Harmione|| Always And Azkaban

Chapter 14

Hermione Granger laid there on her bed next to a half-finished book staring up at the ceiling as the happiest and most depressed girl in the world. On one note, Harry Potter loved her. Harry James Potter loved her enough to arouse her in her time of weakness and sadness. The boy who lived made Hermione's legs weak. And with every second that went by Hermione's blush grew redder as she put her fingers on all the spots of warmth he placed on her body. She got up, took off her turtleneck and looked at the purple-ish marks of love bites along her collar bones and squealed. That was her first makeout session after all.

Happiness illuminated her features. But with that, followed guilt and sadness. In a moment of anger and fury, Hermione had released her rage onto Cho. And she'd be lying if she said it didn't feel incredible at first. After years of bullying, name-calling and basic-bitching, Hermione finally got to tell Cho the harsh truth. And it was all great until the gunshots sounded.

Though her feelings were beyond conflicted, Hermione still did her best to focus on the most important part of all this; Voldermort. Hermione missed her parents dreadfully, yes, but now that she had seen what exactly Harry and his family were protecting her from, she was grateful to be away from her mum and dad.

It was then a knock came on her doors. She put back on her top then marched up to the doors. There he stood with his messy black locks and great green smiling at her when she opened them. Harry smirked and a light blush made its way onto her face. "Morning, Mione," he chirped. "G-good morning, Harry," she stuttered. "You okay?" he asked. Hermione gulped as she worried over her face and how red it probably was. "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"There's someone here to talk to us about last night," Harry said with a grim expression. Hermione's hand instinctively brushed gently against his smooth skin, softening the wrinkles of his brow, directing his green orbs on her brown ones. He was so brave, so handsome and so...human. In all his strength was passion, and buried in his courage were kindness and guilt. "Hermione," he called and it was then the girl realized that she was drawing nearer to his lips. She pulled herself back immediately and a flush of crimson stained her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I don't-

"Don't worry," Harry reassured her. "Meet me downstairs in two minutes." As Harry left her sight, Hermione proceeded to mentally slap herself. Way to go, Granger, she shouted at herself. Kiss the guy when he's mourning, because that's so smart. Little did Hermione and her self-patronizing voice know that they had left a light tint across the young Potter's face.

~

Hermione fixed herself up. She splashed the rosy blush off her cheeks with cold waters, took a series of deep breaths, combed her hair a bit and put on a nice sweater she got while shopping with Fleur that covered every remnant of Harry Potter on her skin. If there's one she'd learnt after living with Potters all these months, it's always dress to impress. What they call 'someone', normal people call the Prime Minister and when they say family friend, it means there's someone you've most likely seen on a magazine cover somewhere.

The girl walked down the stairs quickly and so Harry standing outside the living room waiting for her. "Hey," she said oddly as if they hadn't seen each other five minutes ago. "Hey," Harry replied. "What's going on?" she asked him. "A family friend's here," he replied. Of course, Hermione thought, Thank you, Fleur.

When Hermione walked into the room with Harry, she was almost sure that she had seen his 'family friend' somewhere. It wasn't until he greeted and offered her a hand to shake did she realized the man before her, was Kingsley Shacklebolt, London Chief Inspector. She remembered him from the news the other day. With all the Voldermort news, he must've been swamped with work. I wonder what he's doing here, she wondered.