Author's Notes: Sorry this took so much longer than my other updates! Okay, a few brief notes...thank you for reviewing, it keeps me alive. Also, I combined a few scenes from the movie in this chapter, fans will know which ones...it worked best this way. And finally, there are some definite obstacles that arise for Harry and Hermione, so be warned!
Chapter Six-Dancing In The Moonlight
Harry settled Hermione on a couch in the lobby. He kneeled over her, running a hand through her hair. After a few minutes, her eyes fluttered opened.
"Ha-Harry?" she stammered.
"Yes, Mione, it's me," replied Harry, sighing with relief. "You're alright, then?"
The witch sat up cautiously. "Yeah...yeah, I think so."
"Great. You ready to come upstairs and sign us up for this dance class?"
Hermione smiled and nodded. "That's my job, after all, isn't it?"
Harry grinned happily. "You seem in a better mood. Did you and Hannah get along well today?"
"Yeah, actually, she really seemed to warm up to me, I couldn't belie--" Hermione broke off and frowned in sudden understanding. "You told her about Ron and I," she whispered.
The man flushed slightly. "Well, yes. I Flooed her back while you were in the shower."
"I see," replied Hermione quietly, standing up.
"Hermione," began Harry.
"Let's go do this, Harry," said Hermione stiffly.
They went upstairs and reached the reception area, where Hannah was looking curiously through a Muggle magazine.
"It's about time!" she exclaimed when she spotted Harry, who was still leading Hermione by the elbow....'Just in case," he thought warily.
Hermione set up the registration and then entered the ballroom with the couple. There were already many pairs of people waiting for class to begin.
Hannah smiled at Hermione. "Well, Harry told me all about you and Ron, and I must say, I'm so happy for you two!" Her voice was warm and sincere.
The brunette managed a convincing smile. "Thanks, Hannah," she said in a surprisingly pleasant tone. Maybe Hannah wasn't so bad, after all. Maybe Harry had been right, maybe Hannah just felt threatened, maybe she just needed to relax...
"Please, Hermione! You're my maid of honor and my wedding planner, call me Anna!" Hannah giggled.
Maybe not.
Just as a man with a goatee and cane clapped his hands for attention, Hannah's mobile phone chirped. She answered it quickly.
'Funny,' thought Hermione, 'For someone who doesn't seem to like Muggles much, she doesn't mind taking advantage of their technology.'
The man with the goatee glared in their direction. "Excuse me, but is there a problem?"
"No, no, no," said Hannah quickly, giving Hermione a gentle push toward Harry. "She's with him."
"Harry," added Hannah in an undertone, "I'm going to take this outside, you dance with Hermione, okay?"
"Okay," agreed Harry nervously. Hannah left the room.
"Welcome, welcome everyone to the Basil St. Mosley School of Dance. I am Basil St. Mosley," the man in charge gave a little bow and there was a smattering of applause.
"Thank you," he continued. "Now in order to gage what I'm going to be working with, I want you to pair up and dance to a simple waltz...remember, the rhythm is a slow step followed by two quick ones. Everyone ready?"
Harry wrapped an arm about Hermione's tiny waist, his other hand clasping one of hers tightly.
"You do know how to waltz, right?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth as the music began.
Hermione just smirked.
Harry took the lead, and as he'd told Ron earlier, he could indeed dance. In fact, Harry Potter turned out to be quite a fantastic dancer.
He waltzed Hermione around the room. Slow, quick, quick. Slow, quick, quick. Slow, quick, quick.
"Daaaa, da, daaaaa, da dum," hummed Harry with the music. He spun Hermione, who instinctively shifted to the balls of her feet. Her knee length black dress twirled out beautifully, giving the room, Harry included, a rather nice view of her lacy knickers.
Slow, quick, quick. Slow, quick, quick. Slow, quick, quick.
Harry soon lost himself to the power of repetition, to the power of dancing, to the power of Hermione's face peering into his own.
'She's so graceful,' thought Harry. 'I never noticed how graceful she is before.'
The woman was moving with fluidity and confidence, barely skimming the floor with her feet. And dancing with her made Harry, too, feel as though they were floating on air.
"I never knew you were so skilled a dancer," Harry mumbled in her ear.
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," replied Hermione.
"Would you care to enlighten me?" Harry whispered huskily.
Hermione felt her heart race. Was Harry flirting with her? She bit her lip and met his gaze.
Yes, something was there, she was sure of it. Was that...attraction? Desire?
The lovesick girl forgot about the music, forgot about the situation, forgot about everything but Harry in her arms. They were drowning in the dance...
And the music ended abruptly, pulling them out of the trance.
"Thank you for the dance," said Harry breathlessly.
Hermione glanced nervously about the room. Hannah was nowhere in sight.
"Come on, we need to find your fiancee," said the witch at last. She and Harry discreetly left the class and found Hannah down stairs in the lobby.
"Oh, I'm glad you two are here!" squealed the blonde. "I just got off the phone with a friend of mine, and she says that there's been an opening at the Bonstelle Gardens!"
"And opening for what?" asked Harry curiously.
Hermione glanced at Hannah, who appeared nervous, the first time Hermione had seen her so.
Hermione cleared her throat. "And opening for a wedding," she said, frowning. "The Bonstelle Gardens is a popular tourist spot, with beautiful English hedges and lovely fountains...but it is most often booked for the weddings of powerful witches and wizards."
Harry searched Hannah's face. "Anna, is this true?" He asked dejectedly.
"Well, yes."
"I thought we agreed to have the wedding at Hogwarts?"
Hannah shifted uncomfortably. "Harry...just, come look at this place okay? Keep an open mind and just come look at it tomorrow. I don't want us to limit our options. I want the perfect wedding."
"Okay," sighed Harry defeatedly. "I'll come look. But we make the decision together, okay?"
"Thank you, Harry-Bear," smiled Hannah. She then turned to Hermione. "Don't worry, Hermy, we'll tell you how it goes."
Hermione gritted her teeth. She hated that nickname.
"Whoa, wait a second," said Harry. "She's coming with us."
"What?" asked the two women in unison.
"She's the wedding planner, she has to be able to see if she can work with the site, Anna," explained Harry reasonably. "Mione's been planning this whole wedding as if it would be at Hogwarts. She might have to change some things."
Hermione bit her lip. She really did not want to go with them, but Harry had a point. Professionally speaking, she should go and see if the site was workable.
"Okay," said Hannah reluctantly. Then she yawned. "Come on, Harry, let's go back to your flat."
Hermione started to say her farewells, but Harry interrupted.
"Actually, Anna, Mione had a bit of an accident earlier and I think it'd be best if I kept an eye on her," Harry went into a brief rendition of the dumpster incident.
"So," he concluded, "I've got to keep watch and make sure she's going to be alright. I should probably take her back to her flat at the very least."
Hannah pressed her lips into a thin line. "Can't Ron do that?"
"He's spending the night at Charlie's, he promised to watch his nephew," said Harry.
"Fine," snapped Hannah irritably. Harry engulfed her in a hug anyhow.
"I'll miss you," he whispered in a singsong voice. The former Hufflepuff softened. "I'll miss you too."
Hannah hailed a cab out of the Muggle section of town, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.
The two friends walked to a nearby abandoned warehouse where they could safely Apparate.
"You don't have to do this, you know."
"Yes," said Harry simply, "I do."
Reaching Hermione's neat little flat, Harry put on some tea while Hermione showered. When she emerged, her hair was hanging in damp ringlets, and she was clad in Harry's old Quidditch jersey once again. She snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Thanks," she said easily. Harry turned to hug her.
"You look good in that," Harry muttered softly.
Hermione studied his face. "Harry," she said abruptly. "I'm not sure you're doing the right thing, marrying Hannah and all. I mean, it's only been two months and you're being rash...."
Harry broke away from her, anger etched on his powerful jaw. "Now, hold on just a damn minute. How about a quick recap, here, Mione. You harpoon me for getting engaged after such a short relationship when , in a zippy and unexpected twist, you yourself turn out to have a fiancee that you've been dating the same amount of time! And now you have the nerve to call me rash? Come on, Mione, what the hell is your problem?"
"Oh, you're the one with the problem!" exploded Hermione angrily. "I've been doing this a long time, and I can predict, down to the week, how long a couple is going to last. Are you aware that Hannah has chosen teal for her bridesmaids' dresses? Teal. The color of gangrene. My last bride who chose teal wound up getting her marriage annulled in twelve days. OH, OH! And 'I Honestly Love You' as your wedding song? Olivia Newton John may be a witch, but you might as well commit matrimonial suicide right now!"
Harry glared at her.
"The truth is, you don't want to get married to her."
"WHAT?"
"I see it all the time. Grooms overly interested in details, stuck on sappy nicknames, trying to atone for that fact that they don't really want to get married."
"I do too want to marry Hannah!"
Hermione stared Harry straight in the eyes. "Then why'd you almost kiss me?"
Harry was silent.
"Exactly."
The wizard threw up his arms. "What do you want, Hermione? A confession written in blood? That night, in the park, I was attracted to you. I was. You caught me. I admit it. Maybe, I was a little unsure about the whole marriage thing. Maybe, I was just being a guy, and an opportunity presented itself. Bottom line? I knew you'd never be interested in me anyway. Bottom line? Nothing happened. Bottom line...now, more than ever, I believe Anna is the one for me."
Hermione stared at him.
Harry stared back.
Hermione looked as though she might cry.
Harry sighed. "Listen, doll, I don't want to have a row with you. I just--OUCH! Son of a bitch, Hermione!"
Hermione's slap had just made excellent contact with his cheek.
She smiled sweetly. "See you tomorrow, Potter." The witch turned on her heel and left, slamming the door to her bedroom.
Harry was vaguely aware that he'd never been so turned on in his whole life.
Which was probably not a good sign.
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The tour of the Bonstelle Gardens went well. It had huge plains of grass, tall pruned hedges, pristine flower beds, and amazing fountains.
"It's doable," admitted Hermione. "The site's already been constructed, we'd just have to adapt it. At least you wouldn't have to cut the guest list."
"It's incredible," breathed Hannah. "My parents would love it."
"And what about the bride and groom?" questioned Hermione.
"I say...let's take it," said Hannah as Harry replied, "I say let's keep looking."
"Really?" Harry looked at Hannah in surprise.
Hermione stepped back tactfully. "I'll just give you two a minute."
"Anna," Harry shook his head. "This place is so huge and impersonal. I thought you understood about Hogwarts...it's the only place I've ever had a home. I've spent over half of my life in the spotlight. I wanted my wedding to be a private affair, there at my true home."
Hannah stuck out her lip. "Harry, you know that Mum and Daddy have ever so many friends and associates that are expecting to be invited to my wedding. Not to mention that the press is going to want to cover the marriage of the famous Harry Potter, and all of our classmates from Hogwarts and the Order members. We could use all this open space. And I think the structure of it is lovely."
"If this...if this is what you really want," said Harry slowly. He looked sad, but then he grinned. "It's all because you smell so damn good! What's that you're wearing?"
Hannah grinned. "It's called Vanilla Fields."
"Funny...it almost smells like home to me."
Hannah noticed Hermione's head snap up at the name of the perfume. Her perfume. The one she always wore. Hannah winked at her. Hermione wanted to drown the little wench in a vat of that perfume. So that's why the devil had been being so nice! That's why Harry's description of the girl he'd fallen in love with had been so familiar...it was a description of her!
Hannah, that little Hufflepuff who had no extraordinary traits to make her noticeable, had noticed Hermione's special relationship with Harry...and had copied them. She had studied Hermione at Hogwarts and then followed Harry out to Albania, once she had her act down perfect. And now that they were actually together, Hannah was running out of things to keep Harry so in love with her...that was why she'd been interrogating Hermione about herself!
It all made sense.
Hermione was so stunned she couldn't speak.
Harry, meanwhile, seemed resigned to Hannah's wishes. "Okay...if you want the Bonstelle...we'll take the Bonstelle."
Hannah squealed and hugged him, turning to Hermione. "Do you see why I'm marrying this man? Because he is so good to me!" She nodded. "Yep, you guys will have no problem planning the wedding while I'm gone."
Harry jerked his up so fast he should have had whiplash. "Gone?"
"Just for a week, I have to visit Beauxbatons and straighten out some things before I start work there next term."
Alone with Harry for a week? Hermione would have to kill him, he was acting like such a git. She tried to stop this disaster that was forming.
"Uh, you know, Anna, this is a really critical time," Hermione insisted.
"I know, which is why we shouldn't lose momentum, right?" reasoned Hannah. "You two will do a great job. I trust you."
Hermione stifled the urge to snort. Yeah, Hannah trusted Hermione all right, trusted her as long as she had Ron as a fiancee!
Which, she remembered sadly, wasn't going to be very long. Ron would absolutely kill her if she made it go on any longer than necessary.
The poor witch sighed. Wasn't this just getting better and better?
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Draco was currently sprawled lazily on his couch, wearing only a pair of slacks. He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, disgusted at the field report he was reading. Honestly, what sort of idiots did he have working under him?
'I need to get into a career field where I'm working with some intelligent life,' the tall man reasoned, 'So, perhaps, zookeeping?'
A knock at the door elicited a low growl from Draco, who opened it with an arrogant wave of his wand.
A rain soaked figure with chestnut curls stood in his doorway, sobbing.
Malfoy immediately hurried to her side, closing the door and settling her on the couch.
"Granger, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly.
She continued to weep.
"Hermione," he mumbled, his voice full of concern, "Hermione, love, whatever is the matter?"
The distraught witch stopped crying and stared at him. "You called me Hermione. You never call me Hermione."
He smiled. "Ah, but it got you to calm down and stop crying, didn't it?"
She managed a weak smile. "You're such a Slytherin."
Draco summoned a pot of tea and a cup from the kitchen. Hermione gratefully took a sip and set it on the table, wringing her hands.
Draco watched her carefully. "Are you going to explain, darling, or am I going to have to suffer through your sniveling all night?"
Hermione's chin trembled ominously.
"Oh!" exclaimed Malfoy remorsefully. In truth, he had a soft spot for Hermione, and she was the only one that ever made him feel bad. A soft spot for Hermione...a very soft spot indeed.
"I was only teasing...but please, tell me."
"Why else would I be here?" the woman hiccuped bitterly.
That's when Draco noticed her breath was rather...well, alcohol-laden.
"You've been drinking."
Hermione merely nodded. "I...(hiccup)...had a...(hiccup)...fight with...(hiccup)...Harry!" She moaned. "And then he...(hiccup).... didn't talk to me at all...today...(hiccup) ....and Hannah stole my perfume and she wants to be me for Harry...(hiccup)...but he....doesn't realize it...(hiccup)...and now, she's leaving on a business trip and we have to spend a week together alone." By the time Hermione made it through her summary, her hiccups had ceased.
Malfoy ran a hand through his already tousled hair. It was going to be a long night.
"Okay, Granger, lay it on me. This time, in detail and coherent sentences, if you'd be so kind."
Hermione poured her little heart out while Draco got her some of his dry clothes, fixed her some more tea, started a fire, and brought out marshmallows to roast.
"Marshmallows," Hermione mumbled, forgetting her troubles for the moment and staring at Draco in awe. "You remembered."
"Yes, I remembered." Hermione loved roasted marshmallows more than doing Transfiguration homework. And that was saying something.
Hermione cuddled on the couch, dry and full and feeling like, if no one else did, at least Draco cared about her. He sat on the floor near her head, pushing marshmallows in the fire.
'I should have known that he'd never be interested in me that way," muttered Hermione into the dim room. "I was like a place holder until his precious Anna-Banana came along."
She sat up suddenly, squeaking out an impression of Hannah. "Oh, no, darling, cut your hair and be on time and polish my shoes, and oh, darling, heavens no, call me Anna, and I'll lick your banana anytime, sugar, yes I will."
Draco stifled a laugh. If Hermione hadn't been so bloody smashed, it would have been rather hilarious.
"I was just a poor man's Hannah," sighed Hermione miserably.
"No...no, Granger. Hannah?" Draco gave a derisive snort and moved up to sit next to Hermione on the couch. He took her hand and looked at her carefully. "Hannah has nothing on you. She can wear your perfume and talk like you and walk like you, but she'll never be you. Hannah's a poor man's Hermione."
Hermione's eyes teared up with gratitude. "Thank you, Draco...I like that."
"Like what?"
"When you call me Hermione. It sounds sexy when you say it."
The man met the witch's gaze boldly. "It is sexy."
"Harry doesn't seem to think so."
"Harry's a fool!" exploded Malfoy. "I always knew he was a fool..." The blonde trailed off, cupping Hermione's face. "If he can't see....the curves of your face...every fleck of gold in your eyes...your hair...your beautiful, bushy, curly, hair..." Draco stopped, overcome with emotion.
Hermione peered into his eyes.
"Do you ever think about me?' asked Malfoy suddenly.
"Yes," replied Hermione honestly. "Yes, Draco, I think about you."
"Do you not wonder why I haven't had a serious girlfriend since Hogwarts? Since you and I were together?"
Hermione registered the look in his eyes. She'd seen that look before.
Draco didn't wait for an answer. "It's because of you," he plunged on. "It's because I've been hung up on you this whole time. I adore you, Hermione, do you know that? And if Harry can't see how perfect you are..." Malfoy shook his head sadly. "I'd give anything for just a little of what you've given him. Just a little."
"Draco..." began Hermione.
He held up a hand. "Just listen, Hermione. I may not be your first choice, but promise me...promise me that if you are not his, you will give me a chance. Another chance, that's all I ask."
And before she could respond, Draco had gently pressed his lips against hers. To her surprise, Hermione felt the sincerity radiating from him before he broke away and spoke again.
"I know I never do the right thing, I never say the right thing. But I have one question to ask you. And if your answer is yes, you will make me the happiest man in the world, Potter be damned. If you say yes, no one will ever love you as I love you."
Draco took a deep breath.
"Please, be my wife, Hermione."