57And we have reached the end of my second attempt (published, anyway) at James/Hermione. Thank you for reading! Please keep in mind that this was a short story, so while I'm aware there were all sorts of plot points I could have explored, I chose not to for sake of keeping it short. After all, this was supposed to be a oneshot. Lol.
Leaned against the armrest of the sofa, Hermione stared at the doorknob, waiting for it to inevitably turn. Only a few hours had passed since meeting Harry, but it may as well have felt like a lifetime. Unable to turn her thoughts off, Hermione had plenty of time to sift through her thoughts, and none of them had been pleasant.
Minutes past eight o'clock, the knob twisted and James let himself inside. There was a bundle of flowers trapped in his hand. He looked her over once, and his brows furrowed. Her name burst past his lips.
She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. "Were you planning to tell me that you were petitioning for divorce, or was I always meant to learn that from Harry?"
His face drained of colour. James drew a ragged breath and dropped the hand-picked bouquet to the table in the entryway. "I had planned to tell you tonight, actually. Hence the…"
"You thought I would want flowers?"
"I didn't tell you for fear it wouldn't go as easily as it did; I can see that was a mistake on my part now." James slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "I thought you would be happy."
Dragging a hand tiredly down her face, Hermione sighed. "I wouldn't be as angry if it hadn't been Harry to tell me this afternoon."
"I understand it must have been a nasty shock—"
"He told me that watching his parents divorce made him realise what had been standing in front of him all along." Hermione cut him off and watched his mouth snap shut. "He told me that he realized he'd taken advantage of me, that he wanted more."
James' eyes widened, and if possible, his features grew a shade paler.
Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "It's bad enough that I'm probably going to lose my best friend—which I can hardly complain about that since I've always known my actions would warrant it. Yet, I still met you. I never stayed away. That would be terrible enough, but now I've added more fuel to the fire."
"What did you tell him?" His tone was different, leaving no question as to whether it was the focus of their conversation now. "Hermione, Lily doesn't know. She has her suspicions that I've carried on an affair, but she doesn't know it's you."
Her chest hurt.
It fucking ached.
"I sat across from Harry and told him I was seeing someone, that I had been for a long time."
James closed the space between them, and slid an arm around her. He hugged her tightly, sinking his fingers into her hair.
"It's all my fucking fault." Hermione whimpered, fisting her hand in his suit. "I've ruined my best friend's family. You never would have done this if it weren't for me—that's not to say that I—that we—fuck!"
He smoothed a hand down the curve of her spine, and when he reached the bottom of her back, he began at the top again. "You make me so unbelievably happy, Hermione. I can't stand hiding that for another moment."
There were a thousand things that were wrong with that. Each of them were so deeply rooted in her mind that Hermione could only draw a wheezing breath. She'd been over this countless times in the silence that followed their couplings, the moments that passed them by as James drifted to sleep at her side.
There weren't many ways for this to end, but all of them ended badly. Months ago, Hermione had rationalized that there would be no happy endings here. She'd done a terrible thing, and it would cost her the price of happiness that she'd taken from another woman.
"You're right." He whispered into her hair, slowly swaying with her. "I wouldn't have filed the paperwork if it weren't for you."
A wretched sob forced its way free.
His arms tightened around her. "Lily and I have not loved one another in years. We've been circling the drain, so to speak, all this time, and we were never going to make the choice to get out. I'm not a man you deserve, Hermione. I've been cowardly in believing I could make you happy with stolen moments, but I want to be better, for you."
She loved him. Hermione had known that for some time by then, but hearing it said to her, in colourful that words that made it feel as if her chest were going to burst, was dizzying. Unable to think, she tilted her head up. "I never dreamed you would choose me."
It was wrong. It had always been wrong.
James crushed his lips to hers, cradling her face, as they stepped backwards. Hermione led him into the bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt as they stumbled, neither of them willing to part.
He dragged her zipper down, leaving her skirt to pool around her ankles as she pushed his suit jacket over his shoulders. It hit the floor, and James paid it no mind. The rest of their clothes followed quickly in a similar fashion, and the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed.
She could barely breathe. Reaching for him, her fingers closed around his shoulders, and Hermione pulled him closer as he settled in the cradle of her thighs. His cock slid against her folds, and he closed his mouth around one pert nipple while he pinched the other softly.
James slid into her in one thrust that utterly filled her.
Panting, Hermione watching him as he lifted her legs over his shoulders, and he thrust into her, each movement quicker—harder—than the last. "Oh, God." A choked whimper left her, and James leaned forward, reaching up to grip the headboard with one hand.
Though James said several things in between the low groans that filled her bedroom, combined with the low creak of her mattress, Hermione barely heard them. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as he murmured that she was so pretty, so perfect, so— "Bloody made for me." He growled, slamming into her, and her knees were forced toward her chest.
He traced her lips, marking the fascination he had with them, running his thumb over them and James hissed under his breath when she sucked the digit into her mouth.
Swirling her tongue around it, Hermione could hear the breathy little moans that left her.
With some difficulty, James pulled his hand away and slid his hand between their bodies. His thumb brushed her clit, pressing down hard enough to cause her to cry out, and he rubbed it in fast circles until she trembled.
James' mouth slanted against hers as she crested, and he spilt inside of her. He took each muffled whimper for himself, kissing her until her head swirled as he braced his hands on either side of her head. He fell to the bed beside her, drawing the blanket over them.
Hermione swallowed and peered up at him. "You're mine now?"
A slow, heart-stopping smile curved his lips as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ears. "Completely and utterly yours, love."
~o~
She waited for the other shoe to inevitably drop.
Hermione followed the motions of each day, though they were quite skewed from what they had been the week before. While James frequently slept over anyway, she found herself waking beside him each and every day now. She welcomed the mornings by straddling his waist, and lazily rocking against him as large hands gripped her hips. They ate breakfast together—sometimes they didn't, and opted for other activities.
When she slipped into the shower, James tended to join her. Those times always ended with him picking her up, and sliding into her, the slippery tile meeting her back as the sound of their bodies joining—and the sounds she made herself—echoed in the shower.
She went to work, their arrivals staggered, and Hermione kept her head high even though it came with some difficulty. They had carried on a secret for this long, hadn't they?
Terrible secrets tended to reveal themselves during the divorce process. While it wasn't Hermione's chosen area of law—she preferred to keep to criminals, honestly—she knew it quite well. It was the one thing James didn't discuss with her, and she didn't ask. It's a nasty situation all the way around, and if she were perfectly clear, she had no want to know of the little details.
He was divorcing his wife.
Truly, it was all she needed to know.
Harry hadn't called her, but he'd texted her a handful of times. Each message led her to believe that while he said he was doing quite well, her friend was still hurting. Unable to imagine the exact awkwardness that would come with seeing him again, Hermione waited for him to find out.
Lily was a bright woman. Hermione had seen glimpses of it as she'd grown up alongside Harry—a thought that usually led to the age gap between James and herself, which she preferred not to think about—and knew that surely the woman would piece the facts together.
A young intern starts and her husband starts to disappear frequently? I would be suspicious too.
That was a train of thought Hermione had no choice but to unravel. She was a fool, she thought, for pursuing a relationship with a married man. The added factor of how it was so taboo, given just who this married man was, only made it worse. But the point was that clearly, she and James had both proved that their sense of morals were skewed.
If he were willing to cheat on his wife to be with her, could she really believe he wouldn't be capable of cheating on her as well? She hadn't mentioned it to him, but the expected insecurities hadn't lasted long.
The weeks began and ended, but nothing happened.
James informed her that they were in the process of splitting everything, but Lily had come for blood by demanding to receive more than he did. The divorce is what I want, she told me, so she expects me to…
God, if Lily found out before the divorce was finalized, Hermione didn't want to think about the fallout.
But, of course, she had to think about that.
It was inevitable.
~o~
Everything came crashing down in the middle of the fourth week. She knew because she had counted.
James' hand curled around her elbow when she tripped over a wrinkle in the carpet, and she muttered under her breath. His eyes were bright when he laughed, and he reached up to push her hair from her face. "You're wearing that lipstick again."
Heat coiled at the pit of her stomach when he cast his gaze toward his desk, and the memory of just what had happened there rushed up to meet her. "We have work to do, you know."
"Oh," he arched a dark brow. "But you like taking your work home with you, I thought." His fingers drifted up her arms, brushing her soft skin, and her lips parted.
He'd taken to being a bloody difficult tease since the shift in their relationship.
"Perhaps if you're nice, we can take a working lunch." She muttered. They barely followed their rule about keeping their hands to themselves while in the office, but not it was more important than ever that they at least attempt to keep things quiet.
Interoffice gossip would explode.
"You mean a shagging lunch?" James murmured, hand still wandering. His thumb grazed the swell of her breast. "We could pretend to pick up lunch, go to your flat—"
The door slammed open, and Hermione jumped away from him.
When she turned her head, her eyes connected with Lily, and there was no use in pretending the secret could be salvaged. Hermione swallowed hard, and wondered if the woman was going to strike her. If she did, Hermione truly couldn't say that she'd fault her for it.
"You're bloody joking!" Lily screeched. "You're fucking your intern!" It was phrased as a question, but a question it was not.
Hermione didn't say a word. What could she say? That she was sorry? She wasn't sorry in the least, Hermione supposed.
"You little whore! I welcomed you into my home for years, and you—"
James mouthed, "Go."
She didn't hesitate, even as she flinched when Lily could be heard yelling that she was going to destroy any shred of credibility Hermione had all the way from the lift.
~o~
No matter how much she cried, Hermione couldn't stop. She'd thought it would end. It had to stop eventually, didn't it? At some point.
Hours passed without a call from James, and it felt as if hornets had been set loose in her stomach. With every moment he didn't call, the more she worried. What if their indiscretions—and that was what they were in every sense of the word—cost him his practice? His professional reputation was sure to take a hit. It was something you heard about all the time, a man sleeping with his younger colleague. Usually a secretary if the stories that bled into the press were to be believed.
If James lost his practice, Hermione feared he might never forgive her. They had both been willing—God, so fucking willing—participants, but now the curtain had been ripped away and there was nowhere to hide. Now the light was heavily centred on them, and it could follow them everywhere they went.
Where did that leave them?
And where exactly did it leave her?
The worst case—the absolute worst case—for James was to lose his office. It would terrible, and messy, and it would deliver a massive blow to his pride. Yet, he would recover. It might not be with an ounce of grace, but he would. There couldn't be any doubt about that. He would rebuild, of course, and maybe he would start over somewhere else.
Hermione liked to imagine that she would be right there with him, but that was a thread to untangle later. Much, much later.
People would forget.
Those who knew him would eventually turn a blind eye to what he had done, but the same couldn't be said for her. And it made her blood boil. Women would look at her and see the woman who had seduced a married man—as if that were actually the truth—and look down on her. Hermione couldn't find it within her to blame them when if the roles were reversed, she would have done the same.
Men would look to her with an obvious curl to their lips, and they would leer at her because she was the woman who had taken part in an affair. If her professional reputation—and there was so, so little of it at the beginning—was raked over coals, she might not recover unless she moved far away.
James would be fine, in spite of everything, because he was a man.
Men demanded respect, and even though the world was changing everyday now, it didn't mean much to Hermione at the moment.
She was going to be sick.
There was a sharp knock at the door, and she sighed. It was probably James, and he'd likely assumed that she didn't want him to come in after the scene in his office. Truthfully, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to see him or not, but there was no time to hide.
There was nowhere to do so either.
Smoothing her hair down, and then her blouse, Hermione drew a deep breath, and opened the door. Immediately, she wished that she hadn't. With her stomach sinking lower than she thought possible, her eyes widened at the sight of Harry.
His hair stuck in every direction, as if he'd been dragging his fingers through it over and over again. Red tinged his bottom lip, and she knew without a doubt that he'd nearly chewed a hole through it over the drive that had brought him here. One look at his face—to find his features drawn, and there was anger simmering just under the surface—and she couldn't even hold on to the shred of hope that he didn't know.
Everything comes out eventually.
Now, it had.
She wanted to run from the fallout, but Harry's hand slapped against her floor, and he stepped over the threshold.
He paced the length of the entryway, still sinking his fingers into his hair until he forced himself to stare at her. Harry could barely look at her. Just the sight of her made him flinch.
She knew because she had watched.
"Is it true?" His voice was raw, and his hands curled into fists at his side. "Hermione, I swear to God if you don't answer me right now…"
No words bubbled up, and her heart was in a vice. Slowly, with a sob that tore free and filled the air, Hermione nodded.
Harry would have never hurt her, not even then, but it didn't stop him from raking his arm over the table that held photographs.
A vase her grandmother had given her—honestly, she'd never particularly liked the old thing—toppled and splintered against the tile.
Somehow, it felt like it meant something.
Like the fact that a decade old friendship had been irrevocably ruined, and while she hated that, Hermione wasn't sure she could even claim she was sorry, or that she regretted it.
"When I told you—" Harry swallowed. "In the cafe, when I asked you—Jesus fucking Christ, this cannot be happening."
"It wasn't supposed to happen." Hermione didn't know why she said it. It wasn't as if it would make anything better.
He raised his head. "Don't tell me this was a mistake. You don't accidentally sleep with a married man, and you definitely don't accidentally sleep with my fucking father. What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?"
Hot tears streaked her cheeks, and even then, even when it was so terrible, Harry's hand rose to wipe them away before he could think better of it. "I don't think telling you about it will make this better."
"Tell me. At least explain to me how any of this made fucking sense to you."
She mulled the words, turning them over even though it felt as though her mouth were made of crushed glass. "I signed up for tinder. I agreed to meet someone at a hotel. It turned out to be him. Harry, I left that night." And I had regretted it all the way until I fucked him in his office.
"And then?"
And then I lied to you, to everyone for a year.
"I told him I wanted to quit because I knew I was going to slip up. I knew that I would…that if we were alone together again, I would do something I shouldn't."
Harry winced. "And you did? You did something you weren't meant to do."
She could hear the pounding in her ears as she nodded.
"How long?" His hands twitched.
"A year."
He sucked in a breath and staggered backwards. "How could you be so fucking stupid? I'm not blind, Hermione, I know this divorce isn't entirely your fault. They've been fucked up for years now, but you're meant to be my best friend."
And now she couldn't be. Hermione didn't have the courage to say them out loud so they could be confirmed. "I know."
"The only way you could have—" Harry's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Good God, Hermione. Please tell me you're not in love with him."
She couldn't breathe. "What if I am?"
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "He's going to break your heart. If he's so willing to cheat on his wife to be with you, what makes you think he won't do the same to you?"
"I know him." She whispered, and it was received with a laugh, not that she could fault him for that. "And I think, that if he were to hurt me, if I were to know that without a doubt—" Hermione swallowed hard, and wished she could reach for him. "I know that two things are certain: I would deserve the pain that it brought—"
Harry flinched again.
"And I would let him destroy me. I can't—I can't let go. I've tried so many times, and every time, I—"
"I hope the guilt chokes you." Harry snarled, pushing past her. "I hope he breaks your heart, but I know it's only a matter of time before that happens."
She stared at her shoes. "I understand."
The door slammed shut and she leaned against the wall, her tears filling her vision.
~o~
From where she laid in bed, Hermione heard the door open and close. It could only be James this time, unless Harry had returned to dig under her skin again. Both options made her miserable. Both would remind her of what she'd done.
The bedroom door opened with a creak, and he whispered her name. He kicked his shoes off, and the bed dipped below his knee. James pulled her close, slipping an arm around her while cradling her close to his chest. Pressing a cool kiss to her forehead, he pulled the blankets over them.
"Harry will never forgive me." She whispered, curling her fingers in his shirt. "He came here earlier."
He sighed. James brushed hair from her face and stroked her cheek slowly. Over and over again, just how he knew it calmed her. "I'm not surprised he came here, but he'll come around, love. I can't say it will be anytime soon, but he's just found out Lily hasn't been faithful either."
Not that it mattered, but Hermione peeked up at him. "Her overnight trips?"
James nodded. They had suspected it for some time, and it had served to give Hermione false reassurance that she wasn't the only one in the wrong. Which was ridiculous.
She knew it.
"Maybe, but it's not as if his other best mate slept with his mum, so it's still terrible." She muttered.
"Lily wants to keep the news of her affair out of the divorce proceedings." James ran his finger down her arm. "She's not going to threaten you, or your career aims if we split everything we own down the middle."
Hermione blinked. "Wasn't that what you were going to do anyway?"
"Well, yes, but I also gave her the house without argument. So, now that she's been appeased…"
She curled up to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "He hopes that you break my heart by cheating on me. Honestly, it's what I would deserve."
"Hey," he growled, tilting her head. "Don't say that." James kissed her until her head spun, his thumb stroking a path across her cheek. "I've got no intention of doing that."
"He said that if you were willing to cheat to be with me, well, I think you know what he said."
James leaned his forehead to hers. "He's wrong. I'll spend as long as it takes to prove that to you."
"I know." She did. She knew everything about him, even the things he hadn't told his wife in years of marriage. Hermione cupped his cheek and slanted her lips over his. "He asked me how I could have done this."
"I thought it was because I was lucky." James lifted her into his lap, hissing under his breath when she moved against him. "Probably not the best thing to tell him though."
No, what she had admitted had actually been much worse in Harry's eyes, she was sure. "He asked me if I loved you."
Hands froze and James stared up at her. His tongue slid against the seam of his lips. "Oh."
Distracting herself, Hermione slid her fingers through his hair. "I told him the truth, which is that I do." She said it all at once and whimpered when he crushed her to him.
The same was growled against her lips as he lifted her shirt over her head. "I love you."
It moved something deep in her. "It's not fair for me to be happy, not at the cost of—"
His thumb brushed across the center of her breast. "Don't say that."
"No matter what you say, he'll probably never forgive me."
James silenced her by pressing his lips to hers. "There's a lot to figure out, I know, but we have time before I need to sign the paperwork. We'll work everything out, Hermione."
She had her doubts.
"But we don't have to sort it out yet. Let's take the time to figure us out first, not that I need any extra time to decide. I've known since that week you avoided me."
A smile curved her mouth. "I can't hide out in my flat forever, and I don't want to do that for even one day."
"Come away with me. We'll come back when we're ready."
Hermione rocked against him, her lips parting as she nodded. "Okay, I'll go."
Warm fingers splayed across her back, and she moved against him, whispers of promises filling the air.
Perhaps it had been wrong—and there was no question about that—but Hermione couldn't bring herself to believe that any of this was wrong when he called out her name.
Thank you for reading this little tale. Eventually, I'll have a full multichapter for this pairing, but it's in the depths of my Google Drive. I hope you enjoyed it! See ya on the next fic.
