Chapter Text
11 June 2004
“Professor Potter, what are you doing back in the castle? Don’t you have a trip to start?”
Harry lifted his head up and looked to the doorway of his office and smiled at his former head of house turned boss. The Scottish witch wore black robes with violet trim, a colour that she wore often. Harry had wondered more than once if it was a homage to her predecessor. Her hair had more gray in it than he remembered from years ago but was still in the same bun. “Yes headmistress but it seems my traveling companion will not be ready for a couple of hours. I figured I would use the time to make sure I had everything here squared away for the summer.”
Headmistress McGonagall stepped into the room and gave it a quick once over, noticing the clear desktop with three brown frames sitting on the corner and organized books on the shelves that lined the wall behind the desk, before a small smile settled on her face. “It’s nice to see that the new Madam Undersecretary has rubbed off on you.” Harry ducked his head as he felt heat rising up his cheeks. McGonagall politely continued on as if she hadn’t noticed, “I do hope you don’t refer to her as your traveling companion often though.”
“Not as often as I refer to her as Madam Undersecretary, I do a little salute and everything” Harry replied with a grin. He shut his desk drawer and stood. “Is there anything I can help you with, Headmistress?”
“Not at the moment but we have been working together for two years now, Potter. I know you are aware of my first name,” McGonagall replied in a short tone.
“As you are aware of mine, Headmistress,” Harry replied with a smirk as he moved to the bookshelves along the wall. “Yet that is the second time you’ve used my last.”
“Yes, well, we both know how hard it can be to break old habits. Even after almost a decade.” McGonagall watched Harry as he pulled two books off the shelf together. Her eyebrows rose as he pulled them apart where the spines connected to reveal a hollow space between them filled with trinkets.
“There you are,” Harry said softly as he grabbed a small black box from the space. He closed the books and placed them back on the shelf.
“Does Miss Granger know that you’ve cut into books simply to hide trinkets in your office?”
Harry turned towards Minerva with a smile, his fist closed around the small box, “It was her idea actually. She said her father had done the same thing to hide sweets from her mother. Don’t worry, Headmistress, I’m not keeping any items on Mister Flich’s list in there.”
“I’d certainly hope not. We can’t have our Defense professor setting a bad example.” Harry let out a soft chuckle at the clear sarcasm as McGonagall continued, “I take it that box is the real reason you are here and not at home with your son, waiting for your traveling companion?”
Harry smiled at the mention of Teddy and looked at the box in his hand, it was light but heavy with possibility. “Yes, ma’am. I dropped Teddy off with Hermione’s parents early so I could collect it but I need to get back to meet her. I just didn’t want Hermione to find it in Grimmauld.”
Harry made his way around his desk and held out his hand and McGonagall took the small box from him. The exterior was soft to the touch and the witch had an idea as to what was hidden inside. “It’s about time, Mister Potter.” Her former student smiled at her and nodded as he reached up and ran a hand through his unruly raven hair before reaching the back of his neck.
“I agree. It will be three years this December-”
“Not to mention the eleven before that,” the Scottish witch responded shortly. “What finally put you on the right path?”
“Teddy,” Harry said with a smile. His arm fell from his neck and his hands went into his pockets. “Teddy and I were out shopping for his Christmas gift to Hermione.” His eyes took on a far away look, as if he was reliving the moment. “We had found an old copy of The Hobbit. Hermione loves it and has passed that love, and her copy, on to Teddy. Oh, The Hobbit is a Muggle book about-”
“I am aware of The Hobbit, Potter.” McGonagall interrupted with a raised hand. A small smile crossed her face as she continued. “As I recall, it was a favourite of your mother’s as well. I remember her carrying it around often during her time here.” She lowered her hand but the smile stayed, a sight Harry had become accustomed to over the past few years. He had grown closer to his former professor in the two years he could be considered her colleague.
Harry smiled fondly. “Sirius told me that in a letter once and Hermione let me borrow her copy after I told her. The same copy she and Teddy read from last year.” The wizard fell silent for a moment, the way his past and present could connect through a book felt both surprising and comforting.
Harry continued, “Well, we found this copy with a fold out map in it and Teddy said he should get it for Hermione since she had given him her old copy.” Harry shrugged and stated simply, “I couldn’t tell him no. The store offered to wrap it for us and when they asked what to write on the tag, Teddy said he wanted to write it. He wrote ‘to Mum.’ That’s when it hit me.”
Harry sat in the memory, his adopted son simply claiming his adopted mum. McGonagall watched as his emerald eyes shined. She let herself feel her own happiness for two of her favourite students. Not that she would tell either one that they held that title. “And how did Miss Granger handle that surprise come Christmas morning?”
“Oh,” Harry let out a chuckle. “She cried. Didn’t stop until halfway through breakfast. She made sure Teddy had all the pancakes he wanted as well.”
“So,” McGonagall started as she slipped out of a wistful tone and into her normal curt manner. “After this wonderful Christmas revelation, you naturally decided to wait over five months to propose?”
Harry’s hand shot to his chest as he let out a sound of mock pain. “You wound me, headmistress. I had to get everything in order before I could ask the best witch I’ve ever known to marry a bum like me.”
“So that is why you are taking a weekend in southern France?”
“Yeah, I booked us a room at the Château de Vesper. It’s a magical and historical sitethat operates as a hotel. Someone from the Department of Magical Co-operation told her about it. Apparently there is a library full of old books on arithmancy and transfiguration that they thought she would enjoy.”
“Yes. I’m sure Miss Granger will findDeSouza’s writings fascinating.” McGonagall said. “Potter, please tell me you’re not going to propose in the library.”
“No,” Harry laughed out. “I found the perfect spot. A small clearing next to a stream on the grounds, just through a wooded area. I thought it would be nice to go for a walk. I'll maneuver us towards it for a picnic lunch. I plan to ask her after we eat.”
Harry pointed at the box in McGonagall’s hand, “Finding the right ring took me some time as well.”
The witch looked down at the box and her thumb ran across the seam. “May I?”
“Of course.”
McGonagall opened the small box to reveal a white lining. Nestled in the cushion on the bottom half was a small gold band with a round cut diamond. The light from the window caused it to shine bright as the headmistress was reminded of another pair of favourite students.
“It was my-”
“Your mother’s. Her engagement ring,” McGonagall interrupted softly. She could remember the look on Lily Evans’ face when she held out her hand for the elder witch to see. James Potter beaming behind her, his hand on the back of his neck.
“Yeah,” Harry replied. “I found it in my family vault back in March. It sounds silly but it…” Harry swallowed and continued, “it felt like it was from them, telling me that they approved of Hermione. Of me.”
“I can promise you, Harry, they would have loved Hermione almost as much as you do. They would be so proud of the man you have grown to be.” She softly shut the box and handed it back to her younger colleague.
Harry’s emerald eyes met McGonagall’s blue eyes, both shimmering, as his hand squeezed the small box, as if he was afraid it would fly away. A small smile spread across his face. “Thank you, Professor.”
“I do think we can suspend formalities at this moment,” the witch replied as she drew her forefinger under her eye.
“Formalities? I’ve thought that was your first name since I was eleven,” Harry replied. A lopsided grin on his face.
With a sound that was a mix of a laugh and exasperation McGonagall shook her head. “Go, Potter. Don’t keep your soon to be fiancee waiting.”
***
Hermione apperated into her old bedroom with a soft crack. When Hermione moved into Grimmauld with Harry and Teddy last year her parents decided to make it the designated arrival spot for her and Harry when they came to visit. The young witch smiled as her eyes roamed, the room had remained largely the same. Her bed was still made with her periwinkle covers, the walls were still the soft cream colour she had chosen the summer after third year, and her desk still sat beneath the window overlooking the back garden. The only major differences were that the desktop was bare and her old bookshelves were mostly empty as Harry had given her free reign over the library at Grimmauld. Her father joked that was the main reason she moved in. Hermione couldn’t deny that it was a contributing factor.
Despite having to put in a couple of hours at the office this morning, the witch couldn’t help the excitement that had been building ever since she had picked up the portkey that would take her and Harry to France. She had started her new position as Undersecretary in October and apart from one week off for the holidays, she had been kept extremely busy. Often leaving early and staying late at least twice a week. There were Saturday meetings twice a month and briefing books were always in her bag waiting for her to read. Her mother and Molly - the women electing themselves as the boy’s second and third grandmothers since Andromeda had passed - had been more than willing to take turns watching Teddy while his parents worked and Harry would take over as soon as his last class ended. She always made sure that she was there for dinner time and Teddy’s bedtime. On the nights she still had work left after Teddy was put down, Harry would walk with her to the study door, kiss her on her temple, and say some words of encouragement while also reminding her to get some sleep.
Last time he had whispered “One more hour of making the world a better place then it’s our bedtime.”
She had bit her lip as she leaned into him; eyes closed as she inhaled him. Woodsy, chalk dust, parchment, and a spice of something she had only found with him - something Harry. “Hour and a half,” she said into his shirt.
“I can agree to your terms,” he whispered against her temple before huskily adding, “Madam Undersecretary.”
Hermione laughed softly as he pulled back. “Thank you, professor,” she replied in a soft tone. She got to work after a promising kiss and, true to his word, Harry returned ninety minutes later. He waited for another fifteen before she was ready to pack it in with a fond smile on his face. That had been the night he had told her of this trip he had planned. He had even checked with her aid, Elenore, to make sure he didn’t interfere with her work. It would be the perfect weekend
Now the trip had arrived, a weekend at a historical château in southern France with a library housing tombs of significant magical theory, with Harry. She was looking forward to the library but what truly fueled her excitement was the time she would get to spend with her best friend.
As she walked out the room into the hallway, Hermione saw the framed picture on the wall and smiled. It had been there probably since she was a toddler and it had been one of her favourites for just as long. She had made sure it was returned to the spot when her parents came back from Australia. It showed the elder Grangers on their wedding day. Her father wore a black tuxedo and bowtie and her mother wore a white ballgown wedding dress, the short sleeves complemented with white gloves. Both were looking at each other as if they had everything they could ever want.
As she made her way down the stairs she passed more photos. One was in front of a large fireplace taken at the lodge the Grangers had stayed at during their ski trip during Hermione’s fifth year; the one she had left early to rush to be with Harry. Thankfully, her parents hadn’t attempted a ski trip since. The last picture on the wall was the latest; taken a week or so before Christmas two years ago. It showed Hermione grinning up at a laughing Teddy who was sitting on a smiling Harry’s shoulders. The three were standing in the middle of a festival street market and Hermione’s father had taken it. The photo had been on the wall when they came over that Christmas. Later that night Harry told Hermione it was the first time he had a picture on a wall of family photos. She made sure he had a smaller copy framed for his desk before the next term had started.
The wood of the last step groaned as she placed her weight on it and as she lifted off she could hear a scamper of feet coming from the living room across the landing. A little boy with messy black hair wearing a white t-shirt (the lack of any stain impressed the witch) and a green pair of shorts appeared in the entry way. Hermione set her bag down and held her arms open as Teddy ran into her.
“Mummy!” Teddy let out as he wrapped his arms around Hermione, hers went to his back. She let her smile grow wide as a familiar fondness filled her. She wouldn’t have expected to have the title this time last year but now she would do anything to defend it.
“Hey there, Teddy Bear. How are you?”
“Good! Gran is making pancakes for lunch then we are going to the park,” the boy said against her purple button-up shirt.
“Hermione, dear, you’re here.”
Hermione turned her neck and saw her mother walking down the hall from the kitchen with a dish towel tossed over her shoulder; the white fabric standing out against her red blouse. She came up and kissed her daughter on the cheek and ran her fingers through Teddy’s, now brown, untidy locks and settled it on his shoulder.
“I just finished making lunch for my little man, here,” Jean said as she patted Teddy’s shoulder. “If you and Harry can stay for a bite, I made plenty.”
Movement behind her mother’s head caught Hermione’s eye as Harry stepped out of the kitchen holding a half-eaten piece of crispy bacon. He smiled at her as he quickly finished it. The witch wondered, playfully, if the smile was for her or the bacon she could hear softly crunching.
“As Harry has already started,” Hermione said while returning her mother’s sign of affection, “it would be rude to decline.” The witch smirked at her boyfriend who chuckled in response.
“She told me to eat it,” Harry replied in a playful tone. “How could I refuse perfectly cooked bacon?”
“He means burnt,” Teddy said as he stepped back from the women. “Don’t worry, Gran didn’t burn all of it though. Just Dad’s bacon.”
“That’s right,” Jean added, smiling. “Are you ready to eat, Teddy?”
“Pancakes,” the young boy said as he took off for the kitchen.
“That is a ‘yes’ if I ever heard one,” Jean said as she went to follow.
Hermione nodded and grinned at her mother. “I’m a little surprised you made pancakes, Mum. I don’t remember you doing that when I was his age.”
Jean stopped next to where Harry was standing and turned back towards her daughter. “I’m a Gran now which means I get to be more fun.”
Hermione and Harry both let out a laugh.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’re giving Teddy regular chocolate syrup instead of sugar free?”
“Not that fun,” Jean responded dryly, earning another laugh from the two. She placed her hand on Harry’s arm and smiled at him. He returned it before Jean patted his arm one more time and then went back into the kitchen.
Hermione walked up to Harry who greeted her with a soft kiss. She felt something smudge on her lips at the contact. As she pulled away the witch licked the spot on her lip, getting a taste of bacon grease. The wizard’s eyes had followed the path her tongue took which caused him to lean in for another kiss. Hermione tasted more bacon and a touch of Harry as their tongues briefly tangled but she stepped back knowing that the main landing in her parents house wasn’t the best place for a good snog.
“Harry, we can’t right now,” she said softly, hating the truth in her words.
Harry leaned closer still. “You’re wearing those jeans,” he whispered back.
Hermione let out a soft laugh at the excuse and leaned against him. her head in the crook of his neck. “I thought you would enjoy the view. To start our weekend away off right. So I stopped by the house to change after work.”
Harry’s hands squeezed her waist. “You truly do have the best ideas,” he muttered into her hair.
“I know,” she replied before nipping at his neck and licking the same spot. Before Harry could respond she gently pushed away from him and smiled. “Now, do you have our luggage?”
Harry patted the front pocket of his jeans. “Right here.”
“Good. Let’s grab a bit of food. We have thirty minutes until the portkey activates.”
Harry stepped back and turned to give Hermione more room to move past him. With his arm out toward the kitchen, he said “After you. I don’t want to waste the view,” with a lopsided grin.
Hermione bit her lip and blushed as she made her way past. That grin could still make her feel like a third year after all this time. However, the witch had grown and had her own ways to keep Harry on his toes. As she walked past, she drew her fingers lightly up the zipper of her wizard’s jeans.
Harry let out a soft gasp as his body jerked involuntarily against her hand. “Tease” he said in a soft growl as he followed behind.
“You love it,” she whispered back as she looked over her shoulder.
She saw him nod in the affirmative but his gaze focused down. Hermione felt a thrill at his gaze and smirked as she walked into the kitchen.
***
A couple of minutes before one, Harry and Hermione had finished their breakfast for lunch and were waiting for the portkey to pull them away.
“We love you, bud. We’ll be back for dinner on Sunday,” Harry told Teddy as he gave him a parting hug.
“I will, dad,” the boy replied as he returned the hug.
Harry stood and Hermione knelt in his place. She took Teddy into her arms and squeezed as much as the boy did. “We’ll miss you, Teddy Bear. You make sure Gran and Grandad behave.”
“I will,” the boy replied seriously.
Hermione smiled at Teddy’s set chin. “I know you will.”
Hermione stood and moved next to Harry. She took the other half of the old hair comb he held out to her.
“Have a wonderful trip, you two,” Jean said from behind Teddy. “I want to hear all about that castle when you get back.” Hermione returned her smile and was about to ask about the wistful look in her mother’s eye before a jerk behind her stomach rushed the thought from her mind.
The couple stumbled as their feet returned to solid ground and the spinning sensation stopped. Harry shook his head to clear it while Hermione looked around the room. She saw walls covered in tapestries of fields with figures standing in the perfect weather sewn in for them to enjoy. Harry’s eyes fell on the lone painting on the wall next to a wooden door.
The wizard stepped forward and spoke to the painted man with long and curly dark hair. “Hello, we have a-”
The painted man raised his hand and held his hand up to stop Harry from continuing. Without a word the man walked out of the frame with his long red robes dragging behind. The couple was left waiting and unsure.
After a few moments, Hermione decided to break the silence.
“I heard this château is a wonderful example of early and middle Renaissance architecture. Apparently it was modeled after the Château de Chenonceau. The duke who built it was given the land by King Phillip III but his great-great grandson was chased out of the court after he was found with King Henry II’s mistress. He is the one who made the place unplottable.”
Harry had been told the same information before but he never tired of hearing Hermione when she was in lecture mode. “Where did you learn that?” He asked.
“From Delores.”
Harry’s head turned towards his girlfriend as his eyebrows shot up. “From who?”
“Delores, she is the Head of D.M.C.'s aid. She told me about this place. She’s a lovely person and always seems to know what I need before I ask.”
“She’s named Delores though,” Harry replied. As if that was reason enough to question the source.
Hermione turned to look at him and let out a small scoff. “Honestly Harry, she is quite lovely and has no discernible amphibian traits.”
Harry grinned. “That you know of.”
Hermione responded by simply sticking her tongue out.
At that moment the door opened to reveal a petite woman with short blonde hair wearing red robes and holding a clipboard. Herimone pulled her tongue back in quickly while Harry’s grin grew.
“‘Ello,” the blonde woman said with a wide smile. “You mus’ be ze Potters. We ‘ave been ex-pec-tine you. I am Camille.” She held the door open and continued, “Please follow me.” She went back out the door, her heels clicking dully on the rugs that lined the dark wooden floor.
Hermione followed the French witch. While Harry walked he focused on the fact that neither had corrected her assumption. It wasn’t the first time it had happened but one of them usually spoke up. His stomach soared and dropped at the same time, elation and nerves fighting for dominance.
The short blonde took them into a wide entrance hall lined with a lush red carpet while the walls were covered in burgundy tapestries. They passed a sturdy desk of dark wood, behind it was a canvas showing a window with a view of a countryside and a shelf full of books. Perusing the tombs was the dark haired man from the painting in the other room. He looked at the couple and snootily turned back to the books.
“Don’ mine-d, Philip. ‘E iz…” Camille said. “‘Ow you say, ‘old fashion.’”
Harry thought that was putting it nicely.
Camille stopped in the middle of the hall and held her arm out, gesturing around the wide and tall room, “‘elcome to zee Château de Vesper.” She lowered her arm to join her hands in front of her and continued, “Built in 1488, we maintain’d traditionnel features an’ ah-menities of ze peri-od. You have cho-sen zee Duke’s chambre, dis way.” After she finished, the petite witch turned and continued on.
As they walked Hermoione asked questions of the castle and Camille answered them. The French witch complemented Hermione’s pronunciation of French terms she used through the conversation. The English witch was truly flattered by the comment.
“Thank you so much. I learned it when I was younger and have tried to keep up with it.”
Camille smiled and replied, "You have done an excellent job.”
The small group took a large staircase up two levels, went down a hallway covered in a long deep red rug before coming to a large set of wooden doors.
“We ‘aved reeched la bibliothèque. In ‘ere we ‘ave a first edit-on traité de De Souza sur la Transfiguration, datant de 1567, an’ Les essais de Rousseau sur les équations arithmétiques de 1673, first edt-on.. I ‘ave a note that t’ese ‘orks ‘ould be of ‘nterest to you, Mademoiselle Granger. We ‘ave even pulled the notes Rousseau left ‘uring ees time ‘ere at Château de Vesper in 1671”
Hermione beamed up at her boyfriend who gave her a lopsided grin.
“I just asked for a suggestion on some vacation reading for you, they did the rest,” Harry said dryly.
Hermione snorted through her smile and she turned back to Camille. “Thank you so much.”
Camille gave a touch of a bow. “You are var-ee ‘elcome, madame.” She looked at Harry and Hermione in turn and asked, ‘Ould you like to view zeem ‘ow or ‘ould you like to see your chambre first?”
Harry gestured to the door and opened his mouth to speak
“Chambre.” Hermione cut in, “s'il vous plaît.” The English witch felt some colour creep across her face but she refused to look away from their guide.
Camille gave a sly smile and nodded. “Très bien, suivez-moi, s'il vous plaît,” and she continued down the hall at a crisp pace.
Hermione felt Harry’s hand rest on her lower back with his little finger sliding just past the hem of her jeans. His breath sent a small shiver down her back as he whispered against her ear, “Are you sure, love?” She could hear the grin on his face.
Hermione turned and faced her wizard; Harry’s hand sliding along to her as she moved until it rested on her hip. She reached up and put a hand around the back of Harry’s neck. Pulling him down, she placed her cheek against his and whispered, “Very.” Hermione slid her tongue slowly across the spot just below his ear and then nipped at his ear lobe before taking it in her mouth and softly sucking on it to sooth the pain and add to his pleasure. Hermione pulled away with a very soft pop and gave Harry a coy smile. She looked into his eyes, green and filled with a mixture of surprise and arousal. She gently kissed him and whispered against his lips, “Love.”
Turning away, Hermione noticed that Camille was standing next to an alcove in the wall that held a statue of a large painting of a woman in deep burgundy robes sitting in a plush chair, in front of a wall of books. She left her stunned boyfriend and joined the blonde who was grinning at the couple. As she came up next to her, the French witch spoke.
“Gabrielle Delacour et moi étions camarades de classe,” she said. “Elle parlait souvent de Monsieur Potter, et de vous.”
“Really?” Hermione asked, surprised. “What did she say?”
“She voz jealous when we were yon-ger but often said she ‘ad no chance against you.” Hermione dipped her head and smiled. “After ‘er sœur’s wedding, she said she ‘oped she could find a passion like you ‘ave. I can no’ zay I blame ‘er.”
Hermione blushed a little. “Thank you,” she said to the French witch as Harry came up next to her with an eager, almost hungry, look directed at his witch.
Camille gestured at the painting, “This eez Céleste, zee lady of zee château, she will be your ‘ost. You may provide ‘er with your mot de passe. Your chambre is jus’ through.”
“Merci, Camille,” Hermione said with a smile for the blonde.
“Merci, very much.” Harry looked at their guide and grimaced. “Er, I mean, thank you very much,” Harry stumbled out.
Camille’s lip lifted slightly in amusement and she took one last glance at Hermione who bit her lip and smiled. “You ar’ both welcome. I hope you ‘ave a wonderful time wit’ us.” With one last small bow she walked back down the way they had come, the sound of her heels fading away.
Once they were alone in the hall, Harry’s hand was gripping Hermione by the hip and pulling her close to him. Once she was flush against him, his hand lowered down and slid into her back pocket. “I’m assuming this works like Gryffindor Tower.” He squeezed gently while he spoke, “What should our password be, Madam Undersecretary?”
“Seeker,” Hermione answered quickly. The painted witch saluted in acceptance with a glass of wine she had picked up off the painted table next to her.
Looking up at Harry through her eyelashes Hermione continued, “Because I know how talented you are with a snitch, professor.” The witch gave a coquettish smile and then ran through the open portrait hole.
Hermione took in the dark wooden floors covered in royal blue rugs. Red tapestries covered the walls and a - thankfully empty - landscape painting was near the portrait hole. A king-sized bed with rich purple bedding. Before she could look more, Harry's lips were on hers as his hands slid down to her hips; his tongue danced over her lip and she immediately met it with her own. The wizard moved them further into the room as they kissed, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip eliciting a soft groan from her.
One of Harry’s hands slid up the back of her neck and Hermione felt his fingers in her hair as her back hit the wall; her head bouncing against Harry’s palm instead of the wall. He tugged lightly on the roots of her hair and Hermione moved her head to the side, giving Harry access to her neck. His tongue licked her pulse point before his teeth bit it. A soft growl came from the back of his throat, straight to her core. Hermione wrapped her hands around Harry’s neck, his unkempt hair growing more wild in the back as her fingers pulled on it. As his teeth found another spot on her neck to dig into, she was ecstatic in the sensation and thrilled with the knowledge that she packed bruise salve.
Hermione’s tongue returned to Harry’s earlobe, a spot that drove the man wild. She felt him buck against her as she bit down on it, his erection pressing into her. A gasp escaped her into Harry’s ear and Hermione could feel the shiver go down him.
Harry pulled back and met her eye, a thin circle of emerald around his pupils, blown wide with desire. Hermione knew the brown of her own was just as receded. Without a word, Harry moved his hands and grabbed her thighs. He lifted her up against the wall and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Hermione felt his weight lean into her as his mouth covered hers;, his erection against her core. Harry swallowed the sounds she made as he slowly ground against her.
Hermione wanted him badly. Now. Just like this. She wanted him to take her against a wall while she held on to him for dear life. She wanted to let go as he held her up. Hermione’s mind went back to the last time they used a wall. In their shower at Grimmauld, Molly had taken Teddy so they could have a date night. They hadn’t left the townhouse. Hermione’s fingers tightened their hold on Harry’s hair and her other hand went to his cheek, his stubble scratching her palm. Her hips meeting Harry’s movements as they both let out a moan. Hermione deepened the kiss as memories from that night filled her brain.
Droplets flinging out of Harry’s black hair as it shook with each thrust.
Steam making the air thick, gasping as Harry took her breath away with each thrust.
The feel of Harry’s wet skin burning against hers.
Her toes curling under the hot spray of water.
Each thrust.
She needed that again.
Would the water taste the same when she licked it off his-
“Harry,” Hermione gasped out as she pulled away. “Shower. Now.”
Harry’s eyes had to refocus on the witch he was holding. “What?”
Hermione planted one more kiss on Harry’s lips and said, “I want you to take me to the shower and fuck me.”
A lopsided grin broke across Harry’s face. “Yes, ma’am.”
He let her down gently and once her feet were on the ground, Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him towards the door at the other side of the room.
Once through it, the couple found an ornate study with more blue rugs and red tapestries. A large table made of dark wood with four matching chairs sat on one side of the room while a large wooden desk took up the other. No shower. Both Harry and Hermione looked around in confusion before they went back into the bedroom. There was only the door they just came through and the portrait hole.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Harry asked out loud.
“I don’t know,” Hermione replied..
“That’s rare,” Harry said out of reflex.
“Céleste,” Hermione said back. Harry gave her a confused look but the witch didn’t explain. She moved to the landscape painting by the portrait hole and called out “Céleste!”
The woman from the painting in front of their room walked into the pleasant painted meadow. Her straight brown hair framing her face and the wine in her glass matching her robes.
“May I be of ser-vess?”
“Yes,” Hermione said quickly. “We can not seem to find the bathroom. Could you point us in the right direction?”
“Mademoiselle, there have been no alterations made to zee château since my petit fils completed renovat-ions in 1542. The ah-menities and fixtures remain the same as they were den.”
“Oh,” Hermione said softly, almost a question. The next moment her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! You mean we just…”
“Oui,” the painted lady replied with a nod. “If you require, I will fetch Camille and she can demon-strait zee proper spellwork to-”
“No!” Hermione cut in. “That won’t be necessary. Merci, madame la duchesse.”
Céleste gave a bow of her head and walked out of the frame towards the portrait hole.
“What did she mean?” Harry asked, confusion lacing each word.
Hermione turned back to Harry, the passion from a few minutes ago replaced with a sense of mild disgust. Harry knew it wasn’t at him but the situation, which was worse to the wizard. He had a plan for the weekend and he could sense it falling apart in front of him.
“She said that they have not made any upgrades since 1542.” Harry gave a nod and gestured for her to continue. “That means there are no bathrooms. In the entire château. That is what Camille meant by ‘traditional amenities.’”
Hermione watched Harry’s eyebrows furrow while he thought through what she had said. “So where did they… or how did they… you know, go?”
Hermione grimaced as she answered simply, “Anywhere.” Her hands went to her hips and sighed. “Maybe just squat in a corner and go.”
Harry stared at Hermione, not quite comprehending what he was hearing. He turned to look in the corner to his right.
“What did they do with, well, all the mess?” he asked.
“They would just vanish it and walk away.”
Harry’s head turned back, eyebrows raised and scrunched together. “Are you sure?” He almost sounded offended.
Hermione gave Harry a look, her lips in a thin line and one eyebrow arched.
Harry raised his hands up just above his shoulders in surrender.
He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again which made the thin line of Hermione’s mouth curve up just a bit.
Another thought came to the wizard and he dared to voice it. “But what about chamber pots? Or, didn’t the Romans have some sort of plumbing system? They were around and went away well before this place was built.”
Hermione raised her hand in agreement and shook it for emphasis before letting it fall against her thigh with a soft smack. “Yes, you are right, Harry. Magical society thought this was a more efficient way at the time.”
“Who thinks that is a good idea?” Harry asked with a look that implied the words had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. “What idiot came up with the idea?”
Hermione nodded to Harry’s rhetorical question.
The couple stood in silence for a few seconds, slightly worried about where to step.
Hermione broke the silence. “We can’t stay here,” she said simply.
“Oh thank Merlin.” Harry let out with a breath. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I know you wanted to stay here but that is disgusting.”
Hermione smiled as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a scarlet, satin scrunchie. “No, Harry, we are in agreement. It is incredibly disgusting,” she continued as she gathered her bushy brown locks and placed them in, what Harry called, her “business bun.” Once she was finished she turned and walked towards the portrait hole. Harry followed right behind.
Once out, they waved awkwardly to Céleste who raised her glass from a plush chair, book in her lap.
As the couple made their way back down the hall they had come down, Harry knew his plans were out the window now. That did not stop him from asking a question he was sure he knew the answer to, “We’re stopping by the library before we check out, right?”
“Of course,” came the quick reply. “I said we aren’t staying but I’m certainly going through that library before we leave.”