(no subject)
Title: Evidence of Things Not Seen.
Chapter: One - Regard It's Fruit As Forbidden
Author: mrsquizzical
Series: This is part two in the "All That They Had Not Lost" story.
Ship: Trio
Rating: MT (Mature Themes)
Word Count: 4066
Author's Notes:
thankyou leviathan0999 and maple_mahogany for your thoughts and support, and to thesteppyone for the britpic.
thankyou louhq for the beta.
NB. ron's joke about the floo courtesy of oncelikeshari.
Prologue is here. (follow link for second part)
CHAPTER ONE - Regard its Fruit as Forbidden
It was a beautiful day. One of the very best that September had to offer. Clear - for now - and crisp, without actually being cold. Nonetheless, Harry took the cloak that had been folded over his arm to resemble a jacket and put it on. He pulled the hood forward to hide his face and then cast a low-level avoidance charm for good measure.
He wasn't hiding. That would mean that they had won. And they had not won. They hadn't made Harry feel ashamed of himself, or his life. He certainly wasn't ashamed of Ron or Hermione. And there wasn't a person on Earth who would be able to make him anything but bursting with pride over their daughter. His daughter. Harry bit his lip as a smile came, unbidden, to his face. His daughter. He was a father.
Unbelievable.
No. He wasn't hiding. But it was nearly eleven o'clock, and he had to be home soon. He had already been to the local supermarket for cheese and onion crisps for Hermione. He had also picked up some four-packs of lager and several bottles of wine, and was now stepping out of the alleyway that divided the Muggle and Wizarding streets of the village. One more stop for some Ogden's for the twins and he could stroll home before people arrived for lunch.
A vague irritation and feeling of agitation was prodding at Harry's thoughts, but he put it aside. It was nice to be out of the house. The month since Miranda had been born had been so intense. Even without the constant hounding from the press and the pressure of dealing with people outside of their circle, learning and questioning.
Hermione seemed to nap all the time except when she was eating or feeding the baby. This was normal -- according to Ron. He and Harry were being ever so careful not to make any demands on her. None at all. It wouldn't be too long, Ron insisted, until she was warm and affectionate again. So it was nearly five weeks since they had made love. Five weeks since he'd laid a hand on Hermione except to help her out of a chair, or stroke her hair as she slept. It seemed a bit lonely, really. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed snuggling up between the two of them at night after a shag, though that thought alone seemed too feeble to believe. And lying with a baby next to them was every bit as special.
But they were still together. Still three.
And there was Ron. Ron said the same - how much easier it was this time to stay patient and loving with Hermione, when the two of them could still kiss and touch and come. There had been misunderstandings sometimes, Ron said. The same touch that had made her sigh and melt before Charlotte was born would make her shrug him off, flinch away. They got through it of course. But this was better. They didn't have to push down their need and desire; they could just take care of her without any of that pressure hanging about.
Ron was away a lot with work, though he made a point to Floo home every evening, regardless of where the team was that day. Not that Harry was complaining. It was all so much more amazing and wonderful than he could ever have imagined. To think it was less than a year ago that Hermione and Ron had confronted him in the Leaky Cauldron. What a year.
Harry was glad of the charm that caused people's eyes to slide right over him as though he wasn't there as they walked past, busy over their Saturday shopping. The first thing he saw as he walked into the crooked street was his own face scowling back at him from the front page of the Daily Prophet. He clenched his jaw. Surely there were more important things to write about by now? What about the escaped dragons in Scotland? Or the photos of that Wizengamot member caught with his secretary on holidays in Australia? The secretary was a good-looking bloke too. You'd have thought that would make the front page!
Harry chuckled to himself as he walked into The Phoenix Feathers and picked up a bottle to add to the load-- miniaturised but still heavy-- in the bag slung over his shoulder. The laughter died in his throat as he saw a stand full of copies of the latest Witch Weekly. A bedraggled Hermione was glaring over her shoulder and rolling her eyes at him from a corner of the cover. She hadn't slept or eaten for days when that photo was taken. Bastards.
He stood in front of the shop assistant for several irritated moments before canceling the Obscurus and slamming his money down. The young witch leapt a few inches and looked up from her copy of the magazine, luckily not open at that page. She took a look at who she was serving and quickly slid the magazine under a shelf, then turned back and gave him a full and fake smile. "Will that be all Mr. Potter?" she simpered. Harry simply glared at her and grabbed his change.
The niggle of agitation in the back of his mind increased. It joined with the coil of anger in his belly and he felt a rush of aggression. That was strange, really. It wasn't just his own bitterness but a feeling of being unsettled. It was growing by the second, and all he could think was that he needed to get home. Now.
All thoughts of a lovely stroll in the brisk morning evaporated and Harry looked about for the nearest Floo. He despised the thought of walking back into the shop he had just left, so instead he held his bag close to his chest and Apparated away.
When he appeared in the clearing behind the house, he hurriedly checked that all the miniaturised bottles had survived the trip before rushing through the orchard and into their garden. He was running by the time he reached the French doors that opened in this beautiful weather from the kitchen out to the garden. As he approached he could hear the irate screams of a new baby. He walked into the kitchen to find Hermione - her eyes brimming with unshed tears - sitting in her rocking chair, tucked in next to the cooker, as Miranda cried at her breast. The chair was still.
Harry dumped his bundles onto the sideboard next to a pile of mail. He was about to ask Hermione what was wrong when his eye caught sight of garish lime envelope amidst a number of friendlier looking cards. Poking out of the top was the distinctive pink font of the Witch Weekly.
He crouched down in front of Hermione and put his hands on her legs. "It's rubbish, Hermione. Ignore it."
She sucked in her lips and swallowed a sob. After one brief moment of eye contact she turned and looked into the distance.
Harry gently rubbed little circles with his thumbs onto the soft flannel of her dressing gown. "Hermione, Look at me."
Hermione closed her eyes and leant her head back to rest it against the wooden bar of her chair. Miranda was still hiccuping and wailing in-between attempts to find Hermione's nipple to continue the feed. Harry put his hand around the back of the baby's head and held it up closer to her chest. "Erm... Hermione... I think she wants--" He blinked. Even though he had himself held those very breasts and placed his own mouth on that soft skin, it seemed slightly ... impertinent to be so familiar with... well... someone's mother.
The sound of someone knocking on the door and then immediately opening it had Hermione suddenly standing to her feet. "Oh dear! I look such a fright!" She thrust Miranda towards Harry. "Take her. Do. I have to just get dressed, and wash...and.... Please take her. I'll only be a few moments."
Fred called out down the hall way as Hermione fled up the stairs, and Ron and Charlie arrived by Floo from the Burrow.
"She sent us a ham." Ron grinned to Harry, referring to his mother. "Can't help herself! Even though they can't come, still has to send lunch."
"And a cake, Harry. A 'specially delicious looking one!" Little Charlie said, bouncing on her toes.
Miranda was a wobbly bundle of arms and legs that curved gratefully up to Harry's chest, and then curled up like she was back in the womb. Harry noticed that the agitated feeling had left him and he bent down to smell the top of his daughter's head, the shock of black hair tickling at his skin.
Fred's voice got louder as he approached, - "Outside, ya little horror!" - and then a small boy barreled into the breakfast room. He had pale brown skin, black springy hair, and a very loud voice.
"Heya Uncle Harry! Heya Uncle Ron! Heya Charlie!"
"Hello Bobby." Harry murmured as the boy ran about the room. "Fred. Jack." He nodded at his brother-in-law who struggled with a squirmy toddler he held around the middle with one arm, like a rolled up carpet. Carefully supporting his baby's head with his hand, Harry leant back to peer into the hallway.
"You blokes on your own today, then?" asked Ron.
Fred scowled slightly before dumping a casserole dish Harry recognised from the Burrow onto the kitchen table, and setting his younger offspring free, with a push in the direction of the outdoors. Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry and whispered, "I'll take that as a 'Yes', then," in his ear as he walked behind him.
"So, what happened this time?" he asked Fred. "Angelina kicked you out for good?"
"She's pregnant again. It's my fault. Obviously..." Fred sat on the edge of the table. "So she's packed up and gone home to her mother's. Again. I have Bobby and Jack for the weekend. Which is just blinking brilliant isn' it? I said OUTSIDE."
Charlie and her cousins giggled and ran back out into the garden.
Ron and Harry turned to look at each other, not quite sure what to say, when the Floo and the front door both rattled at the same time.
Harry took the door, while Ron turned to see who had just arrived in the kitchen. George greeted him with a much lighter tone than his twin, shaking his head with assumed solemnity, "So, it's all finally hit the news, huh? And to think I have been party to such a shocking display of debauchery!" and Luna reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek. She handed over a large dish of ... something purple.... to join the table -- already looking very full. Remus and Tonks, Neville with his girlfriend Anna, Seamus, Charlie, Bill and Fleur complete with children all arrived within moments of each other. Everyone cooed over the new baby, who remained, oblivious, in Harry's arms, while Ron did the rounds, ensuring that all who wished for a tipple had a glass of something in their hands.
The noise level gradually rose. The hum of conversation, laughter, children's play combined to fill the house.
"I do love coming here," smiled Luna, patting the doorframe affectionately. "It's such a friendly, welcoming home."
"Erm... thanks?" said Ron.
"It is a shame you decided against keeping the original name, though. It was so romantic."
"Forbidden Fruit?" asked Ron. "No thanks."
"It sounds beautiful in welsh."
"Gwaharddedig Aeronen?" Ron looked at Luna with a stony face. "Can you honestly imagine calling that into the Floo? We'd end up with any number of dimwits who sneezed as they threw in the powder!"
Seamus burst out in a sudden chortle. "Brilliant, mate! Can't ya imagine it? Friday nights would be the worst with all the sots trying to get home from the pub!"
"Laugh it up, Finnegan. We'll stick with the English, thankyou very much."
"Hermione did some reading on local history before we moved in--" started Ron. Harry chuckled as everyone nodded, as if to say Well, yes. Of course she did! "--and since that was in honour of the old Bramley apple orchard on the land next door belonging to the 'Big House' we decided that Bramley Lodge would be a fair tribute."
"Oh no!" said Luna, looking quite surprised, "It was named 'Forbidden Fruit' because this is where the local Lord kept his Mistress! He would pop through that door in the wall every second Thursday. Quite the scandal."
"Enough with the scandals already!" moaned Fred.
Remus chuckled quietly to himself before saying, "At least you are keeping the sense of 'scandal' alive and well. Most excitement this village has seen in generations I'd say. But they'll get used to it soon enough. You'll be old news before long."
"I won't hold my breath if it's all the same to you." muttered Harry.
Neville patted his shoulder sympathetically. "If it's any consolation, it looks like my grandmother has finally accepted that I'm not marrying the very respectable pure blood witch she chose for me when I was still in nappies."
Anna rolled her eyes at him and giggled. "Or me!"
"We could always leak that story to the press to take the pressure off you lot! 'Boy Who Could Have Been The Boy Who Lived - Shacks Up With Muggle Girlfriend.' " George motioned his hand along in the air in front of him, indicating a newspaper headline. " 'Herbology World in Turmoil!!' "
Neville blushed and ducked his face behind Anna's pretty blonde head. He mumbled something that could have been "Bugger off!" before joining in the laughter.
"What about yer man Lee Jordan?" Seamus called out. "Surely him coming out of the closet rates a mention in the "Where Are They Now?" of the Dumbledore's Army!"
"You leave Lee out of this," growled George.
"Hey I'm not taking the piss! Good for him I say." Seamus held his hands up in surrender.
"Don't know why you're so hett up over it all, Brother." cajoled Fred. "I'm the one with the penchant for luscious dark skin. Not that it's doing me much good at present. You're settled down nicely with the fair Lu-Lu over there."
Bill strode over and took his place at George's shoulder. "Shut it Fred." Ron watched Charlie look from one twin to the other, evidently working out how to diffuse the growing tension. Luna stroked her husband's hand and looked out of the window.
Whatever was going to be said next was interrupted by the children storming in en masse demanding food and the large room was filled with a burst of activity as lunch was organized. The sideboard was cleared quickly and set up as a table for the children, who seemed now unable to sit down long enough to eat. The adults were just getting themselves sorted out when Little Charlie's voice piped up over the burble of conversation. "Ooooh, is that a photograph of Mummy? I thought she wasn't famous anymore!"
Ron stood to his feet and joined the chorus of gasps as Harry jumped up, jiggling Miranda who slept, undisturbed, in the crook of his left arm. "Give that to me, Charles," he said striding over to take the offending piece of parchment from her.
"What's a se-duc-ress?" she asked him.
"Bloody hell, Harry, I thought you cleared that rubbish away!"
Before Harry could respond, Fleur spoke up, "'Ermione? She ees not 'ere. She ees resting per'aps?"
"I'm here," said a voice at the foot of the stairs.
Ron bounded over. "There's the Birthday Girl!" he chirped in an overly bright voice. Ron watched Hermione look at Little Charlie and then at the assembled family and friends. She seemed to take in a deep breath before smiling at them all, walking over and sitting herself down into her usual rocking chair near the stove. Conversation started up around them again. After a few moments she looked up and smiled at him.
"All right there, love?" he asked.
"Of course," she answered, "It's my birthday."
\0/\0/\0/\0/\0/
Hermione slowly cracked open one eye. A tired squint about confirmed that she was in the conservatory, lying on the comfortable couch they had put in between the geraniums. The diffuse light suggested that it was dusk. She felt Charlotte curled up at her side, and a weight over her legs told her that someone had laid a blanket over them both. The gritty feeling behind her eyelids and heaviness in her stomach told her she had only slept long enough to remind her body how very tired she was. Hermione closed her eyes again, but sleep eluded her.
It had been a good day, Hermione admitted to herself, though it hadn't started off well.
It had been extremely unpleasant to go from opening birthday cards to reading the screaming accusations that had spewed from the bitter quill of Marietta Edgecomb. She couldn't really blame her for holding a grudge, even though Hermione had sent the counter jinx several years ago to the pimple curse that marred Marietta's face. Obviously she still had a score to settle. And they were providing perfect ammunition.
Hermione clenched her teeth and determined to put the unpleasantness out of her head. She still had the rest of her birthday to enjoy. Hopefully the boys had some dinner planned. She hadn't really eaten much at lunch.
She had come down the stairs-- after her undignified exit -- showered and dressed and feeling much more herself. She had dreaded the sympathetic looks and kind scrutiny of their family and friends, but had instead been treated with offhand friendliness and ended up casually drawn into a conversation with Tonks and Fleur about the future of the Werewolf Registration System. So lunch had not ended up being a chore at all, and if she had felt slightly removed from the hilarity, it was only to be expected.
Miranda was a completely different baby than Charlotte had been. Hermione had found the more fretful child quite bewildering. Harry and Ron were both blissfully happy over them all, though, and watching their beaming faces was the bright spot in her rather bleary waking hours. They were both so considerate of her - preparing food, looking after Charlotte, dealing with the unpleasantness that the press had brought with them...
Hermione tried to push away the sense of loneliness, of homesickness that she got when she thought about the way their relationship seemed to have changed. She wasn't the one who looked after them anymore. In fact, they were coping so well she occasionally felt just a touch unnecessary. And as much as she was relieved that neither man had even wondered out loud when she would be feeling sexual again, she couldn't help but think they just simply didn't find her attractive anymore.
It dawned on Hermione that Miranda wasn't with her. Her breasts were feeling rather full so she heaved herself up into a sitting position, without disturbing Charlotte who slept on, exhausted from a day spent racing about like a mad thing with her cousins. Muffled sounds floated down from the upper storey of the house, so Hermione got herself a glass of water in the sparkling kitchen -- no doubt Fleur had orchestrated the tidy up, in lieu of Molly's bustling presence -- and then plodded up the stairs to find her daughter and give her a feed.
\0/\0/\0/\0/\0/
"Shhh Ron! You'll wake her up." snorted a muffled voice.
"Here you go Angel," answered Ron, "She loves that hammock!"
There was silence for a few moments as Hermione approached the door of their bedroom, and then a burst of... was Ron giggling?
"Stop! Stop Harry!" The hissed voices continued. "Okayokayokay... you win!"
Hermione edged forward and peaked around the door from the darkened hallway. There was still just enough light coming in through the window so that she could see Harry sitting astride Ron, his wrists held in one of Harry's hands. The other hand was poised ready to strike.
"No more tickling! I give, I give!"
Harry flexed his fingers menacingly over Ron's bared stomach and chuckled. "So. I win, yeah?"
Suddenly Ron flipped Harry over, and he was sitting triumphantly on top of Harry's legs. He grabbed Harry's hands and held them to the mattress above his head.
A violent-- though silent-- battle ensued, with each one wrestling for supremacy. The duvet tangled at the foot of the bed before falling to the floor in a heap. Ron started to shake with laughter again, batting Harry's hands away as he struggled to regain his composure. He managed to catch them again, and held them still in the air in front of him.
"No, Harry. I don't think so." Hermione could hear the barely contained laughter bubbling under the hushed voice. "It seems that I shall be the victor. One little poke in the ribs and you'll be squealing like a girl."
Harry's legs thrashed about underneath Ron's larger weight, pulling the sheet loose from the corner and kicking several pillows off the bed altogether.
"What now, Weasley?" he taunted quietly, "Can't tickle me. If you let me go I'll get you."
Instead of answering, Ron leant forward and hooked his bare feet in over Harry's shins, stopping him from flipping them over again.
"You--" He managed a quick regrip on Harry's wrists, "--are all talk, Potter."
"Don't you think I can do it? Just try me..."
"You are all talk," interrupted Ron. "You want me to win. You like me on top."
Harry squirmed and grunted out something indistinguishable. There was a chuckle as Ron ground his hips down on Harry who let out a strangled whimper and tried once more to buck Ron off.
Ron stretched his legs out, down Harry's shins until their feet tangled together.
"You like me on top," repeated Ron in a husky whisper as he leant forward, hovering over Harry. "You love it when I own you." He brushed his lips over Harry's cheeks. "You. Love it." A gentle kiss teased Harry's mouth. Both boys were still for a moment, the evening light silhouetting them in tableau. The sound of ragged breathing filling the space around them.
Ron slowly lowered his chest down until he lay stretched out on top of Harry. They stared at each other for another long moment before their mouths crashed together.
Ron let go of his hands and wrapped his arms around the top of Harry's head, taking his weight on his elbows and knees. Harry's hands stroked up Ron's arms and around his shoulders and down his sides before tracing their way back the way they'd come. Again his hands followed that path - this time he tried to continue to Ron's stomach, but found his way blocked by Ron's own arms. Harry pulled his hands off and wriggled them in and under so he could insinuate his fingers up under the hem of Ron's T-shirt, playing with the top of his jeans, then patting around until his hands rested on Ron's arse.
Ron stopped kissing Harry for a moment and sat back, resting on his heels causing Harry's arms to drop to his side. Ron watched his hands slide down Harry's body, his fingertips lightly caressing down his legs and back up. Harry reached his hands out and Ron's fingers played with his for a moment before they clasped their hands together. Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Ron leant forward to kiss Harry again and they tumbled over until he was lying on his back. Their legs twisted around each other, and Ron's hands came to rest on Harry's sides, little fingers teasing the skin that showed above his belt.
Alone in the dark hallway, Hermione slid down the wall until she sat with her knees underneath her chin. Her breasts were tingling - full of milk not arousal - and she felt a droplet slide down from her nipple onto her stomach. There was none of the usual thrill and heat that accompanied watching her boys together.
She felt empty. She felt alone.
"They really don't need me," she whispered into the darkness. "They don't need me at all."
chapter two is here
Chapter: One - Regard It's Fruit As Forbidden
Author: mrsquizzical
Series: This is part two in the "All That They Had Not Lost" story.
Ship: Trio
Rating: MT (Mature Themes)
Word Count: 4066
Author's Notes:
thankyou leviathan0999 and maple_mahogany for your thoughts and support, and to thesteppyone for the britpic.
thankyou louhq for the beta.
NB. ron's joke about the floo courtesy of oncelikeshari.
Prologue is here. (follow link for second part)
CHAPTER ONE - Regard its Fruit as Forbidden
It was a beautiful day. One of the very best that September had to offer. Clear - for now - and crisp, without actually being cold. Nonetheless, Harry took the cloak that had been folded over his arm to resemble a jacket and put it on. He pulled the hood forward to hide his face and then cast a low-level avoidance charm for good measure.
He wasn't hiding. That would mean that they had won. And they had not won. They hadn't made Harry feel ashamed of himself, or his life. He certainly wasn't ashamed of Ron or Hermione. And there wasn't a person on Earth who would be able to make him anything but bursting with pride over their daughter. His daughter. Harry bit his lip as a smile came, unbidden, to his face. His daughter. He was a father.
Unbelievable.
No. He wasn't hiding. But it was nearly eleven o'clock, and he had to be home soon. He had already been to the local supermarket for cheese and onion crisps for Hermione. He had also picked up some four-packs of lager and several bottles of wine, and was now stepping out of the alleyway that divided the Muggle and Wizarding streets of the village. One more stop for some Ogden's for the twins and he could stroll home before people arrived for lunch.
A vague irritation and feeling of agitation was prodding at Harry's thoughts, but he put it aside. It was nice to be out of the house. The month since Miranda had been born had been so intense. Even without the constant hounding from the press and the pressure of dealing with people outside of their circle, learning and questioning.
Hermione seemed to nap all the time except when she was eating or feeding the baby. This was normal -- according to Ron. He and Harry were being ever so careful not to make any demands on her. None at all. It wouldn't be too long, Ron insisted, until she was warm and affectionate again. So it was nearly five weeks since they had made love. Five weeks since he'd laid a hand on Hermione except to help her out of a chair, or stroke her hair as she slept. It seemed a bit lonely, really. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed snuggling up between the two of them at night after a shag, though that thought alone seemed too feeble to believe. And lying with a baby next to them was every bit as special.
But they were still together. Still three.
And there was Ron. Ron said the same - how much easier it was this time to stay patient and loving with Hermione, when the two of them could still kiss and touch and come. There had been misunderstandings sometimes, Ron said. The same touch that had made her sigh and melt before Charlotte was born would make her shrug him off, flinch away. They got through it of course. But this was better. They didn't have to push down their need and desire; they could just take care of her without any of that pressure hanging about.
Ron was away a lot with work, though he made a point to Floo home every evening, regardless of where the team was that day. Not that Harry was complaining. It was all so much more amazing and wonderful than he could ever have imagined. To think it was less than a year ago that Hermione and Ron had confronted him in the Leaky Cauldron. What a year.
Harry was glad of the charm that caused people's eyes to slide right over him as though he wasn't there as they walked past, busy over their Saturday shopping. The first thing he saw as he walked into the crooked street was his own face scowling back at him from the front page of the Daily Prophet. He clenched his jaw. Surely there were more important things to write about by now? What about the escaped dragons in Scotland? Or the photos of that Wizengamot member caught with his secretary on holidays in Australia? The secretary was a good-looking bloke too. You'd have thought that would make the front page!
Harry chuckled to himself as he walked into The Phoenix Feathers and picked up a bottle to add to the load-- miniaturised but still heavy-- in the bag slung over his shoulder. The laughter died in his throat as he saw a stand full of copies of the latest Witch Weekly. A bedraggled Hermione was glaring over her shoulder and rolling her eyes at him from a corner of the cover. She hadn't slept or eaten for days when that photo was taken. Bastards.
He stood in front of the shop assistant for several irritated moments before canceling the Obscurus and slamming his money down. The young witch leapt a few inches and looked up from her copy of the magazine, luckily not open at that page. She took a look at who she was serving and quickly slid the magazine under a shelf, then turned back and gave him a full and fake smile. "Will that be all Mr. Potter?" she simpered. Harry simply glared at her and grabbed his change.
The niggle of agitation in the back of his mind increased. It joined with the coil of anger in his belly and he felt a rush of aggression. That was strange, really. It wasn't just his own bitterness but a feeling of being unsettled. It was growing by the second, and all he could think was that he needed to get home. Now.
All thoughts of a lovely stroll in the brisk morning evaporated and Harry looked about for the nearest Floo. He despised the thought of walking back into the shop he had just left, so instead he held his bag close to his chest and Apparated away.
When he appeared in the clearing behind the house, he hurriedly checked that all the miniaturised bottles had survived the trip before rushing through the orchard and into their garden. He was running by the time he reached the French doors that opened in this beautiful weather from the kitchen out to the garden. As he approached he could hear the irate screams of a new baby. He walked into the kitchen to find Hermione - her eyes brimming with unshed tears - sitting in her rocking chair, tucked in next to the cooker, as Miranda cried at her breast. The chair was still.
Harry dumped his bundles onto the sideboard next to a pile of mail. He was about to ask Hermione what was wrong when his eye caught sight of garish lime envelope amidst a number of friendlier looking cards. Poking out of the top was the distinctive pink font of the Witch Weekly.
He crouched down in front of Hermione and put his hands on her legs. "It's rubbish, Hermione. Ignore it."
She sucked in her lips and swallowed a sob. After one brief moment of eye contact she turned and looked into the distance.
Harry gently rubbed little circles with his thumbs onto the soft flannel of her dressing gown. "Hermione, Look at me."
Hermione closed her eyes and leant her head back to rest it against the wooden bar of her chair. Miranda was still hiccuping and wailing in-between attempts to find Hermione's nipple to continue the feed. Harry put his hand around the back of the baby's head and held it up closer to her chest. "Erm... Hermione... I think she wants--" He blinked. Even though he had himself held those very breasts and placed his own mouth on that soft skin, it seemed slightly ... impertinent to be so familiar with... well... someone's mother.
The sound of someone knocking on the door and then immediately opening it had Hermione suddenly standing to her feet. "Oh dear! I look such a fright!" She thrust Miranda towards Harry. "Take her. Do. I have to just get dressed, and wash...and.... Please take her. I'll only be a few moments."
Fred called out down the hall way as Hermione fled up the stairs, and Ron and Charlie arrived by Floo from the Burrow.
"She sent us a ham." Ron grinned to Harry, referring to his mother. "Can't help herself! Even though they can't come, still has to send lunch."
"And a cake, Harry. A 'specially delicious looking one!" Little Charlie said, bouncing on her toes.
Miranda was a wobbly bundle of arms and legs that curved gratefully up to Harry's chest, and then curled up like she was back in the womb. Harry noticed that the agitated feeling had left him and he bent down to smell the top of his daughter's head, the shock of black hair tickling at his skin.
Fred's voice got louder as he approached, - "Outside, ya little horror!" - and then a small boy barreled into the breakfast room. He had pale brown skin, black springy hair, and a very loud voice.
"Heya Uncle Harry! Heya Uncle Ron! Heya Charlie!"
"Hello Bobby." Harry murmured as the boy ran about the room. "Fred. Jack." He nodded at his brother-in-law who struggled with a squirmy toddler he held around the middle with one arm, like a rolled up carpet. Carefully supporting his baby's head with his hand, Harry leant back to peer into the hallway.
"You blokes on your own today, then?" asked Ron.
Fred scowled slightly before dumping a casserole dish Harry recognised from the Burrow onto the kitchen table, and setting his younger offspring free, with a push in the direction of the outdoors. Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry and whispered, "I'll take that as a 'Yes', then," in his ear as he walked behind him.
"So, what happened this time?" he asked Fred. "Angelina kicked you out for good?"
"She's pregnant again. It's my fault. Obviously..." Fred sat on the edge of the table. "So she's packed up and gone home to her mother's. Again. I have Bobby and Jack for the weekend. Which is just blinking brilliant isn' it? I said OUTSIDE."
Charlie and her cousins giggled and ran back out into the garden.
Ron and Harry turned to look at each other, not quite sure what to say, when the Floo and the front door both rattled at the same time.
Harry took the door, while Ron turned to see who had just arrived in the kitchen. George greeted him with a much lighter tone than his twin, shaking his head with assumed solemnity, "So, it's all finally hit the news, huh? And to think I have been party to such a shocking display of debauchery!" and Luna reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek. She handed over a large dish of ... something purple.... to join the table -- already looking very full. Remus and Tonks, Neville with his girlfriend Anna, Seamus, Charlie, Bill and Fleur complete with children all arrived within moments of each other. Everyone cooed over the new baby, who remained, oblivious, in Harry's arms, while Ron did the rounds, ensuring that all who wished for a tipple had a glass of something in their hands.
The noise level gradually rose. The hum of conversation, laughter, children's play combined to fill the house.
"I do love coming here," smiled Luna, patting the doorframe affectionately. "It's such a friendly, welcoming home."
"Erm... thanks?" said Ron.
"It is a shame you decided against keeping the original name, though. It was so romantic."
"Forbidden Fruit?" asked Ron. "No thanks."
"It sounds beautiful in welsh."
"Gwaharddedig Aeronen?" Ron looked at Luna with a stony face. "Can you honestly imagine calling that into the Floo? We'd end up with any number of dimwits who sneezed as they threw in the powder!"
Seamus burst out in a sudden chortle. "Brilliant, mate! Can't ya imagine it? Friday nights would be the worst with all the sots trying to get home from the pub!"
"Laugh it up, Finnegan. We'll stick with the English, thankyou very much."
"Hermione did some reading on local history before we moved in--" started Ron. Harry chuckled as everyone nodded, as if to say Well, yes. Of course she did! "--and since that was in honour of the old Bramley apple orchard on the land next door belonging to the 'Big House' we decided that Bramley Lodge would be a fair tribute."
"Oh no!" said Luna, looking quite surprised, "It was named 'Forbidden Fruit' because this is where the local Lord kept his Mistress! He would pop through that door in the wall every second Thursday. Quite the scandal."
"Enough with the scandals already!" moaned Fred.
Remus chuckled quietly to himself before saying, "At least you are keeping the sense of 'scandal' alive and well. Most excitement this village has seen in generations I'd say. But they'll get used to it soon enough. You'll be old news before long."
"I won't hold my breath if it's all the same to you." muttered Harry.
Neville patted his shoulder sympathetically. "If it's any consolation, it looks like my grandmother has finally accepted that I'm not marrying the very respectable pure blood witch she chose for me when I was still in nappies."
Anna rolled her eyes at him and giggled. "Or me!"
"We could always leak that story to the press to take the pressure off you lot! 'Boy Who Could Have Been The Boy Who Lived - Shacks Up With Muggle Girlfriend.' " George motioned his hand along in the air in front of him, indicating a newspaper headline. " 'Herbology World in Turmoil!!' "
Neville blushed and ducked his face behind Anna's pretty blonde head. He mumbled something that could have been "Bugger off!" before joining in the laughter.
"What about yer man Lee Jordan?" Seamus called out. "Surely him coming out of the closet rates a mention in the "Where Are They Now?" of the Dumbledore's Army!"
"You leave Lee out of this," growled George.
"Hey I'm not taking the piss! Good for him I say." Seamus held his hands up in surrender.
"Don't know why you're so hett up over it all, Brother." cajoled Fred. "I'm the one with the penchant for luscious dark skin. Not that it's doing me much good at present. You're settled down nicely with the fair Lu-Lu over there."
Bill strode over and took his place at George's shoulder. "Shut it Fred." Ron watched Charlie look from one twin to the other, evidently working out how to diffuse the growing tension. Luna stroked her husband's hand and looked out of the window.
Whatever was going to be said next was interrupted by the children storming in en masse demanding food and the large room was filled with a burst of activity as lunch was organized. The sideboard was cleared quickly and set up as a table for the children, who seemed now unable to sit down long enough to eat. The adults were just getting themselves sorted out when Little Charlie's voice piped up over the burble of conversation. "Ooooh, is that a photograph of Mummy? I thought she wasn't famous anymore!"
Ron stood to his feet and joined the chorus of gasps as Harry jumped up, jiggling Miranda who slept, undisturbed, in the crook of his left arm. "Give that to me, Charles," he said striding over to take the offending piece of parchment from her.
"What's a se-duc-ress?" she asked him.
"Bloody hell, Harry, I thought you cleared that rubbish away!"
Before Harry could respond, Fleur spoke up, "'Ermione? She ees not 'ere. She ees resting per'aps?"
"I'm here," said a voice at the foot of the stairs.
Ron bounded over. "There's the Birthday Girl!" he chirped in an overly bright voice. Ron watched Hermione look at Little Charlie and then at the assembled family and friends. She seemed to take in a deep breath before smiling at them all, walking over and sitting herself down into her usual rocking chair near the stove. Conversation started up around them again. After a few moments she looked up and smiled at him.
"All right there, love?" he asked.
"Of course," she answered, "It's my birthday."
\0/\0/\0/\0/\0/
Hermione slowly cracked open one eye. A tired squint about confirmed that she was in the conservatory, lying on the comfortable couch they had put in between the geraniums. The diffuse light suggested that it was dusk. She felt Charlotte curled up at her side, and a weight over her legs told her that someone had laid a blanket over them both. The gritty feeling behind her eyelids and heaviness in her stomach told her she had only slept long enough to remind her body how very tired she was. Hermione closed her eyes again, but sleep eluded her.
It had been a good day, Hermione admitted to herself, though it hadn't started off well.
It had been extremely unpleasant to go from opening birthday cards to reading the screaming accusations that had spewed from the bitter quill of Marietta Edgecomb. She couldn't really blame her for holding a grudge, even though Hermione had sent the counter jinx several years ago to the pimple curse that marred Marietta's face. Obviously she still had a score to settle. And they were providing perfect ammunition.
Hermione clenched her teeth and determined to put the unpleasantness out of her head. She still had the rest of her birthday to enjoy. Hopefully the boys had some dinner planned. She hadn't really eaten much at lunch.
She had come down the stairs-- after her undignified exit -- showered and dressed and feeling much more herself. She had dreaded the sympathetic looks and kind scrutiny of their family and friends, but had instead been treated with offhand friendliness and ended up casually drawn into a conversation with Tonks and Fleur about the future of the Werewolf Registration System. So lunch had not ended up being a chore at all, and if she had felt slightly removed from the hilarity, it was only to be expected.
Miranda was a completely different baby than Charlotte had been. Hermione had found the more fretful child quite bewildering. Harry and Ron were both blissfully happy over them all, though, and watching their beaming faces was the bright spot in her rather bleary waking hours. They were both so considerate of her - preparing food, looking after Charlotte, dealing with the unpleasantness that the press had brought with them...
Hermione tried to push away the sense of loneliness, of homesickness that she got when she thought about the way their relationship seemed to have changed. She wasn't the one who looked after them anymore. In fact, they were coping so well she occasionally felt just a touch unnecessary. And as much as she was relieved that neither man had even wondered out loud when she would be feeling sexual again, she couldn't help but think they just simply didn't find her attractive anymore.
It dawned on Hermione that Miranda wasn't with her. Her breasts were feeling rather full so she heaved herself up into a sitting position, without disturbing Charlotte who slept on, exhausted from a day spent racing about like a mad thing with her cousins. Muffled sounds floated down from the upper storey of the house, so Hermione got herself a glass of water in the sparkling kitchen -- no doubt Fleur had orchestrated the tidy up, in lieu of Molly's bustling presence -- and then plodded up the stairs to find her daughter and give her a feed.
\0/\0/\0/\0/\0/
"Shhh Ron! You'll wake her up." snorted a muffled voice.
"Here you go Angel," answered Ron, "She loves that hammock!"
There was silence for a few moments as Hermione approached the door of their bedroom, and then a burst of... was Ron giggling?
"Stop! Stop Harry!" The hissed voices continued. "Okayokayokay... you win!"
Hermione edged forward and peaked around the door from the darkened hallway. There was still just enough light coming in through the window so that she could see Harry sitting astride Ron, his wrists held in one of Harry's hands. The other hand was poised ready to strike.
"No more tickling! I give, I give!"
Harry flexed his fingers menacingly over Ron's bared stomach and chuckled. "So. I win, yeah?"
Suddenly Ron flipped Harry over, and he was sitting triumphantly on top of Harry's legs. He grabbed Harry's hands and held them to the mattress above his head.
A violent-- though silent-- battle ensued, with each one wrestling for supremacy. The duvet tangled at the foot of the bed before falling to the floor in a heap. Ron started to shake with laughter again, batting Harry's hands away as he struggled to regain his composure. He managed to catch them again, and held them still in the air in front of him.
"No, Harry. I don't think so." Hermione could hear the barely contained laughter bubbling under the hushed voice. "It seems that I shall be the victor. One little poke in the ribs and you'll be squealing like a girl."
Harry's legs thrashed about underneath Ron's larger weight, pulling the sheet loose from the corner and kicking several pillows off the bed altogether.
"What now, Weasley?" he taunted quietly, "Can't tickle me. If you let me go I'll get you."
Instead of answering, Ron leant forward and hooked his bare feet in over Harry's shins, stopping him from flipping them over again.
"You--" He managed a quick regrip on Harry's wrists, "--are all talk, Potter."
"Don't you think I can do it? Just try me..."
"You are all talk," interrupted Ron. "You want me to win. You like me on top."
Harry squirmed and grunted out something indistinguishable. There was a chuckle as Ron ground his hips down on Harry who let out a strangled whimper and tried once more to buck Ron off.
Ron stretched his legs out, down Harry's shins until their feet tangled together.
"You like me on top," repeated Ron in a husky whisper as he leant forward, hovering over Harry. "You love it when I own you." He brushed his lips over Harry's cheeks. "You. Love it." A gentle kiss teased Harry's mouth. Both boys were still for a moment, the evening light silhouetting them in tableau. The sound of ragged breathing filling the space around them.
Ron slowly lowered his chest down until he lay stretched out on top of Harry. They stared at each other for another long moment before their mouths crashed together.
Ron let go of his hands and wrapped his arms around the top of Harry's head, taking his weight on his elbows and knees. Harry's hands stroked up Ron's arms and around his shoulders and down his sides before tracing their way back the way they'd come. Again his hands followed that path - this time he tried to continue to Ron's stomach, but found his way blocked by Ron's own arms. Harry pulled his hands off and wriggled them in and under so he could insinuate his fingers up under the hem of Ron's T-shirt, playing with the top of his jeans, then patting around until his hands rested on Ron's arse.
Ron stopped kissing Harry for a moment and sat back, resting on his heels causing Harry's arms to drop to his side. Ron watched his hands slide down Harry's body, his fingertips lightly caressing down his legs and back up. Harry reached his hands out and Ron's fingers played with his for a moment before they clasped their hands together. Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Ron leant forward to kiss Harry again and they tumbled over until he was lying on his back. Their legs twisted around each other, and Ron's hands came to rest on Harry's sides, little fingers teasing the skin that showed above his belt.
Alone in the dark hallway, Hermione slid down the wall until she sat with her knees underneath her chin. Her breasts were tingling - full of milk not arousal - and she felt a droplet slide down from her nipple onto her stomach. There was none of the usual thrill and heat that accompanied watching her boys together.
She felt empty. She felt alone.
"They really don't need me," she whispered into the darkness. "They don't need me at all."
chapter two is here