Author's note: I am sorry for making you guys wait, but real life got in the way this past week. But, I sat down today and just wrote and wrote so now you have Chapter Nine. I hope you like it…I was listening to my Go-Go's Greatest Hits CD, so you get a song with this one! One of my favorites, actually! Please read and review!
Chapter Nine
Head over heels
Been running so hard
When what I need is to unwind
The voice of reason
Is one I left so far behind
I waited so long
So long to play this part
And just remembered
That I'd forgotten about my heart
(Go-Go's, "Head Over Heels")
Being as she was in no hurry to get to Brighton, Hermione didn't put up a fight when Harry suggested they take the train. Although she knew full well that apparating would make much more sense and would be far less time consuming than a train ride, she found that she didn't mind being on the train at all. It had been quite some time since she'd traveled on a train and being on one now with Harry brought back memories of the Hogwarts Express. She had to stop herself from looking out into the corridor to see the old lady with the food cart.
She and Harry had found an empty compartment toward the back of the train and she had taken up one of the bench seats and he sat directly opposite her. Well…he had been sitting. He was now sprawled out on the bench seat fast asleep. Hermione smiled as she looked at him. Although she'd never tell him this for fear of insulting his level of masculinity, she found him positively adorable when he slept. Of course, she reminded herself, she pretty much thought Harry was adorable the majority of the time regardless.
She kept telling herself to see Harry as just her friend. It seemed like a nearly impossible task, especially when he kept doing such nice things for her like letting her move in with him and his latest gesture. This had to be going above and beyond the call of duty as a friend. She had a feeling that to Harry defeating Voldemort would seem like a picnic compared to subjecting himself to Rachel and her snotty friends.
Last night when they were both packing, she kept sticking her head out her door and calling to him down the hall that she was eternally grateful to him for doing this and she couldn't believe he was doing this for her. She'd said thank you to him so much that he'd said if she said it once more, he was going to change his mind and stay home. Needless to say, she hadn't said the word thank you to him once except when he'd helped her with her suitcase and he'd raised an eyebrow at her.
Now as the train was speeding toward Brighton, she looked down at the book on her lap and knowing full well that she hadn't really read a word, she closed it and placed it beside her. Her mind went back to the one topic that had been bothering her for quite some time now. While she and Harry hadn't seen much of each other in the last couple of weeks, when she had seen him, he'd acted quite strangely. She'd wondered if the stress of his job was finally getting to him. While Harry liked to have a good time, he was also dedicated to his work and Hermione hadn't known him to take a vacation in nearly two years. He'd taken the occasional long weekend, but he'd always been on call. This, as he had told her last night, was the first time he'd be completely on leave from his job and the worries and stress that came along with it. She was glad he was finally taking some time for himself. If anyone needed a vacation, it was Harry.
But, still, she wondered if that was all it was. Stress from his job that was making him suddenly strange around her. She tried to shake those thoughts off and say that it could be nothing more than stress. That was naturally what it had to be.
He faced life and death situations so regularly, it only made sense that it would all catch up to him and he'd be on the verge of burnout. That had to be the reason why he seemed to have trouble stringing words together for coherent sentences. She'd even gotten the impression a couple of times that he'd been quite flustered around her. This, when she thought about it, didn't make sense at all. She and Harry knew each other very well. Sometimes, she figured she knew Harry better than he knew himself and vice versa. There wasn't any logical reason for him to feel nervous or uncomfortable around someone he'd known since he was 11 years old. But, there was something different in how he was acting toward her. Of that she was most certain.
She'd also thought that maybe it had to do with Sabrina. But, that didn't make much sense either. Harry hadn't given Hermione the impression that he was looking to get serious with Sabrina or anyone else for that matter. To her knowledge, Harry hadn't seen or spoken to Sabrina since that night at Café La Russe. She hadn't broached the subject of Sabrina with him and he certainly hadn't volunteered any information on it so Hermione had kept quiet about her.
Even more troubling to Hermione was what had nearly happened between them on the dance floor at the restaurant. She was nearly certain that Harry had been about to kiss her when Stefan had interrupted. But, she'd told herself over and over again, that had to have been her imagination. It was something that she'd wanted for so long, she was kidding herself into thinking it was about to happen.
Hermione looked out of the train window at the scenery passing by. The train compartment was quite cool and she regretted not bringing a jumper with her. All her clothing was in her suitcase in the baggage compartment. Her sensible blue jeans and green short-sleeved t-shirt now seemed like a poor travel wardrobe choice.
She shivered and looked to see Harry beginning to stir. She stifled a laugh as he reached around for his glasses that had fallen to the floor as he slept. He put them back on and stared back at her for a moment as he regained his bearings. Noticing her rubbing her arms, he took his jacket and sat down beside her on her bench. He draped the jacket over her shoulders and she gave him a grateful smile.
"Thanks," she said, pulling the jacket around her.
"No problem," he said with a grin, leaning back on the seat. "How long was I out for?"
"About an hour," she said. "But don't worry. You didn't snore or drool."
He let out a sigh of relief. "Wouldn't want to have done that in front of you."
"I've seen you look much worse," she said, taking her hand and mussing up his already messy hair.
He laughed, but then pulled a concerned face. "You looked a little lost in thought there. Everything okay?"
She nodded. "Just thinking."
"About?"
She turned to look at him properly.
"If you must know, I was thinking about why you were doing this," she said simply.
"Doing what?" he asked quizzically. "Offering you my jacket? You were cold so---"
"Not that," Hermione said quickly. "This. Coming with me to the wedding. This isn't really a vacation. In fact, after you meet Rachel and her snotty friends, you might think it more of a nightmare really."
Harry groaned. "Hermione, if this is going to be another long speech of how grateful you are to me, I swear I will apparate back home right now."
Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "No, it's not that, Harry. I promised I wouldn't thank you anymore and I'll keep my word, but it's just that I can't help wondering why anyone in their right mind would do this. Come on, Harry. When most people go on vacation, they go and lie on a beach and drink drinks with wonky names with little umbrellas in them. They don't go to their friend's cousin's wedding."
Harry leaned back on the seat and tried to avoid her inquisitive gaze.
"Don't get me wrong," she continued. "I'm very thank-…grateful that you're going there with me, but I guess I was just wondering why you've give up your first vacation in ages to go to my horrible cousin's wedding. You're going to be around people you don't know pretending to be my boyfriend, of all things. I just can't understand why you'd waste your time doing this.
He looked thoughtful for a moment and then seeing the serious expression etched on her face, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Let's see…why would I want to do this? Hmmm…you've got me there, Hermione. Why? Well, maybe because I'm your friend."
She didn't look too convinced so Harry took her hands in his and looked earnestly into her brown eyes.
"Listen to me, Hermione. I'm where I want to be."
She met his gaze and saw the sincere expression on his face and felt herself begin to melt. No one ever had the effect on her that he did.
He let out a nervous laugh and let go of her hand. "Besides, it's not as if we won't be on a beach, right? We're going to Brighton!"
Hermione laughed, too. "Okay, okay. And this isn't me thanking you, but I feel as if I should do something to show you how much this means to me, Harry. You're coming here with me…it means more to me than you'd ever know. I feel like I'll have someone in my corner."
Harry pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. "You'll always have me in your corner. You don't even have to ask."
She pulled reluctantly away from him and beamed brightly back at him.
"But," he said mischievously, "There is something you could do to pay me back for this, if you want. Well, two things actually."
Hermione nodded. "Okay. What is it?"
He raised an eyebrow suggestively at her, which resulted in her hitting him hard on the arm. He pretended, of course, to be mortally wounded.
"OW!" Harry exclaimed dramatically. "That hurt!"
"Be serious," she said, trying not to laugh.
"I am serious," he said, rubbing his arm.
"Wait until I alert the media that The Boy Who Lived is nothing but a big old crybaby."
"You wouldn't!" Harry gasped.
"I would, wouldn't I?"
"Okay, okay," he said, shaking his head. "Well, do you want to know what I have in mind or not?"
"Shoot," she said, looking at him.
"Okay," he began, a serious expression coming over his face. "No matter what this Rachel person does, don't let her get you down, Hermione. I haven't met her, of course, but I can safely say that you're worth more than a million Rachel Grangers. If she starts to get to you, just remember that I'm here for you and she can never take that away from you."
Hermione couldn't believe how great he was being. What he had just said to her meant more to her than she could even put into words. So, she did the first thing that popped into her mind. She leaned in and kissed him quickly on the cheek. Her fingers lingered on his face.
"Can you promise me that?" he asked her, putting his own hand over hers, which was still on his cheek.
"Yes," she whispered. He certainly wasn't making it easy on her to maintain that "just friends" mentality.
She dropped her hand a few seconds later and looked down at a loose strand of fabric on the bench seat. She looked up at him and said nervously, "Um, there were two things you mentioned. What was…what was the other one?"
"Okay," he said with his eyes twinkling. "You have to promise me that at some point during this weekend you and I will be on a beach somewhere alone and having the time of our lives."
The grin on his face was contagious and she couldn't help grinning goofily back at him. "Okay. I can do that."
**************************
They arrived in Brighton later that afternoon and after collecting their baggage, Harry hired a car and they were speeding down the road toward the beachfront estate of Malcolm and Catherine Granger. Malcolm owned one of the most prestigious estate agencies in the United Kingdom and had amassed quite a fortune over the years. His wife Catherine basically played the society wife and served on a number of boards and charity organizations. Like his brother, Malcolm Granger had only one child---their daughter Rachel---who was only a year younger than Hermione.
Unlike Hermione, Rachel never had to worry about dealing with bushy hair. Rachel had beautiful blonde hair that always looked healthy, shiny and in place. Rachel had never needed braces and her teeth were practically as bright as snow. In fact, Hermione had often wondered if in all her life Rachel had even had one spot on her face. Most teenagers had at least one in their lifetime, but not Rachel. It seemed as if Rachel was born to be perfect and everyone else just served to reinforce this theory. As she was the only child, she'd been spoiled rotten her entire life. Whatever Rachel wanted, she got. On those rare occasions when she didn't get what she wanted, she did everything in her power to get it from the person who did. Invariably, this always ended up being Hermione. When they were kids, if Hermione wanted one scoop of ice cream, Rachel had to have two. If Hermione was presented with a doll, Rachel had to have the dolls and the matching dollhouse.
Being that Hermione was the only witch in her family, she and her parents had to be quite secretive about the true nature of Hermione's education and her occupation. When she'd been accepted to Hogwarts, her parents told everyone in the family that Hermione would be attending boarding school in Scotland. If someone tried to find out more, they'd always change the subject. When Hermione graduated and took her job at the Ministry, her parents were forced to tell the family that she was a fact checker for a publishing company in London. Again, they kept the details to a minimum. Hermione had never minded it before, but she wanted her family to know that she was doing something that made a difference. They had no idea how hard she worked at the Ministry. They had no idea that she was one of the youngest witches to ever hold the position she had. It was quite an honor that no one but her friends and immediate family knew of.
It never bothered her much until Rachel kept bragging to Hermione about her own job as an estate agent for one of her father's firms. Hermione wanted to point out that Rachel wouldn't even have that job if her father didn't own one of the most prestigious estate businesses in the country. But, Hermione had never pointed this out. For one thing, it would have been rude. And for another, Hermione didn't want to sink to Rachel's level. It was quite hard to keep a level head around Rachel, though.
Hermione could remember Harry telling her stories about his own cousin Dudley and she could recall all too well how she could relate. While her own aunt and uncle were not as bad as the Dursleys, they could be quite blind when it came to their daughter. In fact, Hermione now realized that the entire Granger family seemed to think the sun set and rose with Rachel. Hermione always felt as if she was some sort of afterthought whenever Rachel was around. She knew that this was stupid and she hated herself for feeling like this. She hadn't seen Rachel in quite some time. Maybe, by some miracle, Rachel had changed. Perhaps she had grown up.
Harry turned the car into the drive and he couldn't help staring in disbelief at the sheer size of the grand beach house estate. Hermione, however, couldn't help feeling sick to her stomach as the realization hit her that they were finally here. She said a silent prayer that this wouldn't be as horrible as she imagined.
As if sensing her nervousness, Harry patted her leg and gave her a reassuring smile. He'd parked the car and Hermione fought the urge to tell him to start the car again and drive them as far away from this house as possible.
"Ready?" he asked.
She let out a hollow laugh.
"Not really," she said shakily.
"Where's that old Gryffindor courage?" he teased.
Hermione shrugged. "I'm beginning to think the Sorting Hat made a mistake."
She watched as Harry pulled the keys from the ignition and opened his car door. Within seconds, he was at her door, opening it and offering his hand to her.
"Come on," he said, pulling her reluctantly from the car. For a moment they stood there looking at the house. Hermione could tell Harry was impressed as she was every single time she came here. It was a large estate with a spectacular ocean view. The house had seven bedrooms and five bathrooms. Hermione could remember when she was younger being afraid of playing inside the house for fear she'd get lost and wouldn't be able to find her parents.
They walked slowly up the stairs to the front door and Harry chuckled as Hermione hung back. He took the initiative to knock on the door seeing as she wasn't about to do it. She smoothed down her t-shirt and wished she'd fixed her hair before they'd left the train station.
"Hermione," Harry said, taking her arm and pulling her toward him. "You look beautiful."
Hermione looked up at him and blushed. "Already playing the part?"
He pulled a confused face. "What?"
"Already starting with the compliments," she replied. "Already getting a head start on playing the supportive, loving boyfriend."
Harry stared back at her and his smile faded a bit. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "Yeah, I was just playing the part."
Hermione was about to ask him what he meant by that, but the door opened at that moment and she turned to see a uniformed maid standing before them.
"Good afternoon," the maid said with a welcoming smile. "You must be Miss Granger. If you'll follow me, the family is in the backyard."
Hermione nodded and walked into the house, followed quickly by Harry. The maid led them quickly through the house and Hermione stopped dead in her tracks when she felt Harry suddenly take her hand. She stared at him nonplussed.
"For the act," he whispered with a wicked smile. "We want to make this convincing, right?"
Hermione nodded and they locked eyes and she felt herself nearly going weak in the knees. The moment was broken, however, when she heard someone saying, "But, Mummy, it is my wedding. If I want to do it that way, I don't see why I can't!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and led Harry onto the veranda. A group of people were standing around and as always their attention was focused on the beautiful blonde with full lips and flawless skin. Hermione spotted her own parents standing off to the side beside her aunt and uncle. Rachel was talking animatedly to her mother about some wedding issue and Hermione again felt stupid for dressing so casually. Rachel was wearing white trousers cut off below the knee and a sleeveless red top that displayed her smooth, rounded arms.
It was Rachel who first acknowledged Hermione's arrival. She and Hermione looked at each other with tight, appraising smiles.
"You're late, Hermione," Rachel said icily. A forced smile was on her face, but her tone was hardly welcoming. Harry gave Hermione's hand a squeeze and Hermione stopped herself from letting go with an angry retort.
"Hello, Rachel," Hermione replied sweetly.
An uncomfortable silence followed and it was only broken when Karen and Robert Granger broke through the crowd to welcome their daughter.
"Sweetheart," Karen said, giving her daughter a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad you made it."
Robert Granger shook Harry's hand and they exchanged pleasantries. Hermione had told them earlier in the week that Harry would be coming along.
"Why don't you introduce Harry?" Karen suggested.
Hermione nodded and led Harry toward her aunt and uncle. "Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Catherine this is my, um,--"
"Her boyfriend," Harry said, stepping forward, shaking Malcolm Granger's hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir. And you, too, Mrs. Granger."
"Very nice of you to come, Harry," Catherine said. "We were so pleased to hear that Hermione was bringing you along."
Harry nodded.
"I'm Rachel," the blonde girl said, coming up to them and smiling winsomely at Harry. "Hermione didn't tell us you were so handsome."
Harry felt his cheeks redden.
Hermione couldn't believe Rachel's gall. Here she was on the weekend of her own wedding and she was blatantly flirting with her cousin's "boyfriend". Of course, Harry wasn't really her boyfriend, but still. Of course, Hermione shouldn't have expected anything less than this to happen. Rachel was never going to change.
"You're so lucky, Hermione," Rachel said, giving Harry an appraising glance.
"I'm the lucky one," Harry said, pulling Hermione close. "I still can't believe how lucky I was to get such a great girl as Hermione. But, you know how great she is, don't you, Rachel?"
Rachel's smile faltered a bit, but she nodded. "Of course."
After a few minutes of small talk, Rachel offered to show Harry and Hermione to their bedroom.
"Excuse me?" Hermione choked out. "Did you just say our bedroom?"
"Yes," Rachel said. "You and Harry did want to stay together, didn't you?"
Hermione exchanged a worried glance with Harry. Well, it was a worried glance on her part. She couldn't tell, but she thought the look on Harry's face was one of amusement.
"Oh, come now, Hermione," Rachel said dismissively. "You're not so old-fashioned that you want to stay in separate bedrooms are you? Mummy told me that you and Harry were living together. No one is going to mind if you share a bedroom."
"Yeah, sweetheart," Harry said, putting an arm around Hermione. "No one will mind if we share a bedroom. You'll have to forgive her, Rachel. She's probably afraid she won't be able to keep her hands off of me if we're all alone in a room together. Isn't that right, sweetie?"
Hermione felt flustered as Harry planted a kiss on her forehead. Pretending to be a couple in public was one thing, but she and Harry were to share a room? With one bed? She tried to tell herself that she and Harry had, in fact, shared a bed a few weeks ago, and nothing had come of it, except for a very awkward couple of moments. But, other than that…this was going to test the boundaries of their friendship. At least it would on her part. She couldn't speak for Harry, but something about this made her quite nervous.
"I'll just go get our suitcases from the car," Harry was saying. "I'll catch up to you in a bit."
Hermione nodded and watched as Harry walked back toward the house.
Hermione was left alone with Rachel who was staring at her in such a way that she felt quite uncomfortable. It was as if Rachel was trying to figure something out. Hermione hoped Rachel couldn't see that this was all a ruse. That was all Hermione needed was to suffer such an embarrassment as Rachel finding out that Harry wasn't her boyfriend, just her best friend who was doing her a favour.
"What?" Hermione asked finally.
"Nothing," Rachel said with a grin. "I just never imagined you, of all people, with someone so-"
"Someone so, what?"
"Someone so attractive, actually," Rachel finished. "Don't get me wrong, Hermione. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I always pictured you with some nerdy, bookish type. You know, someone like you."
Hermione felt anger rising in her. Out of respect for her parents and her aunt and uncle, she was trying to keep her temper and emotions in check. Rachel, however, wasn't making this any easy on her.
"I must offer you congratulations, though. That Harry is one handsome man."
"You're getting married on Saturday, Rachel," Hermione reminded her.
Rachel giggled. "I know. I know. But, I'm not blind. I can still admire another man, can't I?"
"Speaking of your groom," Hermione said quickly, hoping to steer the conversation away from Harry. "Where is he?"
"He'll be in later this evening," Rachel related, ushering Hermione back toward the house. Hermione reluctantly followed.
They walked up the stairs in silence.
"You're not mad are you?" Rachel said, opening up a door and allowing Hermione to walk inside. "I didn't want you to take what I said the wrong way, earlier. You just aren't usually the type to attract men like that."
Hermione glared at Rachel and couldn't help retorting angrily. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
Rachel sat down on the four-poster bed and sighed. "Hermione, let's face it. You're no beauty by any stretch of the imagination. You're kind of plain, to be honest. You're the kind of girl that blokes want to marry not the type that they want to have a bit of fun with."
Hermione clenched her fists and turned away from her cousin.
"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Rachel said quickly. "It's really great that you have someone like Harry. I'm just surprised."
Hermione turned to answer her, but didn't get the chance. At that moment, Harry came bustling in with their suitcases and dropped them on the floor. He turned to Hermione and with one quick deft movement pulled her to him and before she could even blink, he'd kissed her. At first, she'd been so shocked by his action, but as he wrapped his arms around her, she felt herself deepening the kiss. The anger she felt toward her cousin ebbed away and she forgot that there was anyone else in the room. And for a moment, she forgot that this was all just an act.