Chapter One: Coming to You

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters because if I did Harry would be with Hermione and not Ginny.

Rating: M for sexual scenes

Came up with this and wrote it on my phone. Harry/Hermione pairing as in harmony. Enjoy. Constructive criticism welcome.

WARNING: If you're a lover of Ron I will pre-warn you he's a prick in this story so leave now if you don't like Ron seen in a bad way.

Apologies for the previous neglect of grammar, it has now been checked and improved with a few small edits to the text.

Thanks to anyone who SilverLunarStar for Betaing this for me, Much appreciated.

XxxX

Twenty-five year old Harry James Potter had just got in after another exhausting day as an auror. He relaxed into one of his favourite places on the sofa, flicking his wand, sending red sparks towards the old stone fire place. They burst into life as the sparks hit the charred worn down coal, immediately emitting crackling red, yellow, and orange flames that instantly heated the room. The dark room that, at first glance, would seem battered and wrecked, now gave off a homely, inviting feel to it as the reflection from the fire lit the walls so they seemed to be touched with a soft red glow.

He put his feet up on the futon and relaxed back into the chair, sighing in relief as his body sunk into the cosy red sofa. He switched on the TV, which he still enjoyed watching even though he now lived a very magical prone life. He enjoyed checking in on what was happening in the muggle world and trying to spot if any muggle problems may be magic related.

Just as he started to relax while watching a muggle game show, there was a knock at the door. He sighed, his relaxed state now disturbed. Who could want him at this time? (It was 11:30PM, auror's worked late nights). He, being the nice guy, reluctantly got up out of his comfy seat, immediately feeling stiff, as he hadn't moved in a bit. Dragging his feet tiredly over the wooden panelled floor, he heard the occasional creek of a floor board as he approached the door.

As only he lived in the house, it always had an eerie silence. Nothing could be heard but the rain thundering down outside, its droplets cascading down the window making a trickling sound as it melted to the edge. Whoever wanted him must need him urgently to go out in this weather. He could almost hear the thunder waiting to fall.

When he got to his front door at Grimmauld Place, he opened the door with a tired look on his face. Black circles appeared under his eyes; he covered his mouth as he let out a small yawn. The blast of cold hit him hard as he only had boxers and a dressing gown on. When he saw who it was, though, his blank face turned into a smile; although that soon faded when he saw the expression on her face.

Twenty-five year old Hermione Jean Weasley stood soaking wet from head to toe, her curly hair now flattened as it stuck to her face, not carrying its usual spring and curliness. Rain drops dripped down her face, landing with a quiet splash on her clothes where they continued their journey downwards. She was cradling her two year old daughter in her arms. She had wrapped her in a blanket to protect her from the rain, but the blanket now looked soaked, its usual light pink took on a much darker colour. Though it was hard to see in the dark as Harry's eyes had to get adjusted to it, droplets of water had stuck to the blanket which must have made it very cold for the little toddler. Hermione had bitten her lip to keep herself together, but when she saw Harry, she looked ready to come apart.

When Harry saw the condition the mother and child were in, he went into auto pilot. Before Hermione could say anything, he ushered them inside, feeling the extent of how cold they were as they brushed past his skin, making his body hair stand up. The usual cry of "traitors and mud bloods disturb the house of Black" came from Sirius' mother's painting, but as quick as the voice had come, it had been silenced. It had become second nature to Harry to give his wand a small flick, shutting the curtains on the painting and silencing the occupant.

Seeing Hermione shiver now, he quickly turned and ran upstairs to fetch a quilt cover and some of his clothes for them to wear. When he came back, Harry saw Hermione rocking her daughter back and forth, trying to silence her cries. He could see a few loose tears already falling from her eyes and down her soft, delicate white cheeks. Despite this, Hermione tried to smile for her daughter's sake.

Harry watched her for a few seconds and couldn't help but smile at her. She had taken so naturally to being a mother; he remembered how she looked after him and Ron during their search for the Horcruxes. The memory of Ron brought him crashing back down to earth. He wished it was his daughter she was cradling right now, but it wasn't and that was evident by her bright soft ginger hair that only just covered her head. She was Ron's and the mother cradling her was his wife.

Hermione looked towards the staircase, wondering what was taking so long. When she spotted Harry watching her, she quickly looked back down to her daughter, who had gone into a deep slumber; she was also trying to hide her blush.

Harry came over to her with the blankets and clothes, handing them to Hermione who took them. "You can use my room to change, then, if you want, you can put Rosie in my bed and come back down, if you like," he said, knowing she would.

Hermione just nodded and walked off up the dark staircase.

Harry hadn't changed much in all the years he'd lived there. He had only more or less added a bit of furniture. This was Sirius' house and everything in it, from the dark staircases to the olden styled furniture, reminded him of him and he was determined to keep those memories preserved.

While she was busy changing, Harry tried to get the house tidied for Hermione. While Harry was busy fluffing some cushions on the sofa by magic, Hermione walked back into the living room. Harry looked up and almost lost control of the cushion he was levitating. He couldn't believe how stunning and, dare he say, sexy she looked in his blue shirt that was way too big for her and a pair of his pyjama pants that were now coming down to her hips due to the size difference. For a moment Harry felt like he couldn't breathe, but he quickly reminded himself, She's Ron's wife, she's Ron's wife, stop staring, but he needn't have worried. Hermione wasn't looking at him; she was looking at the ground and Harry could hear the distinct sounds of whimpering. This brought Harry back to reality as he quickly strode over to her and embraced her, holding her close to him, stroking her back and hair to soothe her.

Harry knew Hermione would come running to him if she was upset, but he would have to get the reason of what had caused it out of her. It was usually always the same reason, though.

When she calmed down, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and looked up at him. "Can I have a drink please?" she asked.

He nodded and made his way over to the kitchen while Hermione took a seat on the sofa. Harry suddenly felt wide awake now, despite his lack of sleep due to working. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Firewhisky, if you have any," she replied.

Harry knew she must be upset as Hermione hardly ever drank. He grabbed a half-full bottle of firewhisky and two glasses; after performing a quick cleaning spell, he made his way back to the living room. He poured the firewhisky into the two glasses and sat down next to Hermione, taking a long gulp of his drink, indulging in the familiar warm sensation it was having on his throat.

Hermione took her second long gulp when she began, "Oh Harry, it was horrible; he was so drunk that a woman who was with him had to help him across the front door." Harry didn't need to ask who she meant, as he already knew. Hermione continued, the alcohol giving her a newfound confidence, "Then, when I tried to help him into bed, he pushed me away, calling me a slag and saying I never put out. I knew it was the alcohol talking, but it still hurt; he then tried to go to Rose's room, but I wouldn't let him. I didn't want her to have to see her father in this state. Anyway," she hiccupped. "He got mad and he…" Hermione couldn't continue; she just covered her face and started to shed tears again.

Harry reached over and took her into his arms, as he had done many times before, when Hermione had come crying to him over how Ron treated her. Every time, just like now, he had held her close, making gentle shushing sounds to calm her down. When she had calmed down a bit, Harry asked, "What did he do to you this time, Hermione?"

Hermione said, in a tattered voiced, "I should have let his lady friend in because she would have given him more pleasure than his…" Hermione found very hard to form the next words and, when Harry heard them, he couldn't blame her, "Mud…blood wife did." Harry gasped, but Hermione continued. She knew it had to come out and she would rather get it all out in one go. "Then, he…he…" Hermione started to tremble, her face one of complete fear. "He…tried to forcefully make me s…suck him off and mo…re; he hu…rt me. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't sto…op; he had me in a binding charm, knowing I couldn't reach my wand. He finally passed out; the charm broke, so I grabbed Rose and came here. I'm sorry we disturbed you, I just didn't know where else to go. I knew Molly wouldn't believe her perfect son would do anything like that; she wouldn't believe she had raised such a monster fuelled by alcohol…" At this point Hermione broke down, her head falling into her lap and her hands covering her face, tears were pouring out from the cracks in her fingers like a mini waterfall or a dam breaking open.

Harry was speechless. He had heard of some of the stuff Ron did, but never had it been this bad. Although Ron was his best friend, he hated his behaviour sometimes. He had this beautiful, amazing wife and an adorably delightful, happy daughter, yet he took that for granted. People said Ron always wanted what Harry had, but what Ron didn't realise was that Harry wanted just what Ron had. He wanted Hermione, the girl he had loved since his second year of Hogwarts, and her daughter to be his. He couldn't believe Ron couldn't see how great he had it and, yet, he didn't seem to care. Since Rose had been born, he got kicked off the Chudley Cannons reserve team and auror training for immaturity and the disrespect of females. All he wanted to do was go out drinking every night, then come home with random women and abuse his wife. The sad part about it was that, because Hermione loved him so much, she took everything he threw at her and always forgave him.

Harry was so angry at the moment that he felt like apparating around there and trying to physically knock some sense into Ron, but he knew right now Hermione was the one who needed him. It wouldn't be much help hurting Ron if he was drunk and passed out either.

Harry wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her hair, secretly smelling it, noting it had a sweet strawberry scent. He gently stroked her arm. "Oh Hermione," he sighed. "Why do you put up with it? And always forgive him when he keeps doing this to you?"

Hermione wiped her eyes again, trying to regain her voice; when she stopped crying enough to talk, she said, in a barely audible voice, "For Rose."

Harry sighed again. Ron was so funny with his daughter, one minute he would be all fatherly then, the next, he would act like she didn't exist. It had been that way since halfway through Hermione's pregnancy.

Hermione spoke again, a fresh set of tears getting ready to fall, "But even now I'm starting to think that's not enough to stay; the other day he took her to The Leaky Cauldron with him, got drunk and into a fight. I only found out when Hannah owled me telling me; I was fuming. Poor little Rosie was frozen in shock and almost got hurt, apparently trying to stop the man and Ron from fighting. Even she was finding it hard to forgive him for that and sometimes he talks to her like she's an adult, swearing at her, calling her names when she's done nothing wrong. When he's drunk, of course, but at other times, in the short periods that he's sober he acts like such a great father, reading to her in bed, singing to her, helping me wash, dress and feed her. But those happy times are becoming less and less often now, as he still hasn't got a job, and makes no attempt to get one. He only wants to laze around the flat and drink, which means I have to provide all the funds for us and Rose, which is so hard at times and means I have to leave her with him. I'm now getting scared to do that, but I guess that's my life and I just have to deal with it."

At this, Hermione took her head back and lay back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

Harry, who had listened intently and taken everything in, was in disbelief now. He knew this wasn't how she should be treated and she needed to know that; he was going to tell her. "Hermione don't you DARE for one second think you should be treated like that. You deserve a man who won't sleep because he wants to keep looking upon your beauty, a man who will spend his whole life trying to make you as happy as you make him, one who would stay home and not go out drinking every night, one who wants for the first thing he sees and hears in the morning to be you, one who considers your needs and not just his, one who would be a truly amazing father to Rosie all the time, who will be a sensible role model for her, one who could make you smile after a hard day's work, one who would make you breakfast in bed just because he loves you and one who would put in the work to provide for you and Rosie. Hermione you need a man who truly loves you unconditionally and shows you and tells you every chance he gets every day of your life."

Hermione was truly flattered; she didn't know what to say. Harry had spoken what her heart wanted for the past eight years, but could never have because of one problem. "Harry, as much as I would love that, I don't know anyone like that, at least not anyone who would want me. Ron was the only one who wanted me and look how that turned out."

Harry shook his head in frustration; couldn't she see what he was trying to hint at? Did he have to tell her straight out? He knew he couldn't because he knew she'd never feel the same way; also, he had a job that required him to go out every day or night with the chance of not returning. Though, if he died, didn't she as his best friend deserve to know how he felt? She did.

Harry took a deep breath and said very bravely and quietly, being barely audible, as he had his head down to hide an embarrassed blush. He couldn't bear to look at her, in fear of rejection. "I know someone."

"You do?" she said looking at him confused wondering why he wouldn't look at her.

He just nodded still not looking up at her.

"Who?" she asked, still very confused, but curious now.

"I…I can't tell you," Harry said. He knew he was in dangerous waters now and, at the end of the day, she was still Ron's wife. If she freaked out on him, then he couldn't bear to lose or damage their friendship. She was his first and best friend; they had been through so much together that he couldn't bear to lose her. He knew he would be dead by now if it weren't for her.

"Harry! There's no way you can say something like that then not tell me! It's just not fair!" she said in disbelief.

"Life's never fair Hermione, I should know," he said sadly while taking another gulp of firewhisky, letting it be his only comfort for what he had just almost done.

Thirty minutes later, Harry and Hermione had drunk the rest of the firewhisky and Hermione, who wasn't as used to drinking as Harry, was getting very drunk.

They continued to talk, but Hermione, it seemed, had lost control of her speech as she gave Harry a playful crushing hug that knocked him to the ground. She slurred, now almost on top of him. "You know Harry I always liked you better than Ron. I always wanted to shag you because Ron only cares about his release, but Harry can't know, it's a seecrett," she said the last part whispering and putting a finger to her lips. "So no telling," she laughed.

She then realised what she'd just said. "Ooppsies," she laughed, but Harry was frozen on the spot. He quickly jumped up, knocking Hermione to the ground and rushed off to the kitchen.

"Arrrryyyy, where you going?" she continued to slur, not fully aware of what she had just done.

Harry's breathing had increased and he fought to concentrate through the tipsy effects that the firewhisky was having on him to search for a particular book. When he found it, he quickly skimmed the book for the right page, using his wand to summon a cauldron and all the right ingredients, mixing them all together in the right proportions. Luckily, he had made this potion so often while more drunk than he was now that it didn't put him off. He wasn't about to ask a drunk Hermione if she loved him and take advantage of her in her delicate state. When he finished, he took a gulp of the potion and immediately felt concentrated and focused. He brought Hermione the potion and let her take some.

She twitched for a minute and blinked then opened her eyes looking around confused. "H…Harry? What happened?" she asked still a little dazed.

Harry had never lied to Hermione and wasn't about to start now "You drank too much firewhisky and…" he hesitated.

"What did I do Harry?" she asked now concerned, her concentration had now returned to normal.

"You told me something you shouldn't have and now I don't know whether I should tell you a reply to it, but I will not! Take advantage of a drunken woman."

Hermione was anything but stupid; she had plenty of experience in solving riddles and clues to know just what Harry was talking about. She gasped, her hands flung to her mouth; she looked like she was going to cry again.

"Hermione, please don't cry. I…I feel the same way, but I never told you because I thought you were into Ron. I did think about telling you when Ron left while we were camping in the Forest of Dean, but I just couldn't bring myself too because you were so upset about Ron leaving. I could tell you had strong feelings for him. Then there was the incident with the Horcrux, and I could tell Ron felt the same way as you did for him. So I thought handing you over to Ron was the right thing to do, but now I'm starting to regret that decision." Harry finally took a deep breath "I'll understand if you hate me and I'll go get Rosie for you so you can rid yourself of me." Now Harry was the one that wanted to cry (he rarely ever cried), but he knew as soon as Hermione left he would.

"You did that for me?" she asked looking up at him talking in barely a whisper, but Harry still heard her along with the shock in her voice.

"Yeah," Harry said more to the floor than her; he refused to let her see how helpless he looked right now. For a second Harry continued to walk, but then realised he wasn't actually making any progress. His legs were moving but he wasn't going anywhere. Damn Hermione and her skill at unspoken spells he thought knowing he was truly defenceless now because he wouldn't hurt Hermione ever, not physically, magically or emotionally, though he feared he just had done the last one.

She got up slowly and descended towards him; she wasn't rushing as he wasn't going anywhere. Hermione walked over to face him, a look of determination on her face, after a minute she spoke, "So now that you finally know, I can finally do what I've always dreamed of."

Harry gave her a very confused look, but was soon silenced. His feet became still as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face towards hers taking him into a kiss that sent fireworks off in each other's bodies. Both were overcome by a sudden flutter in their stomachs and wave after wave of warmth flowed through them. They knew they had always loved each other, but never thought it would feel this right, this real.

When they had a need for air, Hermione slowly pulled back, her eyes gently fluttered open. Her lips still tingled, but she felt a sudden sadness at the absence of his mouth on hers. She then did the most peculiar thing. She cried.

Harry looked beyond hurt. "Was I really that bad?" he asked, his face now completely crestfallen.

Hermione shook her head, smiling, but still letting the tears dribble down her soft cheeks.

"Then why are you crying?" Harry asked, confused, but gently wiped the tears away as they fell, delicately brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

Hermione closed her eyes for a second; basking in his glorious tender touch and the effect it had on her. When she reopened them, she looked straight into his piercing green ones, feeling as if she could get lost in them as she has many times before. "I was crying because I was thinking about all the time we could have been together these last ten or so years, perhaps, and that, the little girl asleep in your bed could have been your daughter because I know you would make one heck of a better father than Ron is."

Harry didn't have to think as the words just flowed out of his mouth. "If I had the chance, I would bring that little girl up as my own regardless that she was Ron's or not; she needs a dad to love her and I do, I love her as much as I love you."

"What if I gave you that chance?" She smirked, but in a shy manor, almost afraid of what he was going to say.

"Then I'd spend my whole life repaying you," he said as his lips descended on hers once again. Hermione gladly responded. As they kissed, this time it became deeper and more passionate as her tongue glided across his lips begging for entry in which Harry gladly granted her.

His tongue searched the contours of this new, previously forbidden, zone. It scoured every corner, caressed every area it touched which caused Harry to drown a soft moan that elicited from her. Hermione, on the other hand was doing her own exploring which Harry fully appreciated.

Hermione whispered, "Muffliato."

Harry couldn't help laughing at this, as a spell she had so fondly disapproved of previously she was now using herself.

"What?" Hermione asked, grinning shyly.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head and bringing her back into a soft kiss.

As they're kissing, they slowly stumbled back to the sofa, each not letting go of the other, and trying to make up for eight years of lost time in that kiss. Harry's hands were tangled in her hair as he softly stroked it.

Her hands were placed firmly upon his back, pulling him ever closer. Harry broke away to lower Hermione to the sofa so she lay on her back. His head was tucked into her shoulder, in which she took the opportunity to whisper in his ear, her hot breath making him shiver in delight, "Love me."

Harry knew what she meant, but smirked at her and said, "I always have."

She giggled; her voice was like an angel speaking to his soul.

Hermione could feel the effect she was having on Harry rubbing against her leg; it sent tingles to that area, making her arch into him which made him let out a groan.

As they continued, she noticed he made no attempt to remove any of her clothes or touch her anywhere except her back and waist. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his kisses down her neck, but whenever he came anywhere near her chest he stopped and went back to her mouth.

Hermione's mind was racing. Didn't he understand what love me meant? Or didn't he like my body, or was he afraid? Surely he had experience in this area, or maybe he was just waiting for her to make the first move. Yeah, that must be it, she thought. Hermione slowly, but bravely, stroked her hand across his chest gently, pushing the soft fabric aside to reveal his muscular chest.

His response was almost instantaneous as he held her closer to him, pressing his torso closer into her pants, sucking especially hard on a particular sweet spot that Hermione was previously unaware that she had. She moaned and closed her eyes, indulging in the wonders Harry's mouth was inflicting on her.

Hermione pushed the robe off of Harry completely, revealing him now only clothed in his boxers. Hermione looked down and smirked at the evident bulge.

Now it was Harry's turn to be shy. This was his best friend and, in all the years they had known each other, Harry had never let her see him like this. He usually didn't care what the women he went with thought of his body, but with Hermione, she was different. With her, he was conscious of what she thought of him, but by the dreamy look she was giving him as she checked him out, he needn't have worried.

Especially when she licked her lips. Oh God did this woman realise the things she was doing to him? he thought.

"Shall we go to a guest room?" she asked, still stroking his chest hair and rolling her fingers around his nipples which made Harry nod in an urgent way. With that, he picked her up bridal style and apparated them to a very lovely decorated guest room that he usually retreated to get some sleep and alone time after he had been with a girl who he often left in his bed to sleep. He had apparated onto the bed, placing Hermione below him; he took a moment to just stare at her.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, thinking she might have something on her face.

Harry just shook his head and said, "You truly are beautiful." Hermione blushed at this and turned to look away, but he stopped her by cupping her face and turning her back towards him. "Hermione, I meant it when I said I loved you, even if you don't love me, I will always love you."

Hermione wanted to cry at this point. She didn't know whether she should say it back; she definitely loved him, but she felt guilty saying it while she was still with Ron.

As if reading her thoughts, Harry gave her a reassuring smile, "Don't worry about Ron. Just for tonight, I want to be the only man on your mind."

Hermione nodded and reached up and pulled Harry's top from over her head. When she emerged she saw Harry staring at her, his mouth hanging open, almost drooling, his pants getting tighter and tighter. This made Hermione smirk. She took one of Harry's hands and placed it so it cupped one of her breasts; she felt his hand trembling but she took that as a good sign.

"Touch me Harry," she whispered not taking her gaze away from his "Ron never does, but I know you're different," she said shyly.

Harry nodded staring at his hand on her breast. It feels so soft, he thought, desperate to use his hands and mouth on them more. He wanted to worship her, show her just how truly beautiful she was and what she was missing from the true love of a man. "Where?" he asked nervously.

"Everywhere," she said, taking his other hand, guiding it down her stomach and down…there. Harry almost couldn't breathe; he had never seen this side of Hermione before, but he loved it!

He couldn't take the temptation any longer. He pushed her back against the pillows, making a beeline for her now exposed chest, kissing his way around her breast. She moaned, but in frustration because of where she wanted his mouth. She kept trying to move her nipple into his mouth, but he kept avoiding it.

She knew he was only teasing her, but it was frustrating as his mouth was so warm and delightful that she could only dream of the sensations it would erupt in her. When he finally took her in his mouth, she arched into him, moaning in relief, throwing her head back against the pillows. She was right, Harry wasn't Ron, he was ten times better!

Harry pulled off her pants, revealing a pair of his green boxers that matched his eyes. They were soon gone as well, Hermione nearly fainted in pleasure when Harry slipped two fingers into her and began moving. Sure she had masturbated, but no man had ever done this to her before so she couldn't believe how good it felt. "Ha…arryy, oh Merlin Harry, please take me," she said this as she dragged his boxers down and started to stroke his shaft up and down, noting that he was fully erect and a lot broader than Ron.

Harry moaned. Ron sure is one lucky man, he thought, to get this kind of treatment from a woman this amazing. He couldn't believe Ron didn't appreciate that. Didn't he know Hermione was a goddess in bed? He put it to the back of his mind while he positioned himself between Hermione's legs. He held himself up with his elbows and used one hand to cup her face while she had one hand on his chest and the other tangled in his shoulder length black hair that was as messy, as it usually was. He stared at her for a minute. "I promise I won't hurt you," he said stroking her chin with his thumb.

She smiled back at him. "You've never hurt me Harry; I trust you with my life and my body."

Harry kept his eyes focused on hers as he said, "I love you Mione," then thrust into her in one quick thrust.

Both of them gasped at how complete and amazing it felt. "I love you too Harry," Hermione said so quietly Harry barely heard her. He took her into a loving kiss, pouring his heart into it as he thrust with a slow rhythm trying to make it last as long as possible.

He couldn't believe how good this felt, he had always thought sex was sex and nothing more except maybe one time with Ginny, but this…this felt different. He had never felt more connected with someone so physically and emotionally. It was as if the whole world had vanished around him and only he and Hermione were left. This wasn't just sex anymore, this was making true love, and even Harry was completely overwhelmed by this. He didn't think he could hold on much longer, even at this slow pace. He had to delay it. He wanted to make her feel what he was feeling.

He suddenly flipped their positions so Hermione was on top. Hermione gasped at the new depth of which she was in him and the places he touched. She began to gyrate against him; he met her thrust for thrust as she felt the familiar (from a vibrator) feeling bubbling in her stomach and making its way downwards.

Harry soon felt her cum, his head fell back at the feeling, gripping the bed covers, still trying to hold back his own release.

Just as Hermione was relaxing and starting to stop shuddering from the intense waves of pleasure crashing over her, Harry flipped her over, but this time she grinned knowing what was coming.

Harry thrust and thrust with her meeting him; he put everything into it, all his emotions, all his feelings, all of him.

Hermione soon felt another wave descending downwards; she prepared herself as Harry whispered into her ear through ragged breaths and mass panting, "Cum for me baby."

"Only for you," she whispered back which made him smile and take her into another searing kiss. He stimulated her more to bring her over the edge. This did its job as she came around him; he thrust a few more times, before he reached his own peak of ecstasy. Both were panting each other's names over and over, holding on to each other for dear life.

It was official, even though she didn't have much to compare him to; Harry Potter was a sex god!

They cuddled up exhausted and fell asleep, both with huge grins on their faces. This was truly a night they would never forget.

The next morning, Hermione didn't want to wake up. She had experienced the best night of her life and she was afraid it might have only been a dream. Hermione was content to stay in bed all day, taking in large scents of him that filled the bed from their previous occupation last night. With her eyes closed, her senses were heightened, so she could truly remember his scent, his sweat, and him in essence.

Hermione only woke up when she heard her daughter's happy squeal. She sighed and opened her eyes, immediately blinded by the incoming sunlight. She squinted and turned away from the window to see an empty space beside her. She knew where he was and that only increased her want for him to have been her little princess's king.

As suspected, she walked in to the kitchen to find Harry pulling funny faces and performing simple spells to the delight of two year old Rose Weasley while she tried to eat some cereal, but kept spilling the milk down her chin from laughing at her silly uncle.

She noted Harry had sat Rose on a box then placed a cushion on top so she could reach the table.

Rose Weasley was used to waking up in her Uncle Harry's house, but she never before woke up alone or got to see Harry in the morning as her and her mum usually left before he got up or he had already left. But she loved her Uncle Harry; he was like a second daddy to her and she was ashamed for thinking it, but sometimes she wished her mummy would marry Uncle Harry so Harry could be her daddy. She was still too young and had been too badly scarred by Ron to understand that you can't just change who your daddy is, as much as Harry, Hermione and Rose would have liked.

When Harry saw her he grinned and she smiled back. She had never woken up in a better mood before.

"Mamaaaaaaa," Rose said as she jumped down from her seat and ran towards her mum.

Hermione noted Harry had even gotten her changed into her now dry and ironed pyjamas.

She had picked something up off the table, in order to hand it to mum, when she was in her arms hugging her. "Morning mama," she said snuggling up to Hermione.

"Morning my little princess," she said, kissing her daughters head and stroking her hair.

Harry watched the scene in awe. She was such a brilliant mother, he thought. She had raised Rose so well despite what they had to go through.

"Daddy owled us mama," Rose said, handing Hermione the piece of parchment.

Harry and Hermione froze at this, both staring at the letter.

"Thank you Rosie," she said as she slowly tore off the seal.

The letter was scruffy and only had one sentence on it,

'I know where you are, get home now!'

Ron

Hermione paled, her mind racing. He couldn't possibly know, could he?

She ran to the guest room that she had occupied the night before. She quickly changed back into her clothes and appeared back in the kitchen to a shocked Harry and Rose. She rushed to pick her daughter up. Harry was very shocked and confused with Hermione's actions. When she turned around, he saw a look of sheer terror plastered across her face, and tried to wordlessly convey what was happening. She dropped the note on the table and apparated.

Harry watched them go, knowing she would go back to him, his supposed best friend whose wife he had slept with the night before. He just couldn't understand why she would go back.

This time, however, he wasn't sure he could just stay out of it and watch the woman he loved… He didn't even want to imagine what was going to happen to her; all he did was stare at the words written in black ink across the parchment.

I'll say this is completed but if fans want another chapter to see if Harry finally gets the girl of his dreams then I'd be happy to write it, please review and tell me. I think this turned out good.

If there is another chapter it will be called, Going back to him.

So is it TBC or The End, you decide.