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His Nearest and Dearest by PixieDust
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His Nearest and Dearest

PixieDust

Harry and Hermione spent the night in one another's arms. The next day, they decided to go to an amusement park. Harry had never been to one before and Hermione had not been in a few years. "You'll love it," she assured him. "I know you'll love the rides as much as you like to fly."

Hermione was correct. Harry found that spinning in midair was invigorating. He liked it quite a bit more than she did. After several rides culminating in a trip on a Ferris wheel, Hermione had to admit she was feeling quite nauseated. They sat on a bench for a while so Hermione could get her bearings. Her favorite ride had been the elaborate merry-go-round where she had ridden a unicorn and Harry had chosen a dragon.

"Want some more cotton candy?" Harry asked. There was a spark of excitement in his eyes. They had eaten two bags already--and hot dogs and nachos and a funnel cake.

Hermione looked at Harry as if he'd just offered her deep fried pickled octopus. "Um, I don't think so."

"We should take a bag to Dumbledore. I wonder if he's ever had it before?" Harry mused. He had never had it before. The Dursleys had certainly never allowed him such a treat and it wasn't something found in the wizarding world.

"It will disentigrate before we got it there," Hermione said.

"Huh?" Harry asked. He was softly rubbing her back, hoping to make her feel better.

"It sort of sinks in on itself and gets hard and yucky after a couple of days," she explained.

"Oh," Harry was clearly disappointed. "That's a shame. I think he'd like it."

"I'm sure we can find him something else," she said. She had enjoyed watching Harry behave like a carefree child today. Somehow the weight of having to kill Voldemort seemed lighter and he was able to push it aside and do the things that normal teenage boys liked to do. "We have a lot of shopping left to do if we're going to get a little something for all the Weasleys."

Hermione got to her feet a few minutes later, "I'm feeling a little better now." She took Harry's hand to pull him up. "Let's see what else we can get into other than rides."

What they found were games that Hermione would shoot down after hearing the objective.

"You pop balloons with the dart. For every balloon you pop, you move up a level on the prizes," A gnarly old man explained to Harry. "You can win your girl anything she wants. For one dollar, you get as many darts as you need."

"So," Hermione interrupted. "It's a dollar per level for a prize and if Harry gives you $20, I can have a medium sized puple teddy bear that's hard enough to use as ammunition?" She rolled her eyes and grabbed Harry's arm, leading him away from the booth. "Muggles can't be this stupid."

Harry just laughed, his arm around her shoulders as they walked. "Mione, if you want a teddy bear, I'll get you a nice cuddly one."

"You're the only teddy bear I need, Harry," she flirted. He responded by kissing her forehead. They found some more souvenir shops and picked out a porcelain bell to give to Mrs. Weasley. It was hand painted with a scene of the beach, the shore, the waves, and gulls flying overhead. Harry thought about the letter as he saw the gulls on the bell, but quickly pushed it out of his mind.

That evening, they had dinner with Hermione's parents. They said they were enjoying their conference, but were looking forward to starting the vacation part of their holiday. Mr. Granger said he had some surprises in store for them but would not elaborate.

After parting ways with her parents, Harry and Hermione decided to take a late-night stroll on the beach. The breeze off the Atlantic touseled their hair. When they found a mostly secluded spot, they sat down for a while. They both took off their shoes and socks and dug their toes into the wet sand as the tide gently rolled in before them. The city lights twinkled behind them and the stars twinkled above them.

"In case I haven't said it ten or fifteen times already, thanks for bringing me on this trip," Harry said as Hermione leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I couldn't have left you there with those horrible people all summer. Being with them would only make things worse."

"I'm glad that someone sees that and cares," Harry answered, feeling resentment toward Dumbledore for making him return to the Dursleys year after year. He realized his mood toward Dumbledore could shift easily... one minute he wanted to give him cotton candy. The next, he wanted to yell at him again for keeping him in the dark.

"You have enough on your mind without having to be with those people who detest you," she said. There was obvious bitterness in her voice though it wasn't toward Harry. He didn't respond to her. "Harry, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he answered. Suddenly the sand around his toes became a very interesting diversion from what he was thinking.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, perfectly in tune to the shift in his mood.

"What do you think about prophecies?" Harry began.

"I think there's something there, otherwise Voldemort wouldn't have been after it and Dumbledore wouldn't go to the lengths he's gone to protect you." She knew it sounded harsh, as if the only reason Dumbledore protected Harry was that Harry had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. "I mean, I think he would protect you anyway, like he would any of the students, Harry. Don't get me wrong. It's just..."

"He goes to greater extent for me than he would if I was just some other student--like Neville, perhaps." Harry shrugged. He had learned that he was useful object long ago. Why should that change now that he was a wizard? Good for cooking, good for cleaning, good for battling dark evil wizards. "But that's not what I'm talking about. What do you think about what the woman said yesterday?"

"Oh," Hermione started. She wasn't sure she how to answer that. On one hand, she hoped that every word the woman said was true because she wanted to be Harry's wife. She wanted to be bound to him forever. She couldn't imagine her life any other way. "Well, she was more positive than Trelawny," she started.

Harry laughed. "True. She didn't predict my death by poisoned pumpkin pastry." His stomach felt like a dozen snitches were flying around, trying to escape. But he had brought up the subject on purpose, so he couldn't back out now. "What she said was so.... accurate... on so many levels," he commented, wonder in his voice.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed.

"Would that be okay with you?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean, if I were your husband?"

"It would be wonderful," she sighed. "I would be delighted to be your wife."

"Good," Harry smiled. She had no idea how badly he wanted Hermione to be his wife and for them to have kids, or how badly he wanted a family, a real family, of his own. He saw a glimpse of what a family should be when he was with the Weasleys. "Then one day you will be." He sealed his promise with a kiss.