Hey everyone! It's been months, I know, and I'm soooo sorry. Believe it or not, I miss writing this as much as you miss reading it. There is an important revelation in this chapter, so I hope you are all prepared (I know you'll love it!) I am using a school computer, which is why updates have been scarce (Or non-existent, if you wanna be a dick about it.) Anywho, review and tell me how much you missed me!!
Chapter Nine-Dirty Deals and Ice Cream Cones
Harry stood in the open doorway, his mouth agape.
What sort of a bloody tart brought home another man to her fiancé?
A Hufflepuff, Hermione's voice seemed to tease in his head, Only a Hufflepuff would do something that daft.
Harry had to admit, Schizophrenic Hermione was just as dead-on as Real Hermione would have been.
"Harry-Bear!!" squealed Hannah, flinging her arms around him.
The Auror flinched at the high pitch of her voice. What was wrong with her? She sounded like a house elf on drugs. Had her voice always been that high?
Harry glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You taking the mickey?"
The blonde witch giggled. "Silly Harry. This is my bestest friend in the whole world, Ethan Hawke."
The taller man stuck his hand out warmly. "Pleased to meet you, Harry, I've heard loads about you." His accent was obviously American.
"Ethan Hawke? Like that Muggle actor?" blinked Harry stupidly.
"Huh?" asked Hannah and Ethan simultaneously.
"Nevermind," he dismissed quickly.
Two extremely uncomfortable hours later, Ethan and Hannah left to visit her family, leaving Harry alone to his thoughts.
"Thank bloody Merlin," sighed Harry in relief, "Talking to that guy is like talking to a wall. I think he has Snape's sense of humor combined with Crabbe's brain and Voldemort's personality. Yeah, that's a real winner."
What was he going to do? Why in the hell had his Anna brought home some man he had never met?
Hannah had explained (in long, enthusiastic sentences) that Ethan was a professor at Beauxbatons. A professor of what, Harry had wondered. How to Be A Prat 101?
Ethan and Hannah had run into one another there. Hannah had insisted that he come home with her to meet Harry and come to the wedding, and that was how they'd ended up sitting in Harry's kitchen, drinking all his tea.
"What I need," Harry mumbled to himself, "Is a plan to get rid of this guy. I need Ron….possibly Ginny….maybe Luna and Neville…wait a minute, hold the cauldron. What I need is someone cunning, devious and completely devoid of morals…Malfoy!"
Meanwhile, Hannah and Ethan were having a drink at the Leaky Cauldron.
"Look, Ernie, I'm going to need more time. He's like, perfect. He never does anything remotely wrong."
"Listen, Abbott!" exploded her companion, slamming a fist on the table. "You have been working on this story close to three months now, and you don't have one speck of dirt on this guy."
Ernie MacMillan, without the Glamour Charms that turned his blonde hair black and his blue eyes brown, was much more recognizable than when Harry had met him as "Ethan."
"I had to fly all the way here from New York just to keep an eye on you and tell you where to find your story. It's ridiculous. You may have been writing for the tabloid for three years, but you still have a lot of learning to bloody do."
Hannah sighed. "Gee, Ernie, do you think it's been easy for me? I'm given the opportunity of my career, to expose dirt on Harry Potter, and I can't come up with a thing. I've had to act like a right idiot half the time, and the other half I have to imitate that awful Hermione Granger. I never get to have any fun."
"Hermione Granger, huh? She's planning your upcoming nuptials, right?" sniggered Ernie.
"Oh give me a break. That woman has about as much taste as Sibyll Trelawney." Hannah rolled her eyes and lit a fag, taking a deep drag. "Merlin's beard, this is great. I can't even smoke around Potter, it wouldn't suit `Anna-Banana's' image at all."
"Wait just a minute. Hermione Granger. Real pretty little thing, dark hair, big brown eyes?" recalled her former housemate.
"I suppose so, but honestly, I don't think she's that pretty. I think she is sort of a mess."
"I don't care what you think, Abbott. As your editor I am telling you, that is our story. I can see the headline now: `Potter Cheats on Fiancee with Long Time Pal.' Rita will love it."
"Well," agreed Hannah slowly, "If Rita wants it, she'll get it. After all, she owns the paper. Now, c'mon, let's get out of here. We've got lives to ruin and a wedding to destroy."
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As Harry was pacing and contemplating his life, there was a knock at the door. Harry paused a moment, hoping whomever it was would go away and leave him to his scheming.
"Harry?" came a tentative voice. "It's Hermione."
Harry raced across the room, slid on the rug, bumped his elbow on the lamp, fell into the coat rack and accidentally kneed himself in the groin.
Hermione was therefore greeted with a grimacing Harry, who was clutching his testicles with his right hand, his right elbow with his left hand, and trying frantically to extricate himself from the tangle of clothes he was in.
"Um, hello, Harry," grinned Hermione.
"Hey," gasped Harry. "I thought you were mad at me?"
"I was, and now you are forgiven. But only if you make me some of your famous brownies."
Harry finally managed to free himself from the clutches of his ski jacket, when he managed to process what Hermione had just said.
"UH, I'm glad that we are okay, doll, but my brownies are terrible. They taste like essence of Goyle. Why would you want to eat them?"
"I don't, but I was going to poison Hannah," replied Hermione brightly.
"Mione!"
"Well, you asked,"retorted Hermione easily. "Do you know that she Flooed me at three'o'clock this morning, long distance from France, just to ask if I knew someone named Ethan Hawke that went to the same university? My Floo bill is going to astronomical this month."
"She talked to you about him?" asked Harry incredulously as Hermione plopped herself on his couch.
"Yes, why? Worried I'll tell her to shove off and marry the bugger so I don't have to plan this wedding?"
"No, but worried she might do that of her own accord. She brought that idiot home! I met him tonight!"
Hermione began laughing fit to kill.
Harry glared at her.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but…well, at least she cheated on you before the wedding. That gives you time to get out while you still can!" And with this proclamation, Hermione burst into giggles again.
"That's it!" roared Harry, grabbing her around the waist and tickling her.
"NO!" yelped Hermione. "Give it a rest, mate! AHH!"
Harry didn't quit until Hermione begged for mercy and called him the "Supreme Ruler of the Universe."
"But not necessarily of the bedroom," she added cheekily when he'd let her up.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the two of them cracked up again.
"Truthfully, Harry, I'm sure they are just friends. If they were more then she never would have brought him here. She wouldn't even want you to know he exists."
"I suppose so, " conceded the Auror thoughtfully. He paused. "Have you decided what to do about Malfoy?"
The witch shrugged. "No."
"NO?" asked Harry hopefully.
"Not no as in no, no as in I don't know yet," sighed Hermione.
"Oh."
"Honestly, Potter, why are you so concerned about it? Malfoy and I dated before and both of us managed to emerge unscathed. No bloodshed."
"I know that," snapped Harry, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "But it's different this time, that's all."
"Yeah, well, we're growing up. I mean, look at you. You're getting married," marveled Hermione. "That is amazing."
"You'll get there," Harry whispered, "And probably sooner than you think."
"I can be patient," Hermione gave a dramatic sigh, "After all, not all of us can be marrying the lovely Chiquita Banana."
"Hermione!" laughed the wizard, "Will you quit making fun of my relationship with Anna?"
"I'm sorry, Harry, but you're such an easy target."
They both laughed at this, which was pretty close to the truth.
"Hermione, doll, let's go for a walk," said Harry when they had recovered again.
"Where to?"
"The park. I need ice-cream."
"But you have ice cream here, Potter, and we really should be planning your wedding. That's why I came over. I could have sworn I made a seating chart, but I can't find it, so we have to go over your guest list again."
"But I don't have cones," whined Harry, putting on his best puppy dog face. "I need cones. Then I'll work."
"Let me get this straight. We go out for a walk and get ice cream-"
"In cones," added Harry.
"-in cones, and then you will come straight back here and help me plan a seating chart?"
"Well, I promise to come straight back here and watch you plan a seating chart."
Hermione made a face at him. "I'll take what I can get."
A few minutes later, the two friends found themselves strolling along the park, eating ice cream cones and just enjoying the late evening.
"We end up here a lot, don't we, doll?" remarked Harry quietly.
"It's our spot," agreed Hermione. "I don't come here with anyone but you."
"Me either."
They perched on some swings as they finished their ice cream, Harry kicking off hard from the ground and Hermione following suit.
"Mione?"
"Yes Harry?"
"Will you miss me when I move to France?"
"Of course I'll miss you, you prat."
There was a pause, and all that could be heard was the creaking of the swing chains.
"Harry?"
"Yes Mione?"
"Will you miss me when you move to France?"
"Every minute."
There was another pause.
"Hermione?"
"Yes Harry?
"I think I just realized something."
"What?"
"Never eat chocolate ice cream and then get on the swings."
"Oh, Harry. Truth, now. What did you realize?"
"Truth?"
"Truth."
"I'll miss you more than anyone else."
"Me too."
The wind blew and rustled some leaves.
"Harry?"
"Yes Mione?"
"I love you."
Harry grinned.
"Hermione?"
"Yes Harry?"
"I love you more."
A/N: The ice cream cone idea was from an episode of Gilmore Girls where Rory is tutoring Jess but he won't work without ice cream ..in cones!
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