The Kleimheist Friction Hitch

Chapter Eleven – The Kleimheist Friction Hitch

"The Kleimheist is easier to tie and untie than the prusik. It does not tend to cinch up as tightly as a prusik, so it is easier to break friction after releasing the load. You can add more turns to increase friction, as well." from Knot Knowledge

Hermione sank with an audible thunk to the warm stone steps of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. She distantly wondered why she hadn't had trouble with disorientation after Apparition when she heard a nasally sigh.

"Planning on staying out here all night or will you be joining the land of the living?" Snape said with a snarky smile.

"I fought with my parents," Hermione muttered, absently running her hands over her face. After a moment, she rested her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her upturned hands. "I fought with my parents."

"Very good, Miss Granger," he returned. "I knew you were appointed Head Girl for a reason."

She whipped her head around to glare at him. "You don't understand how bad this is; I never fight with my parents."

Snape sighed heavily. "Oh goodie; I've agreed to marry Sally Sunshine with a perfect childhood," he said acidly and closed the front door behind him. He leaned against the banister near her, pulled out and lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. He smirked a moment before offering the pack to her, and it was only after a great sigh that she shook her head 'no.'

"I'm serious. When I say we never fight, I mean we've never fought. Ever. We just ... didn't fight."

"Well, naturally, you were the perfect student, the perfect child, the perf..."

"Oh, shut up!" she interrupted bitterly. "It wasn't like that! It just ..."

Hermione trailed off when she saw just a tiny twinge of shock on his face at her outburst. She heaved another sigh. "I didn't have any friends when I was in grade school. Not that this surprises you, I'm sure," she added without even looking up at his face. "It was okay to be smart, but not really smart. Especially if they found out you liked school. I just ... never had any friends. So I guess when I met Harry and Ron, I was just so..."

"Relieved," Snape finished, and nodded. "I know."

She dared not break the tender connection by acknowledging it, so she charged on with her story. "So I just went ahead with their shenanigans. Mostly to keep them from breaking their fool necks, I sometimes think. But then I came home that first year and ... well, Mum practically had a stroke when I first told her about some of the 'research' we did about Nicholas Flam..." Hermione stopped rapidly, realizing she was confessing rule-breaking to a teacher.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger, I'm well aware of your indiscretions. And I couldn't punish you retroactively anyway. However much I am tempted," he added.

"Well, she sent me to my room everyday after supper for nearly a month after that, so I just sort of ... doctored the truth in the coming years. And I didn't hit my teenage rebellion phase until I was in my third year at Hogwarts, and by then they only saw me at the summer holidays because I stayed with Harry and Ron at Hogwarts for Christmas. What good would it have done to rebel against people you only saw two months out of every year? It would have just confused them."

Snape said nothing but continued to take long pulls from his cigarette and nod minutely. Hermione stood, brushing the dirt from the rear of her skirt and jumper.

"They barely know me anymore. I mean, the real me. I just didn't see the good of fighting with them about things they wouldn't understand." She sighed again. "And now they may never speak to me again."

Hermione looked to Snape with tears welling in her eyes. For a moment, there was a twitch in his face, a hitch in his arms as he flung away the cigarette butt and pushed off the porch rail. For a moment, she was certain he would throw open his arms and comfort her.

"Look at it this way," he said jerkily as he stood, "at least you'll never have to fight with them again." Without another word, Snape turned and moved into the house.

*****

Disheartened – but not surprised – at Snape's swift and slightly rude departure, Hermione remained on the steps of Grimmauld Place for a few moments before heading indoors. She passed by Tonks and Neville, dismissing their questioning looks and light greetings with a wave of her hand. She wandered into the study and, glad to find it empty, plunked down in the big leather chair behind the desk. With a loud wham! , she let her head drop to the cool mahogany surface.

"I keep managing to steer myself into the most abominable situations, Crookshanks," she said to the large ginger cat when a soft paw batted at one of her curls. She raised her head to see him poised with one bandy leg lifted in the air. "How do I keep doing this? First Ron, then Ginny, then Snape, and now my parents. What's next? My life is so ridiculous that I suppose the only thing left would be for Harry to tell me that he's running away to Belguim to live with Lupin and Dumbledore in some hideously sordid, conventions-be-damned gay love triangle!"

A light peal of laughter came from the corner of the room. Hermione's head rocketed off the desk and whipped around, trying to find the source of the sound. The curtains to her left shifted, and Harry emerged from the window seat that she had forgotten existed, a book dropping from his hand onto the worn red velvet cushion.

Before she could speak, he smiled and answered her. "You couldn't help what happened with Ron, Ginny will come around, God only knows about Snape, and I'm most certainly not homosexual or moving to Belgium for a sordid gay love triangle. In fact, added to that, if I were gay, I highly doubt that Dumbledore would be my type."

Hermione smiled weakly.

"Come to think of it, I think I'd more fancy Lupin. Good show, Hermione, you're giving me ideas," he said with a grin. "Perhaps he can help me with this marriage law."

Hermione couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. "Now there's a pretty mental picture: you and Remus snuggled up in connubial bliss."

"Because it's not as if he's old enough to be my father," Harry said.

Hermione laughed again. "Yes, but you two are awfully handsome; what beautiful babies you'd make."

"And who'd carry them, then? I suppose you think I'd be the mother, eh?"

Hermione laughed loudly, and Harry grinned as he mock-pondered the idea. The smile faded from her face quickly, however, as she slumped back over the desk again.

"Do you really believe that I couldn't help what happened to Ron?" she muttered. Unconsciously, she toyed with the ornate silver ring with its heavy diamond as she looked down at the desk and then up into Harry's face.

Harry sighed and stayed silent for a few moments. He held out a hand to her and led her gently to the settee on the opposite wall. With the desk blocking the fireplace and the curtains drawn against the night, most of the light in the room did not reach them, throwing Harry's face into a strange bath of shadows as he sat and drew her down with him.

"It's not your fault, Hermione," he said quietly. "I wish it could have gone differently. Of course I do; we all do. But I don't really see how it could have. Yes," he added quickly when she opened her mouth to rebut, "yes, what happened to Ron was because of your accepting his proposal, but I think that whether they admit it or not, it really was inevitable. Ron wouldn't have allowed you to accept anyone else but him; come hell or high water, he would have fought it. So I guess it was just his ..."

Harry's voice cut out. He was silently for a long moment. Hermione leaned forward towards Harry, anxious to hear that last word. She was certain that her absolution from guilt lay in his last word. But Harry did not speak. Instead, he moved toward her, closing the gap between them on the couch, lifting a hand to her face.

Hermione felt as if the breath had been sucked out of her body when Harry's fingertips touched her face. There, in the cool span of his touch, was the healing she was longing for. She leaned into the touch of his hand, closing her eyes as his palm spread across her cheek. Hermione felt Harry lean closer to her; a trickle of tears leaked out from under her eyelids when he slowly wrapped his arms around her body. Hermione opened her eyes just slightly and rested her head in the gentle curve between his chest and neck.

Without thought or plan, Hermione laid her lips against the pale curve of his throat. When Harry's chest jumped with an intake of breath, Hermione lifted her head and looked deep into the green eyes buried behind the firelight glinting off his glasses. She raised her hand slowly and moved the spectacles away. She only barely heard them clatter to the wooden floor beneath the settee as Harry pulled her tight to his chest.

"Destiny," Harry said quietly.

"What?" she muttered, trying to clear her head. He was so close. She couldn't focus on anything coherent.

"Ron," he said. "It was his destiny. We all have ...don't you believe that we ... we all have ...?"

"Destiny," Hermione said, and nodded. Then she pressed her lips to Harry's.

*****

Hermione could feel Harry's heart racing beneath her fingers as he pressed her closer to his body. Her own pulse thudded so swiftly within her chest that she was certain her heart was trying to leap out into her throat. Harry's arms were warm, his kiss tender but strong; he clung to her as if his very life depended on it. Hermione gripped tight and held on. He drew away from her mouth to lay a trail of warm, gently sucking kisses along her jaw line to her ear, making her writhe with pleasure and anticipation. Hermione felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, clutching at his neck so fervently it was almost as if she wasn't steering them herself. She kissed his cheek rapidly before letting his skin drop away from her mouth to gasp in pleasure as Harry skimmed just the tip of his tongue along the curve of her ear.

"Oh, God, Harry," she murmured.

One of his hands delicately fingered the hem of her tank top and with barely a thought she guided his hand underneath where his fingers moved up tentatively. He shook just a bit as he skimmed his fingertips over her cotton-covered breast. She could feel his pulse skip and kick within his chest as she leaned back and rested against the arm of the settee. His mouth was traveling over her skin and she felt as if her whole body was humming from the contact. He kissed her throat and neck, the pale skin over her collarbone as he leaned over her. She threaded her arms around his back and smiled when she felt him murmur into the curls at her neck.

"Oh, Hermione," he whispered, "Hermione, God, how much I love you ..."

It took a moment or two for the words to sink in before she pulled back his head to look into his eyes. His feelings were naked in them, but she found herself gulping before she asked again.

"Do you?" she said. "Do you love me?"

He smiled gently but there was fear in his eyes. "You know I do."

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. She was a smart girl; she should know better than to sit here kissing a boy she would have to wake up and face every morning after he realized what a mistake this was. She was smart enough to know better than to kiss a boy who wasn't her fiancé. But right now she felt struck newly dumb with his easy, warm affection. She pressed him closer to her.

"Let's have another kiss then," she whispered through a small grin.

He faltered for a moment. She knew he had expected a different response; he had expected her to say she loved him. Unsure that she actually did love him, Hermione couldn't force herself to say it; no matter what her feelings for Harry, she wasn't free to act on them any more permanently than this stolen moment, and she cared too much to lead Harry to believe otherwise. But after the moment's tiny hitch, Harry smiled again and leaned down to her lips. Though she knew she would regret the abandon in the morning, Hermione let herself fall again into the affection that Harry offered so readily with his soft lips, his gentle hands. She could live on the love waiting in his hands. After a moment though, she pressed the heels of her palms lightly on his shoulders, pushing him up and away. To her great surprise, he did not fight her. He merely sat up and grinned easily back at her. With a smirk, she lifted a hand and wiped a smear of her lip gloss from his chin.

"That was lovely," Harry said, flushing.

"Absolutely," Hermione said.

Harry reached out a hand and took hers, pulling her to her feet and towards the door of the study. Hermione bumped full force into Harry's back without realizing that he had jerked to a stop.

"What's the matter?" she said, readjusting her clothes.

"How long have you been here?" Harry said, his voice queerly strained.

"What do you m..." she started before looking up and realizing that Harry was not speaking to her. Hermione moved around Harry to see Ginny standing in the doorway, her cheeks flushed with anger, her arms folded across her chest. Only then did Hermione realize she was still holding Harry's hand, which she dropped quickly. Unfortunately, she did not drop it quickly enough to escape Ginny's notice.

"One more life you intend to ruin, Hermione?" Ginny said caustically, her voice low and penetrating.

"Now, Ginny, that's not fair," Harry started.

"You're bloody right, it isn't," she bit back. "She's the reason Ron is dead. Snape isn't exactly thrilled to pieces to be saving her arse, and now she's throwing herself at you. Just running right down the line of everyone working hard for our cause, aren't you, Hermione?"

"Ginny, watch your tone," Harry said, his voice hard and stern.

"Oh, give over, Harry; you don't think she's in love with you, do you? You're just safe. You're an easy sap who'll give her what Snape can't. She can't marry someone she loves, so she'll marry someone who'll protect her and sap the love out of someone who'll give it. You're so blind!"

Ginny stalked across the room and gazed into Hermione's eyes. The round, brown eyes of her friend looked at her with cold fury, and Hermione found herself squirming inwardly.

"Two months ago I never would have believed you could stoop to this. How quickly one can change to save their own neck. How expendable people have become to you."

"Do you think this is easy for me?" Hermione choked out. "Do you have no idea how miserable I am every minute? Don't I deserve something? Some little bit of happiness?"

"Even if it costs other people their happiness?" Ginny hollered. "Do you even care about them?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione hollered back, but Ginny only growled low in her throat. "Well fine! If you've all the answers, what would you do?"

Ginny's eyes blazed. This was obviously a chance she'd been waiting for. "Well, I certainly wouldn't murder one man, manhandle his best friend, and then marry someone else! You can't even stand your fiancé, and my brother is in a grave! How long before Harry is covered in dirt and daisies, too, Hermione? Are you going to leave any men for the rest of us?"

Ginny swirled on her heel and marched out of the study without a backward glance.

"Leave any men?" Harry asked after a moment of ringing silence. "What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione sighed heavily, closing her eyes. "It means that apparently without knowing it, I've just trampled her chance at marrying the man she loves."

Harry looked from Hermione to the door where Ginny had left and then back to Hermione. And then he followed Hermione's eyes to the settee where they had been kissing. And it dawned on him.

"Come on, you don't mean ...?"

Hermione didn't answer, but it didn't seem that she needed to say anything.

"Oh, fuck all," Harry spat.

"Precisely," Hermione answered with a sigh, and then plunked down on the settee.