Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Chapter 14 Worth the Wait

Hermione couldn't recall ever feeling quite this way.

In a futile effort to understand what was happening to her, and to occupy her mind, she began an inventory of her symptoms as if her emotions were a sickness to cure or a problem to solve.

A warm, stinging sensation was creeping across her features. Her hands were weak, rubbery, and shaking uncontrollably, in perfect sync with her racing heart. So busy was she detailing her physical reactions, she almost failed to notice that she wasn't breathing. The gulps of air she then swallowed to cleanse her mind and calm her nerves had the opposite effect.

She was going to be sick.

She bolted from the sofa, stumbled across the deserted room and ran to the toilet, her hand clamped over her mouth. She slapped the wall in the vicinity of the light switch, stinging her hand and missing the switch entirely, then lunged for the toilet. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to forget she was on the floor in Harry's lavatory fighting the urge to throw up.

Slowly, her shallow breaths deepened and her heart resumed its vital but unobtrusive job. She opened her eyes and watched millions of little dots chase each other around frantically before slowing and disappearing entirely, restoring focus to the edges of the loo again.

Gingerly, she rose from the floor, testing the strength of her legs, which she still couldn't entirely feel. She stood in the darkened room, collecting herself and enjoying the quiet. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she turned on the light and faced the mirror.

The reflection that greeted her bore little resemblance to the one that usually greeted her. Her face was a pasty white, her glassy brown eyes rimmed with black circles. The hair around her face was damp with perspiration. As she stood there, despairing at her appearance, the sweat pooled precariously on the hollow of her throat spilled out in rivulets down her chest.

Anger welled up inside her as she reached forward to turn on the tap. Frigid water ran into her cupped hands as she stared malevolently at herself in the mirror.

"You are the only person in the world who would have a panic attack about making love to a good looking man! But if you look like this when he gets here, you won't have a thing to worry about. Silly bint."

She bent over and rested her face in her water-filled hands, letting the cool water return her equilibrium. She splashed water on her face a few times, finally rinsing her mouth out, and turned off the tap, reaching for the hand towel hanging on the wall nearby. She buried her head in the towel and took a deep breath. This breath achieved what the others before it could not: it calmed her nerves and relieved her anxiety. She inhaled deeply again, the towel still pressed to her face.

It smelled like Harry.

She lowered the towel a bit, revealing her eyes in the mirror. Though they were still rimmed in black circles, her eyes resumed their normal appearance, even sparkling somewhat beneath her crinkling brows. Relief flooded through her as Harry's scent chased away the doubts that resided in her brain.

Keeping the towel with her, she walked back into the parlor to retrieve her bag, all the while thinking about the kiss she shared with Harry this morning. She shook her head in disbelief that it had been less than 12 hours since then. It seemed like an eternity had passed. So many other, more pressing issues regarding a relationship with Harry had plagued her that she never stopped to consider how difficult it would be to keep their relationship secret once she admitted her feelings. She couldn't bear to be in the same room with him and not be near him. She was constantly smiling, an involuntary reaction to the sound of his deep voice or his laughter. Not trusting herself to be near Harry, she had studiously avoided him the entire day.

She hadn't been sure if Harry noticed her evasion until alone in the kitchen he cornered her.

"Are you avoiding me?" Harry whispered in her ear, standing close behind her.

Hermione jumped at his voice and proximity, juggling the glass she had been filling with water. Composing herself, she looked over her shoulder to see him grinning mischievously. "Yes, I am avoiding you."

"Why?" he whispered, looking at her lips.

"You know very well why."

"You're right, I do. But I'd like to hear you admit it."

"Oi, Harry! The mistletoe is over here, mate!" George called cheerily as he breezed through the kitchen on his way up the stairs.

Keeping his eyes on Hermione, but grinning from ear to ear, Harry replied, "I know, George, but she's avoiding me!"

"Come on, Hermione!" George called as he climbed the stairs. "Put the poor chap out of his misery!"

Hermione and Harry dissolved into a fit of laughter. Hermione looked at Harry and asked, "Are you in misery, Harry?"

"Yes, I am. But I'm afraid it isn't the kind mistletoe will cure." He sighed dramatically and pushed away from the counter as more people entered the kitchen and its bustling activity resumed.

Now Hermione was again standing in front of a sink. Only this time, she was undoubtedly alone, waiting eagerly for Harry to arrive. She looked at her watch and was surprised to see that she had only been at Harry's house for half an hour. Time was moving interminably slow, prolonging her agony, and allowing her mind too much opportunity to return to its hovel of anxiety. So she did what any self-respecting, intelligent witch would do in a similar situation.

She buried her face in Harry's towel and took another deep breath.

Sighing contentedly, she reluctantly lowered the towel to the sink and began to reapply her makeup she had ruined earlier. She caught a glimpse of her watch in the mirror and wondered aloud if time was standing still.

To say that she wanted to "get it over with" was too negative, but it was exactly how she felt, if for no other reason than to alleviate the fantasies she had been having about him since their first kiss. She desperately wanted to make love to Harry. She felt herself blush at her own thoughts. This passion was so unlike her that she was embarrassed, despite the fact that no one could possibly know what was in her mind right now. To add to her embarrassment, there was nervousness underlying this desire.

It was fear of the unknown, of the consequences of making love to Harry. What if afterwards, they were both unimpressed with the other? What if he was disappointed in her lack of experience? Although not a virgin, skillful was probably not a word to describe her sexual abilities. Any excitement she had quickly drained from her as she continued to obsess about everything that could go wrong.

She zipped her make-up bag closed and threw it into her duffle, then debated briefly as to where to put the bag before deciding to leave it where it lay. Frankly, that was the least of her worries. She needed some air.

Hermione jotted a quick note down on a spare piece of parchment before donning her cloak and wrapping the pashmina Harry had given her around her neck. She was walking to the door and pulling her gloves on when the door flew open and Harry walked in, bag thrown over his shoulder, snowflakes in his hair.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Bill decided he wanted to take me on in wizard's chess. It took me longer than I expected to lose." He stopped abruptly, taking in the sight of Hermione standing in front of the door dressed for the cold. He turned and closed the door, tossing his bag in the corner out of the way.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked nonchalantly.

"What?" Hermione said, distracted by the jolt of relief that hit her when Harry walked through the door. He looked down, nodding at her cloak and gloves.

"Oh! I was going for a walk."

"Anywhere in particular?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, wondering for the first time where she had intended to go. "No."

"Why were you going for a walk?"

Hermione cleared her throat, debating how many, if any, of her insecurities she should reveal to Harry. She looked him straight in the eye and replied. "I was restless."

Harry unbuttoned his cloak and removed it, tossing it onto a nearby wingchair. "Do you still want to go for a walk? I can join you."

Hermione watched Harry move closer to her, taking in, not for the first time today, how good he looked wearing the simplest of clothes: beige trousers and a black v-neck jumper with just a hint of an undershirt showing.

"No, I don't want to go for a walk."

"Maybe later," he whispered, removing a glove from her hand.

"Sure," Hermione replied as he removed the second glove.

He unbuttoned her cloak and slid it off her shoulders. "You don't need this," he said, tossing it on top of his.

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of Harry. He seemed so confident and relaxed, while she felt as if she were about to take an exam she was ill prepared for. Harry ran his hands down her arms and gently rested his hands on her waist, looking at her body. Hermione felt her heartbeat increase and felt the throbbing of her heart in her chest. She saw Harry take a deep breath and look up at her face, a tentative smile on his face revealing a fissure in his confidence.

"Are you still restless?" he asked, hooking a finger under her scarf and slowly pulling it down from her neck.

Hermione shook her head in response. "No. Just nervous."

"Me, too," he whispered, pulling her scarf down from around her neck and dropping it to the floor. "But I have a theory."

"Really? What's your theory?"

"That my nerves will vanish when I kiss you."

"You think so?"

"It's a theory. There is on..."

"Harry," Hermione interrupted. "Now is not the time..."

"...for playful banter."

Hesitantly, he raised his hand to her cheek, gently running the back of his fingers across her jaw line. "Hermione, you have no idea how long I have wanted this," he said hoarsely. He brushed her hair out of her face. "Is this what you want?"

Rubbing her hands up and down his back, she nodded. "Yes."

A tiny part of her brain, the part that refused to accept their evolved relationship, was shocked and amazed that Harry was making love to her. As good as it felt -(and God, it felt good!), as right as it felt, a tiny part of her still held onto the idea that this was somehow wrong -- that they would be caught and punished for breaking the cardinal rule of friendship. As the tingling sensation traveled down her legs making her toes curl, the idea crept into her mind that this sense of sinning against their friendship was partially responsible for making this feel so incredibly good.

Cupping her face in his hands, he pulled her slowly forward until their lips touched. He kissed her softly, tenderly, telling her without words that she could trust him, that he understood what this meant to her and that he felt the same way. As this realization hit her, she melted into a puddle at his feet. He could have asked her to do anything and she would have complied without reservation.

The intensity of the feelings coursing through her was indescribable. For someone who prided themselves on their ability to pontificate at will on any given subject, this failure of words was monumental. Later, void of distractions, with time and space separating her intellect from these events, she would be able to concisely describe what she was currently feeling -- she was sure of it. But for that moment, Hermione Granger -- first in her class at Hogwarts, the youngest Transfiguration Professor in Hogwarts' history, regarded by and large as one of the most intelligent witches of her time -- acquiesced to her emotions ...

And fell in love.

Hermione reached up to caress Harry's face, unable to keep the smile from hers.

Finally.

"Finally?" Harry asked.

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes, you did."

"Oops."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What exactly does 'finally' mean?"

Hermione cleared her throat and looked down at Harry's chest. "Well, you know me and my tendency to overanalyze things."

"No!" he said dramatically. "You don't do that!"

Hermione playfully poked Harry in the ribs. "I know that's a shocking revelation." She looked up at him, relieved to see an understanding smile in his eyes. "I have a confession. I had a slight panic attack before you got here."

"A panic attack? About us?"

Hermione nodded her head. "I know it was ridiculous. But I was here, alone, and my insecurities got the better of me." Her face lit up with understanding. "It was a lot like the feeling you get right before taking an exam. You're ready for it, you are 100% prepared, but there is still that fear of the unknown. Know what I mean?"

Harry looked at her skeptically. "I don't know if I like the comparison of making love to me with taking a test or not. But I can tell you that I liked the results."

"Did you?"

"Would you be reassured if I gave you a grade?"

"As a matter of fact..."

"I was joking! I'm not going to give you a grade!"

"Why not?" Hermione said with a trace of panic in her voice. "I was awful, wasn't I?"

"What?! You're kidding me, right? Weren't we just doing this together? Bloody hell, woman, if that is your idea of awful, then I'm guessing spectacular is going to render me unconscious for months."

Hermione looked down and back up at him shyly. "It was amazing, wasn't it?"

"Absolutely amazing. Much better even than my fantasies."

"You've had fantasies about me?"

"Merlin, yes. I've been dreaming about you for months."

"You told me those were nightmares."

"Not anymore."

"That's good. I would hate to be the cause of your sleepless nights."

"Actually, I would love for you to be the cause of my sleepless nights." He drew her closer and nuzzled her neck, kissing around her jaw to her mouth. "Mmmmm," Harry hummed in Hermione's mouth. "Your lips should be illegal." He continued to kiss her, interspersing words between each kiss. "I couldn't stop looking at your lips today. All I wanted to do was lay you across the kitchen table and snog you senseless."

"Why don't you do it now?" Hermione asked.

"Right, then. I reckon I will."

"What was that?" Hermione yawned.

"I think it was my stomach," Harry's muffled voice replied.

"Are you hungry?"

"I guess so."

"Do you have the energy to get up?"

"No."

"Me either."

Harry lifted his head, which had been buried in the nook where Hermione's shoulder met her neck. "I would summon a snack for us, but honestly, there is nothing to eat in this house."

"Surely there's something."

Harry returned his head to its resting place. "I wouldn't count on it." He kissed her neck and rooted his nose in her hair. "Does your hair really smell like apples or am I just that hungry?"

"It's my shampoo."

"Ah." He looked up at her again as his stomach gave a healthy rumble. "Well, it is making me hungry."

"Sorry."

Harry sighed heavily. "I don't really want to get up, but I'm starving. What time is it anyway?"

Hermione looked at her left wrist and then looked around on the floor. "I would tell you, but I have no idea where my watch is."

Harry looked up at the clock on the bookshelf. "It's 7:15. What time does the grocer's close, eight?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "No idea."

"I think that's right. How about that walk?"

"Sure." Hermione disentangled herself from Harry and tugged at the blanket as she moved to rise from the sofa.

"Oi! Where are you going with my blanket?" Harry asked, pulling the blanket back.

"To find my clothes," she replied, tugging harder.

"You don't need the blanket!"

"Yes I do. It's cold!"

Harry swung his legs off the sofa, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. "Tell you what, we'll share the blanket." He stood up, and opened the blanket, beckoning Hermione to come closer. She smiled at him and stepped closer as he folded his arms around her, encircling them both in the soft material. "This is my kind of compromise," he said as he felt her smooth skin against his. "Turn around."

Hermione gave him a knowing look and complied. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. "Look around. Do you see your clothes?"

"Mmm-hmm. Over there, there, there and there," she said, pointing to all areas of the room.

"A bit scattered, aren't they?"

They went around the room picking up their discarded clothes and returned to stand before the fire. Remaining wrapped in the blanket for warmth, Hermione dressed herself. She turned to face Harry, holding the blanket around him. As he bent down to put on his boxers, Hermione caught his mouth, kissing him haphazardly -- his upper lip, the corners of his mouth, his lower lip -- all were fair game. She drew her head back and Harry slowly opened his eyes, his lips still puckered for the next kiss. She glanced down and back up with a mischievous smile on her face.

"Why do you do this to me?" Harry said in frustration.

"Because I can."

"Demented Hermione, not my favorite person." Harry pulled his clothes on quickly and reached for their cloaks, still lying across the wingchair. He draped Hermione's cloak over her shoulders before picking up her scarf and wrapping it around her neck for her. Flinging his cloak over his shoulders and latching it quickly, he held out his hand to Hermione. "Ready?"

They walked out into the crisp night air, each instinctively raising their palms to capture the large white snowflakes that were drifting down from the darkened sky. Harry steered Hermione down a side street filled with quaint cottages, the snow covered roofs and multi-colored Christmas lights adorning the eaves giving them the distinct look of gingerbread houses. Warm yellow light shone through the windows, illuminating idyllic family Christmas scenes in many of the houses.

"I would imagine that your childhood Christmases were like this, weren't they?" Harry asked.

"I'm sure from the outside looking in, they did seem a bit picture perfect."

Harry continued to watch the scenes play out in the windows as they passed. He looked down at Hermione to find her staring up at him. "What?"

"Yours were awful, weren't they?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and looked away. He had forgiven the Dursleys years ago for his mistreatment, but during the holidays, the small seed of resentment that remained would germinate and grow. He couldn't help but think about what he had missed out on as a child.

"Seeing this," he said nodding in the direction of a family sitting around a dinner table, "and remembering my Christmases past just makes me want a family even more. A bunch of children running around a huge tree, opening presents, drinking hot chocolate. You know, the Weasleys without the red hair."

"A bunch of children? How many are you talking about?"

"I don't know. Enough for a Quidditch team, I guess."

Hermione's mouth gaped open. "Seven?"

"Well, five I guess, if you and I play."

Harry cringed, realizing what he said. He looked over at Hermione to see if she caught the implication that she would be the one having five children with him. If she did, she wasn't bothered by it.

"Well, five is still quite a large number."

"Did you like being an only child?"

"It had its perks. But all in all, I would say no. I would rather have had a sibling."

They turned onto the main thoroughfare and walked in the direction of the grocer's, only to be greeted by a darkened door with a sign saying "Closed Christmas Day."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in shock. "Did you forget it was Christmas, too?" he asked.

"Yes, I did. Is it just me, or does it seem like an eternity ago that we went for our run?"

"It isn't just you. We've had quite an eventful day, haven't we?"

"That's an understatement."

Harry looked up and down the street, the prospects for abating his hunger waning. He snapped his fingers. "The Three Broomsticks. It will be open for sure. I remember seeing a notice on the door advertising it. Let's go."

He draped his arm across her shoulders and kissed her temple. He was rewarded with a radiant smile from Hermione -- something he would never tire of seeing.

"I feel so ..." he paused, trying to find the right word. "Normal."

"Normal? What are you on about, Harry?"

"I'm walking down the street, on a date with my beautiful girlfriend. I can call you that, right?" he asked. She nodded with a smile and he continued. "Good. There is no evil dark lord wanting to kill me. I've just had the best sex known to man, twice, and I'm about to eat a hardy meal. It doesn't get much better than that."

Harry pulled open the door to the Three Broomsticks and stepped back allowing Hermione to enter before him.

"Wow," Hermione said a bit nervously. "I didn't expect it to be this crowded."

"Me either."

They stood at the door of the almost full pub, looking around for a vacant table. Harry caught Madam Rosmerta's eye and returned her wave with a smile. She pointed toward the far back corner of the room, and Harry sawa vacant table, partially hidden by a gaudily decorated Christmas tree. He nodded his head and waved in acknowledgement.

"This way," he said, grabbing Hermione's hand.

They weaved through the crowd of mostly men, Harry shaking hands and greeting people along the way. Once relieved of their coats and scarves, they settled down at the table and were promptly greeted by the proprietor.

"Happy Christmas, Harry. Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Rosmerta," they said in unison.

"You're busy tonight!" Harry said.

"I know. It's like this every year. You'll notice that it's mostly men. Trying to get away from all the noise at their own houses, they come here to make more noise."

"Please tell me the kitchen is open," Harry said in a pleading voice.

"If it wasn't, it would be for you. You want your usual?"

"Your usual?" Hermione said, lifting her eyebrows.

Harry glanced at Hermione a bit sheepishly and reached under the table to rub her leg. "I might come in here every so often."

He looked up at Rosmerta, who was eyeing the two of them with a shrewd smile on her face. "Right. I'll have my usual."

"Okay. What about you Hermione?"

"Do you have any soup or stew?"

"We have Leek and Potato Soup."

"Brilliant."

"And two ales," Harry added, looking questioningly at Hermione who nodded in assent.

"Got it," Rosmerta replied. "Nice scarf, Hermione," she said turning with a wink at Harry and walking away.

"Thanks," Hermione replied, nonplussed. "What was the wink all about?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry.

Harry looked at her sheepishly. "I may have asked from some advice from a woman's point of view on an occasion or two."

"Mmm-hmm," Hermione said grinning, squeezing his leg under the table.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the Christmas tree. "I think we need a bit more privacy." With a swish of his wand, the tree lifted slightly from the ground and settled in front of the table, obscuring them from the majority of the patrons in the crowded pub. He grabbed her chair and pulled her closer to him, draping his arm across the back of her chair while his other hand rubbed her leg lightly.

"I am not going to snog you in the Three Broomsticks, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, it will end up in the Daily Prophet."

"That's a good point."

Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I just realized that I shagged you before our first date!"

Harry's worried expression broke into a mischievous grin. "You are a scarlet woman!"

Hermione playfully jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, smiling at him. "I guess Ron was right about that after all."

"I'm glad I was the beneficiary of your indiscretion."

"I bet you are." She leaned over slightly and peered around the Christmas tree before turning to Harry and giving him a quick kiss.

"I thought you said you weren't going to kiss me."

"I'm a scarlet woman; we do that sort of stuff all the time."

"Nice," Harry said slowly, as Rosmerta returned with their ales.

"Well, don't you two look cozy," she said with a warm smile. "Hagrid just walked in but didn't see you for the tree. Do you want me to tell him you're here, or do you want some privacy?"

Harry looked at Hermione who shrugged. "We do want privacy, but not at the expense of missing Hagrid."

"Send him over, if you don't mind," Hermione added.

"Course," Rosmerta said. Before she walked away, she turned and said, "Don't you fret about your privacy with me. I've kept many secrets for many people for many years." She winked and walked off.

They both straightened up in the chairs, putting a bit more distance between themselves. Harry kept his arm draped across Hermione's chair, a small gesture of possession he was not willing to surrender, regardless of the potential gossip.

"'lo, you two. Rosmerta told me you were over 'ere."

"Hello, Hagrid," Hermione said, getting up and placing a small kiss on Hagrid's cheek. "Happy Christmas."

Hagrid blushed slightly, pulling a chair up. "'appy Christmas to you, too."

"Hi, Hagrid."

"Harry. 'ave a good Christmas?"

Harry looked quickly at Hermione who was taking a sip of her ale and replied, "My best so far," causing Hermione to blush slightly.

Looking back at Hagrid, Harry noticed a small smile buried underneath the mass of hair covering his face. Hagrid's eyes moved suspiciously between the two of them. Harry grinned and rubbed Hermione's shoulder with the hand draped across the back of her chair. Comprehension dawned on Hagrid and he cleared his throat.

"Have you had dinner, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"Just ate, thanks," Hagrid replied. "I just stopped in fer a pint and some comp'ny."

"We're glad you did," Harry said.

Rosmerta returned with their food, placing a steaming bowl of soup in front of Hermione and an enormous portion of steak and ale pie in front of Harry. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation before picking up his fork and tucking in.

"You hungry?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised.

"Starving."

They ate and chatted with Hagrid about Ginny and Neville's wedding, telling him all about Neville's present to Molly. While on the subject, Harry recruited Hagrid to permanently de-gnome Molly's garden. They were laughing at a story Harry was telling about his housemates in San Diego when Rosmerta returned, a disgusted look on her face.

"Rita Skeeter just walked in," she said without preamble.

The smiles evaporated from the table, replaced with looks ranging from exasperation to anger and irritation.

"I reckon someone told her you were here. Together." She looked around the tree.

Harry wiped his hands on his serviette and threw it on his plate, leaning back in his chair. Hermione sighed and folded hers, placing it next to her now empty bowl.

Rosmerta continued, "Do you want to leave out the back door? Hagrid and I can distract her to give you time."

Elation at being with Hermione had consumed Harry entirely this evening. He hadn't given a moment's pause to consider what they would do when something like this happened. He knew, in the back of his mind, that it would happen, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

He leaned close to Hermione and asked in a low voice, "What do you want to do?"

"I'm not fussed, Harry. You know people are going to find out eventually."

"It isn't people finding out that bothers me. It's Rita Skeeter being the person to tell them. She will distort everything."

"I can't argue with that." Hermione looked thoughtfully at Hagrid. "Hagrid, would you mind leaving with us?"

"Not at all."

"We'll walk out the front door with Hagrid. There is no story in three friends having a pint together. Rosmerta, can you keep Rita occupied until we get home so she can't follow us?"

"I'm sure I can think of something," Rosmerta replied, a wicked gleam in her eye.

Hermione turned to Harry, who had been watching her with a smile on his face. "Is that all right?"

He kissed her temple and whispered in her ear. "You're amazing. Let's go home."

Hermione hesitated before replying with a smile. "Right. Let's go home."

They rose from the table and walked toward the door, Hermione in the lead, with Hagrid and Harry close behind.

"Well, well, well," Rita said in a sickly sweet voice. "Look who we have here."

"Hello, Rita. Fancy seeing you buzzing around here," Hermione said, brushing past her.

Harry saw Rita's smirk turn to a scowl as her glare followed Hermione out the door. Hagrid stopped suddenly and turned toward the bar.

"Almost walked out with my tankard," he said, reaching across Rita to place it on the counter, purposely spilling the contents down the front of Rita's robes.

"Ah, sorry 'bout tha'," Harry heard Hagrid say as he continued out the door. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Rita pulling her wet robes away from her body, fanning them in a futile attempt to dry them. The last thing Harry saw before the door closed behind him was Rita grabbing her wand, shrieking insults at Hagrid.

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand. "Come on," he said, smiling and pulling her down the street.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, running to keep up with him.

"Hagrid spilled an almost full tankard of ale on her. She was pulling her wand out when we left, whether to dry her robes or hex Hagrid, I'm not sure. Here, down this way." Harry guided Hermione into an alley and pulled out his wand. He tapped her head and saw her slowly disappear from view before performing the charm on himself.

"Why didn't we think of a disillusionment charm inside?" he heard Hermione's voice ask.

"No idea." Harry looked around. The combination of the darkened alley and the blending effect of the disillusionment charm made them seem entirely invisible.

"Where are you?"

"Right here. Where are you?"

"I think I'm in front of you. Shhh. I hear someone coming."

Rita walked to the mouth of the alley and stopped. She glanced up and down the street and back down the alley, clearly frustrated, before returning to the pub. Harry walked to the street and peeked around the corner, confirming that Rita had indeed entered the pub. The only thing he saw was Hagrid's massive retreating back.

"Coast is clear." He turned around and felt Hermione run into him.

"There you are."

"Here I am," he replied, wrapping his arms around what felt like her waist. "This might be kind of fun, he said playfully, dipping his head down and bonking his nose on her forehead. "Or not," he laughed. He patted his hand up her arm to the top of her head, tapped his wand and then repeated the charm on himself.

"Let's go home."

Harry kicked the front door closed with his foot, his arms wrapped around Hermione, his lips kissing her neck. He walked her slowly back towards the hallway leading to the bedroom. "Which side of the bed do you sleep on?" he asked breathlessly between kisses.

"I don't think I have a side. My bed is a single. What about you?"

"I sleep wherever I land."

Harry cut off Hermione's response with a seductive kiss. "I'm so glad you're here. I can't wait to wake up with you in my arms tomorrow morning." He leaned down and stopped, his lips a hair's breadth away from hers. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

Putting his hands out in front he said, "Wait right here. I'll be right back." He walked down the hallway and Hermione heard the door to his room open, followed by a mild oath.

"What's wrong?" she called.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Be there in a mo!" Harry called with false enthusiasm.

Puzzled, Hermione quietly followed Harry to his room. She stifled a laugh at the scene she saw as she peeked around the door. Harry, wand out, was frantically trying to clean the mess that was his room. At least a week's worth of clothes were strewn on the floor. Three of the five drawers in his dresser were partly open with clothes hanging out in various degrees. His bed sheets were a tangled mess and chances were, she reasoned from the state of his room, they hadn't been washed recently. Harry, who either didn't know any household cleaning charms or was woefully out of practice using them, had resorted to cleaning the muggle way, grabbing as much as he could in his arms and throwing it in the tiny closet. It really quite comical. With her hand over her mouth to stifle her amusement, she walked into the loo before calling out, "I'm just going to clean my teeth."

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute!"

Hermione shook her head and smiled, rummaging in her bag for her toothbrush. She pulled out her pajamas before deciding that she probably wouldn't need them and tossed them to the side, continuing her search for her toothbrush. Finally found, she stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror, thinking back on the night.

"I guess we never did make it back to the bedroom. Hmm, I do love that sofa," she said to herself in the mirror, allowing a smirk of satisfaction to cross her features.

"What are you smiling about?" Harry said, reaching over and opening the medicine cabinet.

"Nothing. What were you doing in there?"

"Just tidying up a bit. Hey, look," he said, holding his toothbrush next to hers. "Same toothbrush."

"And toothpaste," Hermione said, waving hers for him to see.

"That confirms it. We are made for each other."

"I guess so," Hermione replied, squirting toothpaste on each of their brushes.

"So, have any cleaning tips for me, daughter of two dentists?"

"You should brush each tooth individually for one minute, three times a day."

Harry stopped his vigorous brushing and frowned, toothpaste oozing out the corner of his mouth. "You're having me on, right?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to vigorously clean her teeth.

Minutes later, Harry was tossing Hermione's bag into the corner of his room and Hermione was marveling at the cleanliness. He had done wonders for the room, but she knew without a doubt that if she were to open the closet door she would be buried beneath an avalanche of clothes.

"Well," Harry started, clapping his hands together, looking around the room awkwardly. "Want to put on your pajamas?"

"Do I need to?"

Harry smiled and relaxed a bit. "I hope not."

"What's wrong? You seem a bit nervous."

"I don't know. I guess it just seems a bit more ... official, you know, in a bed."

"Appropriate, though, since we just had our first date. Don't you think?"

"We are making progress."

Hermione stepped close to him and raised his jumper over his head, stroking her hands down his chest. "I have to admit," she whispered, kissing his chest. "Before I felt a bit like we were in the common room, seconds away from getting caught."

"Another one of my fantasies," he replied, starting to unbutton her top. "Hermione, can I ask a favor?"

"What?"

"Will you stop wearing shirts with such small buttons?"

Hermione laughed as she reached down and lifted the shirt over her head, buttons still securely fastened.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" he asked.

"Not seeing the forest for the trees, I think."

"Or the buttons for the breasts?" he asked.

"Something like that."

He leaned down and gently kissed her. "Have I told you how happy you make me?"

"Show me."

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