Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Chapter 15 Engraved Invitation

Harry hadn't slept well. But he wasn't complaining.

He and Hermione had spent the night alternately talking and making love, each time his feelings for her deepening. They had talked about nothing and everything; Harry couldn't honestly remember specifics. The feeling of intimacy that these seemingly normal exchanges invoked was something he would never forget, and he'd spend his life protecting it. Lying in bed, holding his best friend -- now his lover -- in his arms, talking, stroking her back, feeling her bare skin against his; it felt like the most natural, normal thing in the world.

He had wondered for years what his true feelings were for Hermione. It was, quite honestly, one of the questions that plagued him during his time in America. Was it affection? A schoolboy crush? Curiosity? Desire? Simple lust? Or was it love, the term he had given it in his mind many years ago?

He realized now as he watched her sleep that it was all of those things.

Hermione was lying on her stomach, her face turned toward Harry. Her left arm under her pillow supporting her head, her right arm straight down at her side. The blankets were gathered in messy folds up to the middle of her back, her right leg partially kicked out of the blankets that were twisted around her legs. Harry smiled as he remembered their final conversation, when sleep was threatening to unwillingly take them hostage.

"What are you doing?" Harry said, amused as he watched Hermione flop from her back to her front, attempting to get comfortable.

Propping herself on her elbows she looked up, nonplussed. "Nothing. Why?"

Trying to suppress a grin Harry said, "That poor pillow."

Hermione looked at the pillow she had just beaten into submission, in an attempt to fluff it up a bit. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I have a particular pillow at the castle that I've used for years. I guess I'm a bit partial to it."

Harry leaned over and kissed her. "I'll buy you one just like it."

Hermione put her head down and smiled at Harry. "You don't have to do that."

"I will do anything to make sure you sleep right beside me as much as possible, love."

He pushed her hair away from her face to see her better and trailed his hand down her back, resting it at the base of her spine. Hermione closed her eyes as he did so, saying, "You're so good to me."

"You deserve everything and more," he whispered letting his eyes droop closed.

"Thank you for my Christmas present, by the way. I love it," she said sleepily.

Harry opened his eyes to find hers still closed. "Do you really? You aren't just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"

She opened her eyes lazily. "Of course not. I wouldn't lie to you. I do love it. It's so beautiful." She closed her eyes again and added, "I was so relieved it wasn't a book, you don't even know."

Yes! Harry thought internally. You were wrong, Ron.

"I have another present for you, actually."

"You don't have to give me anything else, Harry." She opened her eyes and placed her hand gently on his cheek. "I have everything I want right here," she whispered.

Harry's heart skipped at the mere suggestion, however vague, that she might feel the same way he did. He placed his hand over hers. "Me, too."

She smiled and closed her eyes, pulling his hand down to hold it between them. Harry watched her until her breathing deepened and she fell asleep with a small smile fixed on her face.

Since that time, Harry had slept fitfully. He woke up abruptly afraid that it had all been a dream, falling asleep again when he saw her beside him. He woke a second time when she had released his hand and placed hers under her pillow, settling into the position she was in now. He woke the final time, just now, with his rumbling stomach announcing daybreak.

He continued to watch Hermione sleep, debating himself internally about his next move. He knew that his cupboard was bare and there would be nothing to eat when she awoke. He also knew, based on his physical reaction to merely watching her sleep, that as soon as she woke up he would want to make love to her again. The thought of his stomach rumbling like a freight train during an intimate encounter didn't seem very romantic.

His decision made, Harry slowly got out of bed, taking care not to wake her. He looked at his clock, shocked to realize that it was already 9:30 in the morning on Boxing Day. Padding silently to his closet to get dressed, he stopped, remembering the mass of clothes and junk on the other side of the door. He turned and tip-toed to the other side of the room, picking up his discarded clothes from the night before and walking down the hall to the loo to get dressed. A few minutes later he returned with a handwritten note explaining to Hermione that he would be back soon.

After checking on the actual contents of his cupboard and refrigerator, he left, closing the door quietly and walking to the bakery where he knew Hermione loved to pick up breakfast. He opened the large glass fronted oak door, a tinkling bell announcing his arrival to the plump witch that was standing behind the counter.

"Good morning!" she said merrily as Harry walked through the maze of wooden tables to the display case full of fresh pastries. Harry saw the witch's eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, before she turned to busy herself with a tray of croissants on the back counter. Harry was relieved at her response to his first visit to her shop, although not entirely surprised. The residents of Hogsmeade by and large treated Harry like any other wizard. There were times that children would rush up to him and ask for an autograph, of all things, and Harry would oblige with a look of embarrassment. It seemed as though the adults understood Harry's desire for privacy and had agreed to honor it. It was why Harry couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

"Good morning," replied Harry, bending down to study the selection. He looked up sheepishly as his stomach grumbled loudly, encouraged by the divine smell of baking bread.

The witch smiled as she produced a plate of samples for Harry to try. "Have you tried our chocolate croissants? That one, right there," she pointed as Harry's hand hovered in anticipation over the plate. He popped the morsel into his mouth and felt the flaky pastry dissolve, and it was promptly replaced with the creamy texture of the chocolate that had been hidden inside.

"Mmmm, that is good. I'll take two of those." He bent down to peer again in the case. "And two of those, two of those, two of those and two of those," pointing at a cream filled Danish, jam donuts and scones. "Oh, and two cups of coffee to go." The witch raised her eyebrows and smiled, but said nothing more as she filled two cups with steaming hot coffee and placed them on the counter.

He took one of the cups and removed the lid, breathing in deeply the rich smell of the coffee. Harry stood with his back to the door, blowing gently on his coffee. He was reading the lunch menu written on the chalkboard wall behind the counter when the tinkling bell on the door announced another customer.

"Oi, Harry!" Ginny said, as she knocked the back of his knee with hers, causing him to almost fall as his leg buckled beneath him.

Harry caught himself and arched away from the coffee sloshing out of his cup. Irritation cleared from his face when he turned to see Ginny smiling at him. "Hiya!"

"Sorry about that! Didn't know you had coffee" Ginny grabbed her wand and with a wave cleaned the coffee from the floor.

"Since it's you, I'll forgive you."

With a wry smile she looked him up and down. "What are you doing?"

Aware of his wrinkled clothes, Harry absently brushed his hand down his chest attempting to smooth his shirt a bit. "Picking up something for breakfast. The cupboards are bare, I'm afraid."

"Hmm." She looked at the box of pastries the witch was loading and turned back to Harry. "Hungry?"

The witch behind the counter looked up with a smirk on her face, clearly interested in Harry's answer. He smiled weakly at her and replied to Ginny, "Starving."

She nodded her head, took a sample of the chocolate croissant that was sitting on the counter and popped it into her mouth. "Did you do it?"

Harry, who had been taking a drink of his coffee, choked and started coughing.

Ginny slapped him on the back a couple of times. "Are you all right?" she said with a mixture of concern and mirth.

Harry nodded his head, coughing weakly and stuttered between chokes, "Do...do what?"

"What you needed to do? What you left the Burrow early for? Didn't you have something left undone?" she said, putting emphasis on the last two words.

"Oh, right. Yes." Harry coughed again, finally clearing his throat of the misdirected coffee. "All taken care of."

"Good. Glad to hear it."

"Anything else I can get for you this morning, Mr. Potter?" the witch asked solicitously.

"No, thank you." Harry replied. Ginny bent down to peer into the case as Harry paid for his pastries.

"Well, see you later, Ginny," he said as he turned to make his way to the door.

"Tell Hermione I said hi," she called over her shoulder as the door closed on his abashed face.

Tap, tap, tap...tap, tap, TAP.

What is that noise?

TAP, TAP, TAP.

Groaning and rolling over, Hermione opened her eyes to a sunlit filled room. She threw her arm over her eyes to shield them from the glaring light. Harry needs to invest in curtains, she thought as she again heard the noise that woke her. Lifting up on her elbows with one eye opened and one eye squinting against the light, she looked around the room searching for the source of the annoying sound.

"Harry?" she called, to no answer.

Her eyes rested on Hedwig framed in the window to the right and behind the bed. Wrapping herself in the sheet, she rose and padded lazily over to open the window, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Hedwig hopped through the window onto the side table next to the bed.

"Good morning, Hedwig," she said with a yawn as she closed the window. Walking back to the bed, she did a double take at Hedwig, who was giving her an unmistakably malevolent look.

"Jealous, are we?" she said as she unwrapped from the sheet and snuggled under the blankets "Well...get used to it, Hedwig."

She rolled over to face Harry's side of the bed and noticed the note on the pillow for the first time. She smiled as she lifted the note and began to read.

Hermione,

I woke up this morning to the most beautiful sight in the world -- you lying next to me. I can't begin to describe what last night meant to me, what you mean to me.

As you know, we have nothing to eat so I have run to the bakery to pick up some breakfast. I hope to be back before you wake.

Love, Harry

Hermione sighed and hugged the note to her chest. Unable to contain her excitement, she squealed like a schoolgirl and kicked her legs rapidly under the blankets. Hedwig, who found this behavior quite immature, hooted woefully and flew out of the room. Hermione didn't notice. Instead she rolled over and hugged Harry's pillow to her chest, breathing in his scent, which was embedded in the fabric.

She sighed dreamily as she recalled the events of the previous night. Everything about it had been perfect. She could admit to herself that she had fantasized many times over the last few weeks about what it would be like to be with Harry, but the reality had far exceeded her expectations. She felt at once, the first time, an immediate connection to him -- an innate knowledge of what he wanted. She assumed he had a similar reaction as he knew without asking, even before she did, what it was she desired.

She threw the blankets over her head, bathing herself in darkness, remembering the things they did last night. She was sure, in the grand scheme of things, what she and Harry had done the night before would be considered tame by most standards. Oh, whom was she kidding? They were even tame by her standards. She wasn't a prude after all. But in the light of day with the benefit of hindsight, the "relatively tame" lovemaking seemed much more feral, a thought that made her smile and blush at the same time.

She raised her arms above her head, stretching, and brought them down to her sides, removing the blankets to reveal again the bright sunlight. We have got to do something about curtains, she thought rubbing her eyes. She stopped and shook her head at her audacity. Who was she to assume her opinion about the necessity for curtains would be important based on one night together? Chiding herself inwardly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed to get up. Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was 9:54. Not knowing when Harry had left, or even how long she had been awake, she decided to chance a quick bath before he returned. Grabbing her bag and feeling very adventurous, she walked through Harry's house completely naked. When she reached the bathroom, she turned on the water and ran a bath.

Hermione hummed happily as she readied herself for a bath. She caught a glimpse of an extremely happy woman in the mirror and was startled for a moment, before realizing that this woman was she. This is what I look like in love? She turned her head from side to side, preening ridiculously, making faces at herself before bursting into a fit of giggles. You need to get a hold of yourself. Harry is going to think you went round the twist.

"Oh, hush up. Have a little fun for once!"

She turned to the bathtub, a miniature replica of the prefect's bathtub at Hogwarts. Two steps led up to the raised tub, which ran the length of the wall. The rectangular tub was sunk into the raised platform, golden taps with bejeweled handles protruding from the white marble wall. Hermione turned the emerald tap and green, oval bubbles gushed out with a flow of water. While she waited for the tub to fill, she rummaged through her bag in search of a clip for her hair. In one deft movement, she pulled her hair into a French twist and fastened it, knowing she didn't have time to wash and dry it. She quickly washed the remnants of the previous day's make-up from her face and cleaned her teeth. Feeling much better, she turned the water off and slowly settled into the tub. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and replayed the night before over in her mind, frame by frame, beginning with their first kiss.

So engrossed was she in her memory that she didn't hear the faint sound of the back door opening and closing. Instead, her mind took her back to Harry's room the night before, and she was rubbing her hands across his chest. The soft click of the bathroom door opening was lost in her memory of Harry crying out her name. She ran her hands across her breasts under the water, remembering Harry touching her the same way the night before. Smiling, a soft moan escaped her throat and she opened her eyes to see Harry leaning against the doorjamb, watching her.

"Oh! Harry," she said blushing furiously. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long enough," he said with a devilish grin on his face.

Unable to meet his eyes, she said to the bubbles in the tub, "This is embarrassing."

Harry moved into the bathroom. "Only if you weren't thinking about me."

He sat on the top step by the tub and placed his hands on either side of Hermione's head. "Good morning, beautiful," he whispered before giving her a deep, affectionate kiss.

"Good morning."

"Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Thinking about me?"

"Since the moment I woke up."

Harry smiled like a kid who had been given the best present in the world. "Good." He leaned down and kissed her again, softly. He trailed his hand into the water, stroking her arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Not at all."

"Me, either. I brought breakfast. I hope you're hungry."

"Famished."

He looked up and down the length of the bathtub. "Me, too," he said with a sly grin.

Hermione playfully flicked bubbles at him as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss. "Whenever you're ready." Hermione gave a quick gasp as she felt Harry's fingers tickle her inner thigh. He grinned wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows up and down as he rose to leave the bathroom. Hermione grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"Why don't you join me? There's plenty of room."

Harry smiled, and began undressing. "That's an offer I can't refuse."

Hermione watched him undress, unconsciously biting her lower lip. Harry had filled out a bit since his school years, but he was still thin, evidenced by the line of muscle running in a 'v' from his waist down to...

"What are you looking at?" he asked with a smirk, settling himself into the bathtub.

Hermione opened her mouth to automatically reply "nothing" before stopping herself. What is the point in being coy? "I'm looking at you."

Harry slid forward through the water toward Hermione, cutting through the thick blanket of bubbles. "Do you like what you see?"

"Very much."

Harry grasped Hermione's hands below the surface of the water, gently pulling her forward, settling her on his lap. Green bubbles surrounded them, crackling lightly, obscuring their bodies from view. "I love what I see," Harry whispered.

"Me, too," Hermione replied, running her hand through Harry's hair and looking into his eyes, which appeared even more striking against the backdrop of the green bubbles surrounding them.

"Why did you choose green bubbles?" He ran his hands up and down her back, causing her to shiver despite being submerged in warm water.

"Are you reading my mind?"

"No, but after watching you a minute ago I wish I could."

"Hmm," Hermione said distractedly, mesmerized by the look in his eyes. "I chose green because of your eyes."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. Your eyes haunt my dreams."

"Haunt your dreams? That doesn't sound good."

Hermione pulled Harry forward and placed her lips next to his ear. "Trust me, it is."

Holding Harry's hand, Hermione walked into the kitchen to see the table piled high with pastries and a now cold mug of coffee waiting for her. Hermione laughed at the plate of pastries. "Are you feeding Dumbledore's Army?"

"No, that's all for me. Except this," Harry said picking up a chocolate croissant. "This is for you."

Hermione good-naturedly swatted his arm and sat down at the table, trying to decide which pastry to choose.

He sat down in the chair next to her. "Here, you really do want to try this." He held the croissant out for her to take a bite. "I tasted it in the bakery and it is delicious."

Hermione hesitantly opened her mouth, unfamiliar with being fed by a man and feeling that even this seemingly innocent gesture was loaded with meaning. Locking eyes with Harry, she took a small bite and felt the pastry melt in her mouth. "Mmm..."

Harry looked at the end of the croissant. "You didn't even get the best part. Take a bigger bite."

"That was a big bite!"

"Maybe for Hedwig. Come on, open up!"

Hermione dutifully opened her mouth. She looked down at the pastry and back up into Harry's eyes, slightly raising her brows in suggestion. Touching Harry's hand with hers, she guided the pastry to her mouth and took another bite, this one much bigger than before. Again she felt the pastry dissolve in her mouth but the creamy chocolate was a secondary sensation to the energy that Harry was emitting. Not thinking about the pastry at all, she whispered, "Amazing."

"Are you trying to seduce me again?"

"Again? When did I try to seduce you?"

"Um, in the bathroom, about an hour ago."

"I wasn't trying to seduce you. I was trying, in an inoffensive way, to get you to take a bath. You were getting rather stinky."

"Uh-huh, right," Harry said dismissively. "You just wanted to see me naked."

"Well, that is true."

"You will be the death of me."

"How is that?" she asked.

"Well, I will probably die of starvation. I can see the headline in the Quibbler now. The Boy Who Lived Starved to Death By Sex Crazed Bookworm."

"But would you die happy?" Hermione teased.

Harry furrowed his brow in concentration. "Yes. Yes, I believe I would." Harry gave her a quick kiss on her nose and said, "Let's eat!"

They settled in and began eating their way through the pastries. Harry easily outpaced Hermione and finished three before she had finished her first. Harry shook his head and smiled as he watched her eat.

"What?" Hermione asked curiously. She wiped her mouth with a serviette, thinking she had food hanging off her lip. When Harry only laughed and picked out a muffin to eat, she asked a little more testily, "What?"

"Why do girls eat like that?"

"Eat like what?" Hermione said, bewildered.

"You pick off a piece and put it in your mouth instead of just biting it directly off the pastry."

Hermione looked down at her hands and was surprised to realize that she was doing just that. She had never thought of her eating habits, never even considered that there was a different way to eat a pastry. She looked at Harry who was taking an overly large bite of his muffin. Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Why do you put so much in your mouth at one time?"

Harry held up a finger asking her to wait for a response, chewed a few times and then swallowed with what seemed like a great deal of effort. "Because I can," he said cheekily. "You see your Danish? I could finish that in one bite. I bet it takes you at least four."

Hermione looked down at her pastry. "I'm guessing five," she said, tearing off yet another bite and popping it in her mouth with a grin. "Are my eating habits going to be an issue?" she teased.

"I can live with it." Harry smiled and leaned over to give her a kiss. "But you are going to have to eat faster to get your share, sweetheart." He leaned back with another pastry in his hand, dwindling the number left on the plate to two.

Hermione looked at the plate, dumbfounded. "Harry! I don't think I've ever seen you eat this much!"

"I've never been this hungry." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down, as Hermione playfully punched him in the arm.

Harry took a drink of his cold coffee. "I saw Ginny at the bakery," he said offhandedly.

Hermione paused in her chewing. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm," Harry said, taking a larger drink of his coffee.

"What did she have to say?"

"Not much."

"She knows, doesn't she?"

Harry nodded in assent. "I didn't tell her. When I was leaving she said to say hi to you."

Hermione wiped her hands and tossed the crumpled serviette on her plate. "I'm sure it wasn't difficult to figure out the way we shot out of there last night. I guess our attempt at subterfuge didn't work, did it?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "No, I guess not." Harry covered Hermione's hand with his, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. "Do you mind that they know?"

"Of course not! They're family to me. I would tell them before anyone else anyway." She turned her hand over and intertwined her fingers with his. "Molly knows anyway."

"How does Molly know?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"We had a midnight chat Christmas Eve over a cup of chocolate. Neither of us could sleep."

Harry sat there for a moment, taking in this new information. Molly's reaction to his feelings for Hermione had always been a concern of Harry's, one of the many vestiges of guilt he felt about Ron's death. The coward in him was glad that Hermione had the conversation with her. He didn't know if he could do it, even now that the feelings were reciprocated.

"Was she upset?"

"Not at all, which was a bit surprising in a way. She thinks we make a lovely couple."

They sat there in silence for a moment looking at their intertwined hands. "It's obvious from Rita's appearance last night that this is going to be considered big news. How should we handle it? Do you want to tell people? About us?" Harry asked tentatively.

"That's up to you, Harry. You are the one with the public persona, not me."

"As soon as people find out, you will be just as famous. The thought of people harassing you makes me ill."

"You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself," Hermione said, sitting back in her chair. "But that's fine. We don't have to tell anyone if you don't want to."

"If I don't want to? Are you kidding? I want to tell everyone!"

"Everyone? Don't you think it's a bit soon?"

"Soon? We've known each other for 12 years. Define soon."

"You know what I mean, Harry."

Harry studied her for a moment until Hermione finally looked away under his gaze. "You don't want to tell anyone, do you?" he asked, his voice flat.

Hermione pressed her finger on the crumbs on the table, picking them up and dusting them into her serviette, all the while avoiding Harry's gaze. "It's not that I don't want to tell anyone. It's just..." Hermione stopped, at a loss as to how to explain to Harry how she felt. She sighed. "There are a couple of reasons."

Harry was watching her with a mixture of hurt and anger reflected on his face. "Well, this is probably going to sound horrible. But it is something you should know from the beginning. I'm a rather jealous person, Harry. And right now, I don't want to share you or what we have with anyone else."

Harry relaxed and sat forward. "So, my days of flirting with Professor Sprout are over?"

"Most definitely."

"I can live with that. What is the other reason?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm afraid this is all too good to be true. The logical part of me is waiting for it to come crashing down. I don't relish the idea of the entire wizarding world witnessing my devastation when it happens."

"When it happens?" Harry turned his chair to the side and turned Hermione's chair to face him, pulling it so that their knees touched. He took both of her hands in his and looked her in the eyes. "Hermione, listen to me," he said emphatically. "That is not going to happen. I can't tell you we won't have rough times, that we won't make each other angry. But we will work through it. That is what couples do." He reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "This is not a short term deal for me. I'm not exploring some long held curiosity. Well -- that isn't exactly true. I have wondered for a long time about my feelings for you, but I know, I KNOW that this is right. That my feelings for you aren't going to change tomorrow, next week or in 100 years, no matter what happens."

Hermione felt tears come to her eyes, partially because of the words that Harry was saying, but also because of her experience. She knew that feelings can and do often change. "How can you be so sure?" she barely whispered.

Harry leaned forward and gave her a soft, lingering kiss. "Because of the way I feel when I kiss you. Because of the way I feel when I'm with you. Because of the way I felt last night when we made love for the first time." He gently stroked her cheek with his fingers. "Did you feel it, too?" he asked softly.

Hermione felt tears puddle in her eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked and the avalanche of tears was released down her cheeks. Harry gently wiped one away with his thumb as she whispered, "Yes."

"Have you ever felt this way before?"

She shook her head.

"Me either. That is why I'm so sure about us. Come here," he said, pulling her forward to sit in his lap. "Here's what we'll do. We'll tell the Weasleys and our friends like Seamus, Minerva, Remus, and whoever else you want to tell. When other people find out, they find out. We won't deny it, but we won't write it in the sky with Filibuster Fireworks, either. How does that sound to you?"

"Perfect," Hermione replied with a tear-stained smile.

He closed his eyes and smiled as she ran her hand through his hair. "Mmm, I love it when you do that."

"Now I can do it whenever I want."

"You won't hear any complaints from me," Harry replied, tilting his head back and moving it from side to side.

Hermione looked down at his face, a face that was familiar to her before, but would never look the same to her again. She would never be able to look at his face, at the curve of his lips, without the knowledge of how his lips felt on hers. She followed the angle of his jaw to the spot behind his ear where the musky scent that was Harry lived, the scent that made her tingle with excitement. She leaned down and softly kissed his lips, relishing in their softness. Would she be able to see him ever again without wanting to kiss him or run her fingers through his hair?

She abruptly pulled away from their kiss with a slight gasp. "What about the students?"

A completely perplexed and slightly frustrated look crossed Harry's face. "What about them?"

"What are we going to tell them?"

"Nothing, I guess. They think we're a couple anyway."

Hermione chewed on her lip thoughtfully, doubting her ability to keep her feelings for Harry private. She was sure her body language alone would give her away. Would she be able to see him walk into the Great Hall for breakfast and not beam a smile that would surely light up London with its happiness? Would she be able to walk beside him down the corridor without touching him, holding his hand, putting her arm through his? How in the world was she going to be able to spend hours at a time away from him?

"Oh!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide.

"What?" Harry said, slightly alarmed.

"Nothing. Never mind," she said hurriedly. She was not about to reveal to him that she had just realized that she would be spending her nights alone in her room without him. The very thought made her want to cry. It wasn't necessarily the idea of no sex, although who was she kidding? She was going to miss that terribly. But more importantly, she would miss sleeping beside him, in his arms. She would miss his arm thrown possessively across her stomach, legs intertwined carelessly, and her head resting in the nook between his shoulder and his chest. She would miss it all -- every position more perfect than the last, every position comfortable and familiar.

She glanced at Harry, who was still looking at her quizzically. She gave him a small smile and planted a firm kiss on his lips, determined to push those depressing thoughts out of her mind until the last possible moment. "What do you need to do today?" she asked lightheartedly.

"Well," Harry said, turning slightly in his chair to look at the clock on the wall. "Considering it is almost one..."

"Is it really? Already?"

"Time flies when you're having fun," Harry said, snaking a hand under Hermione's jumper.

"Stop that!" she said as she playfully swatted it down.

"Why?"

"We won't get anything at all done today if you keep that up."

"We would get lots done, in my opinion."

"Well, yes, maybe so, but nothing productive."

"That depends on your definition of productive."

"You are incorrigible, Harry."

"En..." Harry started before Hermione clasped her hand over his mouth. "Don't even say it," she replied, laughing.

Harry playfully nipped at the palm of her hand, causing her to pull it away. "I have nothing I need to do today, besides spend it with you. That is, if you want to spend the day with me."

"Well," Hermione said slowly, as if considering the offer. "I was actually considering spending the week with you, but if you only want to spend the day with me, then I guess that will have to do." She sighed dramatically and started to rise from her perch on his lap.

"Oh no you don't," he said, pulling her back down. "It goes without saying that I want to spend every day with you, Miss Granger. Would you like an engraved invitation?"

"Well, yes. I think I would."

"Okay." Harry put his hand up to his mouth and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak and stopped, a smile spreading across his features. He reached for his wand, which was sitting on the table, and with a motion as if writing in the air, muttered, "Scribero Ablocare." With a small pop, a piece of parchment appeared, suspended in mid-air before them. Harry took the parchment and began reading.

"Harry James Potter requests the honor of Miss Hermione Jane Granger's presence now through...," he looked up thoughtfully, as if counting the days until the students returned to school, and continued, "next Tuesday, to spend every waking minute with him -- playing, sightseeing, laying around doing absolutely nothing, making love until we are too tired to speak, and anything else her heart desires. RSVP in person in the form of a kiss."

Harry held the invitation out to Hermione, his eyes dancing with happiness. She glanced at the parchment and set it on the table, shifting in Harry's lap until she was straddling him. "Making love until we are too tired to speak? I like the sound of that," she replied, bending down and kissing Harry in reply. "Being productive is highly overrated."

"Highly," Harry replied, tracing kisses down her chest as he unbuttoned her top. Hermione grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head before doing the same with her own.

"I seem to forget I can do that," Harry said cheekily.

"Hmm," Hermione replied, distracted by the feel of his muscles under her hands. She tilted her head to the side slightly, following her hands with her eyes, memorizing the planes and curves of Harry's shoulders, arms and chest. She glanced up at him only to see a lopsided grin on his face.

"What?"

"I've seen that look before."

"What look?"

"Studious Hermione."

"Studious Hermione? Have you named all of my expressions?"

"Just about. There is Demented Hermione; I met her last night. Not too sure about that one. There is Passionate Hermione, who I adore. There is Aggravated Hermione, Indignant Hermione, Hurricane Hermione..."

"Hurricane Hermione?"

"Yeah. She was usually directed at Ron, thank God. But I saw a bit of her a few months ago. I'm most familiar with Studious Hermione from spending hours in the library with you."

"You make me sound like a schizophrenic."

"Only in the best possible way. What were you studying just?"

"The delightful planes and curves of your chest. And I was wishing I had known sooner what was hidden under your robes." Her hands roamed down his abdomen to the button of his trousers. "I just can't seem to get enough of you," she whispered.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

"Come in!"

Hermione opened the door to the headmistress's office and poked her head through. "Is this a bad time?" she asked.

Minerva looked up from her desk and smiled. "Not at all. Come in Hermione!" she replied, motioning Hermione into the room with a wave of her hand.

Hermione walked through the door and over to a chair in front of Minerva's desk, depositing her bag on the floor heavily before sitting down.

Minerva, who had gotten up and with a wave of her wand had begun preparing tea, looked at the bag and said, "Are you coming or going?"

Hermione looked at the bag beside her chair in surprise, not realizing until that moment that she had brought it into the office. On the walk here from her room, she had been completely immersed in what and how she was going to tell Minerva -- so much so that she had completely forgotten to leave her overnight bag outside the office door. She looked up at Minerva, who was having difficulty suppressing a smile, and said, "Actually, both. I've come to the castle to get more clothes. Now I'm going back to Harry's."

"I guess it's official, then?"

Hermione blushed and looked down. "You could say that, yes."

Beaming, Minerva walked around her desk and pulled Hermione up from her chair into a firm hug. "I am so happy for you," she whispered into Hermione's ear.

Feeling the warmth of her friend's embrace and sentiment, Hermione for a moment felt as if she were being hugged and congratulated by her own mother. She returned Minerva's hug with a squeeze and replied, "Thank you, Minerva," as tears threatened to spill over her bottom eyelids. She sniffed, somewhat loudly she was afraid, and Minerva pulled back, holding out a tissue as she did.

"Here. Use this."

Hermione took the proffered tissue and sat down in the chair, as Minerva walked around her desk to resume making tea. "Tell me, what happened?"

Hermione began a detailed explanation of their Christmas celebration at the Burrow, including information about Neville's wedding present to Molly, Fred and George's rogue Father Christmases from around the world, Harry's and her early morning run and talk about Ron, and, finally, a detailed account of what everyone received for Christmas.

"What did Harry think about his gift? Did he like it?"

Again, Hermione blushed and looked away. "You could say that. We left not long after opening presents."

Her quizzical expression was quickly replaced by comprehension as Minerva cottoned on to what Hermione was trying desperately to tell her without saying it out loud. "Ah, I see. So, you have returned to the castle to tell me that you will be spending the remainder of the holidays with Harry instead of being at Hogwarts as you originally planned, correct?"

"Yes. That isn't going to be a problem, is it? I don't remember seeing very many students on the signup sheet to stay the holidays this year, and I thought that I wouldn't be too terribly needed if that was the case..." Hermione said rapidly. She was attempting to rattle off every excuse she had thought of on the way back to the castle from Harry's and while hastily packing her bag just minutes ago.

Minerva smiled and raised her hand to stem the tide of Hermione's excuses. "That's fine, Hermione. There are only four students that stayed, two Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaws. I don't imagine that you will be missed at all."

Hermione smiled in relief and elation, her plans and daydreams for the remainder of the holidays with Harry taking more solid form in her mind. She took the cup of tea Minerva offered, silently wishing to leave immediately so as to return to Harry sooner, but she knew that would be rude beyond measure. Instead, she began blowing on her tea in an effort to cool it down and drink it quickly.

She peered over the rim of her cup to find Minerva watching her with a wistful expression on her face

"What is it, Minerva?"

Minerva shook her head slightly and her expression cleared. "Nothing. It has just been a while since I have seen someone so obviously in love. Sometimes I forget how beautiful love can be."

"You can tell I'm in love by watching me blow on my tea?" Hermione asked, bemused.

"Yes, I can. I know it is going to sound very trite, but you are positively glowing with it, Hermione."

"Really?" Hermione asked skeptically, running her hand over her hair as if smoothing it out might repress some of the signs she was emitting. She cocked her head to the side and asked a question that she had never considered, until now. "Have you ever been in love, Minerva?"

The transformation in Minerva's face was a sight to behold. The sharp lines and angles that were usually associated with the prim and stern headmistress softened and relaxed. Her eyes, typically direct and somewhat steely behind her glasses, became unfocused and gentle, and when she spoke, it was with a tenderness that Hermione would have never imagined, in spite of hearing her voice offer gentle and kind words on many occasions.

"Oh, yes. I have been in love, Hermione."

Hermione sat in her chair in silence, her tea forgotten, as she watched Minerva who was obviously lost in her memories. Hermione was embarrassed to admit that she had never imagined that Minerva had a life outside of Hogwarts, especially one that included a boyfriend, husband or lover. She was overwhelmed with curiosity. So many questions popped into her head at that moment, but one pushed all other's from her mind.

"What happened?"

Minerva started slightly, apparently having forgotten that Hermione was in the room. She smiled and a bit of her normal demeanor returned. "He was killed by Grindelwald in 1945, just weeks before Dumbledore killed Grindelwald."

Hermione waited as Minerva drank a bit of her tea before continuing. "Hugo was very handsome and very brave. He was never one to back down from a challenge, that one." She smiled at a private memory. "He had quite the challenge in me, that's for sure. I was very resistant to him; for years he tried to get me to go out with him. I would have none of it. Finally, I went out with him with the intention of making the date so miserable that he would leave me alone. That lasted all of about five minutes until I was completely smitten. We were inseparable from that moment on."

"Were you married?"

Minerva forced a small smile. "No, but it wasn't for Hugo's lack of trying. I agreed, of course, but I wanted to wait until I had finished my advanced degree from Stonehenge. He died a month before our wedding."

Hermione stifled a gasp, shocked by the story and the seemingly dispassionate telling by Minerva. Upon closer inspection, though, Hermione saw a pain reflected in her eyes that apparently had not dimmed in the 60 years since.

"Minerva, I'm so sorry!" Hermione whispered. "I...I don't quite know what to say."

Her brisk manner returned and she waved her hand. "No need to say anything, it was years ago. I imagine most of your shock is from the idea of me having a lover, is it not?" she finished, with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Hermione stammered, attempting a truthful but polite reply, when Minerva laughed. "It is always so much fun to see young people squirm when the subject turns to their elders' love lives."

Hermione laughed nervously and took another sip of her now cooled tea. "I do have a spot of advice for you, Hermione," Minerva said seriously, leveling a direct gaze at Hermione.

"If you are in love with Harry, don't wait until later to tell him or to do something, how should I say, more permanent about it. Many things in life are out of your control; that is not."

In light of what she had just told Hermione about her history, this piece of advice was not surprising. Although Hermione supposed that even if she hadn't been privy to Minerva's experience, Minerva's ability to anticipate Hermione's customary course of action would have led to the dispensation of this advice eventually. In short, Minerva knew Hermione well enough to realize that she would want to be slow, methodical and logical when it came to divulging to Harry the true extent of her feelings.

"Point taken," Hermione replied.

Minerva nodded her head. "I'm sure in your analysis of a potential relationship with Harry you researched Hogwarts' policy on fraternization of faculty?" she said, with a bemused expression on her face.

"You know me too well."

"You know, then, that there is no specific policy about teachers dating, only about marriage."

"I hardly think that..."

"Hermione!" Minerva interrupted briskly. She looked at her sharply, shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm not implying that you are running off tomorrow to get married. As the headmistress, I am compelled to make sure that you and Harry know what the rules say in this regard. There are other people to think about in this situation beside yourself."

Hermione clamped her mouth shut and looked down into her tea, properly put in her place.

"Professors can be married provided one is not in a supervisory position over the other. Considering the positions that you and Harry currently have, this poses no problem. Of course, married professors cannot live in the castle, but again, accommodations don't seem to be an issue in this particular situation."

Hermione continued to look into her teacup, uncomfortable with the discussion about marriage when she had not even told Harry, in so many words, that she loved him. But in an effort to appease Minerva, and owing to the fact that she was missing Harry terribly at the moment, she kept her mouth tightly closed and listened without comment.

"As to professors dating, as I said, there is no written policy. I doubt anyone but Severus would have a problem with it, and his issue is more to do with Harry than anything. All I ask of the two of you is to keep it discreet. I do not want to hear rumors such as the ones before the Yule Ball from here on out. Before, they were just rumors, now anything of the kind could be viewed as fact."

Hermione looked up at Minerva and replied quietly, "I understand." She sat her teacup on the edge of Minerva's desk and rose to leave, feeling none of the affection and warmth she had felt from her surrogate mother when she entered the office. She picked up her bag and turned toward the door, when Minerva rose and walked around her desk to escort her to the door.

"Hermione," she said, placing a hand on her arm to stop her. Hermione stopped, turned to Minerva and was enveloped in a warm embrace once again. "I am so, so happy for you and Harry. I have always thought that you two would make the perfect couple." Minerva sniffed lightly and released Hermione from her embrace. She turned her around toward the door with a gentle push. "Now, go and enjoy your week with Harry."

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