Chapter 9
IX
She was going to end up killing him.
Hermione Granger was positively relentless with her hands. They went everywhere, turning him to complete putty with every touch. She could get him to make sounds that he didn't even know a person could make, and she was enjoying it all a little too much.
Harry and Hermione spent the next few days working on their many assignments, eating too many Christmas goodies and kissing way too much. Hermione made a deal with him that, for every assignment he finished; she would, well, shower him with kisses, which had the boy working more diligently than she'd ever seen from him before. Who knew what a little incentive could do?
On the last Saturday of 1995, as soon as they finished all their work for the year; Harry and Hermione went for a walk. They bundled up nice and tightly before they stepped out into the freezing temperatures and started down the road. Hermione lived on Jacaranda Drive, which ended in a large cul de sac several houses down from the Grangers'.
Hermione hugged Harry's arm as they walked, their faces and heads covered so only their eyes were visible. She started to shiver almost immediately.
Harry looked at her, smiling behind his scarf. "Didn't anyone tell you that it's cold outside?" he asked.
She looked at him through her lashes. "It's your job, now that we're - " she stopped suddenly.
Harry frowned. "Now that we're what?"
She swallowed. "Well, I'm not really sure what we are, Harry," she said, dropping her gaze. "I mean, umm, are you - do you - are we - "
"Yes," he said simply, cutting her off.
"Yes what?"
"Yes to everything."
Her brow furrowed. "Are you trying to be funny?"
Harry brought them to a stop so he could face her fully. "I'm telling you that I am, and I do, and we are."
Hermione glared at him. "Explain."
Harry put his hands on her shoulders and met her gaze. "I amhappy with you; I do want to be with you, and we are together now. Is that enough of an explanation for you?"
Hermione just stared at him in a bit of disbelief. "You sound so sure," she eventually said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You were never like this with Cho," she pointed out.
"That's because you're not Cho," he said, only slightly irritated that she brought up the Ravenclaw. "Look, Hermione, I won't lie to you and say that I didn't like her, because I did, and for a very long time."
"But you don't like her anymore?"
Harry hesitated. "I can't say that either," he said slowly. "I want to tell you the truth, okay? It's important that you know that I'm still a little confused about several things, but I'm definitely sure about you."
Hermione blinked once before she shifted both their scarves with her gloved hands so she could kiss him. It was a quick one because it was freezing, and she was convinced her lips would fall off if they were exposed to the cold for too long.
When they started to walk again, Harry put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. It took them a moment to find a rhythm where their hips didn't bump uncomfortably. Harry liked this. He loved these simple moments with her, where the world seemed less scary and less demanding. When he was here with her, he didn't have to think about the huge things that were expected of him. He could just be.
"What time did you say that your parents were coming home?" he asked.
"Probably around three o'clock," she said. "Why?"
Harry kissed the top of her head, through his scarf and through her beanie. "No reason."
She laughed lightly. "I think that they know about us," she said cautiously. "I mean, I know they've been back at work the past few days, but they have eased up on the teasing, which makes me think that they know something."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"And I might have told my mum about the mistletoe-kiss," she confessed. "And some other things."
Harry looked at her. "What other things?"
She swallowed. "Well, Harry, to be completely honest, as we've decided to be; I have liked you for quite some time now."
He stopped walking. "You have?"
She stood right in front of him, her hands resting on his chest. "I have."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Hermione absently started to unbutton his coat. "Well, there were a lot of reasons," she explained. "We're best friends, Harry, and I didn't want to ruin that if, you know, you didn't like me back, and then there was, well, everything else. There was Cho, and there was Professor Umbridge, and the DA, and we've just had to deal with so much, and the last thing I wanted to do was lump all of mychanging feelings on you."
Harry blinked, momentarily distracted by the feel of her hands on his chest once she'd managed to get through his coat.
"And, I mean, I've always wanted to be your friend first," she continued. "You're very special to me, and I wouldn't jeopardise that for anything. But then we kissed, and it was perfect, and then you wanted to do it again, and I did too, so now here we are."
"Here we are," he agreed, putting his arms around her shoulders. He shivered when Hermione tucked into his coat and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his chest, and Harry couldn't think of a more perfect moment in all his life.
"If we stay like this much longer; we might freeze in this position," she mumbled against his chest, and he chuckled.
Truthfully, Harry wouldn't mind that too much, but he was worried about her. "Do you want to go back?"
"Can we? I'm literally frozen."
Harry shifted their positions so that his one arm was around her again and she was still tucked into his large coat. He was surprised by how far they hadn't managed to go, and they were back in the warmth of the house in next to no time.
Hermione rubbed at her arms before she scurried towards the fireplace. "I must like you a little too much to have agreed to that," she said, shaking off her coat and then removing it. "Oh my God." She did a little dance to warm herself up and all Harry could do was watch her with a stupid grin on his face.
"You did it because I promised you hot chocolate," he reminded her.
"With lots of those mini-marshmallows?"
"Oh yes."
She did another little dance, and Harry could have sworn that his heart leaped at the sight. She was amazing and perfect, and he didn't want to imagine a life without her. He'd never really thought that he would ever truly enjoy life the way that he was right now, and he had Hermione to thank for that.
Harry made their warm beverages while Hermione set up their blanket palace in the living room, and then the two of them settled in to watch yet another Christmas movie. Hermione learned early on that Harry was quite the sucker for them. There was just so much happiness in those kinds of films that it brought out the sunshine in him.
And, really, Harry had the purest of laughs when he was relaxed and uninhibited. His eyes lit up wonderfully and he turned rather playful. Hermione liked to think that she'd given him some kind of permission to be a kid, just through her own actions. Here, he didn't have to worry about what the great big world thought or expected of him. Here, he wasn't Harry Potter; he was 'just Harry,' and Hermione was distractingly in love with him.
As much as Hermione loved to drive him crazy with her hands, Harry liked to touch her as well. It was the simple things, really, as if he just needed to be sure that she was still there. He'd lean against her as they sat side by side on the floor, or he'd rest his knee against hers at the dinner table.
He was also a hand-holder, they both quickly learned. He confessed that he liked the way that their hands just fit together. He even went so far as to say that it was just another reason why they were perfect for each other.
Hermione liked when he said cute things, even if they were sometimes dreadful and cliché. He'd get all flustered whenever she called him on it, but that didn't stop him. The truth was that this thing between them was new to both of them. They'd both had crushes before, but this was their first real relationship, and it was a little terrifying.
What if something went wrong? What if they ended up breaking up? What would happen to them then?
Hermione forced herself not to think about it. Not now, when Harry was sitting right beside her, his fingers drawing patterns on her forearm under the blanket. It was so soothing and lovely, that she couldn't even pay attention to the movie.
Harry watched her face for the tells that he was quickly coming to learn. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affecting her. He lifted one of his hands to shift some hair away from her neck and leaned forward to kiss her soft skin. Hermione opened her mouth and sighed. And then she made a mewling sound that had him smiling against her skin.
"What was it that you said?" he asked, whispering against her, his breath making her shiver. "So much more than satisfactory?"
Hermione gasped softly, turned her head to face him, grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him closer, and kissed him full on the mouth. It was one of those breathless kisses that made his heart thump in his chest. This was his life now and, bloody hell, it was amazing. Her hands. Such talented hands.
Hermione pushed on him until he was lying flat on his back with her on top of him. It was as if they knew that it wouldn't be like this when they returned to school, so it was okay that Hermione's hands snuck under the fabric of his shirt to caress his warm skin and it was also okay that Harry's hands bravely cupped and massaged her breasts.
So it was a truly odd scene that Jane and Michael returned home to. They found Harry and Hermione asleep in the living room, Hermione half on top of him, but more tucked into his side. They were covered in blankets, both of them looking particularly dishevelled as they snuggled.
"Umm," Michael said, looking at his wife curiously; "me thinks our baby girl has something to tell us."
Jane laughed lightly. "You thinks correctly, my dear."
His plan was a complete and utter failure.
Michael Granger took Harry to the dental practice with him on Sunday morning to try to scare the young wizard, but it didn't work. Spectacularly. The truth was that Hermione had warned Harry about all her father's tough-guy antics, and the teenager was prepared for what Hermione termed 'all bark and no bite.'
After they'd woken up from their impromptu afternoon nap, Harry and Hermione had been coaxed into divulging the status of their relationship, and Hermione had practically died and gone to heaven when Harry referred to them as boyfriend and girlfriend.
Later, Jane and Hermione had shared a little excited squeal, and then life had gone on.
Until Michael suggested that he and Harry leave the house to allow the girls to get ready for the party in peace. It seemed like a good idea to Harry and he happily went along with it. It had taken Hermione's warning to make him a little tense, but he was ready and willing to defend his relationship with her until he was blue in the face. It would be good practice for when they got back to school.
He and Hermione hadn't spent much time talking about what would happen when they got back to Hogwarts. They'd definitely have some explaining to do, them to Ron, and he to Cho. He didn't know that Hermione would probably have to explain herself to Ginny as well.
It was going to be such a mess. Especially when the rest of the school found out. And Voldemort! Harry forced himself not to think about the scenarios where Hermione was used against him. Merlin, he would give up everything he had - even the very air in his lungs - for her to remain safe and unharmed. And, the second someone truly figured that out, she would be in even more danger than she was for just being Harry Potter's friend. It was definitely something that they had to talk about.
"I've got an emergency root canal coming in," Michael explained as they entered the practice. "Joe's mum called in this morning; the kid apparently didn't get any sleep, and no other dentists are working today."
Harry just nodded as he followed Michael into the reception. The entrance room was massive, with couches and chairs lining the walls. There was a table in the centre of the room, piled up with magazines and colouring books. Harry especially loved the paintings on the walls. There was one that he especially liked that showed an incredibly large free-standing green apple. It was painted beautifully and Harry couldn't help staring at it.
"Do you mind being my assistant for the day?" Michael asked, sounding amused.
Harry smiled at him. "What do you need me to do?" he asked.
Michael loved Harry's enthusiasm. "Well, do you think you could go through the filing cabinets marked M. Granger there and find the file for Joseph Barry. That's spelt B-A-R-R-Y," he added with a grin.
Harry shook his head. "So then, I'd find it under...?"
Michael laughed out loud. "I always knew I was going to like you."
Before Michael could spot his pink cheeks, Harry disappeared behind the front desk into the little office and went in search of the required file. He was made vaguely aware of Michael moving further into the practice. Harry heard surgical sounds as equipment was fetched and prepared. It put him a little on edge, but he wasn't sure why. He'd never actually been to a dentist before. He'd never eaten enough sweet things to warrant it, and he'd been surprisingly lucky with all his baby teeth falling out in time, making sure that his grownup teeth wouldn't require attention.
And, he supposed, if they did; Madam Pomfrey would be able to take care of it.
Harry was startled by a knock on the door and he panicked. What was he supposed to do?
Thankfully, Michael heard the knock too and came out of one of the procedure rooms, dressed in a lab coat, and moved towards the door. He opened it to reveal a woman and a little boy, clearly mother and son. Harry just watched as Michael greeted them both, absently commenting on the boy's slightly swollen cheek.
When the woman spotted Harry, she smiled at him. "I see you're hiring them young, hey, Mick," she commented lightly.
"Oh yes," Michael said, laughing. "Harry, this is Fiona Barry and her son, Joe," he explained to the teenager. "They're good family friends of ours. Fi, this is Harry, he's a fr - " he stopped suddenly. No. Harry was much more than a friend of Hermione's. "Actually, he's Hermione's boyfriend."
Harry glanced at Michael, an odd feeling of acceptance washing over him.
"Oh really?" Fiona asked, looking a tad bit surprised, and then she smiled, seemingly accepting the news. "Well, he looks a fine young man."
Michael nudged Harry gently with his elbow. "Oh, he is."
Harry was starting to feel a little overwhelmed by all the praise and attention, and he practically breathed a sigh of relief when Michael ushered mother and son further into the practice. Harry handed him the required file as he walked past, and Michael mentioned that there was extra filing he could do if he wanted to, while he waited. The teenager just nodded, and then desperately tried not to focus on the drilling sounds coming from somewhere in the practice.
Harry decided that, as much as he liked Jane and Michael, he was not a fan of dentists. There was just something about them, wasn't there?
Harry worked on a pile of files left on the front desk. Each file was for a different patient, and each patient had a different primary dentist. Harry noted that Jane had the smallest amount of patient files, which was probably because she was always so busy dealing with other things. From all that Harry learned about Jane from Hermione; he suspected that Jane's patients had to be special to her.
Harry was still working when they all came back out, Joe looking decidedly still uncomfortable. Just what had Michael done to the poor boy?
"Now, no eating anything for at least an hour," Michael reminded his patient. He looked at Fiona. "And no ice cream."
They all shared a laugh, and then the Barry family was leaving. They spared waves for Harry, and the teenager suspected that Fiona might have asked Michael quite a few questions about him, and his relationship with one Hermione Granger.
Their relationship. Because they were together now.
Wow.
This was so not how Harry imagined this holiday would go.
"I'll tidy up quickly, and then we'll go," Michael said, getting his attention. "Or do you want to take a look around?"
Truth be told, the more that Michael showed him of the practice; the more Harry resolved to not liking dentists. Everything was just so white and surgical. And even the parts that were supposed to make children feel at ease made the wizard uncomfortable.
Eventually, they separated again, Harry returning to his filing and Michael returning to his procedure room. Michael knew that he would have to talk to Harry about a few things. It was one thing that the boy was Hermione's best friend but things were different now. And, with students ending up dead; their next conversation was going to be very important.
Michael hurried up with disinfecting his equipment, switched off the lights and then headed back towards Harry.
"We should probably head out now," Michael suggested, having to break into Harry's concentration. "Or are you really so engrossed in your filing that you don't want to leave?"
Harry blushed. "No, we can go," he said, setting aside the files he was working on and standing up. "I just, umm, it was rather nice."
"What?"
"Not thinking for a while."
Michael regarded him for a moment. "There's a lot going on in that head of yours, isn't there?"
Harry nodded.
The older man placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and ignored the fact that he stiffened at the contact. "Well, I do believe that tonight's festivities shall be the distraction we all need," he said, leading Harry out of the office. They moved through to the reception area and Michael started to switch off the lights. "Jane was very tight-lipped about what either of them was wearing, so I'm guessing that they've decided to go all out and stun us to silence."
Harry could just imagine that happening, as he followed Michael out the front door. From the shock he'd had at the Yule Ball; Harry was sure he was going to end up dying when he saw Hermione later.
"There's this cafe down the road," Michael said, locking the door. "Feeling up for something warm to drink, and maybe a sandwich. They make the best chicken tikka. And I doubt Jane and Hermione are concerned with feeding us."
Harry eyed him, feeling a bit bold. "You just want to talk to me, don't you?"
Michael shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'm not hungry."
It didn't take all that long to make the short walk from the practice to the cafe. They were quickly shown to a table and handed menus. Harry didn't like ordering without Hermione around, so he just ended up having the chicken tikka sandwich, exactly the same as Michael.
They'd just received their drinks when Michael truly started to speak.
"If anyone asks, let it be known that I was not the one who introduced to coffee," he said, smiling at Harry's Cafe Mocha. It was a mixture of coffee and hot chocolate and, well, Harry was feeling brave.
"So noted, sir," he replied, waiting expectantly.
Michael took a deep breath. "Look, Harry, I don't want to bore you with all I could say, but I definitely will say this," he began. "My daughter is very important to me. In fact, she means the entire world to me, but I don't expect you to understand that until you have children of your own. It's not something that can be explained, but know that, for Jane and me; Hermione will always come first.
"Now, I know what it's like to be your age, just starting a relationship... It probably feels like it's the entire world, doesn't it?"
Harry had to concede to that. Being here, right now, away from the Wizarding World; it meant everything. Hermione meant everything. But he wasn't unrealistic enough not to acknowledge that truly wasn't the case. He wouldn't be allowed to be a normal teenager where his girlfriend was the biggest part of his life. There was this other huge thing with which he still had to deal.
"I remember what it was like," Michael continued. "Everything was new and exciting." He drifted off for a moment, lost in the memories. "My first girlfriend was not Jane, just so you know. It's quite rare that you do end up marrying your first boyfriend or girlfriend."
Harry wasn't quite sure what he felt about that. If that were the case for him and Hermione; that meant that they would probably break up at some point, which made him almost as uncomfortable as considering getting married - to Hermione, no less.
"What worries me, Harry, is that - well, honestly, there are a lot of things worrying me right now."
Harry remained silent, just listening.
"It's difficult, you know, knowing that she's a part of this entire separate world; knowing that there are two sides to your daughter. It's odd for me especially because I'm supposed to be able to protect her. I'm her father and I'm the one she's supposed to turn to when she needs help or when she's in trouble, you know?" He took a deep breath. "But that isn't the case anymore, is it?"
Harry, once again, wisely didn't respond.
"I didn't really understand it until we were at the children's home, you know," he continued. "You're in the habit of getting things done, aren't you? When things went wrong with that kid, she looked at you. Not me, you, and it truly was a sobering moment for me. Which is why, Harry, I need you to tell me all that I need to know. As her father, I believe that I deserve to know. Is she in danger?"
"Yes," Harry said automatically. There was no hesitation.
"Because of you?"
That gave him pause. "Yes, and no," he answered. "She would be in danger because she's a Muggleborn," he explained. "As my best friend, there was a greater target on her back, I suppose."
"And now?"
"Even greater."
Michael swallowed. "I assume she knows all this already, and she would kill the both of us if we ever tried to do something about it?"
Harry nodded. "She'd know if I ever tried to stay away from her," he said sadly; "and I really don't want to, sir, or even if I can, so please don't ask me to do that."
Michael heard something new in Harry's voice; something like pleading and longing, and it made him pay closer attention. "Do you love her, Harry?" he asked, watching the boy's face carefully.
Harry hesitated. "I thought maybe, uh, in some way... I - well, I don't quite know, sir," he said truthfully. "I thought that I would know, but I don't, because I've, well, umm, I can't say that I've ever truly experienced the feeling before."
Michael regarded him carefully. "At all?"
"I'm sure that my parents loved me," he said strongly. "But, umm, my relatives surely don't, and Sirius, well, maybe he loves the ideaof me, because he doesn't really know me at all. I suspect people care about me, but some are obliged to do so. There are also people who think they love me, because of my money and my fame, and then there's Ron and Hermione. They're both my best friends but, I don't know, it's always been slightly different with Hermione."
"And now?"
"Oh, now it's very different."
Michael smiled. "Look, Harry, I can't tell you what you feel, but I can try to help you understand it."
So Harry did his best to explain what he was feeling. He told Michael about his fears of losing her, in any way, and that he wanted to better himself so he would be worthy of her. Harry described the way she made his heart race and how just having her look at him gave him some kind of purpose, above and beyond what was already expected of him.
"The thing is, sir, that I trust her above all else, and I have this undying faith in her, because she's never failed me before. She saves me. Every day, she's saving me. I need her, and I won't survive losing her. I care about her, and I'll do everything I can to protect her. I don't what more I can say."
Michael just regarded him for a moment. "I think you've said enough, Harry."
The boy blinked. "Oh?"
Michael smiled at him. "Oh." Then he laughed. "Now, eat up; I think your food's gone cold."
Harry was surprised to learn that his food had arrived at some point. "Oh."
"Oh."
He was going to die.
Harry Potter could barely keep it together as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for Hermione to come down. He quite hated that he'd barely seen her all day. After he and Michael finished up their lunch, they returned to an empty house. Apparently Mum and daughter had gone out to prettify themselves.
Both Michael and Harry had just shaken their heads and gone about the rest of their day. They both did some reading as they waited; tried a game of chess that Michael abandoned when he realised that Harry was more skilled than he'd first anticipated and snacked on unhealthy things.
When the girls got back, Harry had rushed to see Hermione. He practically jumped out of his seat and went in search of her, but Jane had shouted down from where they were already upstairs that they would just see him later.
And later was now.
Harry was wearing the suit Michael bought for him for Christmas, with a bowtie that he borrowed. Really, he and Michael were dressed exactly the same, and that made Harry feel, well, warm.
Which was a feeling that increased when Jane appeared, and told him that he looked dashing. Harry managed to tell her that she looked pretty, but the words got stuck in his throat because, well, then Hermione appeared at the top of the stairs.
It wasn't that time stopped. It rather hesitated; it too wanting to experience the perfection that was Hermione Granger. She was wearing a long, deep red dress that seemed to flow down her body. Her hair was curled and pinned up in a way that made Harry want to run his hands through it.
When she met Harry's gaze, he realised for the first time that he'd yet to take a breath. How was one to breathe when a human being could look like that?
"Close your mouth, Harry," Jane said, sounding terribly amused. Then she turned to her daughter. "Sweetie, say something Hermione-like, so he knows it's you."
Hermione's cheeks flamed red at the sound of that and she dropped her gaze and started to walk down the stairs. She placed a hand on the bannister, captivating Harry. Her movements were so graceful and he was totally, unashamedly mesmerised.
When Hermione reached the last stair, Michael gently nudged Harry forward and the teenager took a hesitant step towards Hermione. He put out his hand and forced his mouth to speak.
"You look amazing, Hermione."
She looked surprised for a moment, before her face broke out in a wide smile. "Thank you, Harry," she said softly, taking hold of his hand and squeezing his fingers. She was, admittedly, a little embarrassed by the way he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. "You look handsome yourself, Mr Potter," she said, sounding much calmer than she felt.
Harry reached out with his free hand and gently touched her chin, making her look at him. Her skin was so soft and warm, and he desperately wanted to kiss her. "My pretty girl," he whispered before dropping a soft kiss to her cheek. She smelt wonderful, fruity and young.
Hermione blushed again. Well, really, she didn't think that she'd ever stopped. Even now, his eyes weren't looking anywhere but at her. How was she supposed to survive an entire evening of this?
Harry was going to pass out. He could feel it. She was stealing his breath and all she was doing was holding his hand.
"Are you two ready to go?" Michael asked them, grinning.
Hermione calmed Harry by rolling her eyes. "Okay, Dad."
Jane laughed. "Hermione, I've got your shawl."
"Thank you, Mum," she said, releasing Harry's hand and moving forward, leaving Harry to watch her in complete awe. She took her shawl from her mother, who helped her drape it over her shoulders. And then she looked back at him, and winked.
"Close your mouth, Harry," Michael said, laughing at the boy's facial expression. "You'll catch snowflakes when we go outside if you don't."
Harry turned to look at Michael, his mind suddenly a lot clearer. "Yes," he said, and Michael frowned, showing his confusion. "The question you asked me earlier; the thing I didn't quite know," he elaborated; "I know now." He sounded so sure; so confident. "So, yes," he said, looking Michael in the eye; "I do. I really do."
Michael just blinked, and both Jane and Hermione looked confused.
Before Hermione could question them, Michael recovered and proceeded to usher them all out of the house. They had a substantial drive ahead of them, of which the four of them spent the first half hour going over Hermione's cover story for Hogwarts once again. Jane admitted that nobody in Michael's family knew about Hermione's true abilities, but her own parents did.
"Mum's a lot closer to her parents than Dad is," Hermione explained. "It's a complicated situation."
Michael looked at the teenagers in the backseat through the rearview mirror. "It's okay to tell him, sweetheart," he said to Hermione. "He's about to walk into a minefield; you may as well prepare him."
Jane made a sound that resembled a growl, but Harry couldn't be sure.
Hermione turned her body slightly to face Harry, though she did not lean towards him. Potholes happened and hands went places, so she wasn't going to chance it. "Well, as you already know, Dad is the youngest in his, umm, immediate family, so they all pretty much grew up before he was born. It isn't that they don't get on; it's just that, well..."
"We don't get on," Michael clarified. "Not really. We're polite, but there's always underlying meaning in the things they say sometimes, and I hate it."
Hermione nodded. "See, my dad comes from a rather prominent family in London, and his family is convinced that he married beneath him," she said bluntly, and Harry's jaw dropped. But...? "I know, Harry," she said, patting his leg. "It's all so very stupid, really, but it's just the way they are. Posh people don't marry commoners, so they're convinced that Mum married Dad for his money." She shook her head. "And also, well, I think that's why Mum does somuch, just to stick it to them and show them she can be successful without family money."
Harry worried for Hermione, when she said that, but Jane made no comment. Clearly, this was all something that was known, not particularly liked, but still somehow accepted. To be honest, Harry didn't like it at all. Jane was amazing. Truly.
"There's also a lot of internal, unspoken competition," Hermione continued. "Who drives the best car, whose kids are the smartest, who dresses the best, who dates the best people... all that kind of unnecessary material stuff."
"I take it that they'll be rather interested in me then?" he asked quietly.
"Unfortunately, yes," Jane replied. "They're not exactly tactful."
Harry sighed.
Hermione locked her eyes on his. "I'm sorry," she said, and she meant it. "I know how much you hate the attention."
"That's for something I don't even remember doing," he said, placing a hand over her one that was still on his thigh. "I don't think I'll mind facing unwanted attention when it's because you chose me."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I chose you?"
"Didn't you?"
Hermione thought about it for a little while, her mind running through all the possible things he could be talking about. And then she smiled. The Secret Santa. "I did choose you."
Harry returned her smile, his eyes shining. "I'm yours now," he said, and then retracted. "Or, really, I've always been."
Hermione's cheeks burned and she really wanted to kiss him in that moment. How could he start with all his cuteness when they were in a car with her parents? She'd just have to save it for later, when they were alone, and she could do all sorts of things to him.
In next to no time, Michael was pulling into the parking garage of the hotel that would be hosting this particular Granger function. "It's probably going to be so over the top," he whined, as he turned off the car. "Nicky was in charge of decor this year."
For a while, none of them moved.
"Remind me why we're here again."
Jane sighed. "As much talk as we're about to face," she said to her husband, sounding diplomatic; "it won't even come close to the backlash we'd suffer if we didn't attend. I told you we should have gone to Bali for the holidays."
Michael chuckled as he finally opened the door, the rest of them following suit. Harry and Hermione started on their way towards the elevator, hand-in-hand, each of them not quite sure how they were feeling about the evening they were about to endure.
Hermione squeezed Harry's hand, getting his attention. "Are you ready?" she asked quietly, leaning into him as they stood and waited for her parents to join them.
He looked at her. "What would you do if I were to say no?"
"Wait right here until you were," she answered simply. "Andprobably freeze to death."
"As far as, you know, death goes; I'd think it wouldn't be the worstway to go," he said, touching on topics rarely discussed.
Hermione reached up to kiss his cheek. "Then we'll wait as long as you need."
Harry blinked once, finally accepting what he'd told Michael as the solid truth.
He loved her.
He was desperately in love with Hermione Granger.
Chapter 10
X
He was in hell.
Harry Potter would have much rather faced off against Professor Umbridge than have to endure another probing question from Hermione's family. He felt somewhat violated, really, and utterly exhausted. He'd balked at Michael's idea of this evening being like navigating through a minefield, but now he agreed. In fact, this was worse. At least if you stood on an actual landmine, you were offered the mercy of death.
But this... Merlin, it was painful.
A certain silence had fallen over the banquet hall when they'd entered, all eyes landing on them, and then there'd been an eruption of murmuring. A lot of it. Two minutes later, they were surrounded, and Hermione's grip on his arm tightened until it hurt. Harry was sure he would end up bruising.
The four of them had done the rounds, and Hermione constantly asked him if he was okay. She also apologised a hell of a lot.
The most notable meeting was with Hermione's Aunt Nicole, the woman responsible for organising this year's party. Harry immediately didn't like her. She talked with a certain air to her, as if she knew that she was better than all those around her.
Harry suddenly couldn't wait until he was old enough to claim his full inheritance, just so he could show this horrible woman what richwas. It was a thought that made him extremely uncomfortable, because he'd never cared about money, but these people just brought it out of him. Hermione had to drag him away to calm him, as they went in search of drinks.
"Don't let her get under your skin," Hermione whispered to him. "She's that rude to everybody; not just Mum."
"How can you stand it?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I mean, she kind of reminds me of Umbridge."
"I was just thinking that too," she said, laughing with him. "It's the painfully pink dress she's wearing. It's hurting my eyes."
"You just hate the colour pink," he pointed out.
"I do not," she countered. "I just don't see how a professor could expect to be taken seriously when she's dressed in a pink suit. A pink suit, Harry! I mean, I get that the Wizarding World is a little backwards, but that's a little too much, don't you think?"
"You won't hear me arguing, Hermione."
Harry and Hermione continued to do the rounds with her parents until Hermione's Aunt Nicole moved to the podium at the front of the hall. She used a microphone to get everyone's attention and invited them all to find their seats. They'd had to squeeze Harry in to the original seating plan, so he was sitting that much closer to her Hermione. Not that either of the teenagers truly minded.
To Harry's left was Hermione's only younger cousin, Haymitch Granger. That was how he introduced himself, but Hermione continually called him 'Mitch,' much to his chagrin. Harry found it rather amusing, and he was starting to think that the eye-roll was truly a Granger characteristic.
"Oh, there she goes again," Haymitch said, when Nicole took to the podium once more to welcome them all and do a brief overview of the year.
It was anything but brief. Harry even lifted his bread knife and mocked stabbing himself in the chest, which made both Hermione and Haymitch laugh. Hermione ended up pulling out a pen from her purse and the three of them started playing Hangman on the back of their menus. Michael just looked deathly amused by their antics, and Jane tried to show she disapproved, but her smile was a dead giveaway.
When dinner was finally served, Harry and Hermione ate quietly. As much as the evening was shot to hell, they had to concede that the food was delicious. There was a set menu, with each person able to tailor-make their entire meal from a selection of starters, mains and desserts.
Harry and Hermione picked different things, just so they could swap their dishes halfway through. It was an action that didn't go unnoticed, but nobody made any comments, despite their obvious amusement.
After dinner was served, they were required to - what was it again - mingle. Hermione mentioned that she would rather be sitting on Harry's famous large rock at the Black Lake in her birthday suit than deal with this.
Harry laughed, and then immediately stilled as a Hermione in a birthday suit flashed through his mind.
Hermione noticed, and she blushed. "Naughty little sunshine kid," she said lightly.
"I'm a teenage boy, Hermione," he muttered, looking away for a moment. "You can't go around saying things like that."
She giggled. "And, unfortunately, I'm a human girl, and I've got to run to the loo," she said, absently touching his chest. "Do you think you'll be all right for a little while?"
He nodded. "I'll grab a drink and find Haymitch," he said easily. "Just, you know, hurry back, Granger."
Hermione kissed his cheek, and then headed off.
For a while, Harry watched her go, and then he did as he told her he would do. He went to fetch himself a drink - a Coke - and then he went looking for Haymitch. When he couldn't find the preteen, Harry returned to their table and resolved to wait for Hermione to get back. She wouldn't be that long, surely, and nothing was bound to happen to him in that time, right?
Wrong.
"So you're the one here with Hermione?"
Harry looked up to spy a girl a little older than him, looking down at him as if she'd stepped in some dirt. She was wearing a ghastly yellow thing that made him squint. Truthfully, she reminded him of his Aunt Petunia, and that was enough to make him shudder.
"How much did they pay you?"
Harry frowned. "Excuse me?"
The girl laughed hauntingly. "Oh, come off it," she said, waving a hand. "There is no way that Hermione could have managed to catch you."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, but who exactly are you?"
"Oh, I'm Norah," she said. "Hermione's cousin."
"I see," he said, standing up so he could be level with her. "And you came over here to determine if I'm good enough for her, right, because you care deeply about her, right?"
Norah blinked, and then she laughed. "You're a hoot, did you know that?"
Harry felt his anger start to build and, for the first time, he wanted to say something harsh, just to wipe that smug smile off her face. How dare she even try to insinuate such a thing, and to his face? How dare she -
His anger instantly fell away.
Hermione's hand came to rest on the back of his neck, and he immediately relaxed. Her hands were magic; they had to be.
"Oh, Harry, I see you met Norah," she said, her voice slightly higher in pitch. "I hope she wasn't bombarding you with questions. She's terribly nosy sometimes."
Harry couldn't help his smile, particularly when Norah gasped.
"Nothing like that, Hermione," Norah said coolly; "I was just asking him why he was sitting here all by himself. Surely his date should have been paying more attention to him. I know I would."
Hermione tensed at his side, and Harry stood up straighter.
"Actually," he said, looking at Hermione; "she was curious as to how much you paid me to accompany you tonight."
Norah gasped again, clearly not expecting Harry to be so truthful.
Hermione looked at Harry, the clear hurt flashing across her face for a moment, before it was replaced by a potent mixture of anger and mischief. "And what did you tell her?" she asked.
"Oh, just that I demanded your hand in marriage and the sacrifice of your first born child as payment," he answered easily, and then they both burst out laughing, leaving Norah looking utterly confused.
Hermione turned her attention to her older cousin. "Thank you for keeping my date company while I was in the loo," she said, sounding slightly amused. "But I'm here now, so you can go." Hermione turned to face Harry, and he did the same, rudely shutting Norah out of their little world.
Hermione waited until she heard the huff, and then the yellow was gone, before she spoke again. "Oh my God, Harry; I am so sorry! So very sorry."
Harry didn't even tell her that it was okay because, honestly, it wasn't. "Do you have to deal with this every year?"
She nodded, absently biting her bottom lip. "But they're not all like that," she explained. "The older ones are copies of their parents, but then there's the boys: Ben, Frankie and Mitch."
Harry laughed lightly, his hands touching her waist and pulling her close to him. "I think you mean Haymitch," he said. "That's what he calls himself now."
Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, I still don't know what my aunt and uncle were thinking when they picked that name. Their other kids have such normal names."
"We can't even talk," he said, stepping towards her. "I mean, as far as names in the Wizarding World go; we should count ourselves lucky."
"Oh yes," she said, laughing as her arms slipped around his neck. "Some of the names are simply horrific."
"Like Draco Malfoy," he said, grinning. "And Zacharias."
Hermione gently flicked his ear. "You just don't like Smith," she said; "it isn't the worst name around. I mean, it's definitely not Mundungus Fletcher, or Sturgis Podmore."
"Or Nymphadora," he added, both of them giggling at that.
Hermione ran a hand through his hair. "Are you feeling a bit better?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "Just, you know, never leave me alone again."
"I think that you should know by now, Mr Potter, that, if I had the power; I would never leave you alone ever again."
Harry suddenly hugged her to him, surprising her. If they weren't in a crowded room, he might have kissed her, but he wasn't sure how she would feel about that public a display of affection.
Hermione returned his hug, realising that he needed it in this moment. How had she ever thought subjecting him to this would be a good idea? Maybe it would have been better for her parents to pretend that she was still at school like she was the previous year.
No. They were supposed to be enjoying this night.
"Dance with me," she automatically said, her mouth running away before she could fully formulate the thought.
Harry's eyes widened. "What?"
She released him so she could see his face. "Come on, dance with me."
"You're serious?"
She nodded. "It'll be fun."
"I think that you and I have two very different definitions of the word 'fun,' Hermione," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you like having your toes?"
"It'll be fine, Harry," she said, laughing. "Just one dance. It'll be a slow one. Just one."
Harry exaggerated a sigh. "Fine," he eventually relented, knowing that he would have given in either way. From the moment she brought it up, he knew that he would do whatever she wanted. He didn't think that that would ever change. Barely two weeks in, and Harry couldn't imagine life without her. He never wanted to.
Hermione quickly kissed his cheek, grabbed his hand, and then dragged him towards the dance floor. There weren't many people dancing, but there were enough for it not to be awkward. Though, it still was a little awkward in the beginning, with hands not knowing where to go and Harry constantly looking down at their feet. It wasn't quite a slow song playing, but the two of them eventually found a rhythm, and then that was that.
One dance turned into two, and then another and another. Harry didn't recognise much of the music, but Hermione seemed to know the words to a lot of songs. It was almost unnatural.
"I love music," she informed him, noticing his slightly baffled expression. "A lot."
"I didn't know," he confessed. Here he was, still learning new things about this wonderful, perfect girl. He loved it.
"I like to listen to it, and I like to play it," she continued. "Mum's had me taking piano lessons since I was six years old. I used to hate them because I thought they would take away from my time with friends, but I needn't have worried because I never actually had any friends."
Harry's features softened. "And then you met us."
"And I still didn't have friends."
Harry blushed. "But we quickly came to our senses."
"You just needed a mountain troll to make it happen," she said, giggling.
Harry's eyes locked on hers. "Do you ever think about what would have happened if you'd been alone with that troll?" he asked quietly, slowing his movements as the music changed to a much slower song. Harry liked the slower ones, mainly because he could bring her in nice and close and just hold her.
"Not for a while," she said. "I mean, we all know what could have happened, but none of that did, so there's no need to dwell on it. But it is the night that the three of us became friends, so, in some way, I'm glad it happened. It was the beginning for us."
"Is that why that was the first journal you decided to use?" he asked.
She nodded. "I'll use them in chronological order," she elaborated. "So, next would be the Snitch, broomsticks and flames, and then the one with me brewing the oh-so-illegal Polyjuice Potion. Next, I'd use the truly lovely one of me as a human cat."
He couldn't help his grin.
"Though, the one with us just about to use the Time Turner has to be my favourite one," she admitted. "I might even save that one for last." She looked thoughtful. "But, you know, as terrifying as it was riding Buckbeak, I'm glad it's one of the journals. I always loved how happy you were, especially knowing that we'd somehow succeeded."
Harry blinked. "You remember all of them?" he asked, whispering.
"Of course I remember, Harry," she said, her fingers touching the skin of his cheek. "They're very special to me."
"Like I am?" he asked, winking.
"Do you even have to ask?"
Harry laughed.
"Now, less talking, more dancing," she declared. "We better enjoy the music before it descends into a late-night Take That oldies' fest."
Harry frowned. "Huh?"
"Oh, well, you see, at a certain time in the evening, majority of the adults will be sufficiently drunk for them to start losing various items of clothes, singing Take That songs at the top of their lungs and falling over themselves on the dance floor."
Harry wasn't sure what to do with that bit of information. "That sounds... interesting."
"That's definitely a polite way to put it."
Harry eventually conceded to more dancing, less talking. And, before either of them knew it, several voices were ringing out in the hall, indicating that it was time to welcome in the New Year. They immediately stopped moving, the reality of this moment sinking in.
Harry barely heard the countdown. She was looking at him, and he was looking at her. The entire world simply fell away, entirely unimportant in this monumental moment in time. Really, it was as if time slowed down, and took his heartbeat with it.
I love you.
It would be so simple to say it, but the words wouldn't come. Maybe they reflected in his eyes, he didn't know, because she suddenly smiled, and he could have sworn that he saw it too, as clear as day.
She loves me too.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Harry didn't dare look away from Hermione. She was the one to step towards him first, and then they were kissing right into the new year. Hermione held onto the lapels of his jacket as her knees threatened to buckle but his arm around her waist held her up.
"Oi, Hermione," a voice said, and the pair broke apart to find one of Hermione's cousins, Benjamin, smirking at them. "Are you trying to scar us?"
The witch blushed. "Oh, hush you," she said, shaking her head. "Where's Poppy?" she asked, referring to his longtime girlfriend.
The eighteen-year-old was still sporting an amused look. "On holiday with her folks," he answered, shrugging. "I'll see her in a couple of days, so it's no biggie. No New Year's kiss for me unfortunately, but you! Who's this fine fellow?"
Hermione turned to Harry. "Oh, this is Harry Potter, my boyfriend." It still felt a little odd saying it out loud, but she was definitely getting used to it. "Harry, this is my cousin, Benjamin Collins." She looked at Ben. "Where have you been all night, by the way?"
He gave her a bit of a naughty smile. "Well, you know, as much funas this always is; I was actually playing in a gig tonight."
Hermione bounced slightly. "Oh, that's wonderful!" She turned to Harry. "Ben's the frontman of this band called, umm, The Bearded Dragons. They're great, truly great."
Ben also turned to Harry. "She's literally the only person who's even bothered to give us a listen," he told the wizard, and Harry wasn't even surprised. Hermione was that type of person. "While all the other Granger kids are becoming engineers and barristers; all I want to do is play music, and that doesn't exactly sit well with the powers that be."
Hermione went still. "Your mum still hasn't released your trust fund?"
"Increased it to when I'm twenty-one," he said, sounding a little irritated. "And that's only if I get a college degree first."
Hermione could think of many things she could say to make him feel better but she decided against them. "My dad said that you'd entered in this festival competition thing," she said instead; "and if you win, you'll get to be the opening act for, umm... someone famous?"
Ben chuckled. "We did," he said; "but it's all the way in Manchester, and there's no way we could afford to go." He sighed. "Maybe it's for the best, you know; it is a difficult market to break into anyway, especially with all these boybands popping up left, right and centre."
"But you guys are so good," she argued. "I wouldn't give up just yet, okay? Anything could happen."
Even Harry believed her.
For a moment, he thought that she might even be a natural, unwitting Legilimens. Which probably would have explained a lot, if he were being completely honest.
It was only much later on the way home that Hermione mentioned to her parents the idea of sponsoring Ben and his band. It was such a Harry thing to suggest, and he looked at her proudly. He reached for her hand across the backseat, entwining their fingers.
Jane and Michael discussed it for a moment.
"We'd have to do it without your sister ever knowing," Jane said, talking to Michael. "And, if she ever found out, well there would be hell to pay. I don't think that you and I interfering with how your sister parents her son is a good idea, Mick. It's one thing to tellthem what we think, but an entirely different thing to go against their wishes."
Michael was inclined to agree with his wife, and even Hermione had to concede that it would probably cause more problems.
"What if I loaned them the money?" Harry asked, breaking into the family discussion.
"Oh, Harry," Jane immediately said. "There's no need - "
He cut her off, wary of just how rude he was being. "I want to," he said strongly. "I've seen other people who are very passionate about what they do have to fight through their parents' expectations before, and I want to help."
It was Hermione who explained Harry's investment into Fred and George Weasley's joke shop plans. From the way that she spoke about the entire situation, one could tell that she both disapproved of and admired what Harry had done for the twins. She understood following one's passion but, to her, school would always come first, and that would never change.
"And, if anyone ever found out, well, it wouldn't be as bad as if it came from you," Harry added, thinking it would clinch it.
It didn't.
Harry had to do quite a bit more convincing, before Jane and Michael eventually relented. They wouldn't be able to stop him, but they made sure to let him know that they weren't asking him. Hermione repeatedly told him that he didn't have to do anything, but Harry truly wanted to. He wouldn't be able to explain why it was so important to him but it just was.
By the time they were back in Oxfordshire, it was almost three o'clock in the morning, but neither of the teenagers were particularly tired. Jane and Michael retired to bed as soon as they got home, while Harry and Hermione settled down in the living room and watched coverage of the New Year's celebrations going on around the world.
"Can you believe that it isn't yet the New Year in other parts of the world?" Hermione asked, snuggling further into Harry's side as they sat on the couch. "That, somewhere in the world right now, there are people who are still preparing to celebrate?"
"There are millions, billions of people out there, living their own lives," he said, tightening his arm around her. "It makes a person feel truly insignificant, doesn't it?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "You're significant to me, Harry Potter."
"I know," he said, absently playing with her now-loosened hair. "But it's more than that, isn't it? There are so many people in this world, and so many of them have no idea what kind of danger they could be in if we can't stop Voldemort."
"Harry," she said, turning her head to look at him. "We're going to stop him. I'm sure of it."
"But how many people have to die for that to happen, Hermione?"
She kissed the underside of his chin. "I don't know," she said, resting her head against him again. "People die in War."
This time, he kissed the top of her head. "I won't let anything happen to you, Hermione," he said, his eyes closing. "I won't survive it."
Hermione wasn't sure what to say to him, so she didn't say anything at all. Instead, she just sat with him, each of them embracing their own silence. He loved the quiet with Hermione. He could feel her breathing, her chest rising and falling against his side.
When her breathing started to even out, Harry shifted and suggested that they head up to bed.
Harry walked her right to her bedroom door, eventually bringing them to a stop. He twirled her once and laughed at her giggle. "Does this count as our first date?" he asked, pulling her in nice and close to him. He slipped his arms around her waist, and her arms automatically went around his neck.
"No," she said. "God no."
Harry laughed. "We'll go on a proper date, umm... Our next trip to Hogsmeade?"
Hermione looked thoughtful. She did not want her first date with Harry Potter to be in a place where the entire Wizarding World would be watching. "Maybe I can ask my parents if they can drop us off somewhere on Saturday," she suggested. "Maybe the mall. Just to, uh, you know, hang out?"
"Saturday, huh? That'll be the sixth, right?"
She frowned slightly. "Umm, yeah, the sixth. Why?"
"No reason."
"Harry?"
"I think it's a good idea, Hermione," he said seriously. "We'll go on a date."
She nodded. "We'll go on a date."
"But now, I'm going to have to say goodnight, pretty girl," he said, lifting a hand to tuck some loose hair behind her ear. He breathed out. "God was showing off when he made you."
She blushed a deep scarlet. "Harry Potter," she said; "you are honestly my favourite person in this great big world."
Harry leaned in to kiss her, his hands immediately bringing her flush against him, their chests colliding. He was just glad that her parents had already gone to bed because, the next thing either of them knew; Hermione was pressed up against her bedroom door, her hands pinned above her head.
They stayed that way for several minutes, the only sounds in the passage the sounds of urgent kissing and heavy breathing.
It was Hermione who broke the kiss first, absently pushing on his chest. "Potter," she said breathlessly. "Just what are we doing?"
He just grinned at her. "It's the New Year, Hermione," he said softly, as if it explained everything.
And, in that moment, it did. Hermione kissed him one more time before she finally bid him goodnight. "I'll see you in the morning."
"It's already the morning, Hermione."
"Well then I'll see you later," she said, rolling her eyes.
Harry didn't release her.
"Harry," she said. "I have to go to sleep, and so do you. So, now, turn around and march to your bedroom before I go a little crazy and drag you into my bedroom with me."
Harry's eyes widened. "And you call me the naughty one."
She kissed him one last time. How could she not? "Goodnight, Harry."
"Goodnight, Hermione."
I love you.
The next few days passed easily. With all their homework done, Harry and Hermione were able to enjoy their holiday without guilt, though she did make him read up on the Shield Spell, as well as the Patronus Charm, which were the next two spells that they would get the DA working on.
Jane and Michael were a little wary of going back to work and leaving the teenagers alone, now that their relationship status had changed, but Hermione was a truly convincing advocate. And plus, it wasn't as if they actually did anything more than kiss. And touch.
Jane and Harry made dinner every night. In fact, they requested to do it, just so they could try out the new recipes from Harry's recipe book. Hermione didn't really help, but she liked to sit in the kitchen with them when they worked anyway. There was just something different about Harry when he was cooking. He was more confident, more sure of himself, and Hermione found it incredibly attractive.
It was on the first Thursday of 1996 that Hermione reasoned that she was going to have to tell Harry how she truly felt before they went back to school. As yet, they'd avoided conversations about deep feelings and about how the Wizarding World would react to the news that their Boy-Who-Lived was dating a Muggleborn.
She waited until after dinner to talk to him. She'd gone up to shower, and then sat on her bed, writing in her journal, waiting for the boy who would inevitably come. She didn't have to wait very long for the knock, and then Harry Potter was bounding into her bedroom sporting a naughty little grin.
Hermione loved this Harry. He was so light, and he looked so happy. She was still trying to get over the fact that she had a little something to do with it. It was too much to accept sometimes. Thatsmile was for her.
Harry casually hopped onto the bed, sloppily kissed her cheek and then asked her the question he usually did. "Anything about me today?"
She giggled. "I swear you ask this question just to boost your ego," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Put yourself in my shoes," he said. "Wouldn't you be curious too?"
Hermione closed her journal and set it aside. "There is actually something that I wanted to talk to you about," she said seriously.
Harry stiffened slightly, but he still gave her his full attention. "What's on your mind?"
She was momentarily distracted by the intensity of his eyes, and it took her a moment to ground herself again. "Harry?"
"Hmm?"
She blinked slowly, steeling herself. "I love you," she said quietly.
His movements stilled.
When he didn't respond, she added: "I just thought that you ought to know that you make everything okay too. You always do." She'd barely finished speaking when Harry was suddenly on top of her, knocking the breath right out of her.
Harry didn't say anything. His heart was beating too fast for him to produce words, so he rather just kissed her. His lips moved over hers slowly, purposefully, as if he could somehow convey his feelings to her through his actions rather than his flailing words.
Hermione didn't need to hear the words. Harry Potter already said more than enough through his actions.
Harry eventually pulled away and lifted himself up so he could look at her. His gaze was intense but Hermione didn't shy away from it. The last thing she wanted was to look away from him. This was Harry, and he was hers.
Harry dropped his head, his lips brushing against hers, and whispered the words that would forever own her. "I love you too."
Despite deciding that she didn't need the words, Hermione still gasped. "You do?"
Harry didn't try to diminish her concern. If he hadn't seen it in her eyes; he'd be asking the question too. "I worked it out," he said proudly, hovering above her and not letting her look away. "You listen to me when I have a problem... In fact, you force me to talk sometimes, and you help dry my tears. You're the one to take away all my pain, anger and sorrow, and put warmth and happiness in its place. I managed to work out what it all means, and I love you, Hermione. I know it."
Hermione just stared up at him, her breath failing her.
"And, truly, we always did look at each other a little too long for 'just friends,' don't you think?"
Hermione giggled, still in a bit of disbelief.
"And our hands fit perfectly," he added, as if it made all the difference. "Like puzzle pieces. Made for each other."
There he went again with his cute sentiments. Hermione's heart swelled in her chest; she was literally bursting with emotion. "You are so weird," she said, smiling widely.
Harry kissed her quickly before he sat up, his entire demeanour turning serious. "I'm scared of what I'm feeling," he said truthfully, watching as she sat up as well. "It's all so much, and I never want it to go away, Hermione. I never want to stop feeling this thing I'm feeling for you, and for us, and for what's to come. Because I get it now; I see what Krum saw, and what Cho sees.
"You and me. We have the best kind of relationship... one that will last, because we're friends first, and that's what makes us so great. It makes me think that it was only a matter of time before, one day, I woke up and a switch was flipped. Before, you were just my best friend, but now when I see you, I just think 'oh, there you are. I've been looking for you.' Suddenly, you're the only person I could ever imagine myself with."
Hermione blinked once, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Suddenly, I feel like my 'I love you' falls short," she said in a small voice.
"You could just kiss me," he suggested; "it's practically the same thing."
Hermione reached for his closest hand and brought it up to her mouth, placing a kiss against the skin of his palm. "Are we going to talk about what's going to happen when we get back to school?" she asked, wary of bringing up the topic.
Harry sighed. "I know we should, but I really don't want to."
Hermione just eyed him.
"Okay, okay, what do you want to discuss, pretty girl?"
She shifted slightly. "Well, based on what we went through last year; I think I know what to expect," she said thoughtfully. "Though, the Wizarding World has a different opinion of you this year."
"Do they?" he scoffed. "Last year I was a cheat, and now I'm a liar. I think they all still think the same."
"So does that mean I should expect a visit to the Hospital Wing?"
"No," he said, frowning. "We'll screen your mail, and I don't think it will be a good idea for you to be out alone for a little while."
Hermione paled. "Do you actually think someone in the Castle would try to attack me?"
"I don't intend to take any chances, Hermione," he said, his eyes locking on hers. "I can't have anything happen to you, all right? Whether it be a Death Nibbler or a disillusioned fangirl. You're too important to me and I intend for everyone to know that."
"Just, you know, maybe we should break it to Ron first," she said, feeling a little overwhelmed. "He'll probably worry about how this will change our Trio dynamic." She didn't mention that she intended to have a talk with Ginny as well. She really hoped that the redhead wouldn't see this as some kind of betrayal, because it wasn't. It wasn't Hermione's fault that Harry happened to like her back.
No. He loved her.
"Which it won't," she added breathlessly. "You'll just have to make sure that you spend time with him, okay? Time without me."
Harry frowned. "But I don't want to spend any time without you," he said, pouting.
"That's statistically improbable, Harry," she said, trying to ignore her own blush. Why did he say all these cute things, and say them while doing that with his cute face? "And I will not be sneaking off to random little dingy places."
"On no, definitely not," he said, raising a fist into the air. "Only the best for my pretty girl."
"I assume that you've given this a bit of thought then?"
Harry merely smirked, before he was suddenly on top of her again, both of them still breathless. "I intend to kiss you for all you're worth while we're still alone," he said breathily. "How does that sound?"
Hermione's hands moved to his neck, absently bringing his head down so that they could get started. There were still so many things that she was uncertain about, but she had never been more sure of him until this very moment.
Harry loved her.
Wow.
Hermione had to admit that there had been a day for her as well; a day when she woke up and a switch was flipped. One day, she just saw him differently. It wasn't any one thing, but many things. She'd told her mother that somewhere along their wonderful friendship; he just became something more.
"Hermione," he breathed, pulling back so he could look at her again. "Can I ask you something? But you have to promise not to laugh, or get mad at me. I'm just curious."
Hermione managed to nod, trying desperately not to focus on how wonderful it felt to have his weight pressing down on her.
"I'm a little afraid of you sometimes, so don't, you know, hurt me or anything," he added. "But I just have to ask, umm, did you truly pick me out of the hat, and I picked you, or was that, you know, umm planned? Because you said you liked me, and then your mum was going on about how rare that would be in such a big group, and I was just wondering, you know..."
Hermione waited a beat before she laughed lightly. "Of course I didn't plan it, Harry," she said, sounding amused. "I was just as surprised as you were."
Harry could see the truth in her eyes.
Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't do that to you, Harry," she said seriously. "At least, not without you asking me to, all right? I would never try to manipulate you like that."
Harry was surprised by his own relief.
"As your girlfriend, I can't promise that I won't try to convince you to do things that I want, but never like that," she said, equal parts serious and playful.
"So, what would you like me to do right now?" he asked, settling down on her a little more and using his elbows to support himself.
"Do you even have to ask?"
Harry laughed. "We could totally put that on a t-shirt," he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. And then her other cheek, her chin, along her jaw before finally kissing her lips.
"Speaking of t-shirts," she murmured, her hands sneaking under his t-shirt and running her fingers over his warm skin. She bunched up the fabric in her hands and lifted, clearly indicating what she wanted to do.
Harry pulled back suddenly. "Oh no, Hermione Granger," he said, shaking his head. "I quite like having your parents like me, you know? Those hands better behave."
Hermione bit her bottom lip but dutifully retracted her hands. "It amazes me that you're the one who's thinking clearly," she said, her eyes closing for a long moment.
"My fear of your parents kind of sits on my brain," he admitted. "But, by all means, when they're at work tomorrow; your hands can misbehave all they want."
She pulled him down for another - less passionate - kiss, a small smile playing on her face. "So noted, Harry Potter. So noted."