Chapter 30
Harry knew it was going to be a good day the moment he opened his eyes at a quarter after seven. It was the last day of July – his thirteenth birthday. He grinned stupidly as he sat up in bed, stretching his arms and glancing out the window. It was shaping up to be a nice day – a welcome deviation from the overcast weather that had been hanging over Crawley like a wet blanket for weeks.
He was just about to swing his legs off the bed when his bedroom door flew open, and a grinning Hermione Granger stood in the hallway, wearing her bathrobe over her pajamas.
"Good morning, Harry."
"Good morning, Hermione."
"It's my friend's birthday today, you know." She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, smirking.
"Oh, tell him I said congratulations. Are you guys close?" He asked, scooting against his headboard so he was fully upright.
"I suppose." She sighed. "He's a bit of a tosser, sometimes. Plus he's completely delusional about some things, too. Honestly I don't know how we're friends."
"Completely delusional?" Harry asked, more amused than anything. "What can a friend of Hermione Granger be completely delusional about?"
"He's obsessed with this one play. It's good, but it's not as good as he makes it out to be. I don't think it holds a candle to the likes of Hamlet or Pygmalion." Harry rolled his eyes, but his delight didn't falter. "And he's really into this one sport that's terribly dangerous. He's already been hurt a few times by now, but he refuses to stop playing."
"Yikes, how are you still friends with this prat?"
"Well, he has some good qualities, I suppose." Hermione snickered.
"Such as?"
"He's very sweet sometimes. Every time he compliments me I can tell he truly means it." Harry felt his smile widen. "He's also a brilliant student, even if he acts like he isn't."
"Quit trying to make this friend of yours blush…" Harry muttered, but his smile remained intact.
"Oh, shall I go back to what he does that drives me up the wall?" Hermione cocked her head mockingly. "He has no respect for school rules whatsoever. He's the most impulsive individual I've ever met, and he's –"
"Alright, alright, go back to the good parts." Harry threw his hands up in mock surrender.
"With pleasure." Hermione beamed, and Harry's heart began doing its best impression of a jackhammer against his ribs. "It's with him that I've had the best friendship I've ever had. The best friendship I'll ever have."
"You might be laying it on a bit thick, here."
"I don't think I'm exaggerating anything, thank you very much." Hermione bristled, but she maintained her smile. "And he happens to be the bravest boy – the bravest person I have ever met. So incredibly, undeniably, infuriatingly brave."
"Wait, have you been talking about me this whole time?" Harry tried to look as dumb as possible as he finally got around to sliding out of bed and standing up.
"I forgot to mention that he's rather dense." She shook her head slowly at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"You are aware that I actually – "
"I'm sure you came to the conclusion that I was talking about you, but your denseness is not confined to this conversation, Harry Potter." She giggled to herself. "But enough about you having the intuition of a rock. It's your birthday!" Her smile somehow widened.
"So I've heard."
Hermione ignored his sarcasm, instead racing forward impossibly fast. He winced slightly as he felt a familiar wall of force crash into him like a Harry-seeking missile, but didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Hermione as she embraced him like the world was ending.
"Happy birthday, Harry." She whispered into his shoulder.
"Thank you, Hermione." He rested his cheek against the side of her head, smiling contentedly as her hair tickled his skin slightly. "We're finally the same age."
"No." Hermione stepped back and narrowed her eyes. "I'm ten months older than you. Just because each of us has had their thirteenth birthday does not mean we are the same age."
"Well, I'm thirteen. You're thirteen. We're the same age."
"No!" Hermione stamped her foot irritably, and Harry barely subdued his chuckling at how her nose scrunched up in vexation. "I'm older than you." She grumbled, pouting her lips.
"You look adorable when you're like this, you know."
Harry froze, forcing his expression to remain neutral and not reflect the panic that was flooding his body. He felt his face heat up a bit, but kept his mouth shut before he could say something even worse, like 'I like you.'
Hermione's eyebrows shot to the stratosphere in surprise, and Harry briefly considered leaving the room. Or the country. But then she flashed him a warm, albeit shaky smile.
"See?" She whispered in a squeaky voice. "You are sweet sometimes." Her cheeks turned a deep red, but her smile didn't waver.
"I try." He croaked out, surprised he could speak considering his mouth was as dry as a desert. Hermione enveloped him another one of her fierce hugs, and he embraced her back immediately, feeling a pleasant warmth trickle throughout his body.
"Good morning, Harry." Mrs. Granger materialized in the doorway. Harry and Hermione leapt away from each other, stiffening and trying to dust themselves off as they turned to greet Hermione's mother.
"Good morning." Harry managed. "Jean." He added with a smile, and Mrs. Granger beamed at him.
"Happy birthday, kiddo. We thought you should take the morning off from making breakfast on your big day." She winked.
"I'll be in the kitchen in a minute." He grinned, but raised an eyebrow when the dentist shook her head.
"Breakfast won't be served in this house today. Get dressed, birthday boy. You are about to enter the wide world of brunch." Mrs. Granger winked again before retreating down the hallway. Harry turned to Hermione, perplexed.
"Brunch?" He asked, and Hermione just laughed.
"Imagine the Hogwarts feasts."
"I'm interested."
"But you don't have to look at Ron stuffing his face."
"Sign me up." Harry grinned, and the pair burst out laughing, grinning from ear to ear.
"Alright, alright." Hermione finally managed to compose herself, still giggling softly. "You better get going. The reservation is for nine-thirty."
"What?" Harry tilted his head quizzically. "It's not even seven-thirty. Where are we going?"
"London." Hermione grinned, giving him another quick hug before dashing out of his room. Harry watched her bushy brown hair bounce away towards her room and exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Twenty minutes later, Harry descended the stairs into the living room. He had opted for some of his sharper Muggle clothes, assuming that a restaurant in London would expect such attire. Especially if it was on par with the Hogwarts culinary extravaganzas. He had picked a plain blue button-down and khakis, and unsuccessfully tried combing his horribly disheveled hair.
"Well, one of us has to change." Mr. Granger sighed dramatically as he glanced up from a copy of the Crawley Observer. Harry looked at him to see his outfit was nearly identical to the dentist's, and turned to go back to his room and change.
"Harry, it's just a saying." Mrs. Granger smirked from her armchair. "You don't have to change, and neither does my husband."
"Oh…" Harry mumbled. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Plus, I think it would be a shame, since you both look rather handsome." Mrs. Granger winked.
"The boy spends a summer and a half here and you compliment him as much as your own husband." Mr. Granger sighed, shaking his head.
"Hey!" Mrs. Granger wrenched the newspaper out of her husband's hands and smacked him with it. "I said you both. And even you can't deny Harry's turning into quite the young man."
The temperature of Harry's face rivaled the surface of the sun, and he found himself fascinated by the ceiling.
"Jean, honey, stop making the poor boy blush."
"What? He looks good. Hermione, don't you agree?" Mrs. Granger whirled on her daughter, who had been curled up on the couch reading her History of Magic textbook. When her mother turned to her expectantly, she squeaked and shrunk in on herself before burying her nose in the book even more.
"Perhaps we should stop embarrassing the children and head out?" Mr. Granger pushed himself off the chair. "Let me rephrase, perhaps you should stop embarrassing the children – "
"Oh, hush, you!" Mrs. Granger huffed, getting to her feet. "Harry, are you excited for your birthday brunch?"
"Erm…" Harry trailed off, still rather embarrassed at the recent exchange. "Well, I'm still not entirely sure what to expect."
The Grangers happily explained the concept of brunch as they were cruising down the motorway.
"So, there's going to be all kinds of food and I can just put whatever I want on my plate?" He asked once they were done elucidating the ins and outs of their upcoming meal.
"Precisely." Mr. Granger winked in the rearview mirror. "It's perfect for a growing boy like yourself."
"I don't know, it all sounds like a bit much." Harry said nervously. "I don't think I'm worth – " He stopped as Hermione placed her hand over his.
"Harry." She said softly, gazing at him with eyes packed with more emotions than most people experience in their entire lives. "Nobody deserves this more than you do."
"Plus," Mrs. Granger interjected in a much lighter tone, "after whipping up breakfast every day for the past few weeks it only seems fair we treat you to something grand."
"You really don't have to thank me for that, I was just – " Harry stopped suddenly as Hermione squeezed his hand. He inhaled sharply, glancing down towards his covered hand and back up to meet Hermione's eyes. She raised her eyebrows, wordlessly pleading him to accept.
"We most certainly are going to thank you for what you've done." Mrs. Granger turned in her seat to face him. "To not do so would be not only wrong, but cruel and inconsiderate of us. And I'd rather open this door and tumble onto the motorway at a hundred kilometers an hour than be cruel and inconsiderate to someone as kind as you've been." She insisted, her tone laced with a finality that made him close his mouth instinctively.
"Now, Harry, what's your game-plan for this?" Mr. Granger asked after a short pause. "You can't go wandering into something like this all reckless and unprepared."
"I have to tell him something similar before every Charms exam." Hermione chuckled, eliciting cheerful laughter from her parents.
"Sorry, Mr. Granger, game-plan?" Harry asked, a bit dubious. "This is a meal, not a Quidditch match, correct?"
"I'm going to ignore the jest in that question because it's your birthday." He replied with a huff, and Harry cracked a smile at that. "When it comes to these things, if you don't go about it right, you'll be too full to enjoy half the things you want to try eating. Here's what I usually do…"
Harry happily listened to Mr. Granger talk strategy for maximizing his enjoyment during the rapidly-approaching brunch. His wife and daughter would occasionally chime in with their own advice. Hermione made it crystal-clear that he should try the French delicacies that the restaurant had to offer, and Harry decided that would be his first stop.
Sure enough, the four of them marched into the opulent restaurant, and after being seated at their table they quickly moved to peruse the buffet. Harry followed Hermione to the French section, where they happily loaded up on Croque-Monsieurs, eggs, and an assortment of pastries and fruits.
"Harry, these are the best grapes I've ever had, try one." Hermione had an enthralled smile on her face as she plucked a maroon-colored grape off of the bunch on her plate and lobbed it in his direction. Harry barely had time to react, but he just managed to swing his head in the projectile's path and snare it between his teeth with a fluidity that surprised him, Hermione, and a woman who happened to be walking by.
"Crazy kids…" The pantsuit-clad woman muttered before continuing towards the omelette station just beyond them. Harry and Hermione exchanged quick glances before bursting into laughter.
"I thought you would use your hand!" Hermione giggled after the woman was out of sight. Harry could barely speak through his laughter and settled for shrugging. The pair found themselves still chortling merrily as they joined Hermione's parents at their table to eat.
"You know I can't resist a chance to show off." Harry grinned, plopping down in his chair.
"I never should have showed you Top Gun." Hermione returned his amused smile.
The four of them eagerly dug into their meals, and it wasn't long before everyone found themselves going for seconds. And thirds. And fourths.
"It feels wrong taking this much food…" Harry mumbled as he shoveled another helping of treacle tart onto his plate.
"Perhaps…" Hermione gave a sly smile. "But doesn't the taste of these brownies make it all worth it?" She brandished a chocolate-chip brownie under his nose, and Harry begrudgingly took a bite.
"Oh my god…" Harry moaned as he swallowed. "I'll take one hundred of those, please." He grinned, plucking the rest of the brownie out of Hermione's hand.
"You got some on your lip." She winked. "Right…there." She brushed a few crumbs off of Harry's lower lip, who suddenly found it very difficult to think. Or see straight. Or breathe.
"Thanks." He said awkwardly. Hermione simply beamed at him and returned to loading up her plate. Harry couldn't help but feel as if she'd react the same to him thanking her for lending him a quill, or something equally devoid of significance.
After Harry, Hermione, and the Grangers decided they had eaten enough food for a few lifetimes, they left the restaurant with wide smiles and even wider stomachs, piling into Mr. Granger's Jaguar and making their way back home.
"So we have just a couple appointments in the afternoon, but we'll be back in time for the big birthday dinner. Do the two of you think you can keep yourselves busy?" Mrs. Granger asked, turning in her seat.
"Oh, we'll manage. Harry just probably wants to hole up and do homework all day, anyway." Hermione snickered.
"I can't believe I'm being mocked by Hermione Granger of all people for being studious. Did I hit my head this morning?" Harry asked, eliciting laughter from all three Grangers. "In all seriousness, I was hoping we could go to Sapphire Park."
"Oh, of course, Harry!" Hermione's face brightened with excitement. "I'm just teasing, you know." She leaned into his side affectionately.
"Y-yeah I know." He stammered as Hermione suddenly snaked her arm around his.
"I'd be happy to go to the park with you." Hermione continued. "If I weren't so full, we could probably make ourselves a little picnic." She sighed wistfully. "Too bad…"
"You don't need an abundance of food to make a picnic, you know." Mrs. Granger offered, turning back to face the windshield. "We have a few picnic blankets in the guestroom closet, you two can just grab one and some books and lounge about on the grass. That's a picnic in my book"
"That's perfect!" Hermione straightened with excitement. "Maybe we can get some ice cream. Does that sound alright, Harry?" She turned to her best friend excitedly.
To Harry, it sounded like heaven and hell simultaneously. Spending an afternoon sprawled out with a good book and an ice cream cone with his best friend? He'd take that every day of the week. Spending an afternoon sprawled out on a picnic blanket with his crush, who was unaware of how he felt? Yikes.
"Let's do it." Harry blurted, hoping he wouldn't regret it.
As it turned out, he didn't. He and Hermione fetched a blue and white checked picnic blanket, some of their favorite books, and a pair of reusable water bottles before strolling down towards the park. They happily claimed a patch of space on the rolling green field adjacent to the pond, and Harry quickly sat down cross-legged and began reading through A Few Good Men for what must have been the thousandth time.
Hermione, meanwhile, collapsed dramatically onto her back with a tranquil sigh, opening her copy of Emma by Jane Austen. Harry managed to flip through a whole three pages before he stole his first glance at Hermione. At that instant, any interest he had in reading vanished.
Her bushy brown locks spread across the blanket below her, forming an impromptu halo of glowing hair around her head. Her lips were pulled into the faintest of smiles as her eyes flicked from left to right across the pages as she read about the lives of Emma Woodhouse and George Knightley.
Harry managed to flip a page every few minutes but didn't absorb a single word of his favorite play as he constantly caught glimpses of his best friend. He found himself completely, utterly transfixed by Hermione Granger as she tapped her foot on the blanket, as she drummed her fingers on the back cover of her novel, as she occasionally shifted her position to get more comfortable.
Harry was perfectly content to sit and stare at Hermione for the rest of the afternoon. The sun wasn't beating down in a sweltering heat, rather it bathed him in a pleasant warmth that made everything around him that much better. The unobstructed sunlight glimmered on Hermione's mane, drawing Harry's attention to a different strand of shimmering hair every time he looked over. To say nothing of her skin, which was positively glowing thanks to the sun's rays. He felt his lips curl up in a blissful smile as he glanced up from his book once again at Hermione.
"It's rude to stare, you know." She suddenly smirked, not taking her eyes off of her novel.
"What?" Harry felt his stomach plummet and quickly returned his attention to the words of Aaron Sorkin, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt.
"'What?'" Hermione did a very poor impersonation of Harry's voice. "Honestly, Harry. Do I have something on my face? Is that it?" She closed her book and sat up, turning her hips to face him.
"N-no, that's not it." He whispered, trying to act casual. He closed his own book and reluctantly met Hermione's eyes.
"Then what is it?" She asked expectantly. "You're not as subtle as you like to think. You never have been."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said, his tone more defensive than he wanted.
"I – nothing." Hermione sighed, and there was an uncomfortable silence that felt much longer than the five seconds that it lasted. "Let's try something." She suddenly grabbed his shoulder and practically threw him onto his back.
"Whoa!" He sputtered as Hermione laid down next to him, staring at the sky above them. "What was that for?" He asked, trying to ignore the fact that their shoulders were touching.
"Let's cloud watch." She said quickly. "See that one?" She pointed to a particularly blob-shaped one. "I think it looks like a cat, don't you?"
"Erm, I think it looks like a Quaffle." Harry offered, smiling as he heard Hermione huff.
"Okay, well that one?" She pointed to a narrower cloud just to the left of the last one. "Doesn't that look like a wand?"
"I think it looks like my Nimbus Two Thousand."
"Harry!" Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Do you ever think about anything besides Quidditch?"
"Yes." He answered quickly. Too quickly.
"Like what?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, turning towards him. Harry kept his eyes on the clouds above him even as he felt Hermione's bore into the side of his head.
"I'm still thinking about those brownies, to be honest." He smirked, surprising himself with his quickness.
"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione giggled, turning back towards the sky. "Well, that square-shaped one up there reminds me of a brownie. What say you?"
"That," Harry's face broke into a pleased smile, "we can agree on."
Hermione giggled again, and the sound was music to his ears. He managed to get the better of his emotions and simply enjoyed the moment, rather than try and think about how close they were, and how Hermione was lacing her fingers through his.
"Are you excited for your birthday dinner?" She asked after a very long, very comfortable silence. Harry hadn't checked his watch but guessed that it had been at least a half hour since their impromptu cloud-watching session began.
"Very." Harry grinned at the prospect of returning to the French restaurant they'd attended last year for his birthday. "Your dad even took me out to get a new blazer the other day, since I sort of outgrew the one he gave me last year."
"How'd that go?"
"I suppose you'll see tonight." Harry tapped his foot against Hermione's.
Hermione giggled, and tilted her head so she was facing him. "I can't wait." Harry turned his head too, and saw she was beaming at him, emitting such an enchanting glow that he momentarily thought the world was spinning. He managed to return the smile, even if his lips trembled with nervous energy.
They stared at each other, brimming with genuine happiness, for only a moment – even if it felt like an eternity for one Harry Potter. Then, a familiar jingle of music echoed across the park. Harry didn't react at first, opting to continue staring at the girl that had unintentionally turned his life into a mess of confusion, feelings and more confusion.
"Ice cream?" Hermione asked, still smiling. Not waiting for an answer, she jumped to her feet, dragging Harry up and sprinting towards the truck they had become well acquainted with.
A few hours later, Harry and Hermione were reading together on the couch. Well, that wasn't true. Hermione was reading Emma with rapt attention, while Harry was staring blankly at his Charms textbook.
The reason Harry was finding it so bloody difficult to focus on the book in front of him was the fact that Hermione had felt compelled to lean her head against his shoulder. He had broken into a giddy smile the moment he felt her rest her cheek against him, but made a point of not reacting. He never reacted when she did this before he realized he fancied her. Right?
'Ugh, you're pathetic.' The voice in his head made a surprise appearance. 'Stop being weird.'
'Can you offer some actual advice?' Harry thought to himself petulantly.
'Sure. Stop being weird.' Harry rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. 'And do what feels right.'
He blinked at the strangely sage advice his inner voice provided. 'Do what feels right.' was a vast improvement from the usual suggestions of 'Tell her how you feel!' or 'Just kiss her already!' he'd been receiving for nearly three weeks.
'Well, what feels right?' Harry wondered silently. He thought back to the previous times his best friend had placed her head on his shoulder, and felt his arm twitch instinctively. Plucking up a bit of his Gryffindor courage, he wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders, using his other hand to keep his book steady in his lap. He flicked his eyes to his left to see Hermione look up at him and smile before returning her eyes to her book. Harry smiled to himself, more triumphant than anything, and found it much easier to read his textbook.
A little while later, he was waiting on the same couch, clad in a new black blazer and conversing merrily with the Grangers while they waited for Hermione. Well, to be exact, he was conversing with Mr. Granger while Mrs. Granger occasionally chimed in.
"So, Harry, Hermione wrote that the Quidditch Cup was cancelled this year. I was sorry to hear that, she said that you guys were playing well." The dentist leaned forward in his armchair. Harry couldn't help but feel a flurry of excitement at Mr. Granger's eagerness to discuss Quidditch. There was something different, something indescribable about describing Quidditch to him as opposed to discussing it with Ron or anyone else at Hogwarts.
"Yeah, it was a bit sad, truth be told. This nasty wizarding flu took over almost every player in the school, and everyone agreed it was better to scrap the last games altogether." A small pang of guilt stabbed at his stomach at the lie, but he silently reassured himself that it was to protect Hermione.
"Hermione tells me you won the first match with a broken arm?"
"Ah…" Harry trailed off, failing to hide his amusement at the absurdity of the match versus Slytherin. "Yeah, well, you remember when I explained Bludgers?"
"Those are the ones like heat-seeking missiles?"
"Right." Harry smirked at the comparison "Well, they're bewitched to target all players equally. Because, you know, everyone deserves to suffer." His smile widened as the Grangers both laughed at that. "Anyway, someone cursed the Bludger to target me specifically, so I spent the whole match flying with this thing zooming after me."
"Didn't they stop the match?" Mrs. Granger gasped, her hands flying to her chest in shock. "Surely they didn't let you play with such dangerous conditions?"
"Harry was actually the one who insisted they keep playing. The stupid, brave prat." A voice called from the top of the staircase. Immediately, Harry grinned and leapt to his feet to meet a certain brown-eyed witch as she joined the three of them in the living room.
Harry was certain that he had put a hole in the floor with his jaw. Hermione Granger gingerly made her way down the stairs, a shy smile on her face as she locked eyes with her dumbstruck best friend. She'd abandoned the blouse from a year prior, but kept the color. She was wearing a sundress – periwinkle blue – that came to just below her knees. To Harry, her skin was positively glowing.
"Hi, Harry." She said rather timidly as she reached the bottom of the staircase. He glanced up to meet her eyes, which were sparkling with happiness and a flicker of apprehension. He flicked his gaze up to see her hair was in a half-up half-down style that clearly required some sort of magical remedy to tame her notoriously frizzy locks. Then, he noticed a familiar looking flower tucked behind her right ear. It was only a few centimeters in diameter, and its hue was identical to the dress below it. A periwinkle.
"You look pretty." He said without thinking. And, surprisingly, he didn't find himself wishing he hadn't said it, or glancing out the window to see if he could jump out of it. It just felt right. He blinked, wondering if the voice in his head had finally matured. He returned to reality to see Hermione dart her eyes to the floor.
"And therefore I have value?" She said mockingly, nudging his shin with her foot. Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and wondered if maybe what he said wasn't so right after all.
"N-no, that's not what I meant at all. You look pretty, yes, but of course you have value regardless, I just – "
"Relax, Harry." She smiled again. "I'm just teasing you."
Harry let out a sharp exhale, letting out a small – mostly relieved – laugh.
"You look handsome." She said after a beat, and it was Harry's turn to blush.
"Thank you." He managed to squeak out, running a hand through his hair. "You have to teach me how you conquer that hair of yours." He laughed, glancing over to a mirror to see his hair was still its untidy self.
"But I like your real hair." Hermione said automatically, tilting her head with another smile.
"I like your real hair too…" Harry half-whispered, and they both blushed at that.
"As heartwarming as it is to see my two favorite people in the world be adorable like this, I think we should get to dinner soon." Mrs. Granger beamed, her eyes glistening.
"Two favorite people? I'm literally standing right here. You know, me, your husband." Mr. Granger huffed sarcastically before throwing a wink towards Harry and Hermione. "But I suppose we should hit the road." He made his way towards the door, his wife in hot pursuit.
Harry and Hermione stood still for a moment, watching the latter's parents traipse away.
"Is that the same flower that I gave you?"
"I read about preservation charms in the library one day." Hermione gave another shy smile. "I really wanted to keep it." Harry nodded, returning the smile as he stared in admiration at his best friend.
"Shall we?" Hermione asked.
"I suppose we shall." He made his way towards the door, and Hermione followed. "Did you really pick this same color just for me?"
"I'll have you know I happen to like this color, too." Hermione raised an eyebrow as they walked along. "Not everything is about the great Harry Potter."
"In that case, you won't mind if I take my flower back." He smirked as they closed the door behind them. He extended his arm outwards as if to tug the periwinkle away, only for Hermione to snare his wrist with her hand.
"Nice try." She winked. "Hey, looks like your Seeker reflexes are rubbing off on me. Maybe I should try out this year."
"Ha-ha." Harry rolled his eyes as they slipped into the car. "You hear that, guys? Your daughter is thinking about trying out for the barbaric bloodbath that is Quidditch."
"Well, I suppose we have to buy you a broom in Diagon Alley, don't we?" Mr. Granger chuckled as he backed the Jaguar out of the driveway. With that, the four of them were off, chatting away about all manner of things. As the car cruised along, Harry shot an occasional glance at Hermione, who seemed to be in the best mood she'd had in a while. He wondered if it just seemed that way because he too was the happiest he'd been in three weeks, or if she was just equally enthused by his birthday.
She caught his eye as he pondered, and flashed him a warm smile. It sent enough butterflies to block out the sun flying through his stomach, but he returned it easily enough. He was too happy to be nervous.
The pleasant mood continued throughout the meal, where the Grangers congratulated Harry on a terrific year.
"We'd brag about your exam scores, but it since they were cancelled we'll just assume you would have done as brilliantly as you did last year." Mrs. Granger raised her glass and gave a proud smile.
"I suppose." Harry said sheepishly. "It helps to have the smartest girl in the school around to help from time to time."
Hermione suddenly seemed more flustered than Harry, but offered a meek congratulations as they began their meal. Harry was enjoying his coq au vin, sharing bites of roasted chicken and potatoes with Hermione as she let him sample her cassoulet.
"How come we never have this in school when we've got all those ducks on the Great Lake?" Harry grinned mischievously after a particularly delicious bite of Hermione's entrée. She rolled her eyes but cracked an amused smile, as did her parents.
The dinner was exquisite in every sense. Just as they had a year prior, the four of them opted to forgo dessert and make their way home, talking about all manner of happy topics. Eventually, they pulled back into the driveway, and Hermione practically dragged Harry to the kitchen table.
"I suppose it's not as much of a surprise this year, but I made some changes." She beamed as she placed a birthday cake in front of him, adorned with thirteen candles.
"Wow…" Harry grinned as he admired the red and gold cake with one word written in flowery gold icing – Potter. The font was identical that of his Quidditch jersey, and he turned to his best friend with the most appreciative smile he had. "You baked this?" She nodded. "And decorated it?"
"I spend a fair amount of time looking at you in your bloody Quidditch uniform. And you know bloody isn't a swear in that sentence, it's literal. You come back bleeding after half your practices." She smirked, and Harry laughed along with the Grangers. "Ready for presents?" She asked excitedly.
"About time I find out this gift of yours." He rubbed his hands together in excitement. The Grangers produced a handful of packages wrapped perfectly.
Harry was ecstatic to receive a new watch from Mr. Granger. "Every strapping young lad like yourself needs a good watch." He winked as Harry happily replaced the worn one he'd been wearing since Dudley Dursley had thrown it at him in a rage one day. Next came a poster for Top Gun, featuring Tom Cruise standing with his arms crossed next to his trusted fighter jet.
"We thought you might want some décor for your dormitory, and you've made your admiration for Maverick quite clear." Mrs. Granger smiled, and Harry thanked the dentists profusely.
Then, Hermione handed him a box twice the size of the average shoebox. He opened the wrapping paper slowly, intentionally slowly to watch Hermione narrow her eyes and scrunch up her nose in annoyance. He smirked before ripping the paper off with a flourish, opening the box to reveal a plethora of broomstick maintenance equipment.
"Wow, Hermione!" He whispered, picking up a jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish.
"So, I know you just use the generic upkeep materials they keep at Hogwarts, but I didn't think that would do for Gryffindor's star Seeker." Hermione explained shyly. "So, I wrote to some of the best Quidditch teams in the world, asking their players what they used for their brooms."
"Are you serious?" Harry stared in amazement at his best friend. "They told you what they use? They actually wrote back?"
"Well, a fair amount didn't just tell me. They actually sent things back. Those Tall-Twig Clippers, for example, were sent by the Falmouth Falcons." Hermione blushed as Harry's jaw dropped even more. "It may have helped that I mentioned your name in the letters." She admitted.
"Hermione, I don't know how to thank you." Harry whispered, still in shock at Hermione's dedication to getting such a brilliant gift. "I can't believe I got you a lousy photo album…" He shook his head in amazement, earning a playful shove from his best friend.
"Never call my favorite birthday gift lousy again." She smiled blushingly. The four of them proceeded to go through Harry's kit of maintenance with great interest. Harry let Mr. Granger flip through the strategy book that the Montrose Magpies had thrown in for good measure while Mrs. Granger examined the broom polish with great interest.
"Oh, it smells amazing, Harry, have you smelled it?" She leaned over and stuck the jar under his nose. Harry inhaled and could only describe the aroma as intoxicating – it filled his entire body with warmth as he felt his lips curl up in a blissful smile.
After going through the presents once again and enjoying some birthday cake, Harry and Hermione excused themselves to go to bed. The pair made their way up the stairs and down the corridor, still clad in their dinner attire and standing outside their bedroom doors.
"Hermione, I really can't tell you how much I love your gift." Harry broke the silence. Hermione beamed at him, but suddenly held up a finger.
"I'll be right back." She slipped into her bedroom, and Harry thought he had said something wrong. Then, just as quickly as she departed, she returned to the corridor, holding a narrow box maybe eight inches long. "I have another gift for you. I didn't want to risk explaining the backstory in front of my parents."
Harry raised an eyebrow but took the box. His eyes darted between the plain black parcel and Hermione's expectant gaze before he lifted the lid, and promptly dropped it in surprise.
"Wow, Hermione!" He found himself saying once again. It was a quill, lacking a feather, but Harry couldn't care less about what feather he was going to place in it. It was pure silver, and lining the edges were several glittering red stones. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand, pausing as he spotted a miniscule inscription – Godric Gryffindor. The quill was practically the spitting image of the sword of Gryffindor.
"I'm sorry I wasn't by your side when you had to use the real sword. I'm sure it was a sight to behold." Hermione seemed a bit nervous as she wrung her hands. "But, I thought you might like a reminder of how much of a true Gryffindor you are. About how truly, truly brave you are. And how your bravery inspires me." She whispered the last sentence, darting her eyes to the ground.
"Hermione…" His voice broke as he twirled the quill before placing it back in the box. He couldn't even begin to describe the swirl of emotions he was feeling – gratitude, elation, pride, and affection for his best friend. Taking a wobbly breath, he gave her a wide smile and threw his arms around her. She let out a small squeak in surprise but eagerly reciprocated the hug.
"Happy birthday, Harry." She whispered into his shoulder. Harry gave her a tight squeeze before stepping back and meeting her eyes.
"Thank you."
Then, he felt a surge of courage, perhaps from his newest gift, and he decided to do what felt right. He leaned in and kissed Hermione on the cheek. It wasn't an entirely chaste peck, but it by no means was as long as Harry really wanted it to be. As he pulled his lips away from her warm and impossibly soft skin, he met her eyes nervously.
She squeaked again as he met her eyes, and was blushing furiously. But she was simultaneously giving him the widest smile he had ever seen on her face. He expected his knees to buckle, he expected to feel light-headed, he expected his stomach to turn inside-out, he expected a lot of nervous reactions to hit him all at once like the perfect storm.
But he stood, perfectly happy and relaxed, although his heart was racing a bit, and stared at Hermione. It all felt right.
'Do it.' The voice in his head whispered encouragingly before retreating to the depths of his subconscious. Harry took a few breaths, still grinning at a pleasantly surprised Hermione. Clearing his throat, he felt his heart swell with excitement.
"Hermione, I – "
But he stopped. Because suddenly, things did not feel right. Not at all. Based on Hermione's sudden change in expression, she too knew that everything was far from alright. A soft CRACK that reminded him of reaching Platform Nine and Three Quarters with Mr. Weasley rang out from what sounded like outside the house.
Someone had just Apparated to the Granger residence.
Chapter 31
Harry and Hermione stood rooted to the floor in fear before they heard knuckles rapping the front door. Before either of them could react, the voice of Mr. Granger carried throughout the house.
"Professor McGonagall!" He cried out in what sounded like pleasant surprise. "And, I don't believe we've had the pleasure, Mister…"
"Dumbledore." A familiar voice uttered from downstairs, and the fear Harry felt was quickly replaced by confusion. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It's a pleasure to meet you, ah! I presume this is your wife. A pleasure, my dear."
"What is going on?" Harry whispered, turning to an equally bewildered Hermione, who just gaped.
"Professor McGonagall!" Mrs. Granger's voice came next. "And it's nice to meet you too, Professor Dumbledore. Hermione has written about you a few times."
"Oh, dear, I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs." The Headmaster chuckled. "Are a certain two of my favorite students around?"
Hermione squeaked and began blushing furiously, and despite Harry's insurmountable perplexity he cracked a smile as his best friend began fanning herself.
"Harry! Hermione!" Mrs. Granger called out from downstairs. "You appear to have some visitors!"
"Coming, mum!" Hermione replied. The pair shared another confused glance before making their way downstairs. "Do you think we're in trouble?" She whispered to Harry, hastily sliding her hand into his. Harry shrugged, feeling a knot of nervousness manifest in his stomach. Was Dumbledore about to send him back to Privet Drive?
"Ah, there you are! I hope we didn't wake you." Dumbledore seemed peculiarly upbeat considering it was past eleven at night and everyone around him was either unamused or scared out of their wits. "You two look rather sharp, I must say. Did you attend a ball?"
Before anyone could even open their mouths, he clapped a hand to the side of his head in realization.
"Ah!" He exclaimed. "How could I forget? My sincerest apologies, Harry. Happy birthday!" His eyes twinkled, and Harry felt more confused than ever. "Alas, I cannot give you a gift because favoritism is frowned upon. Isn't that right, Minerva?" He winked at the Head of Gryffindor, and Harry swore she blushed. Harry remembered it was her who had given him his Nimbus Two Thousand and he nodded in realization.
'So, Dumbledore's too cheerful for us to be in trouble. Unless this is some kind of tactic. I can't think of a better good cop bad cop duo than a happy Dumbledore and McGonagall.' Harry grimaced involuntarily.
"Thank you, Professor." He managed to rip himself away from his thoughts. "But, did you come here just to wish me a happy birthday?"
"No, we did not, although it was a nice addition." Dumbledore sighed. "I trust you are all enjoying your summer holiday?" Everyone nodded uneasily. "No troubles?" He added with an intense gaze. Harry nodded, pursing his lips in anxiety. "Swell!" He said, clapping his hands together. "I suspect it is about to get better."
"What makes you say that?" Asked a suddenly amused Mrs. Granger.
"How would you all like the Ministry of Magic to sponsor a holiday in France? For all of you?"
Harry's jaw hit the floor.
"Why?" He gaped.
"Well, that's where things become less…light-hearted." Dumbledore sighed. "Have any of you heard of a man named Sirius Black?"
One Week Later
"How many words in French do you actually know?"
"Just the important ones. I know baguette, I know Madame and Monsieur, and Bonjour. Oh, and s'il vous plaît. How much more do I need to know?" Harry smirked as he, Hermione, and the Grangers took their seats at an outdoor table of a café in Cannes, France. It was the first morning of their impromptu holiday, and the four of them were eager to immerse themselves in their surroundings.
"Oh? And just how far do you think you'll get with that extensive vocabulary?" Hermione asked smugly, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. Harry narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, until a waitress arrived at their table and greeted them.
"Bonjour, Madame." Harry grinned, putting on the most suave voice his thirteen year old self was capable of. "Une baguette, S'il vous plait." He gestured to the table. Hermione just rolled her eyes at him. Harry, however, was just as surprised as his best friend when the server beamed, nodding in understanding before strolling off to find them some bread.
"I suppose he can get quite far." Mr. Granger couldn't hide his amused smirk as Hermione huffed, grabbing her menu and making a point of not looking at Harry, who was still grinning in self-satisfaction.
"What will you be having?" Mrs. Granger asked Harry from diagonally across the table.
"I think I'll just have this special with the croissant and hot chocolate." Harry couldn't read French for his life, but the menu had a picture of the famous French pastry next to a cup of hot chocolate with the word 'spécial' underneath it, and even he could deduce that much.
"I'll take it from here." It was Hermione's turn to narrow her eyes, her smug expression returning as she turned to the approaching waitress, who cheerfully placed a bread basket in the middle of the table. Before Harry could grab a piece, Hermione began spouting out words that sounded like utter nonsense to him –perfect French. She pointed to everyone at the table, even jabbing Harry in the shoulder when she got to him, pontificating in the language of King Louis like she was born to do it. The waitress diligently copied down what the bushy-haired girl was saying and flashed the table a quick smile before marching off.
"Well then." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, stunned at Hermione's sudden display of linguistic talent. "Erm, une baguette, Madame?" He asked her sheepishly, pointing to the basket in front of Hermione. "S'il vous plait." He added for good measure.
"Avec joie." Hermione said matter-of-factly, thrusting the basket into his hands.
"You're scary when you get competitive you know." Harry plucked a piece of bread. "Brilliant…but scary."
Hermione rolled her eyes again but finally cracked a smile, along with her much more amused parents.
"She learned when she was young." Mrs. Granger explained, leaning back in her wrought-iron chair. "The moment she learned it was the Language of Love she practically begged us to let her – "
"Mum!" Hermione gasped, her cheeks turning pink.
"What?" Her mother asked plainly. "She loves everything to do with France now. We've gone on a few holidays here in the past, but never to this region." She explained to Harry, gesturing to the stunning Southern France city that surrounded them.
"It really was quite generous of the Headmaster to offer this trip. Even if the circumstances are a bit…grim." He sighed.
"Well, he does kind of owe me." Harry said, his tone a bit darker than he intended.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione grabbed his hand under the table, and he gave her an appreciative smile. "Let's not talk about that. Or the fact that, you know…"
"The fact that the first person to ever break out of Azkaban wants to do me in, so Dumbledore sent me out of the country to protect me until school starts?" Harry asked innocently. Hermione inhaled sharply and squeezed his hand. "Oh, yeah, you were saying we shouldn't talk about that." He realized.
"On a happier note…" Mrs. Granger sighed. "What would you guys like to do for our first afternoon?"
The four of them quickly launched into a much more pleasant conversation about the sights and offerings of Cannes until their waitress returned with several plates of traditional French breakfast fare. Harry was happy to savor his pastry and sip his hot chocolate, not feeling particularly hungry.
He distractedly pursed his lips as he mulled over the words of Dumbledore and McGonagall a week prior. How a man named Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, and in the name of protecting his students, Albus Dumbledore convinced the Ministry of Magic to finance a trip for Harry and the Grangers in the name of safety. It was worlds better than what Harry thought he was going to say – the boy wizard half-expected the Headmaster to drag him back to Privet Drive in order to protect him.
"What do you say, Harry?" Mr. Granger asked, jarring Harry away from his thoughts. "Would you be interested in stopping by one of the art museums, then the beach?"
"Sure!" Harry grinned, eager to explore the city. The rest of the breakfast proceeded pleasantly, with Hermione teaching Harry a few phrases in French.
A few hours later, Harry found himself standing on a beach for the first time in his life, and he couldn't find the words to describe it. He stared in amazement at the sand and its gentle hue of gold, peaking in a cluster of dunes just behind him that rolled as far as the eye could see. He turned towards the ocean, watching the waves crash on the sand and pull back, over and over. The rhythmic lapping of water against shore reminded him of a pulse, as if the ocean were a living, breathing entity.
"Like what you see?" Mr. Granger asked from next to Harry. He looked as if he was born to stand on this beach, with a casual-looking button-down shirt opened to reveal a white T-Shirt underneath. He pulled off his sunglasses and winked at Harry, placing the lenses over his baseball cap. "Nothing beats the beach. At least for me." He smiled contentedly. "Hermione has libraries, you have the Quidditch pitch, and Jean and I have the beach."
"Are you going to continue your little soliloquy or are you going to help your wife set up?" Mrs. Granger sighed dramatically from behind Harry and Mr. Granger. They turned to see her and Hermione unfolding beach chairs and laying out towels on the sand.
"Right." Mr. Granger smirked as he joined the others. Harry followed suit, helping Hermione with a particularly stubborn beach chair.
"I like your swim trunks." She said rather meekly as they finally unfolded the seat and placed it in the sand. Harry smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.
"Thanks." He said awkwardly. "Your dad was really nice about helping me pick them out." He paused. "You look really nice, by the way."
And she did. She was wearing a plain baby-blue T-shirt to go with a pair of white shorts that Harry had never seen before, and it took almost all of his willpower not to stare at her legs.
"Thanks." She blushed, pulling at her shirt distractedly. "Mum, dad, can Harry and I go for a walk?"
Mrs. Granger pursed her lips in thought for a moment before nodding. "Don't go off too far."
"Yes, please don't get lost or kidnapped or something. We'd hate to get on the bad side of that Professor McGonagall." Mr. Granger smirked, grabbing a novel from his bag.
"You have no idea." Harry chuckled, and Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile.
"We'll be back later." Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry's hand, and he waved goodbye to the Grangers before being tugged off. "Left or right?" She asked as they reached the edge of the waves.
"What?" Harry asked, focusing more on the feeling of Hermione's fingers interlocked with his than anything.
"Do you want to walk that way," she pointed to their left, "or that way?" She pointed to the right.
"Oh, erm…" Harry looked from side to side. "That way seems less crowded." He pointed to their right, and Hermione flashed him a pleased smile.
"Shall we?"
"I suppose we shall." Harry returned the smile, squeezing Hermione's hand and beginning their walk. The first few minutes were filled with a content silence, as they observed their surroundings with smiles on their faces. Harry spotted a shaggy black dog running into the water, only to come sprinting out just as fast, as if it were trying to race the waves. He turned and saw two boys not much older than him tossing a Frisbee back and forth.
"Those two remind me of you and Ron." Hermione smirked, nodding her head towards the teenagers. Harry watched with interest as one of them missed a catch and ended up tripping on a towel, face-planting into the sand.
"Please tell me that one is Ron?" He asked with an amused smile.
"Definitely." She giggled. "I would imagine the best Seeker at Hogwarts would be a bit more graceful."
Harry laughed along with her, and the two continued their stroll, admiring the natural splendors that surrounded them for another few minutes.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She asked, stopping in her tracks as she gazed at the horizon. "The way the sun shines on the sea. It's like there's a million sparkles on the water." She let out a wistful sigh. Harry raised his eyebrows at her sudden fascination. "And the water is so clear. Like there's two skies on top of each other. When the sun sets like it does now, it's hard to tell when heaven stops and Earth begins."
She took a deep breath before slowly meeting Harry's eyes. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"
Harry stared in deep thought at his best friend. The way the sun kissed her skin, giving her a tanner complexion that made it look as if she was radiating sunlight. The way her hair was shining, a deep brown infused with flecks of gold that sparkled in the setting sun. The way her lips looked as soft as velvet, but softer. The way her eyes were so deep, so enchanting, he could stare at them forever until he withered away, and he wouldn't care.
"Yes."
Hermione blinked, unable to mask her confusion.
"Like what?"
'Now or never.' The inner voice chimed in. Harry took a deep breath, wincing at how shaky it sounded.
"Hermione, there's something I've wanted to tell you. For a while now." Hermione's confusion shifted to nervousness almost instantly.
"Oh?" Her voice cracked, and he instantly took her other hand in his so they were holding both hands. "Harry?"
"I didn't grow up watching a lot of movies like most other kids. Or reading as many books. Or exploring all kinds of interests." He blinked a few times, trying to will the nervousness out of his voice. "About a month ago, I saw a romance movie for the first time in my life."
"Oh?" Hermione repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
"At first, I wished I had never seen it." He sighed, a shy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Because it made me realize something that I had never noticed before. I don't know how I didn't notice it before." He admitted, his voice wavering less and less as he continued. "Hearing the way those characters described how they felt, it was like being woken up from a dream I didn't know I was dreaming."
"Harry…" Hermione whimpered, her eyes widening.
"Hermione, I –" He paused, looking around nervously. "Sorry, every time I get that far something interrupts me."
"Harry?" Hermione stepped closer to him, squeezing his hands.
"Hermione, I really like you." His voice was barely a whisper. "I think I've liked you for a lot longer than a month, but I didn't really know it until then. I guess I really am that dense." He laughed awkwardly, averting his eyes. "I know we're best friends, and I know that – "
"Harry…" Hermione cut him off, the smallest of smiles on her face. "I really like you too."
Harry's mind went completely, utterly blank. He couldn't bring himself to process anything. Not the water that lapped up and doused their feet every few seconds, not the setting sun illuminating the beach in the most pleasant shades of red and yellow the human eye could ever see, not the fact that they had wandered away from everyone else on the beach, nothing. Harry couldn't wrap his head around anything except the fact that his crush had just admitted to liking him back, and he was having trouble handling that alone.
"Really?" His voice cracked, breaking into a blissful smile.
"Really." She whispered, squeezing his hands again.
"Do you, I mean, do you like – "
"Honestly, Harry! I fancy you. Do you need it in writing?" She giggled, blushing furiously.
"S-sorry." He stammered, his face heating up as well. "It's just…I don't know. I wasn't expecting that."
"The five-hundred kisses on the cheek didn't give it away?" She asked, stepping closer to him. "Or the five-thousand hugs? Or that I blush every time you compliment me, or hold my hand?"
"I…wow." Harry blinked. "I guess I am a bit…dense. Aren't I?" He sighed, and Hermione just laughed again. "I don't, erm, I don't really know what to say now. Or do." He confessed, his blush deepening.
"I have an idea." Hermione squeaked, still smiling shyly. Before Harry could ask, she stood up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his for only a moment. It was soft, like a butterfly landing on his lips. It was long enough for her warmth to permeate the entirety of his body, but still too short for his liking. His entire body was on the verge of trembling with excitement as he stood in dumbfounded silence, his eyes closed and his lips curled into a giddy smile.
"That," he blinked his eyes open to see Hermione was blushing even more, "was one of your best ideas yet."
Hermione beamed at him, and Harry happily wrapped his arms around his best friend, resting his chin on the top of her head and gazing out into the sunset. The feeling of Hermione in his arms, staring at an undeniably beautiful sunset, took him back to an unforgettable night in the Forest of Dean. It felt like centuries ago, but at the same time he could recall the feeling of warmth that enveloped him like it was yesterday.
"It's you, by the way." He said suddenly.
"Hmm?" Hermione hummed in confusion.
"You're the…thing. That's more beautiful than this sunset." He explained rather awkwardly.
"Harry, I could have guessed that. Not everyone is as dense as you are." She giggled, tilting her head up to stare at him. "But thank you." She added, turning back to face the water.
"I like this." Hermione whispered into his shoulder, hugging him even tighter.
"I know how you feel." Harry smiled, planting a soft kiss on the top of Hermione's head before staring back out towards the setting sun, which was slowly but surely being swallowed by the horizon.