Clarity

Receiving a Blessing



With a flick of his wand, all of Harry’s belongings flew into his trunk. With a snap it closed and he was able to carry it downstairs to the Burrow’s living room. Harry huffed in hopes it would spur his courage. Just go in there and say goodbye to the Weasleys. He didn’t hesitate another minute; he walked into the kitchen and found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley having tea. Ginny was not in the room, but Molly and Arthur spoke in hushed voices over the table.



Seeing Harry Arthur got up from the table and stuck out his hand. “You come back in one piece.” Harry sighed and gave a small smile to his surrogate father. Arthor caught his slight fear and added, “You’re always be our 7th son, Harry.” Then, with tears in his eyes, he pulled the 17 year-old into a hug and slapped his back lovingly.



When he broke away he heard the sniffles and soft sobs of Molly. She grasped him in a smothering hug, demanding he return in time for Christmas. He promised to try. With another quick nod and no mention of Ginny, he backed out of the kitchen and made his way to the fireplace. With one last look at the Burrow before he left, Harry coughed back his emotion and his fear. Closing his eyes and calling out the address of Hermione’s flat, he left the second home he’d ever known.



* * *

Hermione slid exhaustedly into the overstuffed armchair she had purchased for her new flat. She looked around her living room. My living room. The walls were a warm cream color and all the furniture was a chestnut brown. She felt so at home, and she had only just moved in. On the fireplace mantel her mother had placed pictures of her, Harry and Ron. Mainly Wizarding photos were scattered around her two-story flat, but a few Muggle ones of her family hung on the walls as well. One wall of the living room was covered in books. She smiled half-heartedly; at least I’ll have something to do when I’m waiting for Harry. She closed her eyes and rested her head back on the chair.



It was hard for her to take it in all at once. She had two weeks before she started her job at the Ministry, but Harry would be leaving in a week. She had no clue if or when Harry was going to tell Ginny his feelings. Is Harry even going to come say goodbye to me?

Her questions were answered with a slight tapping on her window. Hedwig, sporting a letter on his foot, stood tall and proud at the window. Hermione walked over to the window and shakily opened it for the snowy owl. He hopped into the house and stuck his foot out to Hermione. She carefully undid the letter and unrolled the parchment. She absentmindedly stroked Hedwig, who hooted in response, as she read the letter. I’ll be there in an hour? Nothing else?! She checked the reverse side to see if he split the note between the two sides. No luck.



Hermione was even more nervous now then before. She had no clue what he was coming to tell her or if he’d be staying. She huffed and started to pace the room. Figuring she’d keep herself busy, she ran up the short staircase and changed into some comfortable clothes. She dropped her summer dress on the floor and pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans that fit her perfectly and a fitted t-shirt. After hanging her dress in the closet, she grabbed a Muggle hair tie and jogged down the steps while putting up her hair. She crossed into the cozy kitchen and put a pot of water on for tea. She glanced at the clock on her microwave: 8:43. Figuring Harry would be at the house around 9:30, she went to her bookcase and started to search for a book to read.



Harry, however, was very early. Before Hermione had even picked a book, she heard someone stumble out of her fireplace. She screamed in surprise and clutched her hand to her heart. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was Harry. He stood up and dusted off the soot from his sweater and jeans. Looking up he caught sight of her, and he looked into her eyes.



The two stayed perfectly still until Harry broke the silence. “Mione. Come here.” He held out his arms to her and she moved into his arms. He circled his arms around her waist and buried his head into her neck. “I’m yours.” That’s all he needed to say. He felt her shake in his arms. He pulled back from her and moved her face toward him gently with his fingers. Tears were streaming down her eyes, but she wore a small smile on her face.



“You’re mine? Really?”



Harry wiped the salty water from her cheeks with his thumb, smiled slightly, and whispered, “Really.” He bent his head down to hers and captured her lips in a loving and passionate kiss. The world erased from his mind. All he could think of was the beautiful woman he was holding and how wonderful it felt to kiss her. His hand started to slide down her body and feel every curve she possessed. A small moan escaped her lips as Harry’s mouth traveled down her neck. He cupped her bottom and picked her up so he wasn’t awkwardly bending down anymore. His lips were still attached to her neck, feverishly tasting her sweet skin. Hermione’s legs wrapped around Harry’s waist as he pushed her against the wall. She yelped at the surprise impact but didn’t hesitate to thread her small fingers in Harry’s unruly hair. Just as Harry was devising a plan to stay in this position and still remove her shirt, a high pitch whistle let loose from the kitchen.



“Shit, shit, shit.” Hermione placed her head on the bookcase and closed her eyes. Harry had stopped what he was doing at the sound and looked around curiously. “I put some tea on.”



Harry chuckled and let her down slowly. “You always know how to make someone feel at home.” Harry kissed her forehead and walked into the kitchen to make the tea. Hermione smiled listening to his soft sounds as he maneuvered his way around the kitchen. She walked over to her couch and sat down in the middle. Sighing half out of happiness and half out of frustration, she waited for the love her life to come back into the room. “Here you go, Mione.” He said and handed her the tea. She looked at it, then at him questioningly. Harry smiled and answered, “One sugar and a splash of milk.” She grinned at him and he sat down next to her.



Careful not to spill her hot tea, she leaned into his body, relishing in the fact that she fit perfectly. The couple sat sipping their tea, looking at nothing in particular, wrapped up in each other on the couch. I could do this forever, the two thought at the same time.



“So, Harry, how’d it go?” Hermione asked, breaking the comfortable silence with an awkward topic.



Harry groaned before answering. “She said she knew I was leaving her for you, and she wasn’t happy about it. Actually I think that’s an understatement.” Hermione grimaced and took a sip from her tea. “There’s nothing I could do about it though. I’m meant to be here.” He smiled as he sipped his tea and ran a hand through her ponytail. “Are you going to be ok with me leaving in a week?”



“Honestly?” Hermione paused and sighed. “No. But what am I going to do? You won’t let Ron or I come with you. I don’t understand why we abandoned the horcrux hunt, so I’m very concerned.”



“Well that makes two of us, Mione. I can’t really explain the reason. Basically, another prophecy was made, and I need to follow that instead.”



Hermione snapped out of her comfortable position and looked straight at him, “And you’re just telling me this now? What did it say?”



Harry sighed and pulled her back to him. He placed his tea on the end table, kissed her forehead and answered, “I couldn’t and I still can’t.” Hermione was hurt. How am I supposed to have a relationship with him if he won’t let me in, she thought. “I’ll tell you in due time, but right now, I need to sit on it for a while.” After a few minutes of awkward silence between the two, Harry broached a different topic. “So do you like the house your parents picked out?”



Hermione smiled. “Very much so. It’s perfect, don’t you think?”



“It’s exactly what you need, Mione. It’s completely you.”



Hermione sat quietly for a minute and replied, “I was hoping it was exactly what you needed too, Harry.”



Harry’s eyes opened wide, “What?”



“Well.” Hermione shifted to look at him. “I know you’re leaving, and I know you have Grimmald Place, but – well – I was kind of hoping – that you would – hopingthatyouwouldmoveinherewhenyougotback.” The last part was said so quickly Hermione wasn’t sure if she even understood herself.



“Whoa. Wait, what?” Harry said shifting slightly with wide eyes.



Sighing she repeated herself more slowly, “I was hoping you’d move in with me when you got back.” Hermione bit her lip and avoided his eyes. But Harry just used his index finger to move her chin up to face him, and slowly brought her into a loving kiss.



“Of course I will. If that’s what you really want?” Hermione nodded, smiling slightly. “Then when I get back,” if I get back, “I’ll live with you.” Harry smiled at her and took her lips once more.



“Good.” She said turning back to fit comfortably under his sheltering arm. “Then tomorrow we’ll start moving some of your stuff in.” Harry chuckled and kissed her temple in agreement.



The couple spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, talking here and there. They discussed Harry’s plans to find Voldemort, and his fears once he did so. He opened up about how he didn’t think he could keep the weight of the world’s safety on his shoulders any longer. He said, “If I don’t end it this time, I don’t think I’ll be able to at all.” His mind shifted to Ginny’s potential pregnancy and his stomach tied into a very tight knot. It could not end well either way. If the prophecy held true and Ginny was not pregnant, it would be his demise. If Ginny was pregnant, he would be forced to marry a woman he did not love in the slightest.



“Where’s your head at, Potter?” Hermione asked, leaning her head back on his shoulder. He had been silent for some time during his contemplation of his doom.



“No where in particular.” He lied. “Just tired I guess.”



Hermione glanced at the clock that was on the wall next to the fireplace. It was well after midnight. “Yea we have a long week ahead of us. We should go to bed.”



“Lead the way, Miss Granger.” Hermione giggled as she banished the teacups into the kitchen, silently promising herself to wash them in the morning. She took Harry’s strong hand and gently pulled him up the stairs.



She turned around at the top of the stairs, not letting go of his hand and started the very short tour. “This,” Hermione looked to her left, “is the guest room. This,” Hermione looked to her right a little further down the hall, “is the bathroom.” Harry tried to look in, but she was pulling him further down the hall, to the end. “And this,” She smiled and opened the door, “is our room.”



Harry grinned. Our room. That sounds nice. He walked past Hermione and sat down on the queen size bed as he looked around. The walls were a light blue and had photographs and paintings hanging on them. The windows were adorned with dark blue curtains for decoration, and translucent cream hangings you could pull back to let all the light in, or hang down to keep some of the light out. The furniture was a dark wood, but had a very modern feel to it. From where he sat he could look into the walk in closet, only half of it was full. He smiled, realizing the other half was for him. I guess I’ll have to go get more clothes then. Hermione had walked over to where he was sitting and stood right in front of him.



“Do you like it, Harry?”



“It’s perfect, love.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight. Because of his height, and her lack there of, his head rested comfortably between her breasts. Hermione’s hand found it’s way to his hair and played absentmindedly as Harry whispered into her body, “I’ve never felt at home so quick in my life.” Hermione smiled sadly at his comment and he pulled her onto his lap. “Do you mind if we just lay together tonight, Mione?” His eyes were tired and his voice sounded defeated.



“Of course not. Let me get your trunk and we can change.” She summoned his trunk to the room and dug out his favorite pajama pants. She smirked as she tossed them at him. He pulled off his shirt, causing her to stare. Harry didn’t seem to notice, however, because he continued with his pants. Now he was standing up, about ready to pull on his pajama pants, just in his boxer briefs. Hermione smiled and took in as much of his physique as she could before he either realized she was staring or finished.



Quidditch had done him well. She had felt his muscles before, but seeing them in all their glory was another story. His shoulders were broad and toned, there didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on his body as her eyes slowly scanned it. His pecks and abs were ripped, and it gave way to gorgeous sex lines that made her crave him even more. His boxer briefs allowed her to see that even soft, he was much larger than anything she’d handled before. It excited her that she’d be able to be with such a gorgeous man. By that time, Harry had noticed she was staring. He finished pulling on his pajamas, smirking at her boldness.



“You don’t just have to look, you know?” Harry snapped her out of her trance. She blushed feverishly and started to rummage through the trunk again for a shirt.



“Uh – I – well – Do you need a shirt?” She stuttered out finally. Without looking up, she continued to go through his stuff in search of a nightshirt.



“I don’t sleep with a shirt. You know that.” He walked over to the trunk, grabbed a t-shirt and tossed it in her lap. “To add to your collection.” Harry smiled. Hermione looked down at the shirt and laughed out loud. It was one of his Gryffindor practice jerseys. She had taken every single one of his practice jersey’s since first year, mainly because he grew out of them, but also because she felt protected when she wore them. Ginny had hated that she did it, and complained every time she wore one. Harry always hushed her, telling her it was just a friend thing. Secretly he had always thought Hermione had looked dead sexy in his practice jerseys. This was his final one.



She shook her head, still smiling, and pushed herself up off the floor. “I’m going to go to the bathroom to change.” She sung to him.



“Aw! Mione, that’s not fair! You got to see me!!” He pouted.



She only laughed and replied, “Haven’t you learned by now that life isn’t fair, Harry Potter.” And with that she was out of the door and down the hall. In the bathroom she braced herself against the sink and took several deep breaths. Looking at herself in the mirror she realized how flushed she was. She splashed some cold water on her face, “Get a grip Hermione.” She said to herself in the mirror. Frustrated with her lack of self-control, she mentally berated herself as she changed into the shirt. “You need to get a grip. It’s just Harry. Yes, Ok, you’ve never slept with him like this before, but get a grip.” There was a knock on the door causing Hermione to gasp and fall back on to the toilet. “Yes?” she answered.



“Mione?” Harry called through the door. “Can I come in?”



“Yes of course!” She called.



Harry opened the door, seeing her on the toilet and automatically put a hand to his eyes, “God Mione! Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the bathroom?! I could have waited.”



“What?” Hermione looked down. “Oh no,” she laughed, “I’m not. I’m just sitting here.”



Harry slowly looked back at her. “Oh.” He paused for a second then held up his toothbrush. “Can I use some toothpaste?”



Giggling she replied, “It’s your toothpaste too I guess.” She took it out of the drawer next to the sink and handed it to Harry. After using it herself, she placed it back into the drawer and leaned against the sink. As she brushed her own teeth, he watched him do the same. He was brushing carefully and checking out the bathroom at the same time. It was fairly big, considering the size of the house. The sink had a large counter top around it and a mirror above it all the way to the ceiling. The walls were a pale yellow and it was decorated with dark red accessories. The shower was a stand up shower, made of marble and had a very modern showerhead, which was wide and made it seem like you were under a rainstorm. The doors to the shower only went up to Harry’s chest and they were glass. The top of the shower had no barrier to the bathroom. The toilet was on the other side of the shower wall, which he liked, because it was far enough away from the bathtub, which was a large jaccuzzi. It sat in a marble casing, and Hermione had already placed little candles around it and along the side of the two steps leading up to the tub.



Harry leaned over the sink and spit the foaming paste down the drain. Hermione followed suit. They both rinsed their mouths; Hermione with a glass of water and Harry with his hand, splashing water into his mouth from the faucet. Men, Hermione thought, always do things the difficult way. Shaking her head and grabbing her clothes, she followed Harry to the bedroom silently. She placed her clothes in the dirty clothes hamper and sat down at her vanity. From her mirror she saw that Harry was watching her. Her cheeks pinked a little, but she continued to untie her hair and comb out the tangles. Placing her comb down, back into its proper place, she turned and looked at Harry.



“Who said you could have the right side of the bed?” Hermione asked seriously.



“Oh.” Harry looked at his position in the bed, at the empty side, and back up at Hermione. “Did you want it? I’ve never really had a queen size. I don’t care one way or the other.”



Hermione giggled and crawled over to him. “No. I don’t care.” She situated herself so her head lay on his shoulder and her fingers lightly traced over his muscles. “I was just giving you a hard time.” Harry chuckled and kissed her hair, wrapping an arm around her body and holding her close. He’d never felt this intimate with Ginny when they were together, and he still hadn’t made love with Hermione. But I guess Ginny and I never made love either. He sighed.



“Who’s going to turn out the light?” Harry mumbled. He was already half asleep with his cheek pressed up against Hermione’s head.



Hermione sighed in contentment at his sleepy slip up. “Nox.” She whispered and the room went dark.



“Night, Mione.” He whispered and gave her a little squeeze.



“Good night, Harry.” She answered back and kissed the skin next to her lips.



* * *

The next several days were a whirlwind to the new couple. Ron had owled them, explaining that he wanted to get together before Harry left. He mentioned that Ginny was ok and only a little bit broody, but she apparently was going out with some friends that night. Harry was relieved that she wasn’t heartbroken, even if she was royally pissed off. Hermione’s eyes still darkened whenever she was brought up, so Harry stayed away from the topic as often as possible. His want to discuss the prophecy completely vanished every time he saw her reaction to the topic of Ginny.



They had taken many trips back and fourth to Grimmald to move small bits of furniture from that house to their new one. Harry didn’t take much. He took a lot of the belongings of Sirius and items that reminded him of his parents. He released the house to the Order, claiming he couldn’t call it home and wouldn’t want to ever move there.



Hermione had taken Harry on a shopping spree that, much to Harry’s dislike, spanned from the Wizarding world to the Muggle world. He got many new robes, although he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to wear them. Hermione had gone crazy with the Muggle clothes, insisting on getting designer jeans and button downs and jumpers and shoes. Harry didn’t mind, he had enough money, but he couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling that all of this was for nothing. He couldn’t talk about it with Hermione, because she knew nothing of the prophecy. To bring up the prophecy meant bringing up Ginny, his potential death, and his potential fatherhood. He was clinging to the last bit of hope that the prophecy would be wrong. He already realized one part, the truth. But he wouldn’t have word about Ginny’s pregnancy until another two weeks or so.



Harry of course didn’t let Hermione go empty-handed. The only way Hermione had gotten him out of the house for a shopping trip was to make a deal with her: for every item of clothing Harry bought, Hermione would buy one too. He wanted to spoil her as much as possible before he had to leave. He was in love with her, and he didn’t know if he would ever have the chance again.



It was the second to last night before Harry had to leave, and the couple stood on the front steps of the Grangers home. Harry had known it was inevitable that he would end up here; they only lived three streets down. He was about to meet Hermione’s parents. More importantly, he was about to meet her father. His hands were clammy and cold, and his heart was pumping faster than ever before.



“Harry. Please relax. I’m going to be with you.” Hermione tried to sooth his nerves.



“Why did I agree to this again?” Harry whined.



“Because you love me, that’s why.” Hermione said defiantly and without another word of discussion, opened the door to her childhood home announcing their arrival with a high-pitched, “Mom! Dad! We’re here!”



Mr. and Mrs. Granger came from opposite sides of the house. Mr. Granger walked to the foyer with a newspaper in his hand and reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. Mrs. Granger came with an apron tied around her waist and a wooden spoon in her hand. Mrs. Granger hugged her daughter quickly and made her apologies as she hurried back to the kitchen to take the sauce of the stove. Hermione turned to her father, who gave her a huge hug and pulled her off the ground. She squealed and her father put her down, kissing her forehead and saying, “You never did like that did you, princess.” Harry gulped.



“Dad. This is Harry.”



Mr. Granger forced a smile and stuck out his hand. Harry grasped it and started to shake. Harry ground his teeth into a smile and hissed quietly at the strength of the man’s handshake, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Granger.”



“And you, Harry.”



By this time Mrs. Granger had returned to the foyer without the spoon. “Oh you must be Harry, dear! It’s great to finally meet you.” She gave Harry a warm hug. “You know, Hermione talked about you for so long, I thought you’d never realize how perfect you two are for each other.” Hermione hid her face in her hands.



Harry smiled politely and replied, “I finally caught on.” Mrs. Granger ushered everyone into the living room, where tea was waiting.



“So,” Mrs. Granger started as she poured the tea, “Harry, what are your plans now that you’re out of school?”



Hermione glanced nervously at Harry. She hadn’t told her parents the details of the war. The less they knew the better, she thought. “Well,” Harry looked at Hermione for guidance. She nodded and took his hand. “I don’t know how much Hermione has told you about the Wizarding war.”



“Not much.” Mr. Granger answered. “She mentioned you had something to do with it, but didn’t give us details.”



“Well, yes.” Harry took a sip of tea. “To make a long story short. When I was born, a prophecy was spoken making me the only one that could defeat Voldemort – the leader of the other side. I’m leaving in two days to track him down and end this war.”



The Grangers looked at him speechlessly. Finally Mr. Granger replied, “You speak as though you’re going out to buy the paper.”



Harry sighed quietly and put down his tea. “I’ve had almost 7 years to understand my destiny. It’s not something I’m proud of or looking forward too, but it is my destiny nonetheless. I have the weight of the Wizarding and Muggle world on my back, and I need to end this feud with evil once and for all.”



The four adults sat in silence for a while until Hermione asked for more sugar in her tea, “Tsk. Tsk. Hermione, you know better than that!” Mrs. Granger reprimanded, “Too much sugar will rot your teeth!” Harry chuckled and was glad for a sudden change in atmosphere. Mrs. Granger, Hermione, and Harry sat and talked evenly about Hermione’s future plans, what Harry was going to do when he got back, and how the house was treating them.



Mr. Granger listened to the conversation, but mentally was trying to understand the man in front of him. Hermione had often talked about the bourdon he held, but never in detail. Now he understood the grave danger he was going to search for. How was his daughter going to react if he didn’t come home?



Mrs. Granger, seeing her husband’s want to talk to Harry alone, asked Hermione to help her in the kitchen to finish dinner. Hermione graciously agreed and only left after kissing both Harry and her father on the cheek.



Harry looked at Mr. Granger and gave him a small smile. He wasn’t happy being left alone with Hermione’s father. He was painfully aware that Mr. Granger hadn’t said a word after his explanation of his destiny. “I hope you understand, sir, that this isn’t something I’m doing to hurt Hermione in anyway. I love your daughter, and truth be told, she’s the only person who has been by my side every day the past seven years. I know I should have realized it sooner –“ Harry was cut off by Mr. Granger raising his hand at his words.



“Do you have any idea how devastated Hermione will be if you don’t return?” Harry looked down at his hands. Not only was he aware of that, but he was also aware of how devastated she’d be if he returned to a prophecy that had been fulfilled.



“Yes, sir.” He looked up, into Mr. Granger’s eyes. “Maybe it’s selfish for me to spend my last week with Hermione like this. But I’d rather spend my last week together and happy, then apart and miserable. That way if I do not return, her last memories of me will be of smiles and not tears.”



“And if you do return?”



“I hope to spend the rest of my life with your daughter.” He saw a small smile on Mr. Granger’s face. “I really do love her with every ounce of my being. I would never hurt her or walk away from her. When I return, I’m going to protect her and take care of her the way she should be: like a princess. If I don’t return, I will do the same.”



Mr. Granger looked at him questioningly, but decided to dismiss it. “When you return, Harry, you have my blessing. You have it now, anyway. But please, don’t marry her in the next two days.” He chuckled.



Harry was flabbergasted. His eyes were wide and he stood up to shake her father’s hand. “I never expected to come here and get that kind of approval from you, sir. I’m going to take it regardless. Thank you so much.”



“Please, Harry, it’s Bryan. And I see how much you love my daughter. And I’ve seen how much she loves you. I would be a lousy father and man if I didn’t approve of your relationship.”



“Thank you, uh Bryan.” Harry blushed at using his first name.



Bryan laughed heartily and slapped Harry, lovingly, on the back. “Lets go tuck in, Harry. It smells delicious.”



The rest of dinner went very smoothly. Mrs. Granger insisted Harry call her Jane and embarrassed Hermione by telling stories from her as a toddler. Harry had not expected to have such a great time at the Granger’s. But as he stepped back from the scene to view the family, he felt apart of it. It was different than he had ever felt with the Weasleys, because he didn’t feel like an adopted son, but rather a son-in-law. He smiled happily at the feeling, a feeling he would most definitely keep to himself.