Obliviate

Eighteen

            When Harry returned to Grimmuald that evening he finished the remaining seven vials quickly, watching with rapt attention to Rosalee’s first steps, first words and every birthday he missed. Every birthday Hermione took Rosalee to Godric’s hollow cemetery where she would sing happy birthday to Rosalee on his parent’s grave. She would include a gift labeled “from Daddy.” Explaining that if daddy could be there, he would be. After every memory he felt his anger towards Hermione ebb. She had somehow managed to include him without including him, effectively making it so Rosalee never hated him for missing.

            That’s how he found himself, sitting in the kitchen of the burrow, Molly wringing her hands nervously as she sat across from him. “I’m sorry I was angry with you.” Harry said with a sigh. Molly shook her head, reaching across the table for his hands. “No dear, you had every right to be angry with me. With all of us.” She glanced at Arthur who was nodding his head in agreement. “I can’t speak for everyone, but I will say that for Arthur and I, it was a shock just as much to us as it was to you. We just didn’t feel it was our place to get into that. It was between you and Hermione.” Harry sighed “It’s just been a lot to take in.” Molly nodded; he hadn’t realized how much truth there was to that simple statement. “I hate her.” He whispered as he squeezed Molly’s hands. “I hate her for what she did to me. I hate her for taking away what potentially could have been. I hate her for ripping the most beautiful experiences of my life out of my grasp.” He trembled as he spoke, “I hate her because watching the memories, seeing Rosalee, it makes it harder to stay mad and I fucking want to stay mad.” Molly held tight to his hands but stayed quiet.

            Molly sighed after a moment, finally letting go of his hands and sitting back in her chair. “The two of you were always something special. It was hard to ignore.” She began, “When you were together, it was like you had this light around you. I told Ron that nothing would ever come of his crush, she had already been claimed. Same with Ginny.” She swallowed hard, smiling a shaky smile. “When Ginny came to me, saying that you two had finally gotten together, I’d told her it was a bad idea, but Ginerva was always stubborn and had to go about things her way.” Harry smiled nodding slightly. “I don’t think Hermione took away any potential, looking at you now, even with the anger, it’s still there. You missed out on Rosalee yes, but there is plenty of time to make up for it my dear.”

            Harry left the burrow still muddled with confusion. He avoided Grimmuald that night, deciding to instead stay at his flat in Hogwarts. He’d spent the last several hours-hell the last several days going back and forth between love and hate. A part of him understood her actions. Not entirely, not in the sense where he thought ‘yes that makes perfect sense,’ but in the sense that he understood that to her it made sense. She thought she was doing the right thing, however misguided it was. Harry knew, looking at Rosalee, that he wanted that. He wanted to come home to them both every night, he wanted to be there as both he and Hermione put their daughter to bed, but how could he want those things so desperately and still hold so much mistrust.

            Standing in the quiet, empty room Harry’s chest felt tight and his throat hurt, he could barely breathe normally. Harry was wavering, he felt it. The line between love and hate was beginning to blur the way it had started to since he found out about the lies. The conflict was rolling through his stomach and his body trembled as he clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Harry?” He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice, silently pleading both that he was imagining it, and that he wasn’t. “I knocked and your door was propped open, I came to see if we could talk.” She was there, standing behind him. Her scent filling the space around them. “Harry? Are you alright?” There was an edge of worry to her voice as she took a tentative step closer. He could feel her there, just an arm's length behind him.

           Harry spun unable to avoid her a moment longer. She let out a squeak of surprise as his mouth landed almost painfully on hers. He kissed her, hard. His lips nearly punishing hers as he poured every feeling of love and hate into it. Harry leaned down, never breaking the kiss as he gripped her thighs, hoisting her up as she wrapped her arms around him, threading her hands into his hair. He slammed them into the door, pressing her back up against the wood as she groaned into his mouth.

            Harry’s hand came up to her throat, his thumb skimming her jaw before tilting her chin up where he hungrily devoured her neck with his mouth. She was like putty in his hands, panting as her head lulled back against the door. “Tell me to stop Hermione.” He whispered huskily against her skin. “Tell me to stop or I won’t be able to.” He felt himself hard, sitting flush with her center and knew, if she didn’t say the words, he was going to cave. He craved her, there was no sense in denying that he always had. “Please…” She whispered, her voice beautifully breathless as it brushed against his burning skin. “Please what?” He brought his mouth back to hers, desperate to taste more of her. “Don’t stop Harry.” She mumbled against his mouth. He growled, reaching between them and shoving her skirt up around her hips before yanking his trousers open. He reached up, his hand sliding along her thigh before shoving her knickers aside, “Do you want this Hermione?” He asked, the fog clearing just enough.

            Harry looking up, catching her eyes and his heart lurched, her pupils were blown wide, filled with desire. She nodded, “Yes…I want this.” At her confirmation he touched her, she was warm, wet and ready. There was nothing gentle or easy about the way he slammed into her, her mouth dropping open in a sigh of relief. “Oh…” She groaned. Harry stilled, needing a moment for them both to adjust. “Fuck…you feel so good.” He said between clenched teeth. He trembled as she clenched around him. Hermione moaned, the sound urging Harry to move. His thrusts began steadily as she arched into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The louder she moaned, the faster Harry moved.

            Harry spun them away from the door, moving while still connected to her before falling onto the bed. He kissed her, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip and his tongue tracing her mouth. Finally, he reached between them, finding her clit as he began to thrust into her again. Her sounds, got louder as he pounded into her. “Yes Harry! Please!” She screamed; her legs trembled as her pleasure grew. “Harry please…. I’m close. “She begged, clutching his arms and digging her nails into his skin. Just as she tipped over the edge, Harry felt his own release and his mouth frantically sought out hers.

            They laid together, as he softened inside of her. Hermione was trembling beneath him. “I…” Harry started, pulling out and backing away avoiding her gaze and tucking himself back into his trousers. “I’m sorry Hermione, I got carried away.” He muttered an apology as the embarrassment crept up his neck. “You’re sorry?” She asked, her voice quiet and broken from behind him. He sighed before turning around and suddenly he wished he hadn’t. Her hair was a mess and her lips swollen from kissing him. She looked delicious and he wanted to bury himself in her all over again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen…it… I mean to say…I think…” He stuttered as she stood up, adjusting her clothes. “It must have been all the memories is all.” She offered sadly. Harry nodded numbly, unsure of where they stood. “Of course. Consider it forgotten and forgiven.” She said with a shaky smile. Harry wasn’t sure if she meant the jab to hurt him, but it did. His hand moved, and she stepped back out of his reach. “I just came by to speak to you about Rosalee.” Harry nodded, “Yes, right, of course.” Hermione moved, distancing herself from the bed and moving towards the adjoining sitting room. Whereas her room was more like a two-bedroom flat, Harry’s was like a studio. She avoided looking at the bed, or the door for that matter and smoothed down her hair. “Rosalee would like to spend the weekend with you. I think perhaps that’s a good idea.” She offered and Harry’s heart leapt at the suggestion. “I would love that.” He said with a nod. “I think I’m going to leave…” She said, turning away from him. “Leave?” The thought of her leaving made his stomach flop uneasily. “Yes…I think I need some distance this weekend. I’m also going to look for new employment…us…being here. I can’t do it Harry. Its too much.” He watches as the tears roll down her cheek. “I can’t be here with you. It’s just…it's too much.” Harry opens his mouth, but she shakes her head, “Please Harry. It’s not your fault, it’s entirely my own. Expecting you to forgive me…” She shook her head, cutting off her own sentence before taking the doorknob in her hand.

            Harry felt the panic bubble over before he could stop it. “You can’t leave. When things get to be too much for you Hermione, you can’t just bloody obliviate someone and leave.” He bit out harshly, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t understand what they were, if anything. He was angry, she had lied. She had done all of this, but he was still hopelessly, and madly in love with her. Hermione flinched as if he had swatted at her. “I should go.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry Harry.” Harry sighed, rubbing his face in frustration. “No, Hermione wait…” But she was gone.