Never Yours

A/N: Well, normally I'd be an idiot to start another multi-chaptered fic when I have two that need updating. But this is different. This is prewritten. So there. Takes place two and a half years later from HBP.

&

“Erm, Hermione. Can I talk to you?”

She looked up from the book she was reading and smiled. It had been a long time since they had shared a nice, genuine conversation. They hadn't shared one since the Horcrux-hunting days, which were about a year and a half ago. Since the night before Harry defeated Voldemort they had been distant and gauche around each other.

“Sure, Harry. What is it?” Hermione asked, book marking her page. She gave him her undivided attention.

“Well, you see…” He trailed off for a bit, looking uncomfortable. “Look, I know we're not really teenagers anymore, not like before when we were at Hogwarts, but - but I don't know who else to ask.”

Hermione looked at him questioningly, saying nothing.

“To give you a heads up it's - it's about romance,” he said awkwardly.

This was awkward indeed. The very last subject Hermione wanted to talk with Harry about was romance. Not after what had happened between them that night 18 months ago…

“All right, so I'm…sort of…interested in Ginny again,” Harry said with difficulty. He sighed, running a hand through his unruly, black hair before dropping down onto her sofa right beside her. He looked over at Hermione as he continued. “But the whole problem is I dunno if she'd still be interested in me. I mean it's been a long time…”

Hermione stared at Harry, biting her bottom lip as she thought of advice to give him. She had to sound like good ole know-it-all Hermione, the Hermione that always used to help him with such matters as these.

It was just a tad hard nowadays…

“Well,” Hermione said. She sighed. “I guess I could talk to Ginny for you.”

“No, actually I don't think that'd be such a good idea,” Harry disagreed, nodding.

“All right. Well, I suppose the only option you really have left is to ask her yourself.”

“Myself?” Harry repeated.

He was a grown man now, and he still hated the prospect of asking out women, well, women he actually cared about…

“Yes, yourself,” Hermione replied a little curtly. “It's Ginny, Harry. The worst she could say is `no'.”

“No is bad,” Harry mumbled.

Hermione smiled at him and opened her book once more.

“Men,” she chuckled. “Ruddy wimps the lot of you.”

“Ha ha, very cute, Hermione,” Harry said as he stood. “I'm not a wimp. I'm just shy.”

Hermione smiled at Harry, and after a few seconds she realized her smile was a little…flirtatious. She couldn't be flirtatious, not with Harry.

“Uh huh,” she humored, a few remnants of her flirty smile lingering on her lips.

Harry was standing in front of the living room window of her flat, his back to Hermione, and his hands in his pants pockets. He stayed quiet for about three seconds, and the question that followed that third second was so out of nowhere, Hermione almost choked on air.

“So…going to the Patil's New Years Party with Ron?” Harry asked in a casual voice.

Really, Hermione almost did choke on air.

“Um. Oh. Well, erm, Ron - he hasn't exactly asked me yet.”

“Oh. Well, he probably will.”

“Yes, ha, you know Ron! Always at the last second!” she laughed, trying to make a joke of it.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “That's Ron.”

Hermione's light brown eyes never returned to her book. She wore a half-frown as she stared at Harry's back, and his eyes were still gazing out the window at the gloomy December day.

If she didn't know any better, Harry's voice had sounded…disappointed.

&

Ron only had to knock once or twice before Hermione opened the door.

He shut it behind him, beaming.

“Hermy!” he exclaimed happily. “You look gorgeous!”

Hermione looked down at her bath robe and scowled.

“Ron, I'm not even ready yet,” she remarked.

“Yeah, that's the whole joke of it,” he explained slowly. “That you look gorgeous even without all that make up and stuff…”

“Oh. Erm. Thanks.” Hermione felt slightly thick.

Ron dropped down onto her sofa and picked up the remote to her television. By now he was an expert with it; he knew what all the buttons stood for, and he even had a few favorite Muggle shows.

“Ha ha! That Kris! She gets herself into the silliest situations,” he laughed, going red with mirth. He clapped his hands together. “These Muggles are mental.”

Hermione smirked as she reentered the living room, now changed into her outfit for the evening, a simple yet elegant black dinner dress that dipped quite a bit in the front. She wore her naturally bushy, brown hair up in a twist at the back of her head.

Ron's blue eyes left the television and landed on his girlfriend, and they widened.

“Wow,” he whistled, his eyes traveling up and down her body. “Don't you think that dress is a little…bit too relieving around the chest area?”

“Ron!” Hermione snapped, annoyed. “Shut up.”

“Well! You're my girlfriend and McLaggen is gonna be there tonight, so you know he's going to be all over you like gravy on mashed potatoes!” Ron said defensively.

Hermione no longer felt too eager about this party. Ron sometimes had the ability to kill all of her excitement. She wore a grimace now as she marched to the door, her handbag swinging in her hand and she pulled the door open.

“We're going, aren't we?” she asked grumpily.

“Right!” Ron turned off the television and followed her out the door. “You know,” he said as they walked down the hall. “Tonight should be good. A night of happiness!”

“What d'you mean?”

“Well, we're together, aren't we? Fleur's pregnant! Neville's finally got a girlfriend, and Harry and Ginny are reunited…”

Hermione stopped in her tracks. She couldn't help it; she did it without even giving it a thought.

“Harry and Ginny are back together?” she said, her expression vague.

“They sure are. Harry went up to her and told her he still had a fancy for her; you know Ginny, she's still always held onto that schoolgirl crush even after all this time,” Ron explained, shrugging. “Wait, why have you stopped?”

Hermione snapped out of her surprised mode, and smiled.

“No reason,” she muttered. “I can't believe Harry plucked up the courage and asked her. You know how shy he can be sometimes…”

&

They arrived at the Patil's apartment a few minutes later. The place was already full of party guests, both Hogwarts graduates and others they had never seen before.

The place was decorated with bright, festive streamers and banners and other party decorations. Music played throughout the whole, wide apartment, and they soon discovered the party was catered by some random wizarding catering company.

“Ron!”

Hermione and Ron stopped in their tracks, turning around in the crowded apartment.

It was Lavender Brown. She made her way through the crowd, a butterbeer in her hand and a sparkly party hat perched atop her head.

“Oh,” Ron said. His face flushed somewhat. “Lavender.”

Lavender Brown was his ex-girlfriend from sixth year, the first girl he had ever snogged, the girl who had called him “Won-Won” for a good part of the year.

”Hermione,” Lavender said, and it was evident in her voice that she was bitter. “You two, you're together?”

“Yes, we are.” Hermione found herself grabbing hold of Ron's arm as if possessively.

Ron seemed to like the treatment he was getting; to have two girls fight over him had always been a turn on for him.

“Well, that's nice,” Lavender said, smiling. “I'm sure you'll last.”

“I think I need to use the lavatory,” Hermione said to them. “Do you know where it is, Lavender?”

“Oh yeah, it's at the far end and then down that thin hallway.”

“Thank you.” Hermione turned to Ron. “I'll be right back.”

As Hermione walked away she specifically heard Lavender say to Ron, “I finished this butterbeer. Want to go get another?”

She noticed that she didn't quite care. Ron was free to do whatever he wanted. Part of her reminded herself that this wasn't the attitude of a good girlfriend; a good girlfriend would have cared that her boyfriend was now alone with some wanton ex-girlfriend of his, but perhaps she wasn't a good girlfriend right now.

Hermione never did make it to the lavatory. Halfway across the living room, which served as the dance floor, she felt a hand close around her upper arm and hold her back.

“Hermione Granger,” said Cormac McLaggen with a smug grin. “You look great tonight.”

Why did she have to run into McLaggen? This question repeated over and over again in her head.

“Thanks, Cormac.”

“Where are you going?”

Hermione stumbled forward slightly after two unknown people bumped right into her in the middle of their dance, and she almost fell right into McLaggen's arms.

She regained her posture, brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

“I was going to the lavatory,” Hermione replied loudly, for the music only grew more upbeat.

“Leave her alone, won't you?”

Both McLaggen and Hermione looked over, discovering none other than Ginny Weasley walking their way.

“Excuse me?” McLaggen huffily said to Ginny.

“You heard me!” Ginny snarled. “Go on, shoo. Hermione's not interested, you git! She's dating Ron so shoo.”

McLaggen looked like he was thinking of something to reply back with, possibly an insult, though after a pause he clearly couldn't. He gave Ginny a glare and then left, disappearing into the crowd.

“Thanks,” Hermione said, relieved. “I thought I'd never get rid of him.”

“You can't be polite, you know,” Ginny said knowingly. “Not with him.”

“I'll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Yeah, it works.”

It was then that Hermione noticed a bottle of fire whiskey in Ginny's hands.

“Ginny! Don't tell me you drink!” Hermione gasped.

Ginny looked at the bottle in her hands and then back up at Hermione.

“Occasionally, I do. But the other half of this bottle isn't for me…it's for Harry.”

“What? Ginny don't give Harry alcohol!”

“Hermione, he's an adult.” Ginny stared at her incredulously.

“But drinking isn't good,” Hermione insisted stubbornly.

”I think Harry can decide for himself,” came Harry's voice from just behind the two girls.

Ginny grinned at the sight of her boyfriend, and she wrapped her arm around him in the same protective manner that Hermione had to Ron earlier that night.

“Harry, tell her you like drinking!” Ginny said to Harry.

“Hermione, it isn't that big of a deal,” Harry commented.

Jaw dropped, Hermione folded her arms and glared as Ginny purposely handed Harry the bottle of fire whiskey to take a sip right in front of her face.

“Fine,” she growled, “Drink all you want. Have fun, why don't you? I'm leaving.”

She spun around and started in the direction of the door; she didn't even think about telling Ron of where she was going.

She couldn't control the anger that was burning inside of her as Harry obeyed perfect, pretty little Ginny Weasley.

How could he not? Ginny was funny and cool and so beautiful!

And she, she was just nagging know-it-all childhood friend Hermione Granger.

She made it to the door at least, having to ask a snogging couple to step aside so that she could leave. For a moment they simply continued exchanging spit until she grew impatient, and pushed them aside.

The door shut after her, and she leaned against the hallway wall; she could still hear the thumping music from here.

Her hands came to her face as she asked herself why she cared.

What was it to her if Harry drank? Why was she so upset that he had sided with Ginny and not her? Was it even really about the alcohol, or was it about something else?

Because Ginny's taking my place, she thought at last, and that conclusion weighed right. Ginny's taking my place…he used to listen to me over Cho, but now…he's listening to Ginny over me. I guess…he doesn't really need me anymore. There's no homework due tomorrow morning is, there?

She gave a pathetic, miserable laugh, her eyes watery.

The whole thought that Harry wouldn't need her anymore scared her.

What if I…what if I still need him?

Hermione was so lost in her own depressing thoughts that she did not hear the door open again, and see Harry appear in the hallway a few feet off.

“Hermione…”

She looked up and quickly stood up straight; she had been slumped against this wall crying and laughing at how pathetic she was.

“Harry…”

“What's wrong? What happened in there?” he asked obliviously.

“Nothing, Harry. Why do you ask?”

“Well, because you went off on Ginny and me, and then you left, and now I find you in the hallway crying,” Harry answered, scratching the back of his head. “Did you have a row with Ron again?”

“No, no it's not Ron.”

“Look I know I'm downright clueless and bad with this kind of stuff, but you should tell me anyway,” Harry told her.

For the briefest moment she wanted to; she really did.

She wanted to be angry and rant at him for the mixed signals he had given her, and for getting back together with Ginny when they were so wrong together, so wrong.

“No,” she sighed at last, her eyes dropping down to the hallway floor.

“No?” he repeated.

“No,” she repeated too, forcing a smile onto her face. “I'm tired, that's all. I think I'll go.”

“But it's only a few minutes before midnight. Don't you, erm, want to spend…midnight with Ron?”

She knew what he was asking, but she nodded her head and her smile grew.

“No, he'll understand,” she mumbled. “I need some sleep.”

“Okay, bye.” Harry didn't know what else to say.

She turned to go, saying as she went, “Have a nice New Years with Ginny. It's the beginning of a new millennium and you're spending it together. That's - That's a good sign.”

Harry stared at her disappearing figure; he never did get to tell her how beautiful she looked tonight, yet he knew it wasn't appropriate, them being platonic best friends and all.

“I suppose so,” he whispered to himself. “I suppose it is a good sign.”

&

Hermione lay on her bed ten minutes later as the clock struck 11:59, and as all of Britain prepared to ring in the New Year and millennium.

Here she was, her arms folded underneath her head, in her nightgown listening to the city trains and cars of London while everyone else in the world seemed to be happy and together with someone they loved.

She was forcing herself to accept that Harry and she would always be friends and nothing more.

It had always been this way, and sadly it seemed it would always stay this way.

Still, though, she didn't want to admit that she had more-than-platonic feelings for him. Still she was in denial, telling herself time and time again that she didn't fancy Harry at least a little, that her affections lay with Ron.

Here she was lying lonely on her bed when she should have been happy and looking forward to her midnight kiss with Ron.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven,” she counted quietly, eyes on the ceiling.

She thought of the night Harry vanquished Lord Voldemort, the night he had kissed her right on the lips, leaving her completely dumbfounded and with hearts in her eyes.

“Six, five,” she continued, tears coming to her eyes, “Four…”

What bothered her most was that he never mentioned it again. He had kissed her tenderly on the mouth, pulling her into his arms, and putting so much feeling into the kiss; it was the best kiss of her life, and Harry never mentioned it again.

That hurt her more than she'd ever tell him.

“Three, two,” she whispered, “One. Happy New Year, Hermione Granger!”

She could hear cheers and horns and voices from outside, and as her eyes came to a close she could see them now - Harry and Ginny - standing in a corner of the Patil's apartment, arms enclosed around each other as they snogged and laughed and basked in each other's company.

Yes, she could just see them now.

&

A/N: The next update will be tonight/Thursday night, at the very latest Friday night. Please review with feedback. As ever it's appreciated beyond words.

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