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Chapter 6

The Burrow

Hermione stormed through the back door. Glancing around the kitchen she looked for Harry, she moved throughout the bottom floor in her quest. Still searching, she took the stairs two at a time rushing to look in each bedroom she came to as she climbed upwards. She found him sitting on one of the beds in what used to be Bill and Charlie's room, staring at a blown up picture from fourth year of the Hungarian Horntail and himself in the first challenge of the triwizard tournament. He glanced over his shoulder when the door opened to see who entered then went back to staring at the picture in front of him.

"I've never actually seen any pictures from the tournament. If I didn't know how this challenge had turned out, I'd be really worried about that skinny little kid right there." He nodded to the picture in front of him. "Hermione, what were they thinking letting me compete in that thing?" he asked in a small whisper shaking his head. "I really had no idea what I was doing. I should have been killed at least a dozen times. Do you know how many times you have saved my life?" He turned to the girl who had quietly sat next to him on the bed and took his hand.

"Ron once said we wouldn't have lasted a day without you. He asked me never to tell you that, but he's an arse so who gives a fuck?" He shrugged. "You need to know how great you are, and how wonderful you are, and how much we love you. I mean to tell you every day," he finished leaning over to kiss the girl who sat beside him on the cheek.

"Oh Harry, what they were betting on, it wasn't what you thought." At Harry's scoffing snort she continued, "Really, they bet on how long it would take Draco to take your wardrobe in hand. They knew that your clothes would have Draco just itching to get you into something different. That's all it was, I swear," she finished, moving her body to knock into his playfully at the shoulders.

"Really?" he asked. "That's all?" At Hermione's nod he continued, "Well, it was still inappropriate."

"Yes, but you know Fred and George. If it's any consolation, Bill had some galleons on that bet, too. They said he would have appreciated all of that earlier, and you know what? I think he really would have. They love you like a brother you know, just like you love them."

Hermione bumped her shoulder into Harry's again and realized that they had been kind of swaying back and forth whilst talking, knocking shoulders every now and again. It was really peaceful and comforting to be sitting here with him like this, just… being. Nowhere to run off to, nowhere to have to be right now, no one to have to talk to, no one to have to kill. She pressed her lips tightly together. They just sat side by side together in silence, swaying from side to side, companionably.

Hermione re-played the last year in her head, starting with Bill and Fleur's wedding. She thought of all the things they had done and seen, and all that had happened. It was really sad; all of the people who had died during this war, and all of the destruction, but would she really do anything different?

Would she still obliviate her parents? Would she still go off with the boys in the Horcrux hunt? Would she still have slept with Ron? Yes. She realized. Would she rather not have seen what she saw in the dining room last night? Merlin, no! Was it confusing? Hell, yes! Seeing Harry kissing Draco so passionately was quite a shock, and when he climbed on top of him and they… frotted? Was that the right word? It was the hottest thing she had ever seen.

Still swaying with Harry, she remembered last night.

Hot. It was hot. It made her heart pound and her skin flush and wetness gush between her legs. She took slow, deep, calming breaths, hoping Harry could not see her pulse beating in her chest or hear the pounding of her heart. Those two last night were the sexiest thing she has ever seen.

Using a glamour charm, she had once snuck into an art house theater in London to see a movie which some muggle girls that lived on her street were raving about. It was called Henry and June, and she didn't think there was anything sexier at the time. It was about a ménage à trois in 1930's Paris. It was one man and two women, with lots of nudity and sex. But Harry and Draco fully clothed on the dining room floor kissing and rubbing against each other? No question. That was way sexier.

She and Harry continued to sway on the bed, but a bit more in sync now. Sometime in the past few minutes, Harry had moved his arm around her waist and laid his head down to rest on her shoulder. Her hand had found its way onto his thigh which was pressed up against hers. She closed her eyes, laid her head down a bit and found comfort in the familiar smell of Harry's shampoo and his warm embrace.

Harry didn't realize that he was holding Hermione so closely until he felt her rest her cheek on his head as they swayed together. He was unsure how he came to be holding her so closely, but he knew that it felt natural. It felt so right to hold the woman he loved.

He loved Ron too, and that's why he stepped back in sixth year to give his two best friends time for each other. If he had stayed as close to them as he'd always been, they wouldn't have had the chance to see where their love could lead them. It also gave him a chance to see if there could be anything between him and Ginny. He tried really hard to feel something for her, but his heart just wasn't in it. Perhaps if he didn't love Hermione, he could have turned his brotherly feelings toward Ginny into something else, but he just couldn't.

Watching Ron and Hermione go up to a bedroom in his own house after the final battle had almost killed him. It was too much! Just that morning he had fought a battle with a megalomaniac, died, been resurrected, then ended a bloody horrible war. Heartbroken, he stormed up to the attic, cast a silencing spell with one of the wands in his pocket, and then proceeded to destroy everything he could. He levitated the furniture buried under sheets of cobwebs and dust, flinging them into the walls and into each other causing dirty clouds of dust to rise, thickening the air by the minute. At some point he pocketed the wand and threw things physically until there was nothing left to destroy. Heaving the lamps, trunks, desks, and boxes completely drained him of every ounce of strength he had left. Coughing from the clouds of dust, and sweating from exertion, he'd finally fallen to the floor of the rubble strewn attic and cried.

He cried for his parents. He cried for Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Snape, he cried for Remus and Tonks, and he cried for their poor son Teddy who, like himself, would never know his parents. He cried because he would never be able to tell Hermione how he really felt about her. He cried because, for the rest of his life he would have to see the woman that he loved with his best friend.

He didn't recall how long he lay on that floor; time had no meaning and didn't matter anymore. He closed his eyes and just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep for days. However, sleep proved elusive and he realized how dirty and gritty he really was. He stunk too. He still had blood in his hair and on his hands. Whose blood, he didn't want to know. He opened his eyes to the blurry room, and almost panicked, until he remembered he'd tossed his glasses on the stairs on his way to the attic earlier.

He got to his hands and knees and panted, trying to find the strength to get to his feet. He had to pull himself together. Ron and Hermione couldn't see him like this. Molly had told them that she expected them all at The Burrow before six that evening. She needed her family under her roof that night and if they didn't show up, she would be blowing up Harry's front door at one minute past to drag them home, so he knew he had to get presentable.

He shuffled to the attic door and closed it behind himself as he left, and then locked it tight. He found his glasses, and then went to the bathroom on the second floor to shower. He leaned against the shower wall and let the hot water stream down his body. The steam he dragged into his lungs mixed with the dust already there and made him cough. He coughed until he gagged, and then he vomited everything in his stomach. He watched the bile swirl down the drain of the shower and tried to remember the last time he had actually eaten anything. There were some sandwiches in the great hall sometime after the battle, but the thought of food then was nauseating. He, like most everyone, had just grabbed a cup of hot tea to have something soothing and wet for his parched lips. Thinking of the tea from earlier got Harry remembering just how hungry he was. He grimaced at the angry growl from his stomach and hurriedly dried off and dressed.

He clomped down the stairs following his nose to the kitchen where Kreacher was removing something that smelled like chocolate from the cooker. The elf croaked, "If Master is done destroying Mistress' things, would he like some tea and biscuits?"

"Thank you Kreacher," Harry said, taking a plate with a steaming biscuit on it from the sad eyed elf, moving to the table and sitting down. He sipped the hot tea that was levitated to him, and then took a bite of the biscuit. He remembered to smile as he chewed the biscuit, it smelled wonderful, but Kreacher would never win a bake off.

Harry was sipping his cup just a few minutes later when Ron came downstairs and joined him at the table. He had done his best to act exactly the same as he ever had, but he knew what had happened, and he knew he would never be the same. He'd lost the chance to have Hermione as his own that afternoon. In one sense his heart had broken, but in the sense that his two best friends had found love he felt great joy. How the hell had his love life done such a cock-up?

But all of that has changed. He was now sitting with his arm around the girl he loved and her hand was gently rubbing the inside of his thigh. What? He stopped swaying and moved his head, which caused Hermione to startle and jerk slightly away from him.

Hermione was reliving the scene she'd witnessed last night between the two young men, and was completely unaware that she was rubbing Harry's thigh and pressing harder and harder with each pass. When Harry moved and lifted his head from her chest, she startled and jerked away, "what?" she gasped, looking down at Harry as she licked her lips.

Harry didn't think, he couldn't think. He just reacted. He moved his free hand to caress Hermione's flushed cheek. He moaned looking from the lips she had just licked to her eyes. Her pupils were so large he could barely see the outline of brown he was so familiar with. Draco had told him that eyes like this were from desire. Did she desire him?

Hermione watched Harry move his eyes from her lips to look directly into her eyes. He moved to stand in front of her and leaned down to press his lips to hers. She watched as he lowered his eyelids and his lips closed over hers. Moaning she closed her eyes and felt his arms close around her to embrace her, cuddling around and encasing her in his warmth. He gently lowered her, slowly laying her back onto the bed. He braced himself on his forearms so that his weight didn't press down upon her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to admit the tongue that licked at her lips.

Harry couldn't believe what was happening, he was kissing Hermione! He was so shocked, he almost pulled away to apologize to her. As soon as he started thinking, he found himself turning back into that idiot who couldn't speak to Cho in fourth year. Brain off, Harry! He told himself, do not think, and just feel. Hermione licked into his mouth and hugged him tighter. God, yes please! his heart sang. Turning off his brain and not over thinking what he was doing, he just moved on instinct. He could relax and just let nature take its course. No more thinking.

Hermione felt a brief moment of panic when Harry almost pulled away from her. Her brain screamed NO! Don't stop! She opened her mouth wider and speared her tongue into his mouth and licked upwards to the roof of his mouth pulling him tighter down to her breasts. One of Harry's arms buckled as she pulled him down to her. She buried one hand in Harry's hair, pulling and massaging, melting even more when he moaned into her mouth at her touch. Every thought she ever had fled when she felt Harry's knee move up onto the bed to press up, nudging between her legs. She spread her legs wider to allow his knee to press higher and harder against what she suddenly realized were her very wet knickers. The only things between Harry's leg and her moist core were a slip of cotton and his dungarees!

When Hermione opened her legs wider, Harry took full advantage and pushed, feeling pure moist heat surround his knee. A mysterious scent that he'd been unconsciously aware of suddenly made sense and his cock, which had been hard since she sat next to him on the bed, jerked toward its goal as his mouth watered. It took every ounce of control he had not to press his body down on the woman he loved.

Hermione opened her eyes to look at the man kneeling over her. He moved his mouth up to kiss one eye closed then moved over to the other side to close the other. He kissed down the side of her cheek, and buried his nose behind her ear inhaling, sending a shiver down her body and making her nipples harden. She arched her head back, giving him more access; he licked and gently sucked at her collar bone. Harry moved his free hand to the vee of her shirt, lightly caressing the hollow in the center of her neck. "Hermione," he whispered softly licking around her ear and moving to tug on her earlobe.

"Harry," she answered with a whisper of her own. She encircled Harry's hips with her legs and arched her back, pushing her breasts up to graze his silk covered chest, grinding herself against his leg. She imagined him pressing his cock between her legs and rubbing himself against her just like she saw him do with Draco last night, "Mmmmmm," she moaned, feeling more moisture release between her legs as Harry licked and nipped his way back to her lips.

Draco…last night, she remembered. Hot. Draco. LAST NIGHT!

Hermione! Something screamed in her brain. This is not right! She un-wrapped her legs from Harry's waist and pushed up against his chest, turning her head toward the door and hearing a slight 'snick' sound.

Harry worshiped Hermione's mouth, licking at her lips. The pounding of his heart all he could feel, not registering that she was pushing against his chest. When her knees quickly knocked at his ribs and she pushed up with her hands again, he pulled back and opened his eyes to look at her. "Are you all right?" he asked her, panting, trying to get his breathing and his body under control. His knee screamed at the sudden coldness when he pulled away from her warm body and flopped to the bed beside her.

Hermione couldn't believe she'd kissed Harry. There was mourning going on just a floor below them, and worst of all, Harry had been kissing Draco Malfoy less than twenty four hours before! What was she thinking? What was he thinking? She just lay on the bed panting, trying to control her breathing and trying to hide her humiliation, her anger at Harry rising with each second. She slowly raised up to a sitting position and glared at the slimy slug who dared kiss her after snogging a MAN just last night.

Harry watched Hermione sit up next to him and if he didn't know better, he could swear she suddenly hated him. He actually moved away from her to the other side of the bed in case she decided to start hitting. He'd seen her punch a bloke, and didn't want to be on the receiving end of her right fist any time soon.

"Hermione, what did I do? I didn't…I didn't…I was…" he stuttered trying to say that he didn't touch her inappropriately, well…his hands didn't. He thought he was actually gentlemanly in not pressing down on her when he was on top of her. "I…I…I," he stammered righting the glasses that had been knocked askew, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to ignore the ache in his balls and get his dick to cooperate and go back down.

Hermione stared at Harry and tried control her ire, she was just so angry right now; but she knew that if she said anything about Draco, she would regret it, once said it couldn't be unsaid. No matter what, she did love Harry. But she'd just lost what she had with Ron, and didn't want to lose Harry too by accusing him of…what exactly? Playing with her affections? Playing with Draco's affections? Experimenting? Maybe this was his way of reacting to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She'd heard of soldiers coming home from battle just fine and succumbing to PTSD later in life. Maybe Harry's way of dealing with his grief was by being promiscuous. Well he could deal with this without experimenting on her! She would go to the Ministry tomorrow and get pamphlets on PTSD's and leave them all over the house. Yes, that is what she would do.

Harry watched Hermione fighting to regain control of her emotions and tried to figure out what had just happened. Thank God Draco hadn't done this to him last night; he'd have had such a case of blue balls today that he didn't think he could function, as it was he was going to have to hurry home for a shower and a wank. Oh God, Draco! What was he thinking? He rolled over to his side and curled into a fetal position moaning and covering his head with his arms. Shit! Shit! Fuck! He thought. He'd not had a chance to really talk to Draco about what had happened; he really had no idea what he was thinking last night, or what he was thinking just now with Hermione. He could not, would not hurt her. He would rather die himself before he hurt her. He loved her. Well if you love her what the fuck were you doing with Draco last night arsehole? He asked himself, moaning again.

Hermione's academic mind took Harry's moaning to be frustration and pain from achieving an erection and then being rejected, she had no idea of the inner monologue going on in his head. She stood up and moved to walk over to the side of the bed Harry had rolled to. Standing with her hands on her hips, she realized that her skirt was still hiked up to her waist and her knickers were on display. She quickly pulled her skirt down and adjusted it, re-tucking her shirt so that she looked presentable, and pushed her rear onto the bed shoving Harry's legs out of the way so she had room to sit.

Harry uncurled and pushed himself to sit up at the headboard, pulling his knees into his chest. "I'm so sorry, Hermione, I don't know what I was thinking. This is really not the time for this, I don't know what I was thinking," he mumbled again. "I should never have, I…I…I'm sorry," he pled.

"It's ok, Harry, we'll get past this. We can pretend this never happened; I don't want anything to jeopardize our friendship. I love you, Harry; you are like a brother to me, I can't lose you," she sniffed on the verge of tears.

A fucking brother? He asked himself. Oh my God! What have I done? He moved quickly to comfort the woman he loved crying on the side of the bed who thought of him as a brother. Bloody hell! He thought, stealing Ron's favorite phrase that somehow really fit this situation.

Ron had shut the bedroom door as quietly as he could after seeing Hermione and Harry on the bed snogging. He stood outside the door for long minutes smiling, thinking about what he had just seen. Harry would take care of Hermione.

His mind has been whirling for the last day, and he sometimes felt so dizzy he was going to puke. Just yesterday morning he had been in love with Hermione and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life married to her and taking care of her. He imagined coming home to her after a long day arresting criminals with Harry; she would have a home cooked meal waiting for him, just like his mother did for his father, and then after supper, she would bring him a pipe and rub his tired feet. He couldn't wait to see her swelling with his babies, he wanted a lot of babies, she would be so beautiful pregnant. He'd imagined them having many years of wedded bliss together.

The minute Fleur had buried her fangs into his neck, every feeling he'd ever had for Hermione had turned to brotherly affection. He still remembered the other feelings he'd had for her, but now he only wanted the best for his wonderful best friend and he'd gladly kill anyone who would ever cause her harm or hurt her, just as he would for Ginny. He had been worried that she would be so lonely and hurt without him. They didn't even break up with each other, never had a final conversation even. He went from loving Hermione and being the most important person in her life, to being mated forever to someone else. That had to have been hard on her, but she was such a strong girl, she had a whole conversation with him and Fleur just an hour ago and didn't shed a tear. That's my Hermione, so brave.

Today was all about his poor brother Bill, and he really did want to show the proper respect for the brother he would miss terribly. He swore this morning that he would push his happiness way down today so that Bill, the best big brother in the world, would be shown all the proper respect at his mourning ceremony and funeral tomorrow. But now that Hermione and Harry were properly together and his biggest worry was solved, he just didn't know how he could hide his happiness.

His mind latched onto Fleur and he turned to follow the blinding allure of his beautiful mate and their child. He went downstairs and sat on the arm of the chair Fleur was in, completely forgetting the owl in the kitchen waiting for Harry and why he even went upstairs to look for him in the first place.