Chapter 7: Iterations
Harry emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, clad in his swimming trunks and looking rather embarrassed.
"Sorry," he mumbled, and he promptly began fishing through his trunk. Hermione watched him for a few moments, at a loss for what to say. The tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. The logical part of her mind was chiding her, ordering her to say something to Harry. They'd have to talk about it sometime. But every time Hermione's mouth opened, nothing came out.
A few minutes later, Harry stood, traveler's checks in hand, mumbled something about sunscreen, and left.
Hermione sat on the bed, hands folded in her lap. She should have said something to him. But again she had found herself speechless. She tried to block the earlier image of his excitement out of her mind. For the most part, she was unsuccessful.
A sigh escaped her lips. She'd have to talk to Harry about this. Part of her was dreading the conversation. Had Harry been telling her the truth about his feelings? She supposed it could have been a typical male reaction. And even though she really wanted to believe that, she instinctively knew that Harry's reaction spoke of something much deeper.
It explained a lot, actually. His nervousness around her. The frequent glances out of the corner of his eye. The fact that he spent 10,000 galleons on her bail.
She'd harbored feelings for the great Harry Potter throughout most of her fourth, fifth, and sixth years at Hogwarts. That was part of the reason, she mused, that she'd had so few serious relationships during those years. Sure, she'd dated. Even had a few innocent kisses. But nothing serious, save her brief time with Ron.
She sighed. She'd have to talk to Harry now, for sure.
The door opened and Hermione looked up. Harry stepped inside, a silly smirk on his face. Hermione instantly rose to her feet, mentally rehearsing what she would say to Harry. At the cheerful look on his face, she frowned, her forehead wrinkling in question.
"Come with me," Harry said, his face like a two-year-old on Christmas.
* * *
"I'm not doing this Harry. I refuse."
"Oh come on Hermione, it will be fun."
"I'm not doing this. No."
"Oh come on. It won't hurt."
"I'm not doing it."
"Miss, Sir, will you make up your minds?"
Harry and Hermione glanced at the man, who stood in a tank top and swimming trunks. The tour guide rested his hand lazily on the steering wheel of his speedboat.
Harry looked at Hermione, his eyes pleading. "Please?"
Hermione sighed, glancing down at the dual harness. Harry had signed the two of them up for parasailing while he'd been buying sunscreen. Hermione glanced at the ropes.
"How high are we talking?"
The guide grinned. "Pretty high."
Hermione sighed, muttering under her breath. Her mind came up with a dozen excuses as to why she should not do this, but the second she stared at Harry's emerald gaze, so intent on making her happy, those reasons faded away.
"Harry Potter, I'm going to kill you."
Harry just grinned and sat down. Hermione sat across from him on the other side of the speedboat, giving nasty glares as the captain steered the boat towards the open ocean. A few minutes later they came to a stop. The guide helped the two of them get the harness on.
Hermione forced her mind of the fact that in a few minutes she'd be dozens of feet in the air, and instead focused on the foamy wake left behind the motorboat. Eventually, the speedboat came to a stop, and their guide helped them into their harness. Hermione was in front, Harry behind her. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the dread beginning to build as the boat took off, pulling Hermione and Harry up into the air. Hermione clenched her eyes tightly shut as the solid surface of the boat disappeared beneath her feet. Harry's arms tighten around her, his breath felt hot on the back of her neck. She really was going to kill him for doing this.
"Hermione, open your eyes."
She shook her head furiously. She felt his hands close around hers, slowly pulling them apart.
"Harry, I'm warning you. I don't like heights."
"I've got you," his voice was scarcely a whisper to her ear, Hermione felt his fingertips glide along the length of her arm, slowly wrapping around her middle. "Hermione, look at the view."
Hermione slowly opened her eyes, a small gasp emitting from her throat as she looked over the water. Brilliant turquoise water stretched as far as the eye could see. A seagull stretched over the water, about ten feet below their feet.
"Oh, Harry, look at that." She pointed at the bird, and felt Harry's cheek press against her own.
"See, it's not so bad up here," he murmured in her ear. A small smile spread across her features as she and Harry traced the outline of the coral reef. They marveled at the tiny specks that made up the people on the beach. Too quickly it seemed that the time passed and soon both of their feet were on dry land.
They passed that afternoon by snorkeling. Harry was quick to point out a fish that looked a lot like Delores Umbridge, and Hermione pointed out one whose markings reminded her of the Wimbourne Wasps uniform.
They lay on the beach about an hour later, holding hands and staring at the baby blue sky. Hermione allowed her eyes to drift briefly closed for a moment. For once she had been able to forget about the troubles and focus on having fun. Her eyes drifted open again, and she turned her head slightly. Harry was laying in the sand beside her, his right arm curled underneath his head. Small droplets of water dotted his forearms, and his gaze seemed leveled on the clouds that drifted by.
Hermione smiled weakly, lightly caressing his hand with her thumb. It felt almost natural to be laying here like this, staring at the sky. It felt right. She closed her eyes, trying to shunt aside the dread that thought brought her. Was she beginning to like Harry?
"Harry?"
"Yes, 'Mione?"
"Where will we live?"
Mentally, she cursed herself for the question. It had not been the one she'd really wanted to ask, about what had happened in the hotel room. But it had been the only one her mind had been able to muster. Harry rolled onto his side, propping his head on his left hand and quietly observing Hermione. His glasses tilted slightly.
"Well…I've got a flat in muggle London. Might be better if we live away from other witches and wizards."
Hermione frowned, mulling it over. She remembered encouraging Harry to get that flat. It had been in the aftermath of the battle with Voldemort, when he had never been able to get a moment's peace. "I agree. We don't want our home to be well known to anyone. We've too many enemies now." Her gaze seemed to move of its own accord down his chest.
Harry nodded, his gaze intent on Hermione. She felt her face redden as she realized her gaze had drifted dangerously low on his body.
What am I doing?
She felt Harry pull close to her, and she swallowed, her eyes locking with his.
What is he doing?
"Harry, I don't know if we should be doing this." Her throat felt dry. They were drifting dangerously close to the line prohibited by friendship. Nervous butterflies flapped in her stomach, enticing her to lose what remaining lunch she had. But she couldn't break his intense gaze.
"Doing what?" His face was almost touching hers, emerald green eyes staring straight to her soul. Hermione inhaled sharply. The logical voice in her head began to dim to a quiet whisper. Her face began to burn under his intense stare.
"Harry…this isn't right. We're friends. It'd ruin…"
She was cut off by the pressing of his lips against hers. To her own surprise however, she felt herself reciprocating. Her own lips slowly parted, deepening the kiss, her tongue beginning to explore the warmth of his mouth.
Harry let out a slight groan and pulled back, his face flushed. Hermione glanced at him, her eyes drifting down to the front of his swimming trunks. Hermione felt the heat rise to her face.
"Harry…"
Harry sighed, shifting his weight slightly so he was lying on his stomach. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Just…it'll go away soon."
Hermione frowned. She had to ask, even if she already thought she knew the answer. "Harry, are you attracted to me?" Harry flushed, and Hermione could instinctively see the indecision on his face. She let out a breath, feeling deflated.
Well, what did you expect, a voice chided her.
"Harry, why didn't you tell me?"
Harry blushed, tracing a line in the white sand with the tip of his index finger.
"I don't know, Hermione," he said finally, his voice low. His messy ebony hair had bits of sand in it, and looked even more unruly than before. Hermione frowned, rolling onto her back, trying to gather her thoughts. Her efforts remained largely unsuccessful. How was it that in just a matter of moments that which had seemed so simple had become so complicated?
She mused over the irony of the situation, of all the times she'd secretly wished for more and had her hopes shattered, and now of what she had, and was unsure of her feelings towards.
It was all very illogical.
It was Harry's voice that broke the quiet. "I-I guess I never said anything because of r-Ron."
Hermione rolled onto her side, "Because of Ron? But Harry, Ron and I only started dating at the end of our seventh year. How long have you liked me?"
Harry sighed, resting his forehead on his arm. "Hermione, Ron liked you ever since second year...I couldn't do that to him."
Hermione's eyes widened slightly, and she frowned, but then shook her head lightly. "I knew...something was up. But I didn't think about that...no..."
Harry looked up, his gaze meeting hers as a trickle of sand poured from his hair. They sat in silence for a long time.
"So...where do we go from here?" Hermione felt compelled to ask to ask the question. In truth, she was positive he had about as good an idea as she did, which wasn't reassuring.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and the uncomfortable silence remained.
* * *
The remainder of the week passed by in a blur. Harry and Hermione eventually recovered from some of the awkwardness that seems to plague friends in the unenviable position of possibly being more.
Julius had sent an owl about midweek with the dismissal documents. Tiberius Ogden had dismissed the case, pending a careful investigation of Harry and Hermione's marriage. Apparently, many of the members from the Order of the Phoenix and from Hogwarts vouched for their "marriage," leaving the ministry no choice but to acknowledge it. They still remained at risk, however, of charges stemming from trying to get out of testifying. That threat wouldn't disappear for a long time, Hermione felt.
For the moment that didn't matter. Harry and Hermione had celebrated that evening, spending over 100 dollars on their dinner. They registered for a sunset dinner cruise their last day.
Hermione was surprised with the ease she settled into her new routine with Harry. There will still awkward moments, like the hidden glances stolen when one thought the other wasn't looking. Or the time he had mistakenly walked in the bathroom when she'd been changing. But ever more it was becoming replaced by a sense of deep familiarity. They discussed no more of their feelings for each other, but something had changed.
She had spent much time trying to analyze the nature of her feelings, but the conclusions of those reflections had frightened her.
She was falling for Harry Potter.
This wasn't supposed to happen, she thought, as she spent some time getting ready for the cruise
But maybe these things were rarely supposed to work out that way. Love wasn't something she could plan, like schoolwork or study schedules. That's what made it truly frightening.
Hermione paused, staring at the bottle of Sleekeasy's in her hand. Frightened. Was she frightened of these feelings she had for Harry? What would happen to their friendship if she were to give in to these strange emotions she had for her best friend? Would she ever be able to tell him she loved him?
Shaking off the disparate thoughts, she slipped into her satin evening gown, momentarily astonished at the transformation she had made. She hoped Harry would like it.
Harry had disappeared earlier that day, giving her no explanation except for a quick smile and his promise that he would be back to pick her up for the cruise. Hermione had taken advantage of the time along to take a long shower and prepare for the formal dinner tonight.
There was a knock at the door, and Hermione gave herself a quick look-over. She rather liked the emerald color of her evening gown. It reminded her of Harry's eyes.
Another knock.
She closed her eyes, momentarily composing herself.
You're a Gryffindor. You can do this. It's just a harmless date.
No. Harmless date this was not. This was the beginning of something much more.
Hermione inhaled deeply, shaking off some last minute nerves as she went to the door. They had been together the entire week, but yet she was as nervous as if it were their first time meeting each other. She opened the door.
Harry was standing there, clad in a tuxedo with an emerald bowtie. His unruly hair had been trimmed and partially tamed, and he had a dozen red roses in his right arm. Hermione's jaw dropped.
"Oh Harry," she murmured as he placed the roses in her arms, giving her a light peck on the cheek.
"Shall we go, Mrs. Potter?"
After securing the roses on the bed, the two made their way down the steps and into the warm yet comfortable late-afternoon air. Hermione's arm was looped through Harry's as they walked towards the pier where the ship would depart. When they arrived at the ship, they made their way up a long red carpet and the hostess sat them down at their secluded table close to the dance floor. The view was perfect.
Hermione's jaw dropped as she eyed the expensive dinnerware. They had been fairly liberal with their money that week, and after realizing they'd run out of cash long before they finished their vacation, they'd made a pact to be frugal from now on.
"Harry," she hissed, as the waiter took their drink orders. She waited until he was gone before finishing her thought. "Can we afford this?"
Harry gave her a mischievous grin. "We leave tomorrow. We'll have enough money. Trust me."
Hermione gave him an uneasy look as the server returned with their drink orders. A short while later they had departed and the band had begun playing some soft music, setting a romantic background. Hermione had to admit she was impressed. She didn't know Harry could come up with such a wonderful evening.
She was just finishing her pineapple cheesecake when Harry abruptly stood, extending his hand to her. "Would you care to dance?"
Hermione smiled, rising to her feet and taking his hand. She couldn't help but let out a teasing remark as he led her to the dance floor. "You can dance now?"
Harry flushed lightly, but said nothing as he walked with her She felt like she was floating as they made their way to the dance floor and began to dance to the slow music. Then music faded away and the crowd disappeared as she became entrenched in the emerald green gaze of Harry Potter. She could not remember a moment in many months when she had felt this happy.
This was their night.
Her arms slid around his neck, and Harry lowered his forehead to hers, resting it against them as they moved around the dance floor. The orange sun set a cornucopia of colors against the darkening sky as the two newlyweds danced in the light of the setting sun.
This is our night.
Hermione leaned up, her lips brushing against his, the electricity coursing through her body as if it were their first kiss. She felt everything fade as her lips worked effortlessly against his, completely entranced by the sweet taste of his lips against hers.
The kiss deepened, and Hermione felt herself being carried off into a world far away, a world where it was only her and Harry and they could not be disturbed.
Then a bump.
Hermione stumbled against Harry, who had a confused expression on his face, the kiss abruptly breaking as she glanced over her shoulder sharply.
Rita Skeeter was standing there, adjusting her glasses. "Oh, I'm so sorry...oh Harry, Hermione ... fancy seeing you here. Enjoying your vacation? Perhaps you'd like to give me a few quotes."
Hermione could see her pulling a long quill out of her parcel and she glanced helplessly at Harry. Without another word, Harry wrapped his arm around her, muttered a few angry phrases to Rita and then guided Hermione to the upper deck.
The two watched the sunset in silence, a sinister question tugging at the back of their minds.
What was Rita Skeeter doing there?