Never All Together

Chapter 3: Light My Candle

Little girl, hey, the door is that way.
You better go, you know the fire's out anyway.
Take your powder, take your candle,
Your sweet whisper I just can't handle.
Take your hair in the moonlight
Your brown eyes, goodbye, goodnight!
Long ago you might've lit up my heart
But the fire's gone, it ain't ever gonna start!
I should tell you, I should tell you
I should tell you, I should -- NO!
Another time, another place
Our temperatures would climb
There'd be a long embrace.
Looking for romance?
Come back another day.

--- Jonathan Larson (Another Day) ---

James Potter wearily set down the Daily Prophet he was trying to read and sipped his coffee. The morning sunshine streaming through the windows did nothing to freshen him up. He had spent the last couple of nights sleepless, pondering how to best handle the situation he had been compromised to. Time alone with Hermione Granger? He rubbed his eyes. It should not matter this greatly to him, but for some unfathomable reason, it did. Again, the question echoed in his head. Why? The most plausible answer always followed, but he rejected it each time, knowing it couldn't -- shouldn't -- be that way.

The knock on his door startled him. "Come in," he said in a strong voice.

It was like a mirage had stepped into the room. Hogwarts school uniforms were supposed to be flowing, supposed to conceal the shape of the body. Females as young as seventeen weren't even supposed to possess full curves. So how in the world did Hermione manage to look like the very essence of womanhood? The wind blowing through the open door gently ruffled Hermione's curls, making her look even more ethereal.

"You called, Mr. Potter?" Hermione greeted mildly, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I have Transfiguration class in twenty minutes, and I cannot be late."

James stood and straightened himself up. Hermione eyed his strong stature with interest, noting that she had never seen anything quite as masculine as him. What am I doing? she asked herself, swallowing hard in an effort to force away thoughts of him that were bordering on the indecent. She need not have to work very hard. When James settled a serious gaze on her, all her thoughts seemed to fly out of her mind.

"Do you have a lot of schoolwork to do this evening?" James asked evenly, trying not to imagine what he normally meant whenever he asked a girl this question. "I was thinking we could -- ah -- start that crash course on computers." He indicated one that was sitting at the far corner of the room, the one that Lily bought over the weekend. James did not understand why his wife was being pushy about him learning to operate this Muggle machine. She's pushing me even closer to temptation.

Hermione looked a bit disconcerted. She glanced from the machine to him, feeling a little letdown at his nonchalance. She nodded slowly. "I always have a lot of schoolwork to do, Mr. Potter, but I'm sure I can make time to do what this temporary job requires me to. Especially since Mrs. Potter was the one who requested me to do so."

James wanted to smile, wanted to joke around and work the old James Potter charm of mischief on her. She was just a teenager, for goodness sake! Why was the air so tense? But he was scared that by smiling he would break the ice, and she would be comfortable with him. It might lead to things that he couldn't control later on. And James Potter needed control, as he was a man. The problem was that looking at Hermione Granger reminded him that he was indeed a man.

So instead, he gave a brisk, upward jerk of the head. "I'll meet you here around eight, after dinner."

Hermione forced a smile, wondering what made him act so business-like. She was not some ordinary employee; she was his son's girlfriend. That made her almost part of his family. Heck, someday she might even really be family. Some loyal girlfriend you are, her conscience snorted. She steeled herself to meet those cold eyes, eyes that didn't seem to want to look at her. "Certainly, Mr. Potter." She gave a small bow and stiffly asked for permission to return to the Castle, with which James complied.

The door closed, and James shivered at the sudden cold. She had noticed, he knew, that he was avoiding her. Good. But it was more difficult than he expected. What did that mean?

* * * * * * *

"Ron, I won't be able to perform my Head Girl duties for tonight," Hermione informed the redhead as she gathered her things up from the common room table. Ron Weasley opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione shook her head warningly. "Don't ask, Ron."

"Where are you going?" Ron asked stubbornly. He glanced at Harry, who was sleeping near the fire, his glasses askew. "And does Harry know about this?"

Hermione wiped her hand across her eyes in frustration. She was sleepy, having had trouble sleeping ever since the dinner at the Potters', and she was tired and so full of dinner all she wanted to do was rest. She cast a look at Harry and envied him. "Of course, Ron, Harry knows about this." She stacked her Arithmancy book on top of everything else and decided not to answer Ron's first question. "I have to go, or I'll be late."

"How are you going to go there ... wherever you're going?" Ron persisted, ignoring the annoyed glance she threw his way.

"I've fixed it with Professor McGonagall. And Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly, "will you please stop pestering me with your questions? I am not doing anything illegal."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. Don't say I didn't care enough to ask."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and made her way through to her dormitory. Once in her room, she stacked her books on her table and rifled through her trunk for something suitable to wear.

She recalled the closed expression on James Potter's face earlier that day, and her own features tightened. Did he think she had no sense of propriety whatsoever, that she was intentionally putting the moves on him? Hermione's cheeks burned. Even if that was true, he shouldn't think that. She shut her eyes, and the image of James loomed, making her melt inside. What must he be thinking about me?

Well, another voice inside her reasoned out, whatever you're thinking he's thinking, it doesn't matter, as you're also thinking about him. That makes the two of you even.

The two of us. Hermione smiled and felt a shiver of anticipation at the kind of night she was going to have. Careful not to go overboard, however, she selected a pair of jeans that fit her snugly but were not too tight, topped with a loose, plain white shirt. She looked in the mirror and fluffed her hair. There was no need to put on make-up. Even with the lack of sleep, her complexion was glowing. Her lips were already red and slightly puckered. Her eyes were burning with excitement. The realization shocked her. She wanted to see James Potter.

She grabbed her purse by her bedside and rushed out the door, not wanting to look longer in the mirror. The longer she gazed into her eyes, the easier it would be for doubt and guilt to sink in. She did not want that, but Hermione knew that even if those negative emotions did manage to worm their way into her consciousness, they would be ignored. Tonight, nothing else would matter -- except getting what she wanted.

* * * * * * *

"The first thing you need to do is make sure all the connections are in place," Hermione said, bending over to check the ports at the back of the CPU casing, as well as the plugs on the power source. "All good," Hermione affirmed, standing up and brushing dust off her hands. She glanced at James, who was obviously not listening and was staring off into space. She remembered Professor McGonagall saying that as the best and brightest students, the Marauders were easily bored with lessons.

"You're not listening," she stated. James looked at her as though he didn't know she was there in the first place.

He ran a hand through his messy hair. "Obviously," he remarked dryly. "I still fail to grasp the significance of learning to use this weird-looking device."

"At least learn what it's called."

James smirked. "I know what it's called. It's a computer. But I still don't care what it's capable of doing. Besides, the continually changing magnetic field due to the electricity needed to power that device affects the magical waves in this room."

Hermione was taken aback and tried hard not to smile. James Potter was even more charming when he was being his usual, arrogant self. And he definitely had the right to do so, seeing as he did know what he was saying. She opened her mouth to ask whether he still wanted to continue with their lesson, but he had already turned his back on her and settled on his puffed up chair. A wave of sympathy rolled over her as James removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his shoulders hunched. Hermione decided to try a different tack.

"Long day?" she asked, coming up behind him. James glanced up at her, and for the first time, Hermione noted how age had shaped his face. Lines had already collected at the corners of his eyes and mouth, making him look wise. Unfortunately, for Hermione, apparent wisdom in an older man was unbelievably sexy.

James relaxed on his seat and laid his head upon the headrest. "On the contrary, it was too short for me to do all that I have to do." He closed his tired eyes. "But maybe you don't have any idea what I'm talking about."

"Maybe I do, on a smaller level, seeing as how I always have a lot of schoolwork to do," Hermione replied, placing her hands on his shoulders. The urge to comfort him, not as a child, not even as a friend, but as a woman, overwhelmed her. She felt the tenseness of his muscles and played her fingers over them, trying to unknot them. James settled himself back even more, as though to allow her easier access. A low moan of pleasure escaped him as he felt soothing hands slide down over his back and arms in slow, sensuous circles.

Desire coursed through Hermione as the intimacy of what they were doing hit her, at the realization that he enjoyed her touching him. She squeezed her eyes shut, and for a moment, imagined how she would feel if he wrapped his large arms around her. Oh, Merlin. She wanted him to hold her.

James suddenly bolted out of his chair and drew himself up to his full height, glaring at a very shocked Hermione. He replaced his glasses, the lenses magnifying the anger inside his eyes. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing," he said warningly, passing his hand over the back of his neck, shoulders, and arms, as though to remove all traces of her touch. "Frankly, I expected better of you, Hermione."

She was still too stunned to react, so she simply stared at him, her lips slightly parted. James's eyes were drawn to their unnatural redness, and yet they did not seem to be painted. He snapped his eyes away from those lips begging to be kissed, and worked on channelling his energy to anger. "I had hoped that it was only in my imagination that you were coming on to me that night my son introduced you to us as his girlfriend, but obviously I was wrong." His eyes narrowed even more dangerously. "What is it you're trying to prove, Hermione? That you can bait both father and son?"

Hermione's eyes came into focus, dark and stormy. Finally, the issue was out. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Potter. If you're hinting that I'm putting the moves on you, that I even am attracted to you--" She let out a tinkering laugh and crossed her arms over her chest. "You've got an even more bloated ego than I thought. I did not suggest this computer tutorial. I did not even set the time and place for it. Who's coming on to whom now?" She tried her darnedest not to blush, knowing she was speaking in half-truths.

"Do you know, I think your body can answer your question," he answered, his voice coming out low and throaty, his eyes centred on her heaving chest. Hermione quickly uncrossed her arms and looked down at her shirt, blood rushing to her cheeks as she saw the evidence of arousal jutting out of her plain white shirt. She pulled at her shirt and looked back up at him, her face contorted with anger and humiliation.

"I never thought you were one to say such words, Minister, considering what a gentleman the whole world has taken you to be," Hermione gritted out, her face still flushed. She marched over to the chair where she had left her purse and slung it over one shoulder. She was making her way to the door when a large warm hand gripped her arm and forcibly turned her around so she was facing him again.

He was standing so close to her she could feel his uneven breathing on her cheek. She was sure he could even hear the hopeless fluttering of her heart. James shifted his hands so that he was gripping her shoulders and looked into her eyes. He read hurt, confusion, and unconsummated desire. She is so young.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," he began softly. "It was improper of me to have said that."

"You shouldn't even have thought that," Hermione retorted, twisting her body away from his. She watched as James's expression hardened once more.

"Don't act so innocent," he said, his temper flaring up again. "You're not so young anymore that you cannot understand the attraction between a man and a woman." He subtly wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her face with his other hand. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy what happened a while ago, or that you don't want..." He lowered his mouth until it was half an inch away from hers. "This," he finished with a murmur as he captured her mouth with a searing kiss.

Hermione closed her eyes and felt herself being swept away on a wave of emotion. He was right -- it was what she wanted. She entwined her fingers around his neck and automatically pressed herself closer to him. Her lips had been driven apart by his so that she tasted him. Fireworks exploded in her mind like she had never experienced before. This was how any woman's first kiss from a man was supposed to feel -- and James Potter was such a man.

But he's not just any man. The thought came unbidden to Hermione, the warmth she was feeling replaced by an icy guilt. She pushed him away, her hand snaking up and slapping him on the face. James pulled back with a stunned expression on his face, as though unable to believe what he'd done. Before he could say anything else, before he could pull her into his arms and make her feel like a woman again, she turned and ran towards the fireplace. She spotted the urn that contained the Floo powder, took a handful of it and threw it into the fireplace.

"Hogwarts!"

James stood staring at the fireplace for several minutes after she was gone, distressed. He had kissed her not only because he desired her, which was wrong in itself, but because he wanted to see how it would make him feel. The emotions her kiss, her scent, her taste had evoked in him weren't new -- and that was what bothered him the most. He knew her, that much was certain, but he did not know from when and where.

Who are you really, Hermione Granger?