to know she wasn't all that immune, either. "It's embarrassing . . ."

"It's me, love, Harry . . . you don't need to feel embarrassed around me . . "

She licked her lips and swallowed again, still refusing to meet his eyes. "Grandma would be so disappointed if--"

He placed a finger on her lips, and she looked at him with big, glassy eyes. Admittedly he did not want Jamilah or any other adult figure to come into this conversation--not while they were positioned the way they were, and definitely not on a date!

"This isn't about your grandmother or anyone else who is not in this greenhouse. This is about you, and me, and the things you feel . . ."

She made a sound low in her throat and averted her gaze. Harry would have none of that, however, and framed her face, so her eyes would meet his. "Harry . . "

"What are you feeling, love?" he asked softly.

Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath. "Tingly."

He frowned. "Tingly?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "Like I have to pee . . but I know I don't because I went!"

Harry was dangerously close to flying off the handle, so to speak, and he dropped his head to hers to calm himself. Nia, for all her innocence, was driving him insane. All he wanted to do was slide his hand up and--

"Harry?"

"Yes, love."

"I . . "

"Nia?"

She started pushing against him, and he saw panic rising in her eyes. He rose from her, and she sat up quickly, drawing her legs to her chest and resting her head on her knees. Her face was away from him, and he grew frustrated, but waited patiently for her to sort out whatever was bothering her.

It wasn't as if he couldn't use the space himself. Things were escalating way too fast and too intensely. His heart pumped furiously, and beads of sweat were along his hairline. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, feeling the strands stick up every which way. His shirt was wrinkled, and he unbuttoned the cuffs, pushing the sleeves up to allow the cool air to hit his heated skin.

Perfect? Is this what you call 'perfect,' Potter? You've perfectly fucked things up, I'll tell you!

A sniffle caught his attention, and Harry chanced a glance at the girl next to him. Her shoulders shook lightly, and he groaned.

"Nia, baby," he murmured, scooting closer to her. She drew herself tighter and shifted away from him, but Harry was undeterred.

She moved farther away and shook her head. "I'm sorry . . "

He didn't bother to ask why, because frankly he didn't care. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, Nia. I'm the older one, and I should've had more restraint . . . but, woman, you make me feel things . . "

"And I won't let you act on 'em," she sadly.

Harry pursed his lips and placed himself behind her, his legs on either side of hers and his hands at her waist. Her body stiffened, but Harry refused to move. "There's nothing to be ashamed about--"

"But I want you to!"

Whatever he was about to say disappeared from his mind. Her confession surprised the hell out of him, and clearly her as well.

"Nia--"

"But I don't want to, and I'm all confused, and I'm afraid you're mad at me! I don't want you to think I'm leadin' you on!"

He shook his head, resting his forehead against her temple. He kissed her cheek, tasting the salt from her tears. "I know you're not taking me for a ride, love. What you're feeling is completely normal--"

She snorted and shook her head. "Not for me, it ain't! I ain't supposed to want to--"

The sentence ended abruptly, and Harry needed to know the rest of it. "You're not supposed to do what? What are you not supposed to do?"

Nia shrugged yet relaxed her body. "Grandma told me to be a good girl and not get into trouble . . ."

"Do you think I'm trouble, Nia?" he asked and placed the softest kiss imaginable on her cheek.

"I know you are . . I'm feelin' tingly again."

"You're feeling tingly? I'm feeling hard."

"Harry!"

He was beyond playing nice. Just to know she felt for him what he felt for her gave him enough incentive to be so bold. He ground his pelvis into the small of her back, and she began to tremble.

"You feel that, love? There's only so much a bloke can do. I said I won't force anything upon you, and I will never do so. But at the same time, I'm not going to pretend to be unaffected by you, because I can't." Harry's hand grasped her ankles, only to travel underneath her skirt to her knees.

Her trembling became more violent. "Harry . . ."

His kisses were now at her neck. "You're so bloody gorgeous, Nia . . . so bloody beautiful . . "

She laughed hollowly. "It's the skirt and the makeup."

"No . ." he breathed, and his hand moved from her knee to her thigh. He had half a mind to take off the skirt to prove it wasn't what made her so beautiful to him . . . it was strictly her, only her . . .

Nia let out a low moan, and he hardened even more. Harry muffled a groan and kissed her bare shoulder. Her skin was so soft to the touch, and all he could think of was touching more.

"No, Nia . . ." he murmured again and moved his other hand to the bare skin of her stomach. Her trembling became worse, and she leaned further into him. Nia took off her sandals with her feet, and her toes curled into the blanket, desperate for anything to keep her rooted to the spot.

"Yes, Harry," she moaned, unwittingly grinding her bum into his crotch, and Harry almost lost it. He didn't know why she said yes, but he knew he wanted to hear her moan like that again. His fingers danced across her inner thigh, and her skin was smooth and soft to the touch. The skirt was now bunched against her waist, leaving her legs exposed. She closed her legs, trapping his fingers.

"What is it, love?"

"I ache, Harry," she said brokenly. His other hand moved to the underside of her breast, and she whimpered.

"So do I, Nia," he whispered in her ear.

"I don't wanna ache . . ."

"I don't want you to, either, but the only ways to stop it are to keep going or stop all together. I'll admit, Nia. I don't want to stop . . . I don't want to stop touching you . . . loving you . . ."

She jerked her head from him and looked at him with wide, glassy eyes. "What?"

He didn't answer, instead pressing his lips against hers in a demanding kiss. Her mouth dropped open in shock, and he slipped his tongue inside, moaning at the slide of her tongue against his. Her hand cupped the back of his head and brought him closer. Her legs fell open, and Harry took this opportunity to feel the heat between her legs.

She was damp.

Harry groaned, and she gasped, grasping the wrist of the naughty hand and squeezing. Harry felt immediate shame at taking such liberties with her. She was not some scarlet woman!

"I am so sorry, love! I'm so sorry!"

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. She hadn't moved their hands from between her legs, and his fingers itched to feel her again.

"I'm wet down there, Harry!" she hissed.

He made a strangled sound between a sob and a chuckle, and he exhaled harshly. "You are . . "

"Don't touch me there! I'm so embarrassed! Like I'm two or something and haven't been potty trained yet!"

It was then he realized she really had no idea what she was feeling, and he admitted being a bit surprised. "Nia . . . has Jamilah never given you 'the talk?'"

She shook her head. "I think she's afraid to give it to me."

"Well, have you talked with Ginny or even Angelina about it?" Another shake of the head. Harry dropped his forehead on top of her head and sighed. This would make things even more awkward and difficult. The child was having a hands-on lesson about the birds and the bees, and Harry was not the best teacher for the job.

But rather me than some other bloke!

"Why do I feel like this, Harry? What's wrong with me?"

He clenched his jaw and puffed air through his nostrils. "There's nothing wrong with you, but I think your grandmother would be a better person to answer that question, seeing as she's female and your grandmother!"

"Do you and Sirius have these discussions?" she asked with skepticism.

He chuckled. "Most of the time he starts them! Sometimes it's all I can do to keep from blushing." She moved her hand from his wrist to his fingers and entwined them with hers before relaxing her legs and moving their hands to her knees. Harry moved his other hand from underneath her top to bring the skirt back over her legs . . . no matter how much he loved the sight of the smooth, chocolaty skin . .

"You're hard again, Harry," she whispered, more as fact than anything else.

He gritted his teeth and nodded. "That I am, love."

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay . . ." Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he almost collapsed when he felt her hand at his crotch.

"You want me to make it better?" she asked, peering at him with innocent golden eyes. He closed his own and touched his forehead to hers, grasping her wrist and removing it from his lap.

"I'll manage . . . but thank you for the offer . ." he said breathlessly.

"I may not have had 'the talk', but I have heard girls talking about . . . that . . ."

He shook his head quickly. "You have to be ready for it, too. I can manage, Nia. I said your pace or no pace at all, and I mean it. You have to want to do it completely, but I do appreciate your, uh, compassion . ."

She nodded forlornly. "Perhaps we should leave before I embarrass myself further . . it's almost nine-thirty anyway . . ."

She couldn't--wouldn't--leave like that: feeling dejected and inept. Harry framed her face in his hands and kissed her firmly yet gently, infusing all of his feelings into the gesture. She sighed against his lips and relaxed, grabbing his shirt and returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm. He ended the kiss with smaller, lighter ones until he pulled away completely and smiled.

"You're wonderful, Nia Roberts. Don't ever forget that."

She smiled and stood, smoothing out the wrinkles on her skirt. He stood as well and used his wand to pack up the picnic while she slipped on her sandals. When he was done, he offered a hand to her, and she took it willingly, walking to the castle in mutual silence.

They were at the dungeon stairs when she groaned, and he stopped in alarm. "What?"

"Perhaps this date was a bad idea . . . what if someone saw us?"

He frowned. "I'm not ashamed of you."

"Nor I you, but you know . . ."

He did know, and he didn't want to think about it. "What's done is done. If someone saw, someone saw. I don't regret this date, love."

She looked away shyly for a brief second, yet grinned. "Some parts of it, yeah. The date as a whole, not on your life."

He grinned as well, holding her other hand and drawing her flush against him. "Perhaps we should do this again to see if we can have fewer regrettable parts."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips softly. "I think I'd like that, Mr. Potter."

He kissed her again and wrapped his arms around her waist. Hers went around his neck, and they fell into the spell.

"Hem, hem."

Harry and Nia jumped apart, but she burrowed her face into his chest when they realized who interrupted them. A smirking Malfoy had his arm around a highly amused Ginny, and it was all Harry could do not to throw a nasty hex in their direction. He kissed Nia's temple to dampen her embarrassment.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't hex you into the middle of next week," he said to Malfoy.

Ginny rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. "Don't be like that, Harry! It was my idea, anyway . . . I just couldn't resist!"

"Even if it wasn't, that is highly inappropriate--groping her as if she were a piece of meat!" Malfoy said with a sneer.

Ginny looked at the blonde incredulously. "I know you're not talking, Mister Too-Free-With-His-Hands!"

Nia snickered and pulled away from Harry, kissing her fingers and placing them to his lips. "Later," she murmured.

He pursed his mouth and nodded, missing the feel of her fingers when she pulled them away. He watched Nia drag a scowling Malfoy down to Slytherin House and felt Ginny hook her arm through his.

She regarded him closely, and he chuckled, kissing her forehead. Ginny would not be deterred. "You've got it bad, don't you, Harry?"

He looked down the stairs again before leading them to Gryffindor. "No, Ginny," he denied with a shake of his head. "I've got it good . . ."