Hermione woke from a dream, taking a while to realize that her arms were around Harry's neck. She hadn't had a dream like that in years. Morgana, his voice was an aphrodisiac in its own right. She'd forgotten how much she loved listening to him say just about anything.
"‘Mione. You okay?"
"What?" she asked, still confused. It wasn't the right voice asking her the question. Why was Harry here?
Oh yeah.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she said, letting her arms drop from around his neck.
"I thought it was a nightmare, so I woke you up."
"Well, it was pretty wicked," she said, knowing she sounded cheeky. It was either that or blush at Harry waking her up from a sex dream.
Her best friend laughed then with a shake of his head. Thank God she hadn't been doing anything to herself in response to the dream. Not that Harry would be offended necessarily, but still.
"Maybe I should have had him come wake you up."
"Um, no, it's probably a very good thing that you did no such thing."
Morgana. She likely would have … Well, best not to think about that. He wasn't here to wake her up, so no sense thinking about what she might have done.
"Oh, I don't know…"
She rolled her eyes, slapping his shoulder. "Get your own sex life."
"Oh, I have a sex life. I'd like to see you have one."
Really? He did. He hadn't told her that he'd been seeing someone. She hadn't asked, but how would she know to ask? Asking him every time she saw him if there was a girlfriend or potential girlfriend seemed cruel.
"Who is she? And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?"
"Well, I was going to tell you this weekend, but your daughters sort of skewed my plans."
She snorted.
"Yes, well. Who is she?"
He blushed then and she frowned. "It can't be that bad."
"It's, um, Pansy Parkinson."
"Shut up," she said instinctively.
"I'm serious. We met up at the last ball."
The last ball. It was April. When was there a …
"A year ago?" Her eyes widened. He hadn't told her for a year! What did that mean? "You've been dating her for a year."
"Well, it wasn't really dating at first, no."
"Oh," she said. That made her feel a little better.
"And, well, I think we were both trying to figure out if we wanted to call it dating."
Pansy Parkinson had not escaped the Repopulation decree. Some found that amusing. If it was anything but forcing women to bear children, she might have found it amusing, too. She did not. She didn't care who the witch was.
"She has a child?" She asked because she wasn't sure she knew if she had a son or a daughter. There were so many babies born for a year or so there, that it was really hard to keep up.
"She does," he agreed.
She remembered that Pansy had been pregnant before Hermione was, and was one of the ones who had not gotten married. In some ways, despite the fact they lived separately, she knew Mia and Eden were better off with their parents having been married. Repopulation decree or not, single parents just weren't accepted completely in the wizarding world, so that meant a number of kids born the year or two the decree was in effect suffered. Or so Harry told her when he shared gossip with her. The Daily Prophet didn't report such things.
"Anyway, yeah, I told her I planned on letting you know this weekend. So, I'm telling you now. Yeah. It's not just sex."
She scoffed.
"And her son is about four months older than Eden and Mia. Thurmon."
"Mm," she said. "Thurmon Parkinson?"
"Yeah."
She tilted her head a bit, admittedly it didn't sound horrific.
"He's a pretty good kid. He's a squib, if you can believe that. I only just met him about a month ago."
"Really?"
"Really."
"And you're sure you want your fuck buddy to be your…"
He shrugged. "We like one another. It was clear about six months ago it wasn't just sex, but we didn't talk about it. We just kept doing what we were doing. I wasn't going to wait twelve years, though. So, you know."
She huffed in exasperation at the dig.
"Yeah, yeah."
Harry looked a little sheepish.
"So, you're dating Pansy Parkinson." Those were words she never thought she'd have a reason to say to one of her friends.
"I am."
"Wow," she said. "I mean. I haven't seen her in over twelve years, so I have no place to say anything. If you were scared I would, don't be. As long as she's good to you and you're happy."
"I am. We're taking things slow. Obviously, it took us almost a year to get to this point."
"I'm honestly shocked you didn't meet her son until recently."
"He knows who I am."
"Obviously."
"No, he knows who Harry Potter is. I think she didn't want him to get attached and then have me disappear."
"Solid thought process." She nodded. It would be a concern for her.
"Or, I suppose, have him tell people that Harry Potter spent the night at their house."
Hermione snorted softly. "Yeah, that wouldn't go over well, would it?"
"Not to some, no."
She was quiet, thinking of the visual of Harry and Pansy. She supposed it probably made more sense than her falling in love with Severus thirteen years ago. And when it got down to it, still best friends or not, she wasn't with Harry every day and hadn't been for years. Harry had been living without Hermione longer than he'd lived with Hermione. She had to trust he knew what he was doing.
"I mean, I'm not ready to, you know, bring her here or anything."
"You could…"
"I know I could, and I appreciate that you are saying so. I know that wouldn't be comfortable for any of us yet. When we're ready, though, I'll let you know, and I will."
"Okay."
"Who knows, maybe you'll be in Canada."
"No! I like my house, Harry."
"I'm teasing. He might like your house, too. You know, he doesn't own one beyond the one he grew up in."
"He still owns it?"
She hadn't checked. She'd had no business doing so, so had refrained from looking. She never stopped to consider that neither he (nor Harry) knew the names she'd given her parents when she sent them from Britain. And she had been leading a rather quiet life. She highly doubted she'd been mentioned in a newspaper since the day the girls were born. At least not a magical newspaper. She made the area muggle ones plenty due to her human rights work. Those wouldn't go much further than Minneapolis, though. Chicago, maybe.
"He does. I guess he figured he needed some place to go in between jobs if he had to."
"I suppose."
What did it look like these days, she wondered? Was the throw blanket she bought and used to read on the couch still there? Or was it empty, just there in case he ever needed it? He didn't like it, she knew that, but thought she had made the year she'd lived there not so bad for him. Given him some memories to look back on and think that some good things had happened there, too.
And that wasn't as a result of their sex life either. It was the games of Scrabble they played in front of the fireplace, neither getting mad when the other took twenty minutes to figure out what word they wanted to play. It was the quiet reading time they'd done, each reading this or that, the only sound by either of them for hours was of the pages being turned. The first time he'd come home to the smell of homemade brownies and truly seemed to have no idea what that smell was.
"Do you want to get back to your dream?"
She blushed then, turning onto her side to stretch. He obviously saw the blush, though, because he laughed. "As much as I'd like to, no."
"It was a good one?"
She blushed more, she knew it. "It was." Good one didn't even adequately describe it. Morgana, it had obviously been too long. Since she'd been in the same room with him. Since she'd had sex with him.
"Mm. Who knew Professor Snape could give anyone those kinds of dreams?" Harry sounded as if he might be storing this information away for future use.
"You will not tell him."
"I might tell him. One day."
Hermione rolled his eyes.
"All right. Well," he said, glancing at her window. "The sun is up now, so if you want breakfast…"
"I'd like to shower."
"Perfect. I'll adjust my cooking times accordingly."
"Thank you, Harry."
"Well, you're thanking me, not hexing me. So I guess that's good."
"Oh, I'm still mad at you, but I can admit living as we have been hasn't been all that great. I mean, I like my life, and don't get the impression from Eden he doesn't."
"I know. All good. You'll have a couple of days to put all sorts of charts and equations together. I'm sure he's prepared for it, too. Just call me if you want an ear."
"Thanks," she grimaced. She wasn't going to do charts! There could be equations, though.
Maybe.
He was going to leave. He had to. He didn't live here. He resided in Britain, where he belonged.
Where she should be.
Where Severus belonged.
And their girls.
"We really were so stupid," she muttered.
Except. Would Eden and Mia be better off living in Britain? Hermione honestly wasn't sure.
"Want to talk about it?" Harry asked.
"No, just thinking out loud. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He stood then. "You're not stupid, neither of you. Neither of you had ever really had to think with your heart involved before. Ron doesn't count. I know you cared for him, and that Severus cared for my mum. You didn't marry Ron, and he married you."
"I know."
"On paper, without hearts and emotions involved, what you did made a bit of sense."
"I know that, too."
She did know. Would other people understand it? Likely not, but they weren't Hermione and Severus.
He scoffed. "Shower. See you downstairs in a bit."
"Thank you. And thank you for waking me."
"Mm, I bet in that head of yours you're not really thanking me, but you're welcome."
She threw her pillow at him then.
He caught her pillow, tossing it back to her. "People would pay good money for information that Hermione Granger has sex dreams."
She laughed. "You're ridiculous. No one cares what I do anymore."
He nodded, as if thinking that over. She was right, he knew that. She liked it that way.
"All right, forget people , but I bet I don't need to go further than your husband. I could embellish, make it really worth his time and a good payout."
"Get out of my bedroom, Harry Potter!"
He wouldn't do that.
Would he?
Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com