Part 4/5
Never Surrender
Harry's palms were sweating when breakfast began on Valentine's Day. For once, his number of valentines didn't create a swarm of owls reminiscent of Hitchcock's The Birds. Still, it was only eight-thirty and anything could happen.
Particularly when he considered his own luck.
Surreptitiously, his gaze slid to Dumbledore, who seemed to have one eye trained on Harry and one on the window. While they'd managed an uneasy truce-apparently, Harry wasn't the only person intimidated by McGonagall-their war was far from over.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as the familiar spectacled owl entered carrying a gold foil wrapped box trimmed with a large red bow. Harry saw the twitch of Dumbledore's robes as that man probably went for his wand, ready to curse Harry into oblivion, most likely.
The entire hall turned towards the Head Table when the trademark bird swooped in to deliver his gift to Professor McGonagall and Harry held his breath. Three nights before, he'd called reinforcements, and he, Hermione and Ron-by Floo-hacked out an idea for a present that was both sentimental and declared his intentions without being presumptuous. Except now, the urge to give up was starting to seem a little stronger than the urge to continue with the farce.
McGonagall turned towards Harry and gave him a small, wry smile as she opened his gift. But then her face changed drastically into awe and joy as she reached into the box.
All of the students at their tables shifted forward, each face wreathed in expectation.
Harry turned quickly to Hermione, who gave him a secretively triumphant smile. Beneath the table he grabbed her hand and squeezed.
When McGonagall pulled a large tome with carefully tooled dragonhide leather out of the box, many in the student body let out disappointed sighs, including one "A book? You've got to be kidding..."
But Professor McGonagall turned shining eyes towards Harry. "Enchantment and Ensorcelling by Onslow Cuckow, a first edition! Done in his own hand! How on earth did you find this? And how did you know that I wanted this?"
Harry let out a deep, relieved sigh big enough to rustle his bangs before he smiled in relief. "A little birdie told me." He glanced at Hermione but didn't notice the warming of his smile, or that he still held onto her hand under the table.
___________
"You ought to be grateful, Harold James Potter, that I let you outbid me on a manuscript that I'd been waiting ages for," Hermione reprimanded.
"I am grateful," he began in a placating tone and she wasn't sure that she wanted to hear this. "But I just need you to help me with one last thing..."
"Harry..."
He tugged on her hand playfully. "Come on, Hermione, it's not a bad thing."
She slanted a look at him that had him laughing. Today was their only day with the same free lunch period and he was dragging her through the staff quarters when she could be enjoying the endearing attentions of some of her enamored students.
Wait, why was she fighting him on this again?
"," Harry murmured, pointedly ignoring her when she gave an irritated huff. "Shut up, Hermione."
She pasted on her most innocent look. "What? Did I say anything?"
His eyes narrowed. "You were thinking it."
"You know, Harry, all those years fighting against Voldemort and that new stuff with Dumbledore's addled your brain. You're so paranoid."
As he ushered her into his chambers, he replied, "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone's not out to get you."
"What did you bring me here for? As we speak, I could be in the Great Hall being drooled over by my fourth-year Ravenclaws."
He grinned crookedly. "And you aren't thanking me?" Instead of waiting for a reply, he made his way over to a mahogany desk ensconced in a corner of his main room. She watched him hesitate briefly before he opened a drawer and pulled something out. Curiosity overcame her and she wondered what exactly was small enough to fit in a desk that would require her help. She thought that she'd seen something black, velvet, and bearing the unmistakable stamp of a famous jeweler in Diagon Alley before he slipped it into his robes. Was it an engagement ring?
A funny and not very pleasant feeling curled in her stomach and rose like bile in her throat. Did she really want to see this? Horror mingled with regret and-dear God-jealousy and she knew-with more certainty than she'd known anything in her entire life-that she had to leave. Immediately.
Even as she made her excuses to him, she whipped around and began for the portrait.
"Hermione, wait!" Harry called from behind her. His legs were longer and as she got out the "mama" in his password, he'd already wrapped his hand around her arm.
She wouldn't be hysterical and if she had to hex him so she wouldn't see the ring and thus be hysterical, so be it. But by Merlin, she wouldn't be party to this fiasco, not when she was just realizing...
She was not going there.
"Hey! Where's the fire? thought to look for the hounds of hell nipping at your feet, you were moving so fast." His crooked grin was still in place, but there was concern in his eyes, so as always, she melted. One would have hoped that as a person spying thirty in the near-ish future she'd have left silly adolescent hormones behind, but no.
Still, it wasn't like she could tell him that she fancied him. So, instead, she went for dignity. "I realized I'd forgotten to double check the pink flamingos I'm using for my sixth-year class. I need to try out an animation charm on them and..." Dignity did not bear up well with rambling, so she simply shrugged, hoping he'd understand.
He seemed thankful, but she was still determined. And she would hex him if there was a diamond in that box. Nothing painful and nothing he would chase her down for, maybe a stupefying spell would-
"Earth to Hermione?"
She flashed a quick, insincere smile. "Yes?"
"Obviously you're stuck on the flamingos, so I'll let you go. But here." He slapped the black box, which was longer and flatter than she'd expected, into her hands. "Happy Valentine's Day."
The box was for her? Disbelieving, she opened the box slowly to reveal a large gold oval encrusted with small diamond chips around a sapphire. She touched a finger to it, expecting it to dissolve into thin air like a horrible, ridiculously unfunny Weasley Wizarding Wheezes gag. But the metal and gems were cool and hard beneath her fingertips and would probably last longer than she would.
"Harry..." The words 'this is too much' died on her tongue as she found a hinge on the pendant. For a moment, she let the task of opening the locket absorb her complete attention, anything to keep her mind off Harry standing there expectantly. Finally, she gave up when her forefinger kept stabbing her thumb. She tapped the minute lock with her wand and murmured "Alohomora."
The locket opened on the first notes of a nostalgic nocturne by Chopin but the picture on one side showed fourteen year-old versions of Harry and Ron sticking their tongues out at her picture on the opposite, whom was making a rather rude face in retaliation.
Tears that she hadn't known she was shedding clogged a surprised laugh. Harry leaned in close, hovering over her shoulder. "We took that during a trip to Hogsmeade, I think. But it gets better. Just tap the locket with your wand and say 'Memory' and it changes."
She turned to look at him, a man who knew her better than anyone else ever had and probably ever would, and she wondered what on earth she was going to do about him. Any man who gave a woman expensive enchanted jewelry was usually thanked with kisses, but this was Harry and some things you just couldn't do without it coming back to bite you on the bum. Therefore, even as she was mentally slapping her conscience, she closed the lid.
"I can't accept this."
"I don't want it and I'm sure Ron doesn't either," he retorted. "And if it makes you feel better, this is proof that I didn't forget your birthday last year, and I meant to give it as a Christmas present for you, but apparently these things take time to make."
She nearly dropped it. "What do you mean 'time to make'?" Delicately snatching the locket from its velvet bed, she took a closer look at it. Etched into the gold, intricate Celtic knots surrounded a lion rearing up on his hind legs, his eyes made of tiny sapphires, his fur created by lines of garnet and ruby. But around the golden rim of the locket, she saw her name engraved with the words 'to my loveliest friend'.
It wasn't an easy thing to accomplish, but she'd been rendered speechless. "I-I-I..."
Taking the locket from her numbed fingers, Harry placed the necklace on her neck, the chilled metal making his hands feel almost hot against her skin. Perhaps it was her imagination but when he spoke, his voice seemed lower, huskier than normal.
"You know, I bet Ron that you'd be shocked into silence. He said it couldn't be done."
"It's too much," she protested, but her heart wasn't in it.
His fingers, still on the clasp, stopped. "You don't like it? I can always take it back-"
She grasped the locket as if her life depended on it. "No!" More calmly, "I love it...it's beautiful."
Harry chuckled and fastened the clasp. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not getting you a present this year either. Come to think of it, maybe not next year too."
She turned to face him, delighting in the heavy weight of the locket as she moved. "Thank you." Twining her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" To hell with scruples. Even her conscience gave up the fight. So she kissed him. Threw herself at him was probably a more accurate description, but she gave her all for that one meeting of lips. She savored the warm press of her lips against his, nibbled softly at his full lower lip, and inhaled the rich, woodsy scent of him. All the while she told herself, it was to be expected. He should have expected her to kiss him as if they were trapped in a roomful of skunks and he held the last fresh supply of oxygen between his lips.
However, what she hadn't expected was for Harry's hands to settle around her waist and pull her closer to him. When he returned her kiss, she felt him smile against her lips. He tasted of sun-ripened strawberries and Swiss chocolate and something elusive that she couldn't quite name. She decided then and there that it was her mission in life to put a name to that flavor and pulled him closer, taking only a brief moment to nibble at his smile. When one of his hands caressed her spine, she arched closer, willfully scalding herself with his heat.
But when his mouth left hers, she whimpered. His lips teased the corners of her mouth, her flushed cheeks, and the line of her neck until she was fairly certain she would die unless he kissed her properly.
"Harry," she beseeched. She tried tugging on his collar, valiantly trying to bring his face to hers when he abruptly moved away.
"What was that?"
"Huh?" In a few moments, she'd be articulate. But really, was now the time to want to be articulate?
"Dear God, the bell."
What was he prattling on about? And why was he dashing off to the bathroom?
And then it hit her. "Third period." She needed a mirror. When she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror just in front of the portrait entrance, it chuckled.
"Goodness! I think that's the look they now term 'delightfully rumpled.' You might want to tuck your blouse back in your skirt, you know."
The chignon she'd worn earlier in the day was straggling somewhere below her right ear; her lipstick was smudged, and her cheeks were bright pink. But the worst of the damage was the hickey resting on her left collarbone.
Harry chose that moment to reappear. His hair was mussed, but that was normal. His lips, on the other hand, looked bee-stung, and she felt an overwhelming urge to kiss it and make it worse. For once, couldn't she be a bad girl and play hooky?
He ran his fingers through his hair impatiently and gave her a look that ignited something hot and deep in her belly. No wonder so many witches were trying to marry him.
She winced. Right. McGonagall. Hermione was almost like the "other woman". A scarlet woman.
"Before you start over-analyzing what just happened,"-her head whipped up-"we're going to talk about this later. Meanwhile," he moved closer and her breath caught. But instead of reaching for her, he removed the pins from her fallen up-do and shook out her hair, then cast a quick concealing charm on her hickey. "That's the best I can do."
Still, before he said the password to let them out, he pressed a hard kiss onto her mouth. She was still enjoying it when he dragged them out of his chambers towards the classrooms.
___________
"Ron, I did a bad, bad thing."
"Oh Lord. Bad as in 'oops, I forgot to return a book to the library' or 'oops, I killed a little old lady?'"
"Is there no middle ground with you?"
"Ok, then bad as in 'oops, I accidentally shagged one of those hormonally imbalanced students of mine and got them pregnant.'"
Harry eyed his friend warily. "I guess close to that one."
Ron doubled over in laughter. "At least tell me it wasn't accidental."
"I didn't shag-accidentally or otherwise-anyone. Nor did I immaculately impregnate someone."
"No more paternity suits? Are you sure about that? I want you to be absolutely certain. I really don't want to subject myself, again, to hearing about how lame your love-life is when you're under Veritaserum. You're a disgrace to single men everywhere."
"Shut it, Ron. No more paternity suits, I promise."
Ron rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Then tell me what you did so I can rib you for it."
"Do I look stupid? Don't answer that. Go home. I'm not telling you anything."
But his eyes were darting back and forth. Clearly he needed to tell someone and if he wouldn't-or, ah ha! couldn't-tell Hermione, who was only a few doors away, then that something probably involved Hermione.
Ron shook his head sadly. "If I were to take a random, completely uneducated, guess, I'm going to assume you did something to Hermione. Now, since I know you'd never do anything bad to her, intentionally, I'm going to assume you either hurt her feelings or you spent part of the afternoon snogging her. Then again, you might've done both. So a smart man would just tell me what he did so I could either beat him up or beat him up badly."
Harry hung his head. "I gave her the locket. And then she hugged me. But then she kissed me, and I've had this on again, off again thing for her for years, and it's pretty much on again now, so I kissed her back, then the goddamn lunch bell went off, and you've got to help me."
"I love you like a brother, Harry, but there are times in a man's life when he's got to look out for his own skin. I could help you in this time of turmoil, but then I'd just get dragged down with you. The last person you dragged into one of your crises was Hermione and look how that turned out! Besides, you are so not my type." But in spite of his words, Ron started laughing. Whenever he thought the world was a little too dull, and too normal, his best friends in the entire world would always shake things up for him. Them or Megan.
"Get out, Ron. I should've asked Dumbledore for advice."
"No, no, let me do my best friend bit before Hermione Floo's me. Go talk about it, blah blah blah, and don't kiss her again until you've got everything all worked out, including and especially the McGonagall thing. If I know Hermione, she's probably thinking that she's some sort of floozy or some such nonsense. Oh yeah and you should probably break things off with McGonagall before you go further too."
"Thanks for telling me what I already knew."
"No problem. Time to get Meggie before she gets into Daddy's Floo powder again. If there's one thing she can pronounce clearly, it's 'Toy Store.'"
_____________
"He makes me crazy!"
"Yes, well, I'm sure the feeling's mutual." Ron was getting dizzy just watching Hermione pace her sitting room.
She whirled around to begin her trek down towards the fireplace. "He gave me this absolutely gorgeous present, and what else was I supposed to do? And he was being so sweet on top of it!"
"So you kissed him. It's no big deal. It's not the end of the world."
"Are you daft? Of course it's the end of the world. Nothing will ever be the same now!"
They were making his head hurt. "Do you want it to be the same?"
She stopped and seemed to think about it. "No, but what if we're not compatible?"
"Define 'compatible.'" Then he thought about it. "No, wait, that's okay, I'm sure I don't want to know."
"What if he's really a womanizer or something? And he's Harry bloody Potter. Women everywhere throw themselves at his feet like he's some sort of pagan altar. I don't want to have to deal with that on top of womanizing. I'd have to keep him on a leash!"
Now she was just off in the deep end. He conjured a paper bag. "Breathe."
Surprisingly enough, she took it.
"Listen to me. He's still Harry and I'm sure the absolute worst habit he's got is leaving the toilet seat up. Well, that and the whole slug-eating thing, but he says it's for stamina or something."
"What?"
"Eh, too easy. I swear, it's just the toilet seat thing. Besides, you two should sit down and talk about everything before you start planning for later."
She sat down heavily. "What have we done?"
Ron took pity on her and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry about it so much. You will be fine. We defeated the Dark Lord. Relationships can't be nearly as tough."
_________
"So?"
He grinned. "Our plan's right on schedule."
"Good, good."
"Was there anything else you wished of me?"
Lips curved into a dangerous smile. "No, I think that's it for now."
"Good night."
"Good night, Mr. Weasley."
To be concluded...