Chapter Four--Let The Planning Begin
The next morning dawned far too quickly for Hermione's liking. As Crookshanks clawed at her chest, she groaned.
"It's way too early to face that robot Harry calls his fiancee," she whined to the cat, rolling out of bed. "Honestly," she continued, "That woman has the disposition of a clown on crack. Her voice alone nearly gave me a cavity, my parents would have a fit. She needs to be institutionalized."
Pulling off her nightgown and heading to the shower, Hermione continued talking to her ginger-haired familiar, who loved to perch on the toilet as she went through her morning routine.
"Honestly, you should have seen them last night when we went to dinner," complained Hermione loudly as she shampooed her hair. "It was 'Anna' this and 'Anna' that...for Merlin's sake, why does he call he call her Anna-Banana? That's the dumbest nickname I've ever heard!"
Crookshanks mewed loudly.
"I know!" fumed Hermione. "And they kept feeding each other and kissing, and...it was revolting. Hannah kept grabbing his hair and saying 'Honestly, darling, I do wish you'd get a respectable haircut,' and you know what he did? He just laughed and said 'I know, darling, I know.'
Crookshanks hissed.
"I know! And I couldn't believe her nerve! I love his hair, it makes him Harry, you know? She went on and on, rambled all about her sisters and her mother and what a beautiful wedding it would be...the Abbotts are very 'high-society'...which basically means they have a lot of money and almost no sense," explained Hermione, stepping carefully out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her dripping form.
After getting dressed in a blue-and-white skirt and white T-shirt with white tennis shoes, Hermione pulled back her hair in a thick braid and applied a little mascara.
"After all, " she told Crookshanks solemnly, "I don't want the Abbotts thinking I'm any worse than them, now do I?"
The cat swished his tail toward her bureau, and the witch smiled.
"Yes, I'd better return Harry's jersey, hadn't I?" She picked up the freshly laundered shirt and fingered the back fondly... POTTER, #7, CAPT.
She Apparated to Harry and Ron's flat.
There was loud arguing coming from the kitchen. Hermione stopped and listened.
"She was wearing your shirt, Harry!" came Hannah's voice, carrying none of it's previous sweetness.
"I was taking care of her, Hannah!" Harry furiously replied. "She needed pajamas, for crying out
loud!"
"You could have transfigured some!" argued the witch.
"Give me a break, Hannah! Not all of us grew up like you, Mione and I grew up like Muggles...and to be perfectly honest, grabbing something from my drawer was much more convenient at the time!"
"She was practically prancing around in front of me, with your name on her back! Like it was her name too or something!" yelled Hannah.
Hermione heard Harry pause, and she could tell his naiveté would prevent him from understanding Hannah's meaning. She smiled in spite of herself. Despite all that Harry had seen and done, he was still innocent.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked quietly.
"It means that I've seen the way Hermione looks at you, Harry. She's been that way since we were all in school together. She practically lights up when you come in the room!" Hannah fumed.
"Really?" asked Harry in a surprised tone.
Hermione was surprised too. Did she really light up around Harry? Granted, she was always happy to see him...those sparkling emerald eyes. She closed her eyes for a moment and his face immediately appeared in her mind...God, he was beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful man she
she had ever seen...geez, this was Harry she was thinking about! Her best friend! Her engaged best friend! She had to stop thinking like this.
Hermione shook her head and listened to Hannah ranting.
"Really? Really??!! Of course, Harry! She wants you all to herself! She's been trying to get you in bed for years!"
Hermione gasped indignantly. How dare that little...pixie make such unfounded accusations!
Harry, too, it seemed, had had enough. "For the love of Pete!" he swore.
"Uh..." Hannah's wrath subsided for a moment. "Who's Pete?"
Harry grunted, and Hermione knew he was running a frustrated hand through his hair.
"Never mind, it's a Muggle expression," he dismissed.
Hannah made a disgusted noise.
'Great,' thought Hermione, 'She's prejudiced on top of her charming personality.'
"Listen, the point is, Hermione has never made a move to be more than friends with me, okay? And she has certainly never tried to sleep with me! I love Hermione with all my heart, and we're a package deal. You want me, you have to take her too."
Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. That was a sweet sentiment, but something about it rang a bell. Where had she heard that before?
There was silence and Harry sighed.
"Listen, Hannah," he said gently. "Do you trust me?"
Hannah hesitated and then answered, timidly, "Yes."
Hermione was surprised. She'd trust Harry with her life without a second thought, and the woman he was going to marry wasn't sure? Not for the first time, Hermione thought her best mate was rushing into things.
"Then trust me when I say that Mione doesn't love me that way. She never will. Believe me, I know," he added softly. Hermione blinked. What did that mean?
"But she is a wonderful friend, and she is going to give us an incredible wedding. You were the one that suggested she be your maid of honor, weren't you?"
"Yes," replied Hannah sullenly. "She was always so nice to me at Hogwarts, and I know that you'd love to have her in the wedding party."
"So you're going to stop all this nonsense?"
"I suppose so."
"Good," said Harry happily. "That's my girl. I love you, Anna."
"I love you too, Harry-Bear."
Hermione felt herself resisting the urge to brush her teeth, and waltzed into the kitchen, interrupting a snogging Harry and Hannah.
"Morning, Harry, Hannah," she said in a sing-song voice, helping herself to some fruit. She decided to have a little fun as Harry broke away from Hannah and headed for the coffee pot.
"Hey, Mione," smiled Harry, as the witch hugged him and ruffled his hair.
"I brought back your shirt, love," she said.
Harry gazed at Hannah defiantly. "Keep it, doll," he said firmly.
Hermione's mouth twitched at she glanced at the scowling blonde.
"Are you sure? I already have dozens of your things at my flat. I could start a museum about you, if there isn't already one, Boy-Who-Lived."
As Hermione settled herself at the table next to Hannah, the latter looked up in surprise.
"Harry, you hate being called the Boy-Who-Lived. You don't let anyone call you that."
The wizard shrugged as he added cream to his coffee and sat between the two women. "It's different when it's Hermione. She calls me pretty much whatever she wants."
"Yeah, including, Pain-In-The Arse-Boy, The Boy-That-Lived-To-Be-A Prat, Daft Idiot, Scarhead..." Hermione sighed contentedly. "Yes, the list is endless, though I must admit that Draco taught me many good ones."
Harry leaned over and tucked a stray curl behind Hermione's ear. "You watch out, Miss Granger, or I'll have to start telling everyone about the time you turned yourself into a cat."
They both laughed and Hannah sat there awkwardly.
"Well," said Hannah briskly, her voice all bubbles once again, "We get to start shopping today, don't we?" She glanced at the clock. "Actually, Hermione, we'd better get going, we're due to meet my family in about fifteen minutes."
"Um, okay," said Hermione awkwardly, wondering how the woman could say such awful things about her behind her back and then be so nice to her face.
"We'll see you at noon for lunch at the Leaky Caldron, right?" asked Hannah, standing up and bending over to kiss Harry.
"Yes, Anna, I'll be there. Make sure she doesn't try to make our whole wedding pink, doll," Harry added to Hermione.
Hannah giggled. "Oh, Har-Bear, don't be so silly, I wouldn't do that, even if it is my favorite color!"
"Let's go," said Hermione as Hannah stared at Harry, who was already engrossed in the newspaper.
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"So you're Hermione, Harry's dear friend! We just met him last week, but he told us all about you! Couldn't shut up about her, could he, Haylie?" gushed Hannah's mother, Heather.
"Yeah, he positively raved about you," confirmed Haylie, Hannah's older sister. "Said he called you doll, cause you absolutely were one!"
Hermione was taken aback. She'd always thought Harry just called girls that, she hadn't realized the endearment was reserved for her. The idea made her blush.
"It's so great to meet someone close to Harry," added Hilary, Hannah's younger sister. "The engagement was such a surprise and all, it'd be nice to hear about him from someone other than Hannah!"
"Later," interrupted Hannah, "Right now I need a dress!"
As Hannah began searching for dresses and trying them on, her family talked with Hermione.
"Yes, her daddy Harvey is absolutely overjoyed with Hannah's match," said Hannah's mother.
"Well, Harry is a great man, Mrs. Abbott," consented Hermione.
"Call me Heather," insisted the woman, who had light hair like Hannah's cropped into a bob. She wore expensive garnet earrings and stylish purple robes.
Hermione realized something then. "Harvey, Heather, Haylie, Hannah, and Hilary? All "H" names?"
"Oh!" squealed Heather. "You noticed. Yes, all Hs, and that's how we knew Harry was meant to be part of this family!"
Hermione nodded politely.
"Hannah's had a crush on him ever since she first saw him at Hogwarts," Haylie told Hermione. "When she found out he was working for the Ministry, well, she had Daddy call in a favor, and she followed him right out there to Albania!"
The dark-haired witch frowned. Harry had told her that Hannah had been in Albania doing Ancient Runes research. Then it occurred to her-- Harry must not have known Hannah followed him out there. Something didn't seem right about that...Harry's own fiancee had lied to him!
Hermione opened her mouth, but just then, Hannah came out of the dressing room. She was wearing a very short white dress with hanging beading all along the hem and bodice. It had thin spaghetti straps and a low neckline.
"I think this might be the one!" Hannah squeaked happily. "What do you think, Miss Wedding Planner?"
"I think it's perfect," said Hermione, "If you're planning on becoming a prostitute directly after the ceremony."
Hannah's family gasped, and Hermione realized she had said that aloud. 'Dammit,' she thought, 'I have got to relax and be professional. This is a job, after all.'
"What I mean," she continued quickly, 'Is that this dress is all wrong for a wedding like yours. You guys still want it outside at Hogwarts, correct?"
Hannah nodded.
Hermione closed her eyes and imagined. This was her element.
"Okay, I'm seeing....silk white tents, lots of floating candles, dark cherry wood tables with white-rose centerpieces...I'm imagining you in a very flowing dress...tight bodice with long flowing train and...a comb-veil. Yes, definitely a veil that is on a comb, it sticks in your up-do, stays in the back of your face...."
Hermione trailed off, opening her eyes. Everyone was staring at her, dreamy expressions on their faces.
"Sounds perfect," whispered Hilary.
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Abbott. "Hannah, maybe...maybe we should let Hermione look for a dress that she thinks would work."
"Weellll..." said Hannah reluctantly. "Okay then. If Harry-Bear trusts her judgment, then so will I!" She giggled and her family beamed.
"Yeah," replied Hermione sweetly, "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I am the most highly recommended Ministry employee in about thirty years or that I planned Albus Dumbledore's wedding to Minerva McGonagall myself or that I was voted this generation's most powerful witch by the Daily Prophet. Nope, I get all my work because I'm friends with Harry Potter."
"Um....okay?" said Hannah, throwing a confused look at her sister Haylie, who shrugged.
Hermione sighed. "I'll just see if I can find a dress," she mumbled, and vanished into the rows and rows of white material.
A few minutes later, she returned, holding a strapless white wedding gown, complete with a tight-fitted bodice and flowing train.
"It looks exactly as you described it!" remarked Hilary.
Hannah took it eagerly from Hermione's arms, then frowned when looking at the tag.
"This is about two sizes smaller than I wear," she mumbled.
"Ooops," Hermione feigned a sheepish expression, "I forgot and grabbed my own dress size. Let me just go see if they have a bigger one."
"Quite all right, m'dear, anyone could make that mistake," smiled Heather as Hannah scowled.
"Yeah, I might have to look in the plus department to find a dress big enough to fit over her swelled head," muttered Hermione under her breath.
"What was that?" asked Hannah sharply.
"I said, perhaps in another department we could find some bridesmaid dresses in red?"
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By the time noon rolled around, Hermione was ready to take a break. They met Hannah's father Harvey at the Leaky Caldron, and waited a few minutes for Harry.
At ten after noon, Hannah wondered, "Where in the world is Harry?"
Hermione looked at her. "He promised to help Ron fix some things for his mom today at the Burrow. If I had to take a guess, I'd say that Ron was running late as usual and made Harry behind. He'll be here in within the next ten minutes or so."
Hannah grinned at her in a forced way. "You're so sure, are you?"
As Hermione opened her mouth to respond, Harry came running through the door. Hermione felt relief at his presence. She couldn't help but return his smile. Finally, an ally!
"So sorry I'm late, Ron was running behind, as usual," he explained breathlessly, seating himself next to Hermione and across from Hannah, who scowled.
"Hello, Mione," he greeted, hugging her quickly. "Hello, Anna," he leaned across the table and kissed her, then shook hands with the rest of her family.
"You haven't ordered yet?" he asked.
"No," answered Hannah shortly, in a tone that added, 'because you were late.'
Harry grinned mischievously and Hermione stifled a laugh. Nobody could stay mad at Harry when he grinned like that.
" I'm not amused, Harry, we've talked about your tardiness before," Hannah pursed her lips.
'Okay,' thought Hermione, 'Nobody can stay mad at him except the spawn of Satan over there.'
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, well, I've got to use the loo, order me a cup of coffee and some eggs, okay, Anna-Banana?" He left the table.
A few seconds later, Madam Rosmerta showed up and greeted Hermione warmly, then took orders.
"Oh, and some poached eggs with bacon and a cup of coffee for Harry, cream and sugar," added Hannah, smiling.
"Uh, actually, that's not he takes his coffee," contradicted Hermione quietly, blushing.
"Of course it is," said Hannah indignantly, "Cream and sugar."
"No, it isn't," said Hermione, annoyed, "And that's not how he likes his eggs either."
"Oh yeah, then you order for him," smirked Hannah, crossing her arms across her chest. Her family watched the exchange with interest.
"Fine!" snapped Hermione. "Madam Rosmerta, Harry will take his eggs scrambled with salt and pepper, with a side of sausage, and his coffee with cream only."
When Harry returned a moment later, talk about the wedding inevitably dominated the conversation.
"And I found the perfect dress!"
Harry smiled fondly at her. "I assume Mione helped with that."
"Yeah, she might have helped a bit," mumbled Hannah.
"Didn't I tell you she was the best?"
"You sure did," chimed in Heather, "And you were right! You didn't tell us how pretty she was, though. Isn't she adorable, Harvey?"
"She is, a beautiful, charming little witch...pity we don't have a son to marry off!" joked Mr. Abbott.
Hermione flushed at their compliments. Well, at least Hannah's parents liked her.
Just then, the food showed up.
"This is perfect, Anna, just the way I like it," Harry approved enthusiastically.
"Actually--" began Haylie.
"No problem, darling," interrupted Hannah, throwing a triumphant grin at Hermione.
'That....little.....WENCH!,' Hermione's thoughts screamed. She wanted to hex her into oblivion.
Instead, she looked at Harry, whose green eyes were filled with pleasure. She felt a pang of ache in her heart. She glanced at Hannah, who leaned across the table and kissed Harry hard on the mouth, deliberately looking at Hermione.
Forget hexes. The brown-eyed witch wanted to punch Hannah.
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Later, after Hermione pried Harry away from Hannah, who was spending the night with her family, the two friends decided to walk around Muggle London.
As the sun set and they strolled around the park, Harry gave a sigh.
"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Hermione worriedly.
"Wrong? Nothing's wrong, Mione. It's just that things are changing so fast, you know? And I'm excited, but I'm also gonna miss..." he gestured around, "Times like these."
"Harry," said Hermione gently, "Times like these will continue forever, because we're best mates, right? And nothing will ever change that."
"No," agreed Harry, smiling, "Nothing will ever change that."
Suddenly, Harry reached over and interlaced his fingers with Hermione's, one of their traditions while walking in the park. She felt a tingle travel up her arm and straight to her heart.
'Weird,' she thought, 'Must be static electricity or something.'
They walked along in companionable silence for awhile, enjoying one another's company and watching the street vendors.
"Oy, Mister," called an old Irishman selling roses, "Aren't you going to buy a flower for your pretty lass there? A man should spoil the woman he loves."
Hermione blushed. "Oh, no, I'm not his--"
"I'll take a dozen," said Harry suddenly. He handed the man a few pounds and got a handful of beautiful yellow roses wrapped in green paper.
"Aw, Hannah will love those," said Hermione. "That's really sweet, Harry."
He pushed the bundle into her arms. "They're not for Hannah," he whispered. "They're for you, doll. Yellow...friendship roses, for a perfect friend."
" Oh, Harry," Hermione breathed, wondering why it suddenly felt like all the oxygen in the world had run short.
Emerald eyes were piercing into her cinnamon ones. Harry pulled her close and hugged her fiercely, and marveled at the way she fit right up against his chest...Hannah always complained that he hugged too tightly and messed up her hair.
Hermione felt her heart racing as she breathed in Harry's unique scent, cinnamon and sandalwood and...just Harry...the affect on her was dizzying...she felt her knees weakening...
"Hermione," Harry mumbled in her hair, his hand stroking through the curls. "I love you, you know that? You're such s great friend."
The witch felt her throat constrict.
"I know, Harry. I love you, too," whispered Hermione, tilting her head up to meet his eyes.
She felt herself drowning, drowning, drowning in those dark green pools, losing all sense of time and space and reason. Slowly, she pushed herself up on her toes, not really aware of her actions, just knowing that she had to be as close to Harry as possible. Then, his face was nearing hers, his warm breath was on her face and....
His mobile phone was chirping. He pulled swiftly out of the embrace.
"It's Hannah," he said, smiling.
And as Hermione watched Harry talking animatedly on the phone, she was struck with a barrage of emotion.
His eyes, his hair, his perfectly curved lips...the way he grinned, the way he smelled, the way he said her name...his courage, his strength, his loyalty...she was looking at the sum of the parts, and they were all things that made him uniquely Harry.
And she was watching him, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. She loved the way he moved, she loved the way he talked, the way he smiled....
That's when it hit Hermione. All the things she'd been feeling, the way she always longed to be in Harry's physical proximity, the way she really did light up at his entrance to a room, and the way she'd immediately hated Hannah.
She didn't love Harry.
She was in love with him.
And she was in big trouble.