Work Text:
Entwined
. . .
"But you are getting much better," Hermione said as she opened the front door to the flat and stepped in, pausing long enough to wipe her shoes off on the mat. The weather had turned nasty, and the rain felt like it was coming down sideways as the wind gusted, blowing unwanted moisture into her home.
"Right, so I will manage to keep half of my paycheck before giving the other half to Dan-The-Card-Shark-Ganger," Harry replied, making air quote motions at the name he had used for Hermione's father. "However, will I ever manage?" Harry asked, pausing to shake out the umbrella they had been sharing, before joining the witch inside and closing the door behind him.
Hermione slipped off her long coat. "All I am saying is that you are getting better. Who knows, you may even be able to beat him in another…," the young witch trailed off as she tried to think of a number that would sound believable and yet wouldn't hurt Harry's pride too much. It was a bit more difficult than she first thought it would be.
"Ten years?" Harry offered as he opened the cupboard next to the door and stored the umbrella before taking a hanger and turning back towards his girlfriend. Seeing the look of uncertainty on her face, "Fifteen?" Harry offered in a hopeful tone.
"Sure, let's go with that," Hermione replied as she handed her coat to Harry, who promptly hung it up before removing his own jacket. The tone of her voice belied the sincerity of her words. "I'm going to go make some tea," she said as she turned away and headed towards the kitchen.
"Brilliant," Harry replied. "I've got the fire," he added as he made his way over to the fireplace. A judicious use of wandless magic saw the ashes removed and fresh logs added. A quick Incendio and the logs were soon merrily blazing away in the fireplace, adding light and warmth to the room.
Hermione entered the kitchen and retrieved the kettle, a flat warming present from her Mum, before moving to the sink to fill it with water. Once done, she moved the kettle to the stove and set it to heating. While waiting for the water, Hermione gathered everything needed and placed them on a tray set aside for just that purpose. "Aren't I becoming rather domesticated?" she murmured to herself as she arranged the service on the tray.
The young witch cringed slightly at the thought of ever being called domesticated. "Not that there is anything wrong with being that way," she quickly added aloud. Molly Weasley seemed to be very happy being a stay-at-home wife and mother after all. Many of her Mum's friends were that way as well. It just never really appealed to Hermione herself.
Growing up, while most other girls her age played with dolls and pretended to get married and raise children, her own desires and dreams quickly veered toward academics and professional paths. "I blame Mum," Hermione told herself. As a child, she had always seen her mum reading books. Hermione had often thought her love of the written word was genetic because of this. It wasn't until she was older and borrowed one of her mum's books that she discovered they were what was politely referred to as bodice rippers.
Still, Emma Granger had somehow found time for both a career and a family. Hermione was very proud of her mum. Deep inside, she wanted very much to be just like her. "Not that I would ever tell her that," she clarified. Still, her mum often said she had married her best friend, and that was what made everything else possible. Hermione wanted that in her life, but she just wasn't sure how to make it happen.
"Damn you, Mum," Hermione cursed, only to quickly shoot a glance towards the kitchen door, fearful the wizard in the other room may have heard her. She had chided her friends all the time growing up for using colorful language. The last thing I need is for Harry to hear me using such language, she mused silently to herself.
It was an off-handed comment by her mum earlier in the day that had started the young witch down this particular train of thought. Once the thought had appeared, Hermione found herself to be like that of a dog with a really good bone. She just couldn't let it go. Waiting for the water to heat, the scene played out once again in her mind's eye.
"Harry, bet me a favor this hand?" Hermione asked in her best pleading tone, tossing in brown puppy dog eyes for good measure. She didn't use them often, not wanting Harry to become immune to them. The best weapons were those saved for special occasions after all, she thought to herself.
"Pass." The wizard replied without hesitation. As if sensing imminent defeat, the young man kept his eyes focused on the stack of cards he was shuffling, rather than looking at his girlfriend. "Isn't it bad enough that your father takes advantage of me? Now you have to as well, Mione?" The snicker from the other male in the room was politely ignored.
"But I want another massage," Hermione whined, trying to get Harry to agree to the wager. Given his skill at pinochle, it was a safe bet that she would be getting that favor before the night was through. Hermione just had to get him to agree to the wager.
"Love, if you want a massage, all you have to do is ask for one," Harry said after looking up and meeting Hermione's eyes, one hand rising to cup her cheek affectionately. "It's not like I'm going to pass up the chance to run my hands all over...," the young man suddenly coughed loudly, recalling where they were and who was with them. "Right, just ask," Harry hurriedly finished with pointedly not looking toward Hermione's father and returning to shuffling the cards.
"Oh, you guys are just too sweet!" Emma exclaimed as the younger couple blushed, looking anywhere but at the parents in the room. "You are like newlyweds or something," she added with a soft laugh.
"Sickeningly sweet," Dan Granger growled, though they all knew there was no bite to his bark.
"Oh, hush you," Emma chided, rubbing her husband's back affectionately with one hand while still watching the younger couple with them. They all knew that Dan was playing the part rather than being serious. The Grangers couldn't be happier with their daughter's choice of boyfriends.
"What?" Dan exclaimed defensively, looking towards his wife. "I'm a dentist. It's part of my profession to dislike anything sweet," he declared as if that explained it all.
Hermione turned to regard her father for a second. "What about me, Daddy?" she asked with an arched brow. "Aren't I sweet?"
Before Dan could formulate an appropriate response, Harry chimed in. "That's different," he offered. "The normal rules don't apply to you because you're special."
"Special?" Hermione parroted back. "In what way?" she enquired in an attempt to figure out his logic.
"In every way," Dan and Harry replied in unison before turning and sharing a cheeky grin.
The high-pitched whistle of the tea kettle drew the witch from her memories. "Newlyweds," Hermione sighed as she turned the stove off. "We've barely been dating for three years," she said as if reminding herself of that fact. But we've been together for much longer than that, her inner voice reminded her, to keep her honest.
How do I get Harry to ask me to marry him? she pondered as she prepared the tea. Did she want Harry to marry her? She had thought about that question throughout the rest of the day and had concluded that she couldn't see herself with anyone other than Harry. The real question was how to make it happen.
Finding no immediate answer to her problem, the young witch picked up the tray and carried it into the other room. Harry had the fire going nicely, and the room was already starting to warm up. The two curled up on the couch together. Last year, they replaced the old sofa with a modern, larger sectional one that offered more comfort. The large ottoman tucked into the corner of the couch provided plenty of room for them to lie down and snuggle.
The tea had been drunk, and the fire had burned low. The hour was growing late. "Hermione?" Harry whispered. The witch in question was currently on her side, using his arm as a pillow while he was spooned in behind her, keeping her warm. Harry leaned in and kissed the back of Hermione's head. "Love, why don't we go to bed?" he asked.
Hermione mumbled something and snuggled in a bit more. Harry grinned, finding his girlfriend to be extremely adorable when she was like this. "Sorry, Sleeping Beauty, I didn't catch that," he tried again with a grin.
"Comfy, don't wanna," Hermione mumbled again, a bit more distinct this time.
Well, this wouldn't be the first night we've slept out here, Harry thought to himself. Raising a hand, it was only a moment before two pillows and a down comforter came flying into the room. The problem was that one pillow hit him in the back, the other landed on top of Hermine's face, and the comforter came to rest covering both their heads and not much else.
A muffled, "Not really in the mood for a pillow fight, Harry," came from under the comforter in a tone that was both humorous and a touch surly.
Harry chuckled apologetically. "Sorry. I saw that going differently in my head," he replied as he attempted to wrangle the comforter into a position that would cover the two of them. "Go back to sleep, Love," Harry told her. Hermione rolled over and snuggled into his chest as he finally settled the comforter about them.
Hermione startled awake. The first thing she noticed was that Harry wasn't next to her, quickly followed by the fact that the room was a great deal brighter than it should be. A quick search revealed the missing wizard, seated on the floor, leaning against the ottoman. His back was towards her, and he seemed to be staring into the fire. Shifting around, Hermione lay down with her chin on Harry's shoulders as her arms slipped around him from behind. Feeling him flinch slightly at her touch, Hermione tilted her head to look questioningly at Harry. "Hey," she softly said.
"Hey," Harry replied, his eyes remaining on the fire, though his head tilted to rest against hers. "Sorry," he offered with a vague gesture towards the fireplace. "I was cold, and I didn't want to leave you alone."
"It's okay," Hermione replied before turning her head enough to leave a kiss on the side of his head. "You, okay?" she asked after several minutes of silence had passed. Her eyes dropped down to the floor and the snifter of Ogden's Finest sitting there. "How much have you had?"
"Not a drop," Harry replied. "I poured it, but that's all."
"Dream?" Hermione enquired. The wizard grunted in confirmation. "Want to talk about it?" she offered. She could tell that Harry was gathering his thoughts. This is the way, she thought to herself. Hermione knew the man better than anyone else, and so she knew that he would open up when he was ready. Nothing she did or said would hasten that process.
"Not really," was the response when it came. "It was the trip to the Department of Mysteries," Harry added to give her a reference.
"Sirius," Hermione said in a knowing tone.
"No. You," was all Harry replied with.
"Oh," was Hermione's soft reply. Not knowing what to say or do, an unusual occurrence for the witch, she did the only thing she could. Hermione tightened her arms around the man she loved. "I'm right here, you know. You didn't lose me, Harry," she gently reminded him.
Harry's hand came up and landed on hers, where it rested against his chest. Hermione's hand instantly opened, and her fingers entwined with his automatically. "I know," Harry replied, a small lopsided smile gracing his features. "A fact I am ever so grateful for, Ms. Granger."
"I have far too much time and energy invested in you, Mister Potter, to let you go," Hermione replied with her lips turning up in a slight grin. "It was a full-time job keeping you from dying or worse, being expelled." Rather than the laugh she was hoping for, Harry remained silent, only dropping his head to look at their hands.
It was a long moment before the wizard raised their joined hands, palms toward the fire so that their interlaced fingers were facing them. When Harry finally spoke, there was a heaviness to his tone. "This is us," his chin thrusted out slightly to indicate their joined hands. "Our lives have been entwined since we were eleven years old," he explained what he meant. "Through the good, the bad, the crazy, and the downright insane."
"Did you know that there are entire groups of plants that merge with other plants?" Harry continued. "The two are stronger together than they would be alone." Harry's head turned to the side far enough so that he could see Hermione. "I know I am far stronger for having you in my life, and I hope, in some way, I do the same for you."
"You do, Harry," Hermione was quick to assure him. Though uncertain where exactly Harry was going with this discussion, she nonetheless knew she was better for his presence in her life.
"Symbiosis," Harry said, looking towards their hands. "The living together of two dissimilar organisms," he provided to indicate that he knew what the word meant.
Hermione couldn't help herself. "That's a good word."
"I looked it up," Harry replied, a small smile cracking through his serious demeanor.
"Five points to Mister Potter," Hermione said approvingly. "Where are you going with this, Harry?" Hermione finally asked.
"Emma's comment today got me thinking about a lot of things," Harry began. "These last few years with you and your parents have shown me what I want for myself. I've lost track of the number of times I've heard Emma say she married her best friend. You are certainly that. I have long felt that the best part of me has always been you."
Hermione's heart thumped at his tender words. Secretly, she had always felt as though Harry was the best part of herself. The wizard made her whole in some way that nothing else could. It was only because she knew that Harry would always be there for her that she had been able to do the things she had. If everything fell apart, Hermione knew that Harry would still be there waiting for her to come home. It was what made him perfect in her eyes. "Are you saying you want to marry me, Harry?" Hermione softly asked, a note of disbelief in her tone.
"No. I don't know. Yes? If you want," Harry replied, his tone uncertain and questioning. "Whatever it will take to keep us entwined, Hermione," he said, turning to regard the witch next to him. "There were so many times where I could have lost you, and not just at the Ministry," Harry clarified. "Me without you is a phrase I never want to hear or say," he stated, turning to face her more. "What do you think, Hermione?"
"Well," Hermione started to reply before taking a slow breath to gather her thoughts. She could feel her heart racing and threatening to leap out of her chest at Harry's words. "I may have thought once or twice about our future together," she admitted hesitantly. In truth, the young witch had lost track of the number of times she had thought about them growing old together.
"Did you plan everything out?" Harry asked, fighting to keep a grin off his face.
"Maybe," was Hermione's slow response, turning to look at Harry and noting the humorous glint in his eyes. She was glad that she was able to draw Harry out of the serious funk he had been in when she first awoke.
"I'll wager there were lists involved," Harry commented in the most innocent of tones.
"There may or may not have been ink and parchment involved," Hermione stated. "If you keep interrupting me, Mr. Potter, you may never get the chance to know," she threatened, the corners of her lips rising as she fought to keep her own grin from appearing.
Harry hastily raised a hand and made a zipping motion over his lips. He next mimicked locking the zipper and tossing the key into the fire.
Hermione gave a nod of approval, her grin finally making an appearance. "Now, before I answer your question, I have two of my own." Seeing her boyfriend arch a brow in question, she continued. "Will you give me a massage tonight?"
Try as he might, Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the pleading look on Hermione's face. "You know, you could just admit that you want me to run my hands all over your body rather than masquerading it in such a flimsy excuse as a massage," Harry replied with a grin of his own.
"I am a proper woman," Hermione replied in a faux-haughty tone of voice. "I would never utter such words," she clarified before adding, "no matter how true they might be."
"I knew it!" Harry exclaimed with a cheeky grin. "I don't need a Proper Woman," Harry continued. "I just need you, Hermione. What is your second question?" he asked of the now blushing witch.
"Oh, umm, will you marry me, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Well, that depends," Harry replied, an evil grin spreading across his face.
Hermione, shocked that Harry hadn't answered with affirmation, could only ask, "On what?"
"Who gets to tell your father?" was Harry's reply.
-o0o-
"And that, my little love, is how your father and I fell in love and got married," Hermione said as she tucked in the petite child with curly brown hair and green eyes.
"Are you and Papa still sym, sybos…" the young girl tried to say the difficult word several times.
"Symbiosis," Hermione replied helpfully.
Lilly Luna Potter gave a short nod as if agreeing with her mother. "Are you and Papa symbiosis still?"
"Very much so," Hermione assured her daughter. "We are one and the same, as you can't have one without the other."
"What about me?" Lilly asked. "Am I symbiosis as well?"
"That's the best part," Hermione answered, reaching out and gently tapping the child on the tip of her tiny nose. "Your father and I are both entwined around you, my love. You will always be the center of our world."
"When I grow up, I want to be symbiosis too," Lilly said in a resolute tone of voice.
"Yes, well, let's get you all grown up first, and then we can discuss the matter." Leaning down, Hermione kissed the brow of her daughter. "Now off to slumberland with you," she instructed as she stood. After making certain the child was snuggled in, Hermione raised her wand, and soon the ceiling was covered with twinkling stars.
"What story did she ask for tonight?" Harry inquired when Hermione entered the living room.
"Symbiosis," Hermione replied as she took the seat next to him and snuggled in.
Harry slipped an arm around Hermione and pulled her in just a bit closer. "She does seem to favor that one."
"I think it's the fact that we're entwined around her," Hermione replied.
"More like wrapped around her finger," Harry added with a chuckle.
"Speak for yourself," Hermione replied with a bemused snort.
"Oh, don't think I haven't seen you giving into those puppy dog eyes of hers," Harry replied defensively.
"She's just too cute," Hermione admitted finally. "I want to say no, but just can't."
Harry just chuckled, having fallen for the puppy dog look more often than he'd care to admit. Harry felt that his daughter was channeling a bit of Sirius at times, though how the old Marauder was accomplishing that, Harry had no clue. "You know, one of these days you are going to have to tell her the truth."
"Can't we just take that to the grave with us?" Hermione whined softly at the thought.
"No," Harry replied. "She has the right to know," he pointed out.
"What, that her father won me in a card game?" Hermione barked in disbelief.
"When I asked your father for your hand, Hermione, I didn't mean for him to toss you in the pot as a bet," Harry said in his defense.
"Trust me, me either!" Hermione said.
The two sat in silence for a moment before Harry voiced, "You don't think that he…"
"No, Daddy wouldn't do that," Hermione stated, cutting off her husband before he could finish what he was going to say. "Cards are sacred to him," she added before reaching up and entwining her fingers in his, pulling Harry's arm down and around her shoulder in the process.
"So the one time I beat him in cards was when it really mattered," Harry said, a soft smile spreading across his face.
"Symbiosis, Love. There is no me without you," Hermione replied. "I think he knew that too."
"If I never win another game of cards, I can't help but feel that I have come out ahead," Harry said, leaning in and kissing the top of Hermione's head where it rested against his shoulder.
"Me too," Hermione assured him, "you've come out ahead," she added with amusement.
"That's it, no more massages for you!" Harry declared only for Hermione to turn and look at him with the same sad puppy dog eyes that his daughter used on him. "Damn," he said in resignation.