Cupidity

Cupidity

By FenrisWolf

Part 2

~~~~~

Harry stalked from the Apparation point towards the building that held Hermione's apartment, his face expressionless as he wrestled with his emotions. He felt whipsawed by all the different directions he was being pulled; elation that Hermione needed him, self-loathing for feeling that elation, fear for his friend Ron who was missing, anger at anyone who might have hurt him, and a guilty feeling of gratitude as well that his best friend was, at least temporarily, out of the picture.

He set aside his jumbled feelings as soon as he reached the apartment building's lobby; soon enough to hash them out after Ron was returned safe and sound. In the meantime, Ron's fiancée needed Harry to be strong for her, a task he would never shirk or stint.

He crossed to the security desk, presenting his wand to the wizard stationed there. "Hello, George. Harry Potter to see Hermione Granger," he said, just as if he wasn't visiting her every other week.

George accepted Harry's wand and performed the same identification charm the Ministry used. The apartment building catered to high profile personages, people who, for one reason or another, needed a greater than average level of protection, either from an intrusive public or more sinister threats. The security desk and the charms it performed was just the first layer in a series of defenses that were the equal of anything Harry had seen since his days at Hogwarts.

At first Hermione hadn't been terribly thrilled when Harry had arranged accommodations for her, but after he allowed her to see just how concerned he was for her safety, she'd finally relented. Now that Ron had been kidnapped, he was glad he'd taken the extra effort to make sure that at least one of his closest friends had the safest home possible. Harry had shamelessly traded on his notoriety to secure a penthouse apartment for his friend, and had sworn the building manager to bloodthirsty oaths of death and dismemberment if he ever let slip the little fact that Harry was covering over half the rent out of his own pocket. He knew that if she ever found out she'd be absolutely livid, but he was willing to risk having Hermione mad at him if it kept her even a little bit safer.

Once past the security desk, Harry used the internal portkeys to arrive at Hermione's floor; in an arrangement resembling a Muggle elevator a series of numbered handles served to connect the floors of the apartment building, with each floor linked to a similar portkey chamber. It was faster than using the stairs, even if the nagging pulling sensation of the portkey spell left some people queasy. A quick swallow or two settled his stomach, and a few seconds later he was knocking on her door.

"Just a minute!" his friend's voice called out to him, and a few seconds later the door cracked open and an eye peeked through. "Harry! What are you doing here?" Hermione asked in a shocked tone of voice, the door opening a bit further as her eyes widened and, oddly, she blushed.

"I'm sorry I didn't Floo first, Hermione, but this is important," he replied. "Can I come in?" He put his hand to the door, but to his surprise she held it against him.

"NO! I mean--just give me a second, all right?" She pushed the door shut, leaving a perplexed Harry standing in the hall. A few moments later she called out, "Okay, Harry, you can come in!"

He pushed the door open in time to see Hermione returning from her bedroom, her hands busy tying the belt of a long bathrobe around her waist. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting; what did you need to talk to me about?" she asked a bit breathlessly.

Harry's eyes darted around the penthouse a bit suspiciously. Nothing seemed out of place, though there was an odd couch-like affair on one side of the room he didn't remember seeing before. "Are we alone, Hermione?" he asked, his eyes glancing towards the bedroom door.

"What do you mean, Harry, of course we're--Oh!" She blushed furiously and glared at him. "Harry James Potter, you get your mind out of the gutter! I am not...entertaining anyone! And even if I was, what business would it be of yours?"

Harry matched her glare for glare. "It's my business if you're cheating on my best friend and your fiancé," he shot back, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as she went pale. "Yes, he told me; he let me know the week before that he was going to ask you. So you'll forgive me if I'm a bit suspicious to find you in your bathrobe at this time of day, especially when you keep me waiting outside your door, and since I know Ron can't be here."

"There's a perfectly good explanation," she replied huffily, "and what do you mean, you know Ron can't be here? Since whn do you even bother to keep track of where we are?" She couldn't keep just a touch of bitterness from her voice, but he missed it as his thoughts returned to the reason for his visit.

"Damn it, I didn't want to tell you this way...Hermione, Ron's been kidnapped." He waited for her to lose it at the thought of her beloved in danger, bracing himself to calm her down so they could get on with saving their friend.

To say her reaction was not what Harry had expected would have been an understatement of the highest degree. She didn't collapse in fear, or burst out in tears, she got...angry. "Oh, that--that--I've told him and told him to be more careful! Harry, I'm so sorry, you have enough to worry about without having to look after us as well!"

Harry found himself in the very odd position of trying to calm Hermione's temper, rather than the other way around, which was far more common. "Hermione, I'm sure it wasn't Ron's fault, these things happen--"

"You sit down, Harry, we can keep talking while I get dressed," she declared, shooing him towards the sofa while she returned to her bedroom. "And don't apologize for him! Honestly, there are times when he drives me absolutely mad! He knows there are still supporters of Tom Riddle on the loose (like Harry, she refused to give their dead nemesis even the token respect of his pretentious alias). We have so much to thank you for; I don't think it's too much to ask of us to at least try to make your job a bit easier by watching out for ourselves."

Harry mumbled a noncommittal response, his thoughts distracted by the occasional glimpses of creamy flesh he was getting though Hermione's open bedroom door. Besides, he did think Hermione calling Ron cavalier about his safety was a bit of the pot calling the kettle black.

When she came back into the living room a couple of minutes later, a pair of black hi-top Dockers in one hand, he called her on it. "I seem to recall someone getting into trouble in Knockturn Alley," he mentioned as she sat down and began lacing up the sturdy footwear.

She glanced up and he flushed at the glimpse of cleavage that was visible from that angle. "Yes, and believe me, Ron gave me plenty of grief over that, too! I've been far more cautious since then, though I think I should hardly be held responsible for being the victim of a random mugging."

She finished tying her boots and stood up, and Harry took a moment to appreciate her outfit. In addition to the Dockers she was wearing a pair of low-rise black parachute pants, a dark maroon tank top that left her midriff bare, and a silver-studded black leather jacket that was comfortably scuffed and worn. She looked relaxed and dangerous and sexy as hell, and he stomped firmly on any subsequent thoughts that tried to follow after that.

Her hands moved to her hair as she swept it back into a loose, messy ponytail, the movement causing her top to rise up even further, exposing more of her stomach. Harry's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the expanse of bare flesh, and he noticed with a start that at some time in the not too distant past Hermione had had her navel pierced. 'Ron will kill me, Ron will kill me, screw that, Hermione will kill me,' he kept repeating to himself as he tore his gaze away from her, missing the speculative gleam in his friend's eyes.

"So, do we have any clue as to who the kidnappers are?" she asked, drawing his mind back to the business at hand.

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah, actually I have a pretty good idea," Harry admitted, pulling the Owl he'd received from the pocket of his robes. Hermione arched one eyebrow as she unfolded the note, then rolled her eyes as she read:

Potty;

The Weasel is my prisoner.

Bring the mudblood to the Sign

of the Guzzling Grimm by 12:00 noon

if you ever want to see him again.

signed,

Anonymous

"'Anonymous?'" Hermione asked incredulously. "The note's written on his personal stationery, for Merlin's sake!" Sure enough, across the top of the note was printed 'From the Desk of Draco Malfoy, God's Gift To Women'.

Harry shrugged. "No one ever said Malfoy was terribly bright," he admitted, "and at least with him involved we don't have to worry too much about having dangerous and unstoppable forces of darkness arrayed against us."

"No, just silly and incompetent forces of darkness. But it's embarassing," she complained. "If Ron had to be kidnapped, it should've been by someone who was actually a threat, not the Ferret Boy."

"Let's not get overconfident," Harry cautioned. "Malfoy's pretty much a joke, but he might still have some contacts with his father's old cronies. There's a few of them who would be at least a little dicier proposition."

Hermione just snorted. "Honestly, Harry, if any of them were involved, do you think for a moment they would have let him send a demand like that? At the very least they would have made him use a blank piece of paper!"

Harry couldn't think of a single way to refute her logic, so he just smiled as best he could and said, "Well, let's go rescue the prat from the git so you can get on with your wedding plans; after all, you wouldn't want to have to go to all the trouble of canceling all the registries, would you?"

"No, we wouldn't want to have to do that," she mumbled as she followed him out the door.

~~~~~

It was no surprise that the Guzzling Grimm was one of the three Knockturn Alley taverns that Harry had visited during the mugger incident. What was a surprise was that the tavernkeeper didn't seem at all unhappy to see Harry again, a fact that would have made him suspicious under other circumstances. Fortunately for the proprietor, Harry was too busy glaring at any wizard who even glanced at Hermione to notice any unusual behavior being directed his way.

"Mister Potter, sir! What an honor to have you in my humble establishment! How may I help you?" the man beamed.

Harry finished surreptitiously casting a blinding hex at a tablefull of wizards who had wolfwhistled when Hermione walked in and nodded at the cheerful man. "We're looking for a couple of friends who were supposed to meet us here, a blond and a redhead. You might have recognized the redhead, he's the Keeper for the Cannons."

"Oh, yes! They arrived several hours ago. Didn't know they were expecting anyone, the blonde seemed awfully concerned about their privacy. Top of the stairs, the room at the end of the hall." He watched as Harry and Hermione hurried up the stairs, and then went to the fireplace and tossed in a handful of Floo powder. "Malfoy Manor!" he called, and then stuck his head into the green flames. "They showed up just like you said, Miz Black," he reported. "We should hear the explosion any time now..."

Meanwhile, at the end of the corridor, Harry and Hermione listened carefully at the door indicated, trying to hear if they had the right room or not. Suddenly there came the unmistakable sound of their friend moaning in pain. "Step back!" Harry hissed, readying one dragonhide-booted foot to smash the door. The boots were favorites of his; the heels were enchanted to shatter every locking spell known to the Unspeakables, and had an enhancement charm to magnify the force of any kick he applied to a solid surface. The sight of a supposedly secure door being literally blown off its hinges by a kick had disoriented more than one dark wizard, and Harry saw no reason that Malfoy would be any exception.

The foot struck, the door exploded inward with a satisfying crash, and Harry rushed in after, wand raised to save his friend from whatever torture was being inflicted on him. What he didn't expect to see was the image that would be burned onto his retinas for some time to come.

Ron, lying naked, his hands gripping the bedposts. Wearing a pointy hat, half-moon spectacles, and a long, fake white beard. And with an equally naked blonde straddling his hips and riding him for all she was worth. "Oh, Professor," she was crying, and he could have gone without hearing that, either.

The sound of a female voice screeching in rage reminded Harry that he wasn't alone, and he managed to fling his arms around Hermione before she could launch herself at her prone and helpless fiancé. "Ronald Weasley, how could you?" she shrilled, and Harry winced as the struggling hellcat in his arms pummeled him mercilessly in her efforts to break free. The blonde's head whipped around, tossing her hair back with a smile, and if anything Hermione's voice became shriller. "And with Luna Lovegood? You sworeyou didn't fancy her! You prat! You git! You unbelievable wanker! You--You--!" Harry felt her movements change, and instinctively pinioned her arms before she could raise her wand. "Harry! Let me go! I'll hex his Johnson off! I'll shrivel his walnuts into raisins! I'll--" she proceeded to enumerate all the various things she was going to do to her unfaithful intended, most of which should have been impossible even with magic, and Harry found himself tremendously grateful that she'd never been this mad at him.

Meanwhile the target of her invective was looking extremely green as the nature of her graphically inventive threats went home. "Hermione, love, I can explain..." he pleaded, struggling to extricate himself from Luna's embrace, who was being extremely uncooperative.

Hermione suddenly stopped her struggles and calmly spoke. "You can let go now, Harry." She glanced over her shoulder at him, and something in her expression must have reassured him, as he relaxed his grip. She smiled her thanks and turned back to her thoroughly terrified fiancé. Without saying a word, se twisted off her engagement ring, held it up between two fingers, and for the first time in her life consciously performed wandless magic. "Incendio!" With a flare the diamond shattered. Hermione tossed the blackened scrap of gold towards the bed, and then turned away. "Let's get out of here."

~~~~~

Big Bad rubbed his hands gleefully at the reports that came in from the Guzzling Grimm. Not only had Harry Potter not rained fire and destruction on the premises, he'd actually been observed to have a small smile on his face as he left. True, Hermione Granger had been radiating enough pure rage to fuel a dozen bonfires, but Narcissa had assured him it was the kind of anger that burned itself out quickly, not the type that festered and made trouble for years. Yes, indeed, it seemed like Narcissa's plans were going to work out nicely. He'd have to do something nice for her in return...

~~~~~

Harry had escorted the silent Hermione back to her apartment, with part of his attention focused on her, and the rest on his own confused emotions. He knew he was furious with Ron for hurting her, and sad for Hermione that she had been forced to learn about his betrayal in such a blunt manner, but why the hell was he happy? Was he such a terrible person that he wanted his friends to be as miserable as he was, or was it something else? Was it, perhaps, that he knew that Ron wasn't right for Hermione, and this had saved them from making a terrible mistake?

Was it, perhaps, that he thought he knew who would be right for her?

Hermione was sufficiently distraught that Harry chose to use his authority as an Unspeakable to override the apartment building's wards and Apparated them directly to her floor's portkey chamber, bypassing the security desk and any curious onlookers they might have met. He escorted her to her apartment, and was about to give her some privacy when she asked, "Could you stay for a while, Harry? I...don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course, Hermione, anything you need, you know you only have to ask," he replied softly, and followed her into her apartment. He took a seat in the living room and waited while she went into her bedroom to change.

A few minutes later she returned to the living room, clad in the comfortable, forest green workout clothes he'd given her the previous Christmas after he'd discovered she'd taken up jogging. It was her favorite outfit for just lounging around her apartment; every time she wore it, the green color and soft fabric made her feel like Harry was hugging her. Now she sat on the couch next to him and slowly leaned back into his arms, her eyes staring off into space as he just held her in companionable silence.

After about a half an hour, she spoke into the stillness, startling Harry out of the light doze he'd slipped into while holding her. "Harry, am I a terrible person?"

"Of course not, Hermione, why would you think that?" he replied.

"Then why aren't I more upset with Ron? Why do I feel...relieved?"

"Do you? Feel relieved, that is?" he asked, an odd sensation turning over in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes, I do!" Hermione replied, her voice filled with frustration. "And I can't understand it! If I loved Ron, I should be miserable, but if I don't love him, why did I accept his proposal in the first place? It's not logical!"

Harry sighed; for such an intelligent witch, his friend could be incredibly thick at times. "Hermione, I'm the last person to claim to be any kind of authority on emotions, but even I know you can't always apply logic to the way you feel about people." He held her tight when he felt her tensing up, refusing to let her escape before he had his say. "You love Ron, and were used to having him around all the time. Even though you had your differences, you had enough memories in common that you felt comfortable with him, comfortable enough to take him into your bed." She was really beginning to try to get loose, but he had one more thing to say. "Isn't it possible that you confused loving Ron with being in love with him, and the reason you're relieved is that your heart knew this, even if your head didn't?"

Hermione twisted around in his arms, staring at him in open amazement. "Harry, that's...that's brilliant! That's exactly what I felt!"

He shrugged, flushing slightly. It wasn't often that he managed to outthink his extremely intelligent friend, and he was enjoying the experience. "Maybe that should be my next career; Harry Potter, The Love Doctor." He grinned as she broke into giggles and finally let her escape his arms.

Several hours later they were enjoying a relaxing meal of Szechwan take-out and a bottle of properly heated sake, when a chime announced the arrival of a special delivery postal Owl. Hermione rose and retrieved the letter, returning to the table before opening it. "It's from Ron," she said unnecessarily.

Harry smiled encouragingly. "At least he had the sense not to come in person."

"I suppose," Hermione agreed, and broke the seal, quickly scanning its contents.

"Well?" he prompted when she remained silent a little longer than he liked.

"Hmm? Oh, it's about what I expected. He's dreadfully sorry for what happened, swears he never meant to hurt my feelings that way, and hopes that someday I'll be able to forgive him. Oh, and he uses a lot of adjectives and adverbs I didn't think he knew to describe himself and his behavior. It's quite impressive, really."

Harry looked down at his hands; he was surprised to see he had them tightly clenched, and with an effort forced himself to relax. "Does that mean...are you...I mean..." He took a deep breath and tried to meet her eyes, which were looking at him with a quizzical expression. "Are you going to give him another chance?" The very idea appalled him, but she had agreed to marry Ron, something he never would have believed could happen. Who knew what sort of crazy notions she might get?

Hermione looked startled at his question, and then to his complete and utter horror, began to look thoughtful. "Well, he did apologize, and I suppose there could be some kind of explanation..." She trailed off as Harry started looking ready to explode, and burst out laughing. "Oh, Harry, you should see your face! Of course I'm not going to give him another chance, you twit! I should never have given him one chance, as you so ably pointed out."

Harry sagged back in his chair, staring at the chortling madwoman sitting across from him. "Do you go around giving everyone you know heart attacks, or am I just the lucky one?" he asked half-seriously.

"You're just too easy, Harry, and much too serious. Perhaps if you'd try to have a bit more fun in life, I wouldn't need to go to such extreme measures," Hermione replied with a smirk.

"Seriously, I will forgive Ron eventually, but only after he has groveled far more effectively. A single letter just won't do, he didn't even send flowers or chocolates with it. And besides, I want to be sure and be there when Molly and Ginny let him have it. They should be spokespeople for the Howlers service, they really should."

Harry just smiled and chuckled at the impish sense of humor Hermione was displaying, a side of her personality she'd kept carefully under wraps throughout most of their time at Hogwarts. He knew she'd been the mastermind behind a couple of brilliant pranks the Gryffindor girls had played on the boys during seventh year, but the only reason he'd found out was that she'd asked to borrow his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map to pull them.

He'd agreed on two conditions; the first, that he be exempt from whatever prank they pulled, and two, that he be allowed to help. Since Hermione had never removed the charm that made the staircase to the girl's dorm recognize Harry as 'one of the girls', he was given honorary status and included in the plotting, an experience that opened his eyes to just how dangerous and cunning the female of the species could be.

While all this was going though his mind Hermione moved back to the living room, settling on the couch with a sigh. Harry came over and sat down next to her, his gaze wandering idly over the room before coming to rest on the odd couch he'd noticed that morning, which in turn reminded him of something else. "Say, Hermione, I was wondering..."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Well, don't hit me or anything, but this morning when I showed up here, I got the oddest impression that you were...well..."

"Well, what, Harry?" she asked, and Harry noticed that a blush was rising up her cheeks.

"Um, well...that you were...naked..." He winced and waited for her to bite his head off, but to his complete surprise she not only didn't give him holy hell, she was actually blushing a brilliant red. "Hermione, you weren't naked...were you?"

"It's not what you're thinking, Harry," she said a bit defensively. "A couple of the girls at work were talking about vacationing in France this summer, and I was just getting a head start on my tan." She gestured at the odd couch, and a brilliant patch of sunlight enveloped it. "That's a Wizard Tanning Bed, it produces an even tan without the harmful effects of UV rays that the Muggle beds produce."

"But why were you naked?" Harry wanted to know, still confused.

"Do you have to keep saying it that way?" she asked crossly.

"I don't know any other way to say it," he replied defensively. "After all you were the one who was naked."

"So I was naked!" she finally exploded. "There's nothing wrong with that, the human body is a perfectly natural thing! If you absolutely must know, my friends were talking about going to St. Tropez, and I wanted to be ready in case that's where we settled on going!"

"Waitaminute, I know that name...isn't that where they have a...a nude beach?" Harry asked, his voice cracking just a bit.

"They have a clothing optional beach, Harry, that's not the same thing," Hermione temporized, but he was not about to let her off the hook that easily.

"But if it's optional, why were you--?" he gestured at the bed. "You were really thinking about...doing that?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Harry Potter, but yes, I was, and I am!" Her eyes flashed as she raised her chin and glared at him. "I have nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what you might think!"

Harry wasn't about to tell her, but he agreed with her 100%; she had nothing to be ashamed of in that department. In fact, Harry was quite sure the idea of Hermione proving that she has nothing to be ashamed of, and in front of thousands of randy Frenchmen, was going to cause him far too many sleepless night as it was. He couldn't very well blind the entire male population of France (well, he could, but it probably would be bad for tourism, or some other such rot that would earn him a lecture from the Ministry).

Unable to think of a decent response that wouldn't dig him in deeper than he already was, Harry mumbled, "Sorry, Hermione," and got up off the couch.

Some of the fire left Hermione's eyes when she saw his contrition; she never could stay mad at him very long, especially when he had that scolded puppy look going. "It's all right, Harry, I guess I'm just feeling a bit sensitive right now. And that's the sort of response I expected from Ron, not you."

"S'okay, Hermione," he replied, his expression a bit more natural, even if it was a tad forced. "It just caught me by surprise, is all. It shouldn't, I guess; I know that nothing scares you, but the idea of going out in public like that, with all my 'bits' hanging out...well, I think I'd rather fight another Tom Riddle." He did a fair job of faking a yawn and headed towards the door, and out of that very uncomfortable conversation. "It's late, and you probably need your rest after today; I know I do, at any rate." He stifled another yawn, a real one this time. "I think I'll probably sleep to noon, myself." After a shower. A long shower. A long, COLD shower.

Hermione nodded abstractedly, her mind suddenly occupied with vision of Harry on the beach with all hits 'bits' hanging out. "You're right, Harry, a good night's sleep is what we both need." After a shower. A long shower. A long, COLD...well, you get the idea...

~~~~~