Draco's Gurl, I'm glad you like Draco! I hate it too when they mess him up...means worlds to me that you think he's great!
Davaca, I can see your point on Ron being too soft. And I agree, to a certain point. But like I said earlier...he realizes that Harry loves Hermione, and that he really isn't taking her away from him, that it's just really bad timing and that fate is a bitch. I think it was okay for him to freak out over Harry kissing her though, cause although he knows that it's not his fault for loving Hermione and her for loving him, it crosses the line if he kisses her while Ron's going out with her. But that's just my interpretation...I think Ron's matured over the years, with everything that happened and the War and Voldemort and etc. But yeah, do tell me if the softness level you think is getting too extreme...I'd love to know!
Sylphiad, you're right, this story is very, very different from the movie. It was mainly just inspired from the movie, and I named it the name it has because I was too unintelligent and lacking the creativity to make a decent title.
Thanks to swimchick1614, harryloveshermione2003, spaz141, RogueBHS, Pokey, KypDurron, Parvati_Patil, Harry85, danielerin, Silverfoot (I love Friends! So sad it's over...), hermioniegranger, **Fairy Princess**, Creepy Susie, akjennymay9, LizZ, Katakali, rainbow star, MicahsGurl, lylac14, tonks26 (glad to see another R/Hr around here!), luvfordanielandtom, and lirannutian for your supporting comments.
Thanks to you anonymous reviewers as well!
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My Best Friends' Wedding
Chapter Seven: Home, Part I
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(Hermione)
I walked out of the bedroom into the balcony, closing my eyes as I breathed in the fresh, salty air and the distinctly calmer breeze. The sun reflected on the midnight blue water like a dazzling smile, the waves lightly splashing upon the rocks underneath me. I smiled; thank Merlin for Draco Malfoy.
Walking back inside I went immediately to the huge mirror adorning the center of the bedroom. Walking up to it I noticed that it wasn't a mirror at all; it was a sliding door. Opening it and walking in I noticed that I had walked into a mini dressing room comprised of only glass mirrors...slightly unnerving. As the door slid closed behind me a dreamy voice asked, "What's the look today, miss?"
"Uh" I stammered, glancing around nervously.
"Might I make a suggestion?" she asked, and I nodded. A slight pop rang in my ears and I looked at the mirror, surprised to see what I was wearing.
A simple summer's dress, the light green and golden yellow enhancing my eyes. It stopped slightly below my knees, billowing out slightly. Thick straps held it up against my petite body. It fit against my curves excruciatingly well.
"O-okay," I said, fumbling behind me for the door.
"Visit me any time," she drawled again, sounding slightly bored. Walking out I went to the adjoining room, happy to see that it was the kitchen. A large bay window allowed sunlight to stream in, giving it a cozy and happy setting. I had always imagined Malfoy to be the cold, dark dungeons and whips sort of guy. Who would imagine him to be-
"Hungry, miss?" a deep booming voice asked. I looked around nervously; even after all this time, I'm still not comfortable with everything magic.
"No, I actually just ate."
"Well if you need anything-"
"I'll be sure to let you know," I finished for him. Her. Whatever it was.
Now, where was a purse I could-
With a sudden poof one appeared in the chair next to me, a large beach purse that matched my outfit surprisingly well.
'Magic,' I thought while rolling my eyes. How overrated...
Walking out I whistled out a tune, any random tune. Today was my day. Just to relax, to be Hermione Granger. Not the-woman-who-can't-make-up-her-bloody-mind-and-is-just-ruining-both-of-her-best-friend's-lives-along-with-her-own-because-of-it.
Walking onto a trail I smiled, enjoying the breeze and sunlight and freedom of it all.
I should really listen to Malfoy more often.
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(Harry)
I apparated back home, wishing to Merlin I could do something but knowing that I can't. Ron was still in his room, sleeping or not, and I had no wish to dream more about Hermione. When had my life become so utterly pathetic? I walked to the fridge and popped out a Butterbeer, chugging it and slamming it on the counter with a sigh. Glancing at the calender attached to the refrigerator I noticed with a pang that it was Ron's birthday tomorrow. Er, today. I had already cracked midnight.
What a way to spend a birthday.
Familiar guilt washed over me, making me slightly sick. Hadn't I already done enough to Ron? To Hermione? Why did I have to force them into more pain, more suffering, on my behalf. When was all of this going to end...
I drank some more butterbeer, the warm liquid trailing down my chin and running down my chest. It's stickiness provided a temporary relief; it brought me back to reality, for a bit.
I walked to the fireplace in the living room, lightly tapping the brick wall with my foot as my eyes glanced around. My gaze fell upon a certain picture, a picture that brought a smile to my face even with everything that had happened.
It was the three of us on our graduation night. There was me, in the middle, waving a butterbeer and laughing. I looked...happy. Ron, sitting to my left, gave me a nudge and waved his butterbeer with me, and the two of us broke into song.
"I have a beer!"
"A beer!"
"A beer!"
"And his name is Buck."
"Oh dear friend Buck!"
"And when he comes,"
"Comes to my house..."
Hermione is to my right, smiling and shaking her head at us. Smiling wickedly she gets up, grabbing her butterbeer as she tips it and it washes over both Ron and me. We get up, playfully roaring and we chase her around the courtyard, laughing hysterically. We finally fall into a bundle, a fierce 3-man-dog-pile.
"Harry?" a sleepy voice wavered. I whipped around to see Ron in the doorway to his bedroom, his hair ruffled worse than Pig's feathers and his eyes red rimmed in the glow of the hallway light.
"Hey," I said slowly, swallowing.
"Whatchu doin', mate?" he asked tentatively, almost as if he was scared to talk to me.
"Nothing." I turned back around to the row of pictures, the corners of my lips curving up slightly as I looked at them.
"Looking at pictures?" He walked towards me, bathrobe billowing out behind him. "You know, Hermione...she..."
"Let's not talk about her," I said quickly, not bothering to turn around.
"Wasn't going to. I was just going to say that she spent the last summer making all these photo albums and scrapbooks...you wouldn't want to, I don't know, look through them?" I turned around to look at him, and noticing my face he quickly stammered, "I promised her I would go through them, but never got around to it. It's been weighing my conscience down...not keeping a promise..." He shuffled his feet, looking at the ground sadly. "Just thought I should get it over with."
I sighed, calculating the pros and cons swiftly. But hell, this was Ron...
"Sure, Ron." He looked up, relieved to see me smile. "I promised her the same thing, too."
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(Hermione)
"Hello, sweet." I looked up to the bartender, smiling to see his jolly face and twinkling eyes. "What can I get fer you, today?"
"Surprise me. Nothing strong though, mind you."
"I've got just the thing." He seemed oddly familiar...who did he remind me of? "What're ya doin' here? You don't seem to be the regular touristy type."
"Oh, just here to clear my mind. You know. Figure out things..."
"I gotcha." He plopped a drink down in front of me, winking. "I know just whatchu need."
"And what's that?"
"You've got boy troubles, don'tcha?" Noticing my blush he grinned. "Came ter get 'em outta yer hair? Makes sense, makes sense. Boys are some o' the most awful creatures known ter infest everythin'. Cockroaches, they are." I giggled. "It's all nice and good ter come here, ter think things out. But mark my words, you won't be able ter make up yer mind without familiarity."
"Familiarity?"
"Familiarity." He gave me another wink. As I turned to my purse to pay him he stopped me, whispering, "On the house."
"What do you mean, familiarity?"
"Well, think 'bout it! If you had ter escape, these problems are obviously pretty big. Maybe it's just meh, but whenever I need peace o' mind, I go where I feel me best."
"That's pretty deep."
"I've been known to be wise. Now get off that stool and fix yer problems."
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(Ron)
"Heh, look, that's the night you got drunk!"
"Don't remind me."
"Merlin Harry, didn't know you could dance."
"I can't. It was all the firewhiskey." Laughing we turned the page, enjoying the moment.
"Hermione's first date."
"Why are all the pictures of plants?"
"I was trying to keep hidden."
"Why exactly did she keep these?"
"She said they reminded her of my 'witty and charming' side. I was almost insulted." Harry laughed, eyeing my fabulous pictures.
"Hey, you can sorta see a bit of her skirt in this one."
"And I got a bloody brilliant catch of her shoe in this one."
"You'd make one hell of a photographer," Harry stated, laughing.
"I was so infatuated with her back then," I said airily, laughing along with him.
"We both were." I had edged away from this conversation for a long time, hoping to never encounter it. But now that we were flirting with it...it didn't feel wrong at all. I think maybe that's one of the things that kept Harry and me strong. Sure, everything we went through, the fact that we shared everything. But I think that was it. We had shared Hermione, too.
"Still am," I said, hesitantly.
"Same here." There was a brief moment of silence then. We eyed each other, almost cautiously, seeing exactly how far we could jump.
"Remember when we both got wickedly jealous when she went out with Seamus?"
"You threatened to run him over with your Ford Angelica if he hurt her."
"You threatened to sick Deatheaters and Voldemort on him if he made her cry!" We both laughed, remembering.
"Then when Dean asked her to the Graduation Ball?" I said, grinning.
"And when she cried afterwards?"
"I might have overreacted...just a wee bit."
"I'll say. You made him belch slugs all night long!" Harry said, laughing.
"It was long overdue." We both laughed hysterically then, the photo albums momentarily forgotten as we remembered by ourselves.
"I miss Hogwarts," Harry said later, wiping tears of mirth away.
"Same here."
"You know, Hermione went away."
"What?"
"Yeah, I was just over at Ginny's, trying to find her. Apparently, she took a short vacation...to think things over."
"Ah." I messed with a few frays on my sleeve, trying to find the right words. "It...it's not like you're stealing her away from me." I looked up to see Harry staring at me, his eyes disbelieving. "We...we both love her...you deserve her, too." I looked away, and unsurprisingly my eyes fell upon the door to Hermione's library that we built just for her. "Sorry about making a scene, I-"
"No, you have every right." He coughed then, running his hands through his hair. "It's not fair, Ron, to do this to you after you proposed. You were the one who was going out with her, not me."
"That doesn't really mean anything." I turned to him, catching his eye as I said, "I'm a selfish, arrogant bastard when I want to. I do want Hermione to be with me. But...I won't hold a grudge if she chooses you." I shrugged, giving him a grin as I said, "Besides, he would be the bloody boy-who-lived. Who am I to disagree?"
He slowly smiled at me, his green eyes twinkling happily. I grinned back.
Deep down? I knew it wasn't going to be that easy. If Hermione did choose Harry...I don't know honestly what I would truly do. But at least I could make Harry feel more comfortable now. He was my best mate, after all.
"By the way...Happy Birthday, Ron. Sorry it isn't the-"
"I'm with my best mate, laughing over all our wicked mistakes and there isn't a bloody thing I would change." Grabbing a firewhiskey from the table next to me I raised it up to the ceiling. "Cheers."
Harry clinked his bottle with mine, a relieved expression on his face as he looked at me.
"Cheers."
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(Hermione)
I stepped onto school grounds, looking around happily. It really had been too long. The Whomping Willow, Hagrid's Hut...everything. It was the same, yet different with age. Hard to explain exactly what I was feeling...everything around me was painfully familiar, yet it was as if I had trespassed onto something that didn't belong to me anymore.
Regardless, this was where I belonged.
This was my home.
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