Update- Laws of Motion Chapter 2

[heathershaped]

So, I've updated at PK, but here's Chapter 2 of my story here as well.

Title: Laws of Motion
Rating: R
Genre: Romance
Summary: 3 shot. All Harry needed was a wake-up call. When he gets it, though, Hermione just might not know what hit her. R for sex and mild language. 

Chapter 1- The Law of Inertia

Every body perseveres in its state of being at rest or of moving uniformly straight ahead, except insofar as it is compelled to change its state by forces impressed.

-Newton’s First Law of Motion

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked into the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It had been a long day. The three of them had come home early that morning tired, dirty, but accomplished. Together they’d taken out Voldemort’s sixth horcrux, his pet snake Nagini. It had taken them three years since they’d left Hogwarts. But finally, Voldemort was now just as mortal, arguably moreso, than any of them.

But there was no time for celebration. There was now the question of how and when to engage Voldemort. They had spent the day strategizing with the rest of the Order and researching offensive and protective spells, anything that would help to prepare them for this last battle. It was almost over.

For the moment, though, they were emerging from the library at Grimmauld Place to have a quick dinner, then practice some of what they’d learned today. Ron made a beeline for the refrigerator and pulled out some pumpkin juice, chugging it straight from the jug while taking out a huge sandwich and placing it on the table. Hermione put on some water for tea, and Harry went to the cabinet for some butterbeer.

As the three of them puttered about, the flames in the fireplace roared to life. Ron froze, his hand still holding up the jug of juice, and swallowed. “What now?”

Hermione spared him an irritated glance.

“Hullo, Remus,” Harry said as the older man stepped out into the room.

“Good evening,” Remus Lupin said as he dusted off his robes, then offered a hand back into the flames to help his wife, Nymphadora Tonks, into the kitchen as well. She straightened and nodded at each of them in turn.

“Wotcher, Harry, Hermione, Ron,” Tonks greeted with little of her usual liveliness.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked without preamble. Tonks looked up at Remus, who gave her a nod.

“Horace Slughorn’s body was found this afternoon at a muggle residence in Kent ,” Tonks informed them. “The Dark Mark was over the house.”

“We’re fairly certain this means that-”

Harry interrupted Remus. “It means Voldemort knows that we’ve destroyed his horcruxes, now that Nagini’s gone, and he’s realized how we found out they existed in the first place.” He sat down, raking his hands through his hair and stared at the floor.

“Harry…” Hermione reached out for his hand but Harry shook her off, looking back up at Remus and Tonks. “It means that another innocent person is dead because of me.”

“It’s ridiculous that you would be blaming yourself for this,” Hermione said briskly. “Slughorn told Riddle about horcruxes decades before you were even thought of.”

“And if he’d never retrieved that memory for me, he might still be alive.”

“Hermione’s right, Harry,” Remus said. “Slughorn was murdered, unfortunately, only because he once had the information and gave it to Riddle. Voldemort lashing out now has less to do with what Slughorn told you than it has to do with the fact that he’s angry. His plan has failed, Harry. You three foiled it.”

“That’s another reason why we’re here,” Tonks put in. “At this point, we don’t know what Voldemort’s planning or where he is. But you need to be careful, because now that he knows his horcruxes have all been destroyed, he may be even more aggressive in his search for you, possibly even attack people close to you to try and smoke you out, get you to come to him, on his turf.”

Harry’s eyes went to Ron, then lingered on Hermione. His heart raced.

Remus studied the three of them , now arranged around the kitchen table. Ron was slouching, his long legs stretched off to the side in his chair with his arm haphazard across the table, staring into the empty fireplace. Harry’s hand moved periodically, repeatedly through his tousled hair, and his right knee bobbed up and down as he rested his elbow on it - the embodiment of stress. Remus felt the all-familiar pang of grief for his best friends son, and all that he was still dealing with at his age. Hermione’s eyes were on Harry, searching his face, with a worried frown furrowing her eyebrows. She looked about five seconds from either fleeing the room or throwing her arms around Harry.

A different type of stress altogether, Remus mused, as he and his wife shared a glance.

“It’s important that you not take action against Voldemort right away,” he went on. Hermione looked sharply back up at him, then back to Harry anxiously. “We’ll need to move on this sooner than later, but even with the horcruxes, Voldemort will have had plenty of reinforcements, and now…well, obviously we’ll want to have as many Aurors and Order members as possible mobilized and ready to stand with you. Right now, Tonks and I will call another Order meeting for tomorrow, if that works for you.” He paused and glanced at Harry, who nodded.

“Alright, then, we‘re going to go now, and you three get some rest. You‘ve had a long day.” He took some powder from the jar on the mantel and stepped through the flames after his wife.

“Good night,” Hermione said distractedly, even though Remus and Tonks had already left. They sat in silence for some time, then Hermione broke it.

“Well, this doesn‘t really have to change anything. We knew that Voldemort must have realized, now that his snake is gone. I mean, for all we know, he knew each time we destroyed a horcrux. This isn‘t exactly news, is it? I mean we know he knew when you destroyed the diary.”

“But he had no reason to believe I knew about horcruxes at twelve. He only knew because Lucius Malfoy told him I destroyed it. He didn‘t feel it or anything,” Harry said. “Obviously, I need to move in on him more quickly than we thought.”

Ron spoke up. “You mean, we do,” He said quietly. Harry looked gratefully up at his best mate, nodded.

Hermione looked as if she were seriously struggling not to say anything. She failed.

“Yes, but Professor Lupin just said we shouldn‘t do anything rash,” she said. “We need to be really prepared. I know that he’s just human now, but he’s still very powerful. We’ve gone a long way toward getting rid of some of his supporters, but he’ll still have plenty of reinforcements.”

Harry shook his head. “I only need to get rid of him, then his followers will fall apart.”

“You don’t know that, and even if you did, it’s too dangerous not to wait until we‘ve planned this out sufficiently. Merlin, Harry, we don‘t even know where he is! ”

Ron piped up again. “We‘ve got some idea, though. We should start at the Riddle House.”

“Yeah- yeah, we‘ll start there, we‘ll go to Little Hangleton,” Harry agreed. “Even if he‘s not there, we know there‘ll be people there who can lead us to him.”

“And have you any idea how heavily that place is warded?” Hermione said in response. “We need to do reconnaissance, we need to find out about any wards, any traps that may be in place, and figure out how to get past or neutralize them. We need to-”

Harry cut her off with a growl of frustration. “There is no time for that, Hermione.” his voice was still quiet, but insistent, his eyes intense on hers. “We‘re so close. I just want to finish this. If he wants me to come to him, then I‘ll oblige him. I don‘t want him coming after you - an-any of you,” he corrected hastily, “just to try and get to me.”

“Harry, I understand, but I just don‘t think it‘s wise for us to go charging off now, just because-” She broke off, sighed, changed tacks. “Look, I was just reading today about this really old detection charm that looks really promising. All it needs is-”

Ron didn‘t let her finish. “Look, Hermione, just drop it, alright?” Hermione turned to him agitatedly and opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. “It‘s like Harry said, it‘s almost over. Quit nagging, and let‘s just get it done.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright, then,” she said sarcastically. “I had no idea it was that simple. ‘Just get it done.’ Gee - I don‘t know what‘s been holding us up for nine years, when all we needed to do was just ‘get it done.’ ” She turned back to Harry.

“You understand what I‘m saying right, Harry?” Hermione pressed. “Just promise me you won‘t-”

“Look- Hermione, I‘m sorry, but we can‘t waste any more time.” Harry said.

“But Harry-” She pleaded, reaching for him.

“Hermione, I don’t want to hear it! ” Harry stopped her. “I‘m doing this tomorrow, and that‘s final. God- why do you always have to be so-” He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Hermione froze.

“Fine,” she said, nodding. “Fine- do whatever you want. I‘m going to bed.” She got up so quickly from the table that the tops of her thighs bumped painfully against its edge. She blinked back tears and rushed upstairs.

“Shite,” Harry said.

Ron shrugged. “I agree with you, mate. She‘ll get over it, she always does.”

This didn’t sit well with Harry. He’d upset her, put tears in her eyes. He had to see if she was alright, and try to explain. He got up from the table

“I‘m just going to-” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the stairs.

“Yeah, rather you than me.” Ron said. “I don’t ever know what to say to her.”

Well, neither did Harry, really, he mused as he headed in the direction Hermione had gone. He just knew that his friend was upset, and that it was his fault. That’s right, Potter, he told himself. She’s your best friend. That’s it. Of course, telling himself that only confused him more, considering the whole “just friends” argument didn’t really explain why he’d been feeling like such a bumbling idiot lately.

He couldn’t very well tell her that the reason why he’d lashed out was that he’d been more deeply disturbed than perhaps he should have been by the thought of giving Voldemort any time to get to her. Certainly she’d be frightened if he told her that the thought of Voldemort even getting near her brought him to such a state of panic that it was all he could do not to scoop her up and whisk her somewhere far away, from all of it, from him. It definitely frightened Harry.

And, of course, he wasn’t about to let her know that the fact was that he couldn’t bloody well think when she got all close, so that he could smell her, and touched his arm or his hand in that concerned, comforting way she always did.

So, what the hell was he going to say to her? He knocked on her bedroom door.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione blew out a breath as she went into her bedroom and shut the door. She wasn’t crying. Not completely. She dashed away a few wayward tears.

But damn it, why was it that he could get to her like this? She and Ron had said horrible things to each other on numerous occasions, and she’d never come away feeling so badly. And Harry hadn’t even finished his sentence. It was infuriating, is what it was.

And anyway, all she’d been trying to do was make sure the stupid sod came out of this alive. If he didn’t want to listen to her, fine. What she really needed to do was learn how to take a step back. Not get so emotional about things that it was obvious she couldn’t control.

Right. She had to chuckle at that one herself.

Oh, but she hated the way they treated her sometimes, like she was this niggling pest, just because she liked to engage her brain before acting most of the time.

Or worse, like she was their bleeding mother or something.

But that was only part of it, she had to accept. What she hated the most was the thought that Harry would never see her as anything more than his slightly annoying but often useful other best friend.

Sad thing about it was that she would accept it regardless, because she needed so badly just to be in his life in any capacity. Of course, it didn’t in the slightest change the fact that she was in love with him.

Back when he’d been with Ginny, she’d wondered if she could be like that, if she could somehow just defer prettily to his heroism the way Ginny and the others did. Could she be that girl?

No, she’d known him too long and was way too familiar with his faults to be star-struck. But was that what he wanted? Apparently not; he and Ginny had played their relationship out. He still hadn’t looked twice at Hermione, though, and that had hurt. And when she had turned to Ron, well. It was a disaster, and ended mercifully quickly.

How pathetic was she, to be so desperately in love with someone who would never love her back?

When she heard the knock on her door, she sighed. As much as she wanted to avoid him altogether, she knew they’d have to have this out eventually. She went to the door, but when she saw him standing there, looking all sheepish and apologetic and ridiculously attractive, she lost her nerve.

“I can‘t talk to you right now, Harry.”

“Hermione, I‘m sorry.”

“Fine. You‘re sorry. If that‘s all…” Hermione moved to shut the door, but Harry pushed into the room.

“Hermione, I know you‘re upset, but I didn‘t- I just-”

“Just what, Harry?” Hermione demanded. If he’d been about to respond, though, she wasn’t hearing it. She stepped forward and poked a finger in his chest.

“You think I get some sort of charge out of this?” Again, no response. “You think ‘nagging‘ at you all day gives me orgasms or something?” Harry frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione kept going.

“Do you think I could stop, even if I wanted to?” her voice was quiet now, and fierce.

Harry felt like a asshole. “Look, I shouldn‘t have- I know that you care about me, and you‘re trying to be a good friend. And I appreciate it, but-”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Well, that‘s great. I‘m so glad my efforts are appreciated.” She threw her hands up and turned from him.

“Hey, what do you want me to say to you, Hermione?” Harry demanded. “I‘m just trying to apologize here.”

“I just want you to understand, Harry,” Hermione said desperately. “I know that it annoys you. I wish-” She broke off. “I‘m scared all the time, Harry. I’m afraid that I won’t have the answers- if we go into this and there’s anything that I missed, then something will happen, and it’ll be my fault.

“I’m afraid that now Voldemort’s horcruxes are gone you’ll get it in your head to tear off and try to take him on without us, because I know you, Harry,” she insisted, “and you‘re tired and frustrated, and you just want this to be over, however it ends. But I can‘t let you- I can‘t leave anything to chance.

“You‘ve got to survive, Harry. I need you to. And what I fear more than anything else these days is that that‘s got nothing to do with friendship.”

Harry froze in his spot. Hermione slid her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to them, hating herself for bringing all this up with everything else that was going on.

“And…none of this is your problem,” she said wearily. “I‘m just tired. I’m going to get some air, and some sleep, and I’ll be fine tomorrow. Okay? Okay,” she answered herself, nodding, and left the room.

Harry stood there for a few moments, blinking. Had she just- was that- ? He was reeling a little bit. Did she mean that? “Hermione, wait.” He looked up and realized she was gone. He blinked again.

“Shite! ” He tore out after her.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione stepped out into the courtyard. It was raining, she noted. She would have welcomed a nice soaking thunderstorm, but this was just enough to frizz up her hair. Splendid.

Why couldn’t she ever just keep her stupid, sodding mouth shut? Now she’d put something out there that she couldn’t take back.Damn it, he could have said something, though.

“Harry, this really isn‘t necessary,” she said, not facing him. “It‘s fine. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“It is necessary,” Harry said. “It‘s just, the thought of something happening to you makes me- I‘m really sorry.”

 

“Like I said, it‘s fine, Harry, you don‘t have to-”

“I need you, too.” Harry cut in quietly.

“Now you- you‘re just being nice,” she said, moving past him to go back inside.

“Hey.” He took her wrist gently, turned her so that she was finally facing him. “Funny thing, actually,” he said as he moved closer.

“I‘m not really that nice.”

Something in his voice -and in the way he was slowly trapping her between himself and the door- was making her increasingly nervous, and excited. Was that her pulse throbbing? It didn’t seem natural for it to be moving so fast.

Harry forgot his nerves and awkwardness. This was Hermione, he thought. This was easy. This was right. He dipped his head and closed the distance between them with the lightest of pressure against her lips with his. Just a sampling, really, but it was electric. He pulled back slightly, so slowly, the question in his eyes meeting the answer in hers. As he watched her catch her bottom lip with her teeth, imagined her tasting him there, he broke.

Harry crashed his mouth against hers, relishing in the way her lips softly yielded to his. His hands moved to her shoulders and up to frame her face. God, she’s sweet, was all he could think. She’s so sweet.

Hermione’s mind went supremely blank as he took possession of her mouth. The nerves that had already been so close to the surface now jittered along her skin, sensitizing her and rendering her powerless to a rush of raw need she’d never previously experienced. And when he cupped her face, changed his angle, and glided his tongue over her lips, she could only sigh as her lips parted to let him in.

She tasted like heaven. As Harry stroked her tongue with his he heard her moan, a low sound that threatened to sever the last tattered strands of his self control. He couldn’t stop a tremor from moving through him. He moved his hands back down to her shoulders, then down her sides in a possessive motion, and took a strong hold on her hips. He pulled her back off of the door and against him. Harry could all but hear the click as their bodies made contact. How was it that she fit so perfectly here?

Oh, his body, Hermione thought faintly. It was long, and lean, and rangy, and he felt like warm, tightly wrapped steel pressed against her. His hands were digging into her hips and she felt alive with need as her tongue wrestled with his. She trembled, her thighs going lax as her hands gripped his shoulders just so she could keep from sliding to the ground. She winced as she heard the door open and Harry stepped out.

The way her body felt quaking against his was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. It was all Harry could do not to drag her inside and gobble her up in slow, torturous bites. But he tore his mouth from hers on a groan and took in her face, all swollen lips and dreamy, drugged eyes, and he knew he should stop, before…he should just stop. But not before his touched his lips to hers once, twice more, and dipped his head to nip the tip of her chin.

Hermione let out a shaky breath and opened her mouth to speak. Harry just shook his head tersely and grabbed her hand, apparating them both to her bedroom door.

“Is there any point in us pretending that things are going to stop here?” he asked quietly.

Hermione gulped. “Erm…”

Harry let out a half-laugh, half groan as he pulled her to him again. “I don‘t mean tonight,” he said gruffly into her hair.

“Oh. Er, I- I don‘t suppose there‘d be a point in that, no.”

“Good,” Harry said shortly. “Good.” He reached behind her, pushed open the door, and nudged her inside.

“Lock your door” was all he said before he shut it smartly in his own face.

Harry let out a long, slow breath, rested his hand briefly against the door, and walked away.

Hermione did as Harry told her and flipped the lock on the door before leaning against it.

“Merlin, what was that?”

-==-==-==-==-

To be continued with Law # 2 - The law of Gravitation.

 

 

 

 

Thanks so much for reading. It’s my first HP fanfic ever. Is it good so far? Bad?

If you have the time or the inclination, couldja let me know either way? Thanks.

-Heather

 

 

Quick a/n- I’ve realized I forgot to add a disclaimer in the first chapter. Y’all know I’m not JKR, right? So, not one of these characters is mine. Should be pretty obvious from my writing, lol.

Thank you, to everyone who read, and especially reviewed, Chapter 1. It was more than I ever would have hoped for, my first time around writing hp. So, to show my appreciation, I have but two words: Afternoon Delight. Hehe.





Chapter 2: The Law of Gravitation





Hermione opened her bedroom door the next morning to find Harry, again, on the other side of it. She started.

“Harry! You scared me.”

“Hey.” He grinned. God. “I think we should talk.”

“Erm, sure. Come in.”

Harry eyed her up and down. “Actually, I think we should probably just take a walk.”

Hermione reddened. “Of course. I’ll just get a jacket.” She turned back into her room, and stopped, laughing nervously. “You know, I actually don’t need a jacket. It’s not really cold.” They headed downstairs. “I guess, because it was raining last night, I thought- but it’s actually quite nice today, so…” she trailed off as they went out the front door.

“Hermione. You’re rambling.” Harry glanced sidelong at her. Hermione tutted.

“Yes, I know, but I’m really terribly nervous, Harry,” she said agitatedly.

“Why? I thought you’d want to talk about it. You want to talk about everything.”

Hermione looked at him. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about last night. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

“Do you?” He asked. “Want it to mean anything?”

Hermione made it a few more steps before she realized he had stopped. She turned.

“Harry…to me, it already means-” she broke off. “I’ve waited a long time for that to happen,” she said quietly.

“I understand, though, if you want to- I was upset last night; perhaps you were just-”

“Hermione.” Harry took her hand. “Stop. I love you.”

She couldn‘t breathe. “Oh, no. No, you don’t.”

“I don’t?” Harry said evenly, tilting his head.

“Harry, I’ve seen the women you go for.”

“Really? What sort of women are those, then?” Harry asked, amused now.

“Ginny!” she exclaimed. “And Cho. And- and whatever that other one’s name was, and- are you laughing at me?” she asked, unnecessarily, as he most definitely was.

Harry got close to her. “If I really went for those women, I’d still be with them. And none of them,” he said as he tilted her chin up, “has ever kissed me the way you did last night. I’d rather like to do it again.”

“Y-You would?” Hermione squeaked, again unnecessarily.

“I would.” Harry watched her wet her lips as he leaned in.

“Aah!” He sprung back from her suddenly, clapping his hands to his forehead before giving a great shudder and passing out.

“Harry?” Hermione fell to the ground beside him, looked around frantically. They were well within the wards. She pulled out her wand and sent her otter up to the house ahead of her own yells.

“Ron!” She screamed. “Ron!” She levitated Harry’s limp form and carried him in front of her as she ran.

Ron ran out of the house and met her halfway. “What’s happened?” He looked from Harry to Hermione, who was shaking.

“We-we were talking, and he just- It was his scar, I think, but…then he passed out. It was so quick, I didn’t-”

“Hermione, look at me. Are you alright?” Ron asked her.

She looked up at him as if she’d just noticed that he was there, met his eyes, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s take him inside; someone from the Order will be here soon.” He took over carrying Harry with his own wand. When they got inside, Ron set Harry down on the living room rug.

“He’s dreaming, or something,” she said. “Look at his eyes.” They were moving very rapidly beneath his closed lids.

Hermione moved her hands and wand over him urgently, muttering every awakening spell or charm she knew, and her eyes roved over his body anxiously. Ron sat back on his haunches and studied her, and understood.

Oh.

Before he could really process it, Harry stirred.

“Harry?” Hermione’s eyes searched his. Harry looked at her.

“H-How did we get in here?”

“You passed out when we were outside. You were clutching your forehead; are you alright?”

“I- need to think,” Harry muttered, trying to sit up.

“Harry, you should lie back down.”

“No, I saw- I think I know where he is.”

“You Know- I mean, Voldemort?” Ron asked. “You know where he is? How?”

“I just saw him.”

-==-==-==-==-

Remus came in through the front door, having apparated to the yard. “I got your patronus, Hermione; what‘s happened?”

“Harry‘s had a vision. He may have seen Voldemort‘s location.”

“No, I did see it, Hermione. I just need to figure out where it is.”

“Harry, your Occlumency is superb at this point. You haven‘t had an episode like this in years,” Hermione replied. “And never while you were awake.”

“I know, but this was just like it used to be, Hermione. It was like I was there.”

“Just like when we were in school? When we were in fifth year?” Hermione asked pointedly.

Before Harry could respond, Lupin cut in. “Back up for a moment, please. What did you see, Harry?”

“I was- he was in a room, an office…or a sitting room, or both. It was in London, I‘m sure of it. There was something familiar about the view from the window. I think I‘ve been there before. And there was covered up furniture, all around, and dust.

“Voldemort was talking to a man...I‘ve never seen him before.”

“Harry, before we worry about what he was doing, did you see anything else that may show where he is?” Lupin asked.

“Erm, he was sitting at a desk, an old desk.” And the last time Harry had seen it, he realized, Dumbledore had been sitting in front of it, and he’d been wearing a lurid purple suit.

“The orphanage. The muggle orphanage that Dumbledore showed me in his memory all those years ago, where Riddle used to live. He’s there.” He stood up.

“We don‘t know how much longer he‘ll be there; we should move.”

Lupin stopped him. “We need to alert the rest of the order, who should be here soon for the meeting. We‘ll not move until we discuss this further. I want to send some members ahead to verify that someone is indeed there, or at least to look for any concealment wards that would indicate same. It‘s just common sense, Harry,” he said as Harry moved to object.

When the rest of the Order arrived, they discussed plans to use this new information. Hermione was uncharacteristically quiet as the meeting stretched into the afternoon. She was working out in her head how Harry came to have this vision in the first place, especially when he hadn’t even been asleep, and she doubted that it was just because Voldemort was angry that his Horcuxes were gone. Could Voldemort be setting another trap? Why would he want to lure Harry to the old orphanage? Did he honestly think Harry would come alone, or with five teenagers, like last time?

No, that didn’t add up; she thought. But neither does this. Something was telling her that there was more to Harry’s ‘vision’ than it seemed.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione caught up with Harry in the hallway at the top of the stairs after everyone had left, with the intention of discussing her worries further, away from the others. She touched his shoulder tentatively, feeling taut muscles coiled with tension. And in that moment, she couldn’t think past making that tension go away, if she could.

“Are you alright?”

Harry turned, just looked at her for a moment. He wanted, badly, to be with her now. She was the only one that could ease his mind, push any and everything to the back, so that there was only her. He thought of their kiss the night before, and their almost-moment this morning, and he nearly gave in as her arms came around him now.

Nearly. “Hermione…” Harry extricated himself from her hold. “Not now.” He turned and continued down the hall and into his room at a much faster speed than could have been construed as natural.

Hermione stood for a moment or two. She hadn’t mistaken what she’d seen in his eyes just now. Had she?

Of course I didn’t, she thought, and there’s no way he’s getting away with this. Not with me.

Harry closed the door to his bedroom. He could smell her still, he thought. She was on his jumper. She’d been touching him, in some way, all day. It wasn’t helping. He pulled it off and went to the closet for another.

But when he came out with the fresh laundry-scented sweater in his hands, Hermione erupted into the room.

“You seriously think I’m falling for that?” she demanded.

“I don’t want you to fall for anything.”

“Bullshit. You think Voldemort may know what’s happened between us, and now you think you can go back on what you said to me this morning. That if you pretend nothing happened maybe Voldemort”- she spat out the name like an expletive- “will think he was seeing things, or something. Well, Harry, I. Don’t. Care! I don’t care if he sees us. I hope he does. I hope he knows that if he puts a hand on you I’ll bloody well kill him myself! He’s not taking you away from me, and you aren’t backing out. Got it?”

Harry looked at her, loving her, and fought down his inexplicable urge to both burst out laughing and throw her onto the bed. “Hermione, calm down. I just think maybe this isn’t the time.”

“Calm down?” Hermione shrilled. “ ‘Calm down’, he tells me,” she said to the room at large, before she spun around, without warning, grabbed his face, and kissed him, urgently.

And how could he resist the sheer heat of it? He swung her around so that she was up against the wall and wrapped around him like a vine. He took control of the kiss, plundering her mouth as she opened it willingly for him. He groaned as her hands fisted in his hair. But even still…

“Hermione,” he panted, as she broke the kiss to run her lips along his jaw.

“Yes…” she sighed. “I mean- yes?” she corrected weakly.

“Er,” Harry stalled as he tried to stop hearing her sigh like that. “Um, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Well spotted, Harry.” Hermione said, barely breaking her rhythm. She was still hitched up around his waist. Maybe if he set her down he could concentrate. He did.

“Look, maybe we should wait.”

“Wait for what? Harry, we’ve waited entirely too long. I love you. I want you. And I want it to be now.”

I love you. I want you. I love you. I want you. Harry shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, at all.”

Hermione‘s smile bloomed slowly, beautifully. “That’s sweet, Harry. But there is pressure,” she murmured. “There’s tremendous pressure, inside me.”

Overcome, Harry touched his brow to hers. “Hermione.” His hands were already digging into her waist, dragging her against him. His blood hadn’t moved like this in…since…Hell. It had never been like this.

He pulled her top over her head, turning her around, backing her up to the bed, nearly tripping over his long-forgotten jumper on the floor. The next few moments undressing her were a blur as he felt his control slipping, as he felt more and more of her skin, as her hands roamed over his torso, and moved trembling to the button on his jeans. They tumbled onto the mattress.

Finally, Hermione thought. At last. She could feel him; the hands, and the lips that had heated her dreams for years were on her, for real, raising goosebumps and awakening the aching needs and fears that she didn’t yet have a name for. She didn’t have the experience to know what she wanted, but she knew, for sure, that whatever it was, it was wrapped up in him.

Harry knew just what he wanted. She was here, surrendering herself completely to him, and the feel of her arching against him was more than he could take. He was urgent, and impatient, as he reached down to feel more of her. He was ravenous, his lips, teeth, tongue, feasting on her breasts, his fingers exploring the rest of her.

Hermione was towering over that first peak so fast her mind had no hope of catching up. Her breath was sobbing out of her lungs and her heart racing with the release, and still she wanted….just….more.

“Harry…” she breathed, pleading.

His mind, his senses were lost; he couldn’t wait. He drove into her, fast, plunging, deep.

And froze when she cried out, stiffened. Oh, god.

“Hermione- Oh, Merlin, I‘m- wait.” Harry desperately tried to clear his head. A virgin. And he’d taken her with all the finesse of a speeding locomotive. He tried to slow down, to stop.

There was pain, and it flashed through her, white-hot in its intensity. But even as Hermione braced against the next onslaught, it began to fade, replaced by a soft, deep, aching pleasure. She instinctively moved her hips upward to prevent Harry’s retreat.

“Don‘t stop.” Her whisper was urgent in his ear, and he could only bury his face in her curls as she pulled him under.

-==-==-==-==-

It had actually been pretty quick, Hermione mused, as she lay beneath him, heart still beating out of time, and hearing the answering rhythm in his chest. And she’d certainly enjoyed it; parts of it had even been amazing.

Oh, but she loved this part. This was wonderful, this peaceful entanglement, this absolute stillness. Listening to his heart, to his breathing, she’d never felt closer to him.

“I‘m sorry,” she heard him say. What?

“Whatever for?”

“I don‘t know why I didn‘t think about- you’re the one person who really matters, and I- I should‘ve- I didn‘t mean to hurt you,” Harry finished lamely.

“Harry, you are seriously ruining the moment, here.”

But the moment was already gone, as was evident by the knock on the door.

“Harry.” Ron popped in. “Come on, mate, Shacklebolt‘s here. Something‘s happened.” He froze when he found Harry hastily buttoning up his jeans and Hermione sitting up in Harry’s bed, looking flushed, with the sheets up around her.

Ron floundered visibly, but recovered. “Bit early in the day for that, innit?”

He turned abruptly and headed back out the door.

“Fuck.” Harry shrugged on a t-shirt. He couldn’t deal with this right now. “Damn it, is it too much to ask to enjoy what just happened without having to deal with all this shite?”

Hermione felt his frustration. “Harry. There‘s time. We‘ll make time. Later.”

They went downstairs to find a very shaken Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting in the parlor. with Remus next to him. Tonks was perched on the arm of the sofa. Ron was up and pacing, and determinedly avoiding their eyes.

This caused Harry real concern; The Auror and key Order member within the Ministry had always seemed so unflappable, so sure and steady. Now, he stared at Harry as he came in with a look of abject shame on his face.

“Harry, I‘m extremely sorry.”

Remus put a hand on Shacklebolt’s shoulder. “Kingsley, calm down, and just tell us what happened.”

“You had a…vision this morning, of Voldemort, at the old Muggle orphanage.”

“Yes,” Harry replied warily, but Hermione was looking at the others in the room, and a feeling of dread came over her.

“How did you know that, Kingsley?” she asked him.

The older man hung his head. “Because Rufus Scrimgeour has seen it, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry demanded. The rest of the room was shocked silent. Ron had stopped pacing. Hermione was starting to redden in increasing anger as it dawned on her.

Not Voldemort. Not this time.

Shacklebolt moved a hand over his smooth head. “It was my job…I’m so sorry that I didn‘t realize…he‘s been watching you all this time.”

Remus straightened. “Kingsley, you need to get a grip on yourself and explain what you mean.”

“As you know, the Ministry‘s made no progress tracking down Voldemort. And even though you‘ve cut off all communication with them over all this time, they know you‘ve made headway. I overheard Scrimgeour in discussion with Dawlish, and your name came up. I eavesdropped, and it looks like they’ve been monitoring you- the three of you,” he looked to Hermione and Ron as well, “to see what progress you‘ve been making. There are spies assigned to each of you.”

Tonks broke in. “How much have they found out?”

“I don‘t know for sure. I had to leave or risk getting caught. But they were talking about what you saw this morning.”

“They must be using Leglilimens to break into your mind, Harry,” Hermione said. “Project images. It could have been anyone’s eyes you were seeing through.

“How is it that you can block out Voldemort and not them? And what else have they seen?” She looked from Harry to Ron.

Even after all this time, only Remus, Tonks, and the Weasleys knew that Voldemort had made horcruxes, and that the three of them had been destroying them. If that information were now in the hands of the Ministry, then the information could spread like wildfire, not to mention what Scrimgeour would do with it. It would be disastrous.

Blood pounded in Harry’s ears. “So, they‘ve been watching us all this time, so they could, what- piggyback off everything we‘ve done? Take credit? Were they ever going to- I don‘t know, step in and help at all?” He leapt up, incensed.

“Well, of course they were- at the last possible moment, I‘m sure- just in time to take a few pictures for the Daily Prophet.” Tonks was utterly disgusted with the whole situation- and herself. She worked for the Ministry, as well, and hadn’t suspected a thing.

Ron squinted. “Wait, so- how does that fit in with what Harry saw? Is it real, or not?”

Kingsley shook his head. “It‘s unclear to me whether or not the images were fabricated, or what Scrimgeour was planning to make you do. First order of business would be to check out that orphanage.”

“I say we go to the Ministry, right now. I‘ll get that bastard to talk to me.” Harry was still up, and stalking the room.

“No, Harry, the absolute last thing we need is for you to give them any reason to lock you up and start trying to get any deeper into your head. You aren’t going anywhere near that place.” Hermione was emphatic.

Lupin agreed. “We still have no idea what‘s going on, Harry, and it would be playing into their hands at this point to go to them now. For all we know, that could be exactly what they‘re hoping for.”

Harry felt impotence clawing at his sanity. There had to be something he could do, now. It had shaken him to hear that his best friend and the woman he’d just realized was so much more were also being monitored by the Ministry.

-==-==-==-==-

Much later, when it was just the three of them again, Hermione was the one pacing.

“I can‘t believe this. I cannot believe this. This is unbelievable. I mean, we knew something was horribly wrong in that - that organization,” she said with distaste.

She began to mutter things like “ineffectual dunderheads” and “control of the press” and “questionable interrogation tactics” and “self-interested sycophants”.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

“But resorting to petty subterfuge, and Legilimency, no less, which is definitely of questionable legality in and of itself. Honestly!” she huffed.

She hadn’t been this pissed off since house elves.

“Well, I think that‘s my cue,” Ron said, feeling awkward. “I can‘t take it when she starts in with all the big words.” He stretched.

“Ron.” Hermione said quietly as he started to leave. He turned. “Thank you, for…this morning, for helping me with Harry. You were very considerate.” She nearly winced. Did that have to sound so patronizing?

Ron only nodded. “It‘s nothing.”

“Ron-” Harry started to say. Hermione shook her head.

“It‘s fine, guys. I‘m fine. ‘Night.” He went up the stairs.

Harry slumped back onto the sofa. He let out a deep breath. There was guilt, anger, frustration, warring inside him. He felt like he might explode.

Hermione went to him, sat and placed a hand on his arm. Harry reached out and pulled her onto his lap. He turned his face into her neck and just breathed in.

“Harry,” she sighed as she felt Harry tightening his hold. Maybe this wasn’t the time. Perhaps they were selfish to even be thinking about it with all that was going on. Certainly, they should be focusing their energy on other things.

But it was still so new. And when they were together, like this…God, it was so hard to worry about anything else. So they took their escape.

And when Harry carried her upstairs, set her on her feet, there was no rush, no particular urgency. He kissed her, languidly.

“I didn‘t do it right, earlier.” Harry murmured. He nibbled on her earlobe gently. Hermione shivered.

“It‘s okay, Harry,” she whispered. The pain had been so brief, after all.

“No, it isn‘t. I won‘t hurt you again.”

Hermione was prepared to feel the rough, racing hands, the scorching kisses of this afternoon. Instead, she was met with whisper soft caresses. Her head fell back on a moan as he trailed his lips down the column of her throat. Helpless to him now, her mouth fell open and her breath shuddered out.

She didn’t have a memory of Harry taking off their clothes, and she didn’t know if Harry had placed her onto the bed or if she’d simply floated there. But he was on top of her, now, and taking her to magical places with his fingers, teasing her with his mouth.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmured.

“I…c-can‘t.” She didn’t know where to begin. “I don‘t…just…” Her moan was low and throaty as his mouth closed over her breast. She didn’t have to tell him.

Still patient, even as his blood leapt, Harry continued in his slow exploration of her body until Hermione thought he would die from the throbbing pleasure. Harry’s tongue glided up her thigh and she knew that she would deny him nothing as she opened for him.

She felt the explosion wash over her, fire spreading throughout her body, and she fell bonelessly back against the pillows. She could only hope he was doing it right this time. If it got any “righter”, she was going to lose it.

This time, when he took her, it was painless; it was perfect. He touched her face with a tremulous hand.

“Look at me.”

Her heavy, glazed eyes met his as he took them both over the edge.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione was still asleep when Harry woke early the next morning. He took the moment just to look at her. She looked utterly content, thoroughly used, and unbelievably tempting. He let out an unsteady breath.

Nothing could have prepared him for what it was like to be with Hermione. His attraction to her was absolute, he loved her completely, and the lengths to which he would go to hold onto her frightened him.

He thought of the risk that she faced just by standing beside him, and he knew what he would risk to keep her safe.

-==-==-==-==-

By the time Hermione awoke, tousled and floating on air, Harry was gone.



*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-



A/N- So, what just happened? Where’d Harry go? What is the deal with the Ministry? Did Harry really see what he thought he did?

I hope you come back to find out in Chapter 3- the Law of Reciprocal Action.

Thanks for reading. Also, I tried to not go into too much detail with the love scenes; I never know where that line exists between R and NC17. If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll up the rating. If it’s not enough…um, sorry.

Please review, if you feel like it; I really appreciate every one and I’d love to know what you think. Cheers!

-Heather