How to End a Boring Day

Hermione absentmindedly turned the page of the paper she had her nose buried in. Her chocolate eyes skimmed over the words quickly, searching for anything interesting at all. It wasn't until she checked all the pages one more time that she decided there was nothing good in the Daily Prophet. She'd read it cover-to-cover.

"Ugh, rubbish," she said softly, folding it and tossing it down. "Honestly," she added to herself, "as if I care about a living pumpkin patch. There was just one last week."

It was three o'clock on another boring Tuesday afternoon. Hermione Granger had already replied to any letters she had ignored over the past week, and there was nothing else to read in the house. It was perfectly clean too. She was sitting at her kitchen table, piles of papers lying around from her scavenging through the Prophet over and over, and her coffee mug, filled to the brim and probably cold, had been left forgotten.

Moaning, she slumped forward and let her forehead hit the table exhaustedly. "This is so pathetic. I can't even entertain myself."

"Otherwise I'd be useless, wouldn't I?"

Hermione shrieked and spun around so quickly to find the source of the voice that she toppled out of her chair. The anonymous man caught her in his arms with lightning-fast reflexes and grinned when she looked into his startling green eyes.

"Hello, clumsy," Harry said.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione enthusiastically as Harry set her straight in her chair. He was about to let go of the hold he had on her but before he could even stand up all the way, she grabbed his sweater in a fistful and crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss that lasted what seemed like forever.

What was probably five minutes later, they separated, Harry's glasses hanging off by one arm and Hermione's lips red and swollen. "Wow," Harry said in a raspy voice. "Mark that one down as the Official Greeting of the Month. What's gotten into you?" he added, grinning again as her lips curled mischievously.

"Boredom," she moaned, standing up and putting her arms loosely around his neck. "I don't think I've ever been so bored with myself."

"What, wasn't there anything to read?" Harry said, smirking.

Hermione kicked his shin lightly and leaned in, pressing her lips against his lightly. "Um, Harry, what time is it?"

Harry raised his eyebrows as she started pushing him backwards and steering him blindly into the hallway. "Uh . . . uh, it's, um, three? Five after? Elementary school's over."

Hermione bit her lip and grabbed the back of his collar and tugging it upward over the back of his head, and he lifted his arms as she pulled it all the way off. "Yes, and Charlie won't be home from school until quarter to five, will she?"

The excitement was more than evident on his face. "Of course not. She has . . . she has Pee-Wee Quidditch after school."

Hermione had backed him down the hall to their bedroom door. She arched an eyebrow, and Harry's breathing began to get heavier and heavier. "I see," she purred, reaching around his waist and opening the door. "So, I see no reason why I shouldn't let you rip my clothes off and have your way with me. Do you?"

Harry grinned and took gentle hold of the hem of her jumper. She lifted her arms over her head as he had done and he helped her shimmy out of the sweater. "My, my, Mrs. Potter, you must have been experiencing a serious case of boredom on your day off."

He pulled the scrunchy out of her hair, letting her wispy ponytail fall in wavy locks down past her shoulders, and then reaching behind her back, he unclasped the simple white cotton bra and it fell to the floor of the hallway before she kicked it into their room. Walking them through the door and pressing her lips to Harry's collar, Hermione shut the door behind her with her foot and pushed Harry backwards onto their bed. "You have absolutely no idea."

* * *

"Mummy! Daddy!" Charlie squealed, running in the door with her bushy brown hair flying behind her and waving to the car that drove away down their street. She shut the door and shrugged out of her Barbie backpack and took off her robe and shoes. "I'm home! Mummy!"

There was no one in the family room. She bit her lip. "Daddy! I have no practice today!"

Still nothing. She put her hands forcefully on her hips and a hearty frown creased across her seven-year-old face. Where were they? They were usually in the kitchen. And they always came and gave her a great big hug and kisses. She huffed.

Someone huffed back.

She stopped and listened. Another huff. Somebody was breathing heavy, like she always did when she was done her Quidditch games. Who was doing it?

Curiously, she followed the strange sound. The huffy breathing sounded too familiar. . . . It wasn't until she heard a load moaning sound that she knew who it was. "Mummy?" she said softly. Was Mummy hurt? She began to get scared.

Mummy and Daddy's bedroom door was shut. And the sound seemed to be coming from there. At the very end of the hall. Charlie walked towards it, slightly nervous, and grabbed the doorknob.

* * *

"Oh, God," Hermione whispered, her neck arched slightly as Harry's lips devoured her neck and collar. "Hey, could you do that again?" she said softly.

"Do what?"

"That . . . that thing you did . . . with your fingers . . ."

He had his hand on her stomach, and he'd been absently flicking his fingers in patterns on it. He did it again, and she gasped, a small delirious smile lighting up her face.

"Well, I didn't even mean to do that. Glad you like it," he said, kissing her sweat-covered forehead.

Hermione was breathing hard, her bangs wet and slicked against her forehead. Her legs were wrapped around Harry's waist and he was supporting himself on his elbows, hovering over her sweaty body. He pushed her hair repeatedly off her face and placing random butterfly-soft kisses all over her skin, whispering the occasional "I love you" when he felt it needed to be emphasized.

Hermione ran her fingers through his soaking hair. "Harry, that was wonderful."

"It was," he said, his kisses trailing down, lingering on her breasts and humming down on her stomach. He then smeared them up a bit quicker than he descended and she tipped her head back as he suckled on the soft skin under her chin and then quickly kissed her on the lips as he slowly relaxed on top of her. "I'm not too heavy, am I?"

"Dear, for the thousandth time, no," Hermione said sternly, but grinned all the same. "How come you still ask me after five years?"

"I don't know," he said, but didn't return the grin. "When I see your face, I keep thinking I have to be gentle with you. You're too beautiful. Like a porcelain doll. And I feel like if I'm too rough with you . . . I dunno, I might break you or something."

Hermione's breath had stopped just at the mere look in his eyes. "Oh Harry . . . that was the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say . . ." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her mouth forcefully to hers. "I love you so much . . ."

They were kissing so fiercely, they didn't hear the doorknob turn or see the small face appear in the three-inch crack of open door. But they did, most definitely, hear the voice.

"M-mummy?"

Hermione choked on Harry, unwound her legs from his waist and pushed him away, cold dread constricting her lungs. The door was open slightly, but no one was there. She heard small running footsteps going down the hall and a door slamming. Charlie's door.

"Oh . . . my God," she whispered, tears slowly sliding down her face. Her hand had crept up and covered her mouth in disbelief. "Oh my God. Oh my God, Harry, oh my God . . ."

Harry was still looking at the door, and when he turned back to look at Hermione fearfully, there were small tears in the corners of his eyes too. "I think . . . I think that was Charlie. . . ."

Hermione slid, trembling, out from under Harry and sat up, tears sliding down her face non-stop. The one thing every parent fears had just happened. She looked around the room, her mouth open. They were naked, their covers were on the floor, their clothes were strewn all over the carpet, the sheets were stained . . .

She buried her face in her hands, her emotions welling up in loud, noisy sobs. "I don't believe it!" she wailed. "I don't believe it, we're so stupid!"

She collapsed on the bed, pressing her face into the sheets and crying, her shoulders racking. The mattress shifted as Harry moved behind her and kissed her shoulder. "It's alright, honey . . . everything will be alright . . ."

"No it won't Harry," cried Hermione. Their child had just been scared out of her wits because of her own parents. Because they were too careless. "This is my fault! It's all my fault! If I hadn't been so . . . so fucking stupid!"

Harry sounded as though he was trying desperately not to cry. "Darling, it's alright. We just have to talk to her . . ."

Hermione sobbed even louder. "No! She probably won't even listen . . . oh God . . ."

What was she going to do?

* * *

Charlie was sitting at the far end of her bed up against the wall farthest from her door. She wasn't moving, wasn't blinking, just thinking. Her mind was reeling. What was that? What was Daddy doing to Mummy to make her yell? She didn't like it at all. But every time she closed her eyes she saw the scene in her head. It looked like Daddy was trapping her so she couldn't get up.

She felt like crying. Something was wrong with Daddy.

She sat there for a long time, thinking about what was happening, all the while she felt tears pierce her eyelids, but something told her not to cry. It was after a little bit that she heard a very light knocking at her bedroom door. She grabbed her stuffed bear named Moe. "Who's there?"

"Charlie . . ." It was Mummy. She slinked further back against the wall. "Charlie, it's Mummy. Can I come inside?"

Charlie didn't speak. Mummy opened the door and peeked inside. "Hi, Charlie." Her clothes were back on and her hair was in a ponytail again.

Charlie didn't say anything again. She didn't even wave. Mummy bit her lip and even she looked ready to cry, but then she stood up straight, sniffing. "Can I come in, Charlie?"

Something was definitely up. Not wanting to make Mummy mad or anything, Charlie nodded quickly and tucked her legs underneath her. Also nodding, very slowly, Mummy came in, walking like if she was too fast Charlie might run or something. She sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her. "Come sit?"

Charlie shook her head. Mummy nodded again. It was like she didn't have the faintest idea of what she was going to say, and that she was fighting with herself to not cry. Charlie felt really sad for her, but was still to raw from the shock of what had happened.

Soon, she did say something. "Charlie . . . you know . . . you can always talk to me. I'm your Mummy. If you feel uncomfortable about something, anything at all, you have every right to tell me what it is, and I'll never get mad. Ever. I promise." Her voice was on the brink of desperateness. "I love you, Charlie. Believe me, I truly do."

Charlie nodded. "I know."

There was about twenty seconds of no one talking. Charlie just watched Mummy. She really didn't know what to do. There was something in her that wanted to start asking questions, and another part of her said not to. It was terrible just sitting there watching Mummy look so sad. But the worst bit was when Mummy started crying.

Charlie scooted forward on the bed. "Oh no, Mummy. Don't cry."

Mummy wiped her eyes and opened her arms gingerly, beckoning desperately for a hug from her daughter, and Charlie didn't even think before wrapping her arms tightly around Mummy's neck.

"Please don't cry, Mummy."

"I'm sorry, Charlie," Mummy said, still crying. "Your mum's just acting like a big silly, that's all." She wiped her tears away when she pulled back and looked into Charlie's eyes. This was it, it was now or never. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me?" she asked gently.

Charlie bit her lip. She didn't want to ask, but she had to. "Mummy . . ." she started, quivering. "Was Daddy . . . was he hurting you?"

"No, darling no!" Hermione said softly, putting her hands on Charlie's face and looking pleadingly into her eyes. "Never. Your father would never, ever hurt me or you or anyone else. I promise you. Okay?"

Charlie nodded and Hermione kissed her forehead, letting her sit down at her side. The youngest Potter immediately took refuge against her mother, putting her head against her side and her arms around her mother's waist. Hermione wrapped her arms loosely around the child's shoulders, stroking the back of Charlie's bushy brown hair with shaky fingers. She was so much like her mother, it was scary. Hermione felt like she was looking at a picture of herself at age seven every time she looked at her daughter. But looking into her startling green eyes made her think of Harry.

She took the deepest of deep breaths and said calmly, "Your father and I weren't doing anything wrong. We weren't doing anything right, but weren't doing anything wrong."

"Then what were you doing, Mummy?"

It hurt to look at her child and be stuck with such an awful dilemma. She couldn't say no; it wouldn't erase the memory Charlie had of Harry and Hermione having sex. And she didn't know what it was that they were doing in the first place except that it was wrong. But she couldn't tell her! What if she brought it up at school or to a teacher or friend? And then they all find out that Hermione told her what sex was and she gets labeled as a bad parent. Her mind was aching and more tears were spilling from her eyes. So she mustered up what she had and instead of speaking from her mind, tried her best to speak from her heart.

"You see, dearest, it's all about love. I love your father, and he loves me back. And we love each other so, so, so much, that sometimes, we want to let each other know just how much we love one another. It's too difficult though, to use words, because there aren't big enough words to describe what our love is like. The love between your father and I," Hermione said, tears glistening as she spoke now directly from her heart, "is so big, so huge, so absolutely wonderful that I doubt they've even invented words to describe our feelings. Your father is the greatest man in the entire world. He loves me like I could never love him."

"But you do love him, right?" Charlie said quietly, beginning to relax at Hermione's words.

"Oh, honey, I love him with all my heart, my soul, everything that I am, everything I ever will be, and everything I ever was. I've known him nearly all of my life, and I've loved him since the very first time I ever saw him. But no matter how much of me I love him with, he will always love me more. And that's why he's one of the most precious possessions I own."

"Besides me, of course," Charlie said, not able to suppress the small grin that she pressed into Hermione's sweater.

Hermione laughed a little, still teary-eyed. "Exactly. I can never love anyone as much as you. You're a mixture of me and your father. Do you see? You are just how much your father and I love each other. Without that love, you wouldn't be here."

Charlie sat up, staring hard into the wall opposite them and tried to understand. "So you mean, I'm here because you love each other, and that what happened wasn't bad? It was just love?"

"Absolutely." Hermione pulled her daughter to her with everything she had and rubbed her back slowly, almost wanting to cry with the feeling of Charlie hugging her back just as tightly. "Oh, my darling, I love you so much. One day I'll invent a word to describe just how much. And I'm so sorry." She said, pulling back and wiping her eyes as she stared into Charlie's emerald ones. "If I could take that all back, I most certainly would. I was wrong for letting that happen and I'm sorry."

"No need, Mummy," said Charlie, who was so tiny at age seven she needed to stand on the mattress to be able to see eye-to-eye with her mother. She hopped off. "Besides, Xavier Malfoy told me lots about what you were doing."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, he told me when I went over Uncle Draco and Aunt Ginny's house last week. We were playing in the back yard and he was telling me stuff."

Hermione thought the wind had been knocked out of her. "What did he tell you?" she asked.

"About where babies come from."

"What?!"

"I don't know how he found out, either. When I saw you, though, all I could think of was how Xavier was making fun of it. And I figured it was really bad. But what you told me Mummy, about love, makes it okay. I thought it was pretty gross what he told me, so I pushed him in a mud puddle."

Charlie walked over to her dresser and pulled off her T-shirt. "You should have seen him cry though, Mummy. His girly blonde hair got really muddy and brown. I think you'd have been proud."

It felt as though the bottom of Hermione's stomach had come loose. She stared at her daughter. "Charlie . . . why didn't you tell me this beforehand?"

"Because I solved the problem and I didn't think you wanted to know. Besides, it's not as if I care or anything." She looked around at Hermione in just her tiny pair of pink panties and a cute little frown creased her tiny face. "Mummy," she said frowning, "why are you looking at me like that?"

Hermione bit her lip for a moment, took a deep breath and said, "No reason, sweetheart." She walked up to Charlie, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and left a grinning little Potter girl to get changed.

Harry was standing outside the door when she opened it. "Well?" he said worriedly. "How'd it go?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen. "I need a really big drink."