The Wedding Planner by Mara Jade Potter

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 25/07/2004
Last Updated: 06/03/2011
Status: In Progress

Based on the movie! To Hermione's delight, Harry comes home from working as an Auror...only
to announce he's engaged! And guess who he wants to plan the wedding??Chaos abounds! CH 15
UP!




1. Karaoke Night, Surprises
---------------------------

Hello, everyone! This is going to be a kind of cross between the movies The Wedding Planner and
My Best Friend’s Wedding. I know the second one has been done to death, but I’ve never seen a fic
based on the Wedding Planner, so hopefully this is somewhat original. I had to deviate from the
movie a bit, because, obviously, Hermione would *know* if Harry was engaged, etc...that’s
where I picked up little things from my Best Friend’s Wedding. For anyone that I previously
mentioned this fic to, it was originally called “Aurora Borealis”, but I didn’t think that would
attract readers, so I just changed the title!

Whew! Now that the explanation is done, let’s get this over with...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Daniel Radcliffe (though I’d like to!), Emma Watson,
Warner Brothers, blah blah blah, and all related materials. I do not own the Wedding Planner, or
Jennifer Lopez or Matthew McConaughey. I do not own My Best Friend’s Wedding or Julia Roberts. I do
not own Time of My Life lyrics. I do not own green eggs and ham, I do not own them, Sam I Am!

Author’s Note: There will be brief mention of HG/DM, and Harry will have a fiancee for much of
this fic! If this bothers you, do not read any farther, but remember: this *is* Portkey and I
*am* a H/Hr shipper!

**Chapter One--Karaoke Night and A Couple of Surprises**

“Why must you drag us here every week?” groaned Ron as Hermione pulled him inside the small,
cheerful bar.

Ginny grinned. “Because she has a serious love affair with karaoke.”

“Yeah, and with a voice that good, how could she not?” mumbled Draco in an exasperated
voice.

Hermione laughed. “You know you love it. Besides, it’s a reason for us to see each other every
week.”

The London bar was a faithful hangout for the friends on Friday nights. It had originally been
Hermione’s idea, of course, because she did indeed love karaoke. But more importantly, it was a way
for them to let loose and just enjoy one another’s company.

Working in the Muggle Liaison office was a wonderful job for Hermione, and Ron adored his place
as the strategist for professional Quidditch team the Chudley Cannons. Ginny, too, was constantly
busy with her work for the Daily Prophet, as their number one reporter. Malfoy worked in the
Ministry with Hermione, but what he did exactly, none of them knew. It didn’t really matter,
Hermione privately thought, because anything that involved a degree of shady activity was right up
Draco’s alley. Sometimes she was still amazed that he had ever joined the Light side and become
friends with them.

But no matter how distracted they got with work, or how involved they became in relationships or
family or other friends, they made it a point to stay as close as they’d been at Hogwarts.

And that was why, in a crowd of Muggles at a funny London pub, they took their favorite table in
a dark corner of the place. As they ordered drinks and began their usual routine of updating each
other on their week, Hermione saw a tall man with dark untidy hair sitting at the bar, his back to
her. She sighed discontentedly. That hair reminded her of Harry.

Harry. He was always gone on some business as an Auror. Though it was only his second year out
of training, Harry had managed to become one of the best dark wizard catchers since Mad-Eye Moody
himself. Which, unfortunately for his friends, meant that they rarely ever saw him these days.

Ron was complaining loudly that the Cannon’s Seeker had fouled up the new move he’d created, but
Hermione was still drifting in her own thoughts about her other best friend.

The longer Harry was away, the more her thoughts turned to him. She knew it wasn’t a good idea
to worry so much, but she couldn’t help it...after the final battle with Voldemort in their seventh
year, she’d hoped Harry was done being in danger. But The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-The-Arse,
as she’d renamed him, had still been adamant about finishing what he’d started.

“By the time my days as an Auror are over,” he’d promised grimly, “There won’t be a free Death
Eater anywhere in the world.”

Now, sipping a beer, Hermione hoped that he was close to reaching his goal. She couldn’t stand
one more week with him missing from the seat beside her, the one he so rarely occupied when he was
in town.

“Mione,” came Ron’s impatient voice through her musings, “Mione, what are you going to sing
tonight?”

The rest of the table laughed. “Hey, guys, come on,” protested Hermione, “My voice isn’t
*that* bad.”

There was a snort of disbelief from Malfoy. Ginny punched him in the arm. “Anyway, Malfoy, at
least she can carry a tune, so she’s better than you.” Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

Hermione checked her watch. “Where are Luna and Neville? They should be here by now.”

Two more friends from their days at Hogwarts, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, filled out
the party on Friday evenings. Luna worked as coeditor with her father at *The Quibbler,* and
Neville was an Herbologist for a wizarding pharmaceutical company. They both worked long hours, but
they usually made it on time for Karaoke Night. Their tardiness was disconcerting to the former
Head Girl.

“It’s okay, Hermione, I dare say they won’t be devastated at missing your first song of the
night,” quipped Ron, but Hermione noticed him exchange a grin with Ginny.

Now what was that about?

“Oh, alright, alright,” laughed Hermione and she made her way to the stage.

“Hey,” called Ron playfully. “Do you take requests?”

“Yeah,” chimed in Ginny, “Sing that song you always sing with Harry!”

Hermione smiled. Yes, she and Harry had their special song, from a movie they both loved, though
Harry was reluctant to admit such. She paused before answering her friends, though. She had never
done the song without Harry before. It didn’t feel right.

Ginny seemed to sense her thoughts. “Harry won’t mind,” she called as Hermione reached the
stage. Hesitantly, Hermione nodded and told the man in charge her selection.

“Missing your other half tonight, Miss, aren’t you?” he observed softly. After coming to the
same place for so long, all the barkeeps and staff recognized the group of friends. Hermione smiled
weakly.

“Yes,” she replied, “I’m missing him, all right. He‘s away on business.”

“Don’t worry, Miss,” said the kind old man, setting up her music, “I’m sure when he gets back
you’ll live happily ever after and have lots of kids.”

Before Hermione could correct the man about her relationship with Harry, he played the
recording.

The music began to play, and she felt her fingers tingle. She loved this! The intro finished,
and she felt her heart sink slightly when she remembered that, tonight, she’d be singing Harry’s
part as well.

“Now I’ve had the time of my life

No I’ve never felt like this before

Yes, I swear, it’s the truth

And I owe it all to you

Cause I had the time of my life and I owe it all to yooooou-oooh...”

The tempo increased, and suddenly, she heard a familiar voice fill the air a split second before
she opened her mouth.

“I’ve been waiting for so long

Now I finally found someone to stand by me,” came the voice through the shadows of the pub, and
Hermione squinted to make out a figure.

“Saw the writing on the wall as we felt this magical fantasy,” she responded, wondering if that
voice was really who she thought it was...

“Now with passion in our eyes, there’s no way we could disguise secret need,” they sang
together. “So we take each other’s hand, cause we seem to understand the urgency.”

“Just remember!” came the voice.

“You’re the one thing,” sang Hermione, her voice shaking.

“I can’t get enough of...”

“So I’ll tell you something...”

“This could be love!” They sang together, and as the chorus began, Harry Potter stepped into the
light, a microphone in hand as he walked toward her and onstage. Hermione’s mouth fell open as she
glimpsed Neville and Luna in the back, grinning like mad, and the bartender giving Harry the
thumbs-up sign.

“Because I’ve had the time of my life

No I’ve never felt this way before

Yes, I swear

It’s the truth

And I owe it all to you,” they continued the song, Hermione faltering slightly over the words,
though she knew them by heart.

“Hey, Baby!” yelled Harry, pumping a fist in the air, his emerald eyes dancing with mirth.

“With my body and soul, I want you more than you’ll ever know,” sang the witch, her voice
gathering strength as she adjusted to the idea that Harry was *here*, with her, singing their
favorite song.

“So just let it go, don’t be afraid to lose control,” laughed Harry, gyrating his hips in a
hilarious fashion, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione grinned. Typical Harry.

“Yes I know what’s on your mind when you say, stay with me toniiiiiiiiight,” Hermione hit the
high note. Though her friends teased her mercilessly, her voice was actually rather good...they
just figured it was unfair since she already good at everything else!

“Stay with me,” interrupted Harry, sliding to his knees in front of her. “And remember!”

Hermione laughed. If she loved karaoke, then Harry was *obsessed* with it. Nobody in the
Muggle world knew him, and that gave him free reign to let loose and act like an idiot, which he
didn’t often get to do.

“You’re the one thing I can’t get enough of

So I’ll tell you something

This could be love

Because I’ve had the time of my life

Though I’ve never felt this way before

Yes, I swear

It’s the truth

And I owe it all to you

Cause I‘ve had the time of my life

And I‘ve searched through every open door

Til I found the truth

And I owe it all to you,” they sang together.

Harry got up and grabbed Hermione’s hand, twirling her around as the instrumental break came on.
He rolled her in close to him, and whispered “Sorry I’m late, Mione.” He spun her away before she
had time to respond.

“Now I’ve had the time of my life, No I’ve never felt this way before, yes I swear it’s the
truth, and I owe it all to you!” sang Harry, and Hermione marveled, not for the first time, that he
had a wonderful baritone voice. Hermione finally could not wait any longer, and as the chorus faded
away, she flung her arms around Harry’s neck.

The entire pub burst into applause, and the two friends blushed and walked off stage.

As they sat back down, Hermione squeezed Harry again, then pulled away and hit him in the
chest.

“Ouch,” he mumbled.

“Harry James Potter! What did you think you were doing? You scared me to death! I nearly wet
myself onstage!”

The rest of the table laughed, and the furious woman rounded on Neville and Luna. “You set this
up, didn’t you?”

They nodded guiltily.

“And you two!” Hermione glared at Ron and Ginny. “Egging me on, getting me to sing that specific
song.”

Everyone laughed, and Draco threw his hands up in innocence as Hermione began searching him
expectantly.

“Hey, I had nothing to do with this!” he protested.

“Aw, come off it, Malfoy,” grinned Ginny, “Who’s the one that got information Harry was coming
back early from Albania?”

Hermione threw a beer nut at him.

Harry flung an arm about her shoulders. “Come on, Mione,” he drawled lazily, “Don’t be cross. I
just wanted to surprise you.” He frowned at her.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, you know I’m thrilled to see you,” she smiled, picking up her
drink.

“Good,” he smiled, “Because I’ve got some great news for everyone. I came back early
because...I’m engaged!”

Hermione spit out her beer.

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respond!



2. The Wedding Planner
----------------------

**Chapter Two-- The Wedding Planner**

The entire table seemed to be in a state of shock. “*What??*” they all asked in unison.

Harry grinned. “I met her in Albania. Well, I should say I *ran into her* in Albania. She
was with us at Hogwarts.”

Hermione felt her stomach tighten. ‘Please, not Cho Chang,’ she silently pleaded. She had never
liked the Ravenclaw, and she thought that the way she’d treated Harry had been abysmal.

Harry peered at their puzzled faces. “Her name is Hannah,” he chuckled, “Hannah Abbott.”

Nobody said a word.

“Well, gee mates, aren’t you going to say anything?” came Harry’s annoyed voice. “Not a
‘congratulations’ or a ‘way to go’ or a ’Potter, you dog’ or even a ‘you’re making the biggest
mistake of your life’?”

“You’re making the biggest mistake of your life,” came the unified response. Harry scowled.

“You guys haven’t even met her! Or I should say, haven’t even gotten reacquainted with her.
She’s really terrific!”

“I remember her as being a nice girl,” conceded Ron, “But the thing is Harry...you’ve only been
gone two months. You’re saying that you’re ready to marry this girl?”

“Yes,” replied Harry firmly.

“Harry, I’m sure Hannah’s great,” began Ginny.

“She is!” insisted Harry.

“Potter,” said Draco in the gentlest tone Hermione had ever heard him use, “There’s no rush.
You’re barely twenty-three!”

“You guys don’t understand!” exploded Harry. “I’ve spent the last twelve years fighting evil
wizards. Do you know what happened in Albania? I caught the last remaining group of Death Eaters.
That’s it. I’m done.”

The others gaped at him. He had only been on the Death Eater cases for a year, after he had
spent his first year proving himself. Hermione thought it was ironic that Voldemort’s killer had to
spend a year “paying dues”, but Harry had wanted to be treated like everyone else.

“In a year?” whispered Neville, awestruck. “You captured *all* the Death Eaters a
year?”

“Yes,” replied Harry quietly. “And now I’m going to retire from the Ministry and settle down for
a nice, peaceful, unexciting life. Maybe I’ll play Quidditch.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, Harry,” put in Luna, “But that doesn’t mean you have to
get married right away. If you like Hannah--”

“Love,” interrupted Harry. “I love Hannah.”

Hermione felt her insides do a queasy backflip at these words.

“Fine. If you love Hannah, then there is no reason why you two can’t date and just take things
slowly,” concluded Luna logically.

“If I love Hannah, there’s no reason why we should go slowly. If there’s one thing the war
taught me, it’s that none of us know how much time we have. I know I love her, and she loves me.
Why shouldn’t we get married?”

Everyone began turning to the others, as if looking for someone who could convince Harry what a
daft prat he was being.

“Harry, you’re being a daft prat,” said Draco calmly. Hermione internally cheered.

Harry began to argue, but Malfoy held up a silencing hand. “No, listen to me. What you are doing
is irresponsible. Everybody knows that the first few months are the easiest in a new relationship.
After that, it’s hard to hold on to your composure, and you start seeing the other person’s flaws.
All we’re saying is that you should make sure Hannah has flaws you can live with forever, that’s
all.”

Harry suddenly broke into a smile. “Is that what you’re all worried about? That I won’t be
happy?” He laughed and there were a few confused chuckles from his friends.

“It’s not as if we plan on running out and getting married *tomorrow*, for Merlin’s sake.
We’re just engaged, it’s a step to illustrate our seriousness. But ,” Harry paused and cleared his
throat, looking uncomfortable. “We’ve talked about when the wedding should be and--” He broke off,
shifting in his seat.

“And what, Harry?” asked Ginny.

“We were talking about weddings, and I mentioned how Hermione always thought it would be
brilliant to get married during the northern lights...you know, the Aurora Borealis? And Hannah
thought that was the most romantic thing she’d every heard...”

Hermione visibly paled. She knew what was coming.

“So what?” asked Ron.

“Well, the Aurora Borealis only really come every eleven years...”

“And they happen to fall this winter,” whispered Hermione.

She knew this information was accurate, because it had saddened her immensely when she’d first
heard it. It meant that if she wanted her own wedding during the amazing particle storm that
created the northern lights, she either had to get married this winter, highly unlikely, or she had
to wait eleven years, even more unlikely.

“*This* winter?” asked Neville. “But Harry, it’s already September. That means you’ve got
about six months or so to plan a wedding and...even then, you’ll only have been dating Hannah for
about nine months.”

“It’s what Hannah wants,” said Harry stubbornly.

‘Yeah,’ thought Hermione angrily, ‘It’s what Hannah wants because she’s too uncreative to think
of her own ideas and she stole mine! She was a *Hufflepuff*, for crying aloud!’ Then Hermione
felt disgusted with herself. Hannah had always been nice to her, and after all, it wasn’t her fault
that Harry had mentioned Hermione’s wedding fantasy.

‘Why were they talking about me anyway?’ wondered Hermione.

“Well, and I also mentioned that you plan weddings, Hermione...”

“You plan weddings?” choked Ron. “Since when?” he asked gleefully.

“Oh, shut it,” mumbled Hermione. Harry had promised not to tell!

“Oops,” the Auror clamped a hand over his mouth. “I forgot that was a secret, Mione.”

“What is he talking about, Granger?” asked Malfoy, raising an eyebrow. She stifled the urge to
laugh. She and Draco had dated briefly in seventh year, and he had called her by her surname the
entire time.

‘Guess that should’ve been a sign it wasn’t going to work out,’ Hermione thought ruefully. She
sighed aloud.

“My job working in the Muggle liaison office,” she explained, her face tinted pink, “Is to plan
weddings for wizards or witches marrying Muggles. The idea is to allow the witch or wizard to
invite their family and friends and keep their own traditions without letting it be obvious to the
Muggle guests that attend. That’s where I come in. I,” she paused, then shrugged, “ am the Wedding
Planner,” she finished, giving a little seated bow.

“You mean to tell me you went through four years at Weston Wizarding University to plan
*weddings*?” asked Ginny incredulously.

“I happen to have degrees in both Muggle Studies and Transfiguration,” replied Hermione
haughtily. “I *chose* to work for the Ministry because I wanted to help people. Besides,
someone has got to do it, and it’s a lot more difficult than it sounds. You have to be extremely
organized and creative.”

“Oh, I believe you,” said Luna supportively. Hermione suppressed a groan. She loved Luna dearly,
but the woman still only believed in things without any evidence.

Draco hid a smirk. “Well, then, Miss Granger,” he said, “I believe that our good friend Harry
here was in the middle of asking you to plan his wedding.”

Hermione turned to Harry, realizing that he had, indeed, talked about her job, which meant that
he had been asking her something....

Harry was nodding. “Hannah and I want you to plan the wedding.”

Hermione couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or sick, so she settled for logic.

“But Hannah’s not a Muggle-born,” she pointed out.

“True, but we all know that you’re the best at whatever you do, and we want the best,” said
Harry earnestly. “I’ve already talked to Arthur Weasley, and he says he can give this to you as
part of your duties.” He paused. “I guess being the bloody Boy-Who-Lived does have advantages
sometimes!”

A thought was occurring to Hermione. “If you two want to have your wedding under the northern
lights, then that means you’ll want the best place to see them...”

Harry smiled, letting the girl work it out for herself, as she undoubtedly would.

“Then you’d have to be in Scotland....Harry, do you want to get married at Hogwarts?”

He grinned. “Got it in one, Mione. Albus already gave us permission.”

The girl looked pleased with herself.

“Hannah also wants you to be the maid of honor, if you can do both,” added Harry.

The entire table gaped at him.

“*What??*” everyone asked for the second time that evening.

“Mm-me?” stuttered the curly-haired witch. “Why me? I haven’t seen her in five years! Not since
Hogwarts!”

“She hasn’t got any close female friends, and she’s got two sisters, so she’s making them her
bridesmaids. She still needs a maid of honor.” He turned to Ron for a moment. “By the way, mate,
you’re the best man,” he said.

“Oh, Merlin,” mumbled Ginny.

Hermione felt really, really nauseous. Her head ached and her stomach felt twisted up
and....

She jumped out of the chair and ran towards the loo, but it was too late. She vomited all over
the floor.

“Can I take that as a yes?” Harry asked, looking around the table.

“Potter, for once in your life, hold your tongue,” instructed Malfoy.

For the first time...well, *ever*, everyone agreed with Malfoy.



3. Aftereffects
---------------

Author’s Notes: I’m pleased with the responses that I got. I appreciate it more than you know,
so, please, keep reviewing! For those of you that love the movie, after this chapter, things may
get a little more recognizable; I just had to take a few chapters and set everything up, because
Harry and Hermione’s situations are so different than those in the movie! And finally, for those of
you eager to meet Hannah...she makes her first appearance in this chapter!

**Chapter Three--Aftereffects**

After Hermione’s stunning display of digestive pyrotechnics, everybody agreed it was best to
call it a night.

The group settled their bill and then walked to a nearby alley in order to safely Apparate.

Hermione was being supported by Ron and Harry. Draco said good-bye and left with a small ‘pop’.
Neville looked at Luna, whom he shared a flat with, and she shrugged.

“I’m waiting for Ron,” she blushed, and Neville turned red and mumbled, “Bloody well make sure
you use silencing charms this time, won’t you?” and he too, Disapparated.

“Good-bye, everyone,” Ginny said then, looking at Hermione worriedly. She lowered her voice to a
whisper. “You’ll take care of her, won’t you, Ron?”

The gangly wizard nodded. Ginny left, and Luna looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, Harry, do you think...” he trailed off, appearing nervous. “It’s just that Fridays, Luna
and I usually stay the night with each other, and this week it’s at her flat...”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You two are together now?’

Both of his friends blushed. Harry smiled weakly. “I’m happy for you. Listen, it’s no problem,
I’ll just tuck Hermione in at her flat, and everything will be fine. I can handle it.”

“She’s in no condition to Apparate, mate,” Ron told Harry. Hermione’s flat was just outside of
London.

“I’ll take her to our place, then,” agreed Harry, “It’s walking distance.”

Ron glared at him. Honestly, when had Harry become so daft?

“Oh,” said Harry sheepishly as Hermione nearly fell over and he had to tighten his grip on her
waist. “Uh...a cab, then?”

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When Harry managed to finally get Hermione up the stairs, she sank gratefully on the couch. She
remained silent, and Harry assumed that she had passed out.

He glanced around his flat--the flat that he hadn’t seen for two months. Ron hadn’t changed
much. There was Cannons memorabilia everywhere, a sink full of dirty dishes, and a pile of socks
near the door. Harry squinted...in fact, wasn’t that the same pile of socks that had been there
when he’d left? He shrugged and sighed contentedly. It was good to be home.

“That wassssupposed to be my wedding,” slurred Hermione, her words blending together. “Aurooora
Borealissss.” Harry jumped, startled.

“I thought you were out,” he said softly, sitting on the edge of the cushion, leaning over
her.

“Yeah,” mumbled Hermione.

Harry frowned. “You must be awfully uncomfortable, doll. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” He stood
up and scooped the skinny witch into his arms and carried her down the hall and into a door on the
right--his bedroom. He didn’t dare go in Ron’s bedroom, because Merlin only knew what was growing
in there. No doubt the smell alone would make Mione sick again.

Harry’s room was decorated in dark greens, courtesy of Hermione herself, who’d been disgusted at
the mismatching Harry had in there before her interfering one weekend.

Harry settled his best mate on the bed and removed her chunky black shoes.

‘I thought she seemed taller tonight,” he observed amusedly.

“You should change into some pajamas, Mione,” he urged. He rummaged through his wardrobe for a
moment, pulling out an old Quidditch jersey of his.

“Hermione,” he said impatiently. She waved him away in an annoyed fashion, her eyes closed. He
sighed. Drunk Hermione was always a pain in the ass...this scenario had definitely been done
before, and since he knew how it ended, he quit trying to talk sense to the stubborn witch.

He flicked his wand and removed her shirt, leaving her clad in just a bra for a moment while he
switched it for the jersey.

Harry swallowed hard. He’d taken care of Hermione a bunch of times before. She and Ron had
shared a flat with him when they were just out of Hogwarts--he’d seen her in her bra before, and
he’d always tried to be a gentleman about it and not look too closely...

But tonight, *tonight*, his eyes seemed drawn to her, and he couldn’t help but notice how
delicately smooth the skin on her stomach looked, how soft and perfectly curved her breasts
seemed...

The wizard shook his head firmly, trying to clear those thoughts. He was engaged! And besides,
he didn’t think of Hermione as anything more than a friend. He tried to forget the image of her
half naked form as she finally opened her eyes again and stared at him.

Hermione giggled and pulled off her black linen trousers, crawling to the edge of Harry’s huge
bed and dropping them on the floor. Harry stifled a laugh. Hermione looked like a little child in
his oversized shirt. He gentle grabbed her around the middle and eased her under the thick duvet,
sitting next to her on the edge of the mattress.

She frowned sleepily. “I am not a child Harry Potter! I am perfectly capable of taking care for
me myself!” She paused. “For me myself?” She laughed. “That makes no sense, Harry!”

Harry smiled and shook his head again. ‘Why have I missed this again?’ he silently wondered.

“Alcohol hits you really quick, Mione, it always had...I don’t know why you insist on drinking,”
mumbled Harry, summoning a cold washcloth and placing it on her head, smoothing back her hair.

“Me?” she squeaked, trying to sit up. Harry pushed her gently back down.

“My Harry...” smiled Hermione, reaching up to touch his face. She gazed at him adoringly, and
Harry felt his stomach flip. ‘Ah, so that was why I missed this,’ he thought. Harry knew that no
matter what, Hermione would always love him, would always look at him that way, would always
support him...‘Ron, too,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘Stomach flips’ he thought as she ran the hand along his cheek. ’I wonder why her eyes always do
that to me.’

He grinned and kissed the back of her hand, shrugging off his questions.

“My Hermione,” he laughed back. “I’ve missed you...and Ron and everyone.”

“Glad you’re home, Harry.”

“This is where I belong, Mione.”

“Mmhmmm,” mumbled Hermione, her eyes fluttering shut.

Harry started to get up, but Hermione reached out and tugged on his hand.

“Stay? Until I fall asleep?”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, nestling himself beside her. “Until you fall asleep.”

Hermione snuggled against his chest.

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“I dunno, mate, she seemed really upset last night,” continued Harry, his green eyes swirling
with confusion.

“Merlin’s beard, Harry, we were all upset. That was the last thing we ever expected you to
announce!” replied Ron, sipping his coffee. He had come home a few minutes before, to find Harry
brooding in the kitchen and Hermione asleep in Harry’s bed.

“Do you think she’d still be willing to plan my wedding, though? She’s the best, Ron. I know it
was a surprise, but I love Hannah. I want Hannah to have the best. And Hermione’s the best.”

“I dunno if she’s going--”

“I’ll do it,” interrupted a voice from the doorway. The boys turned around guiltily to find a
bedraggled Hermione.

She had heard every word, and she had felt a small stab of pain when Harry mentioned Hannah.

Hannah. How she hated that name!

But why? What reason did she have? It was silly, absolutely ridiculous. She set her jaw. Harry
was her best friend in the whole world, and she was going to make his wedding the most beautiful in
a century.

Right after she got rid of this hangover.

Hermione continued on into the kitchen, kissing Ron and Harry on top of the head. She poured
herself a cup of coffee and sat between the two men.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a female version of Snape,” she muttered grumpily, and her friends laughed.

“Perhaps this will help,” said Ron, and he reached into his robes and pulled out a vile.

Hermione uncorked it and sniffed it. “Hangover cure, yes!” She downed it in one gulp. The
results were immediate and she looked much better.

“Courtesy of Luna,” dismissed Ron.

“All right,” Hermione clapped her hands. “Now about this wedding...”

“Yes, about the wedding....” replied Harry.

“Now, if we want everything to be ready for the Aurora Borealis, we have a lot of work to
do...”

“Actually, Hermione, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?”

Harry cast a nervous glance at Ron. “Hannah owled me this morning. She’s decided that it would
be better for us to be married before next school term, seeing as she’s been offered a job at
Beauxbatons. They need her to start as soon as possible.”

Hermione stared at him and Ron nearly choked.

“FRANCE! Harry, that means you’d have to move to France!”

“Oh, Ron, come off it, so it’ll take me ten more seconds to Apparate to your flat, big
deal.”

“You said this is where you belong,” Hermione reminded him quietly. “You said it last
night.”

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Come on, mates, we’ll still see each other a lot more,
it’s not like I’ll still be an Auror...I’ll just be a bit farther away than around the corner. Try
to understand, this is a great opportunity for Hannah...I mean, her specialty is Ancient Runes,
she’s brilliant at it, and she’s always wanted to teach...” Harry trailed off, then shook his head.
“Anyway, I’ve agreed to do as she wishes, which means the wedding has been moved up to December
twenty-third.”

“*December twenty-third*?” screeched Hermione. “You’re joking, right? That’s, like, three
months, Harry!”

“I’m aware of that, Hermione,” replied the man dryly.

“Okay. Okay,” breathed Hermione, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

“It’ll be tough,” she said finally, “But I can do it.”

“Great,” sighed Harry with relief. “Because a wedding’s just not a wedding without you,
Hermione.”

Ron rolled his eyes as he two best friends smiled at one another. Were they going to get a clue
before it was too late?

Hiding behind his coffee cup, Ron smirked.

‘Yes’, he thought, ‘They will get a clue, even if Luna and I have to make them.’

Just then, the doorbell rang. Hermione stood up, startled. “It’s probably the bloody paparazzi,
wanting to interview Harry again,” she grumbled, “I’ll get rid of them, they don’t forget my hexes
too soon.”

Picking up her wand from near the front door, Hermione removed the wards with a flick and opened
it.

A tiny blonde woman with hazel eyes and a bright smile stood in front of the door, clutching a
trunk. She was unmistakably Hannah Abbott.

Hermione hated her at once.

Hannah frowned, eyeing Harry’s jersey, but had recovered her irritatingly happy smile in a
moment. “Hermione Granger,” she said in a sticky sweet voice. “You haven’t changed a bit.” She
extended her hand, which (Hermione noted with disgust) was perfectly manicured. “Hannah Abbott,”
she said, smiling. Then she giggled. “Oh, what am I doing, you’re my maid of honor!” And with that,
she launched herself at Hermione.

“Ooof,” grunted Hermione, breaking away from the hug quickly. She turned around and shouted for
Harry..

“Hey, Potter! You’d better get your lazy self to the door and say hello to your girlfriend!” she
yelled.

“Fiancee,” corrected Hannah, holding up her left hand. On it sat a large diamond flanked by two
sapphires. Hermione grimaced. She’d have bet her wand that Harry hadn’t picked that gaudy thing
out. It just wasn’t his style.

“Let me guess,” said Hermione, matching Hannah’s saccharine tone as Harry entered the room,
“Harry didn’t pick that out, did he?”

“Nah, I didn’t want to mess up, so I took Anna-Banana here to pick out what she liked,” supplied
Harry, tickling Hermione’s side as he passed by.

The two lovebirds embraced warmly, and Hermione turned back towards the kitchen, where Ron was
standing in the doorway, looking amused.

“*Anna-Banana*?” Hermione mouthed.

Ron shrugged.

Harry broke away from his fiancee. “So what are you doing here! I haven’t activated the wards to
recognize you or anything, you weren’t supposed to be here for another week!”

“I missed my Harry-Bear,” she said, pouting her lip.

Harry looked at his best friends. “Didn’t I tell you she was the greatest?”

Hermione and Ron both nodded with horribly stiff smiles, and Hermione was pleased to see Ron
making gagging motions as soon as Harry’s back was turned.

At least she wasn’t the only one pretending for Harry’s sake.

“Besides,” continued Hannah, “Now that we moved up the wedding, I put in a few calls. Hermione
and I’ve got millions of things to do, don’t we Hermione?” Hannah turned to Harry before waiting
for a response. “She did agree to plan the wedding, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” interrupted Hermione, “I did.”

“Perfect! Tomorrow I have to join my mother and sisters and girlfriends at the bridal shop, and
you can come and help me with that, as well as picking out your bridesmaids dresses!” Hannah
clapped her hands delightedly.

‘Good grief, this witch needs to quit taking the mickey,’ thought Hermione. Then she put on her
best game face.

“Goody,” gushed Hermione, gritting her teeth.

Harry and Hannah beamed at one another.

Hermione stepped past Ron and banged her head on the counter.

It was going to be a long three months.



4. Let The Planning Begin
-------------------------

**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.



5. A Memory, A Lie, and Other Dumpster Incidents
------------------------------------------------

Author’s Notes: The entirely italicized section is a flashback, just to let you know. It’s the
scene Ron is telling Hermione, but I thought it would be better to illustrate it in a flashback.
Rest of notes will follow chapter.

**Chapter Five--A Memory, A Lie, And Other Dumpster Incidents**

Hermione had a difficult time sleeping that night. What was she going to do? What in the bloody
hell was she going to do?

Tossing and turning, she considered her options.

One. She could tell Harry the truth.

Ha. Fat chance.

Two. She could tell Hannah horrible things about Harry and try to break them up.

No, that would never work. She couldn’t lie about Harry. Anyone who knew him at all would see
through that, and even Hannah wasn’t *that* daft.

Three. She could tell Harry the truth about Hannah.

It would break Harry’s heart if his best friend hated his fiancee. Besides, if she made him
choose, she wasn’t all that sure he’d pick her, and Hermione wasn’t sure she wanted to find
out.

Four. She could quit planning the wedding.

That was appealing, but still left Harry marrying Hannah.

Five. She could stay on the account and spend as much time with Harry as possible, until he
realized she was the one for him.

Hmmmm. That had possibilities, but it still depended on Harry’s feelings for her, and Hermione
wasn’t entirely convinced they were anything more than friendship Maybe if she adapted it a
little...

Six. She could spend as much time with Harry as possible, until Hannah got jealous and showed
her true colors and told Harry to stop being friends with Hermione or she’d call off the
wedding...

That sounded good in theory, but would it work?

Seven. She could bloody well stop kidding herself and go and talk to Ron.

Bingo.

‘And we have a winner!’ thought Hermione, pulling on some robes and preparing to leave.

‘Don’t want Harry to see me, I suppose I’ll have to run the risk of Apparating directly into
Ron’s rooms,’ the witch reasoned. And off she went.

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“Ron,” mumbled Hermione, “Ron....”

Ron stirred, mumbled “I told you to stop milking the cat,” and went promptly back to sleep.

“Ron!” hissed Hermione. Casting a quick silencing charm, she resorted to yelling in his ear.

“RONALD WEASLEY!”

Ron sat up like with a jolt. “Mum?”

“NO, it’s me,” sighed Hermione as Ron rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Bloody hell, Mione, it’s nearly two in the morning. What are you doing here? Why didn’t you
knock? I could’ve been with Luna!”

“Oh, shut up Ron, I took a chance. I needed to talk to you, and I didn’t want Harry to know,
okay?”

Ron gazed at her evenly. “So you’re finally ready to talk about this?”

“Talk about what? I just came to ask you if you think...okay, well, even if I’m planning a
*really* big wedding, if I break the cardinal rule of wedding planners, should I drop the
account?” Hermione paced the room.

“What’s the cardinal rule of wedding planners?”

“Don’t fall in love with the groom.”

Ron pushed down the sheet and scratched his naked torso. “I’m confused. I thought you’d come to
talk about Harry.”

Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. “Harry *is* the groom, the *groom is
Harry*!”

“Oh,” replied Ron stupidly. Then he brightened. “Blimey, Mione, it’s about time you figured out
you’re in love with Harry! How long have you known?”

Hermione sighed and glanced at the clock. “About five hours. Now, listen, Ron, you‘ve got to
tell me the truth...do you think Harry could ever feel that way about me?” The woman chewed her lip
nervously.

“Hermione,” said Ron gently, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I think Harry already feels that
way about you. I just don’t think he knows it yet.”

Her brown eyes shimmered with hopeful tears. “Really?”

“Come here,” said Ron, patting the place besides him. Hermione crawled up on the bed and curled
up in the crook of Ron’s arm.

“Listen, Mione, I’m going to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago. When we
were in seventh year, Harry fancied you something awful. I mean, really, it got to be ridiculous,
the way he stared at you all the time, the way I’d find him in our dormitory, writing silly love
poems and singing sappy songs. He never said anything to me, mind you, it was just so obvious that,
finally, on Valentine’s Day, when he was moping, I blew up at him....

*“For Merlin’s sake, Harry!” Ron yelled suddenly. Harry looked abruptly up from the parchment
he was writing on.*

*“What, Ron?” he asked crossly, shifting on his bed.*

*“Stop pouting and go tell her.” Ron pointed at the dormitory exit.*

*“Wh-what?” stuttered Harry, startled.*

*“Go find Hermione and tell her you fancy her.”*

*“Ron, what are you--”*

*Ron held up a hand. “Don’t even try it, Harry. And if you’re worried that I’m upset, don’t
be, I’m not...well, not for the reason you think. Yes, I liked Hermione in fifth year, no, I don’t
anymore, and yes, I am upset, but only because I’ve watched you moon after her all year!”*

*Harry gaped at him.*

*“Harry.”*

*“What?”*

*“Do you like the girl?”*

*“Yes,” mumbled Harry.*

*“Do you want to be with her?”*

*“Yes.”*

*“Go tell her.” Ron pointed to the door once more.*

*“What if she doesn’t like-”*

*“Not possible, I’ve been in a room with you two. Go.” Ron shook his head.*

*“But--”*

*“GO!”*

*Harry went.*

“So...Harry fancied me?” asked Hermione, stricken.

“Something awful. But when he went down to the library to tell you, with flowers and everything,
...Draco was there.”

“Oh, Merlin...”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. And Harry came back upstairs and said all he wanted was for you to be happy.
He threw those roses away, and he never talked about it again.”

“But Malfoy and I broke up right after graduation. It’s been years since then, why hasn’t he
said anything?”

Ron shrugged. “I think he’s convinced himself that you’d never care for him that way. And you
know that he’s always wanted a real family, so now that he found someone he thinks he loves...” The
redhead trailed off, looking sad.

“Ron,” said Hermione, “I can’t let him marry her. I love him. That’s my Harry.”

Ron grinned. “I agree with you. Luna and I’ve been plotting strategies, but so far, we’ve come
up with nothing.”

“You talked to Luna about this?” asked Hermione, surprised.

Ron smiled guiltily. “And Draco and Neville and Ginny. We don’t want Harry to marry that great
lunatic of a witch, even if you weren’t in love with him!”

Hermione yawned and snuggled closer to Ron. “That’s really sweet Ron. Mind if I stay here
tonight, and we’ll try to come up with something in the morning?”

“Nah,,,” Ron yawned also, laying down.

“Ron?” asked Hermione suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“What color were those roses Harry was going to bring me?”

“Uh...yellow. Yes, yellow.”

Hermione smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

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Harry plodded out of the bathroom and down the hall. If Ron didn’t get up soon, they were going
to be late for their appointment at the tuxedo shop.

He banged on the door. “RON!” he bellowed. “RON!”

Harry paused a moment. ‘Ah,’ he thought, smiling slyly, ‘Silencing charms. He must have brought
Luna home last night, I’ll have to go in.’

Opening up the door, Harry was greeted with the usual bright orange of Cannons
paraphernalia...and then his heart stopped as he glanced at the bed.

Curled up against Ron’s bare chest was Hermione, brown curls tousled everywhere, breathing slow
and steady. Even in her sleep, Harry couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was.

“Oh my gosh,” muttered the wizard.

He turned to make a hasty retreat, tripped over a garbage can, fell into Ron’s bookcase and
landed in a pile of rubbish and Quidditch magazines. Ron and Hermione both jumped up, wands
drawn.

“Uh, morning,” said Harry, gathering himself up hastily, “I came to wake you, Ron, we’ve got to
get fitted today...” He trailed off, his eyes never leaving Hermione.

Ron looked uncomfortable. “Listen, mate, this isn’t what it looks like, it’s just that...”

“No need to explain to me,” said Harry stiffly. “It’s not my business, I have Hannah.”

Somehow, Harry’s cavalier remark hurt Hermione worse than any yelling or chastising he could
have given. She was angry, and before she could think clearly, words were jumping out of her
mouth.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” blurted out Hermione.

Harry looked at her suspiciously. “Tell me what, exactly?”

“Yeah,” echoed Ron, wide-eyed, “Tell him what?”

“Oh, Ronnie, don’t play dumb,” cooed Hermione. She met Harry’s eyes evenly. “Ron and I are
engaged.”

“**WHAT**?” said Harry.

“*What*?” croaked Ron.

Hermione smiled. “Yes, we’ve been together since you left and it just felt right, didn’t it
Honey-Bunch?”

Ron put on a forced smile. “That’s right, Poopy-Head.”

Harry looked crestfallen. “Why didn’t you tell me? Ron, you said you were seeing Luna.”

“I, er, well the thing is--” stammered Ron.

“We asked her to cover for us,” Hermione intervened smoothly. “We thought that you might feel
left out whenever you came home, so we agreed that we’d wait til you got settled and all but...we
never planned on you coming home early and having a fiancee, so...” she shrugged, “We didn’t really
have time to adapt the plan.”

“Oh,” Harry appeared confused, but accepted this explanation for the time being.

Ron, meanwhile, seemed ready to choke Hermione.

“Hermione,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.

“What is it, Sweetie-Pie?” asked Hermione, batting her eyelashes and laying it on thickly.

“Could I talk to you for a minute, Stinky-Ass?” asked Ron sweetly. He turned to Harry. “Would
you mind excusing us for a moment, mate?”

“Uh, sure,” said Harry awkwardly. “I’ll just go make some coffee.” He left and shut the
door.

“Hermione!” exploded Ron.

“Yes, dear?”

Ron groaned. “First of all, stop batting your eyes like that, you look like a demented
hippogriff. Second...WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?? ARE YOU INSANE? MY FAMILY IS GOING TO
BE FURIOUS, NOT TO MENTION WHAT LUNA WILL SAY! ARE YOU *TRYING* TO RUIN MY LIFE?”

Hermione burst into tears.

“I’m really sorry Ron, I wasn’t thinking, it’s just that I got so hurt, and mad at Harry
and...please, Ron, can’t we just pretend for awhile? We’ll tell Luna, I know she’ll
understand.”

The tall man scowled.

“Please, Ronnie,” pleaded Hermione. His expression softened. She only called him Ronnie when
teasing or begging.

“Okay,’ he agreed reluctantly, “But only for a little while, until we think of a better
solution. Understand?”

“Agreed,” said Hermione, then she grinned cheekily at him. “Maybe we should seal it with a
kiss?”

Ron threw a pillow at her.

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Harry was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee and waiting for his two best friends to
emerge from Ron’s room.

This was all so unexpected, he wasn’t sure how to take it. It had hurt to see Hermione and Ron
sleeping together, so content and happy. He didn’t sleep well, even when Hannah was with him, he
still had nightmares...

Hermione. Hermione. Hermione.

Harry remembered when he’s first met her on the train to Hogwarts, he hadn’t thought much of
her. But as he’d gotten to know her, he’d grown to like her, to respect her, to love her as his own
flesh and blood...to love her as something more.

But he hadn’t felt that way about her in years, he told himself. After all, she obviously loved
Ron, and he wanted her to be happy. Yes, she loved Ron and he loved Hannah...didn’t he?

Did he?

Of course he did. He was marrying her, wasn’t he?

Harry moaned and clutched his face in his hands. Why did he feel so broken at the thought of
Hermione with Ron?

‘I’m just feeling left out, like they thought I would,’ Harry explained to himself. ‘Yes, that
has to be it. I love Hannah. I missed my chance with Mione, I just have to let it go.’

Just then, a sheepish Ron and Hermione entered the kitchen.

“Hey, lovebirds,” he smiled. “Grab some breakfast and get dressed quick, Ron, won’t you? We’ve
got to leave in a little while.”

Ron snatched an apple, kissed Hermione on top of the head, and exited.

“So,” said Harry.

“So,” said Hermione.

Harry paused for a moment, listening to Ron start the shower, and leaned in to talk to
Hermione.

“Listen, Mione,” he sighed. “I’m...happy for you.”

“Do you mean that?” asked the woman softly. “Do you really want me to marry Ron and live the
rest of my life as Hermione Weasley?”

Harry opened his mouth, and just then, Hannah’s head popped in the fireplace.

“Anna,” he greeted shortly. “I thought you were coming round for Hermione at ten?”

“Yeah, I am,” said Hannah irritably, “But listen. They just called me from that dance studio,
the one Hermione recommended, and it seems they’ve got an opening in their class tonight. I think
we should take it, I need as much time as I can to improve.”

“That’s fine. Hermione will show you where it is after you two have finished with the
bridesmaids’ dresses, okay? I’ll meet you there at...”

“Six,” supplied Hannah.

“Fine, six it is.”

“I love you, Harry-Beary-Bear.”

“I love you, too, Anna-Banana.”

“By the way,” she smiled in a genuine way Hermione had never seen before, “Look in the
freezer.”

Hannah’s head disappeared. Harry, grinning, walked over to the freezer and opened it. Inside was
a carton of moose tracks ice-cream, Harry’s favorite, with a note attached.

Darling-

Remember our first date?

~Your Anna

Harry stood there for a moment with a dreamy expression


“Harry?” said Hermione gently.

“Our first date,” explained Harry. “I ran into Hannah at the same hotel we were using as a base.
She recognized me, said hello, and....we hit it off. We really, really hit it off . I’ve only felt
that way one other time...anyway, we agreed to meet after dinner, we took a walk...and saw an Ice
Cream Parlour. She ordered a waffle cone with moose tracks ice cream... my favorite...and I knew,
right then, Mione, I knew.”

Harry noticed Hermione’s disapproving look.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, Hermione what is it?”

“You knew because of an ice cream cone? That seems really rash, Potter.”

Harry shook his head. “It wasn’t just the ice cream, it was everything about her that first day
we ran into one another. She was all excited, talking about her Ancient Runes research, the way she
loved it, going on and on about various theorems and postulates, even though I had no idea what she
was talking about. She had about three books sticking out of her bag, and when we were sitting
there, eating our cones, she pulled out a problem she was working on and said ‘You don’t mind,
Harry, do you? I really need to finish this.’ And I couldn’t take my eyes off her, chewing on the
end of her quill and brightening whenever she’d worked something out.”

Hermione listened with great interest. Hannah sounded like a completely different person.

“She was different than other girls, Hermione. She didn’t care about make-up or how much money I
had or even that I was famous. She just genuinely liked me. We did things together, simple things,
walking and talking and laughing, and she always made it an adventure. I know she seems ditzy and
superficial right now, but...a lot of that is the way she was raised. Her family cares about looks
and money and status, even if they are nice about it. She can’t be herself around them.”

Hermione was thoughtful. The way he was describing the Hannah he knew was vaguely
familiar...

“I know that once she relaxes, she’ll be herself again. She’s bookish and sweet and brave and
thoughtful. Right now she’s just stressed out about the wedding, and...” Harry shifted
uncomfortably. “And, I know it’s going to sound crazy, but she’s really jealous of you. I hope
she’ll get over that, and then you two will hit it off, I’m sure of it.”

“Boy-Who-Longs -To-Have-A-Family, “ said Hermione, half-joking, half-serious, “ How do you know
that the Hannah you fell in love with was the real one, and this new one is only temporary?”

“I know,’ said Harry firmly. “I know because if she isn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Hermione looked disappointed. What was wrong with Harry? This wasn’t like him at all. He
seemed...he seemed to believe that Hannah was his last chance for love. But he was so young!

Hermione stood up and walked over to Harry. She touched his face briefly.

“If you believe that, then you’re not the Harry Potter that I know and love.”

She stalked toward the door, then paused and turned back around.

“You’re not going to be mad at me about lying to you about Ron, are you?” she asked softly.

“No,” sighed Harry, “No, of course not.”

Hermione beamed.

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Ron, as it turned out, didn’t get it so easy.

“All I’m saying, mate,” said Harry as the two wizards stood in front of magical tape measures,
“Is that I wish you would have told me the truth.”

“Believe me,” muttered Ron, “I wish we would’ve told you the truth, too.”

“I know that last time we talked about it, you said you didn’t fancy Hermione...”

“I didn’t!” protested Ron.

“I believe you, I just wish you would have written to me when things changed.”

“Harry, we would have, honestly, it’s just that...”

“All done, boys!” said the plump witch in the tuxedo store.

Both men hopped down from the stools they’d been standing on.

“So what’s this about dancing lessons, mate?” asked Ron as they left the store and strolled
around Diagon Alley.

“Actually, I’m a great dancer, Lupin taught me in sixth year,” sighed Harry. “It’s for Hannah.
She may be a brilliant Ancient Runes professor, but when she dances she looks like a retarded
stringbean.”

Ron laughed. “Harry,” he said slowly, unwilling to broach the subject, “Harry...can you...can
you honestly see yourself with Hannah forever? I mean, you have to remember this is *forever*.
Permanent. Irreversible.”

“Ron, let me ask *you* something. Can you see you and Hermione together forever?”

Ron didn’t get a chance to answer as Harry walked ahead of him into Quality Quidditch
Supplies.

“Harry, mate,” Ron said to himself, “You didn’t answer the question.”

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Hermione irritably grabbed the door of the studio for Hannah, trying to juggle a box of wedding
invitations.

“After you,” she mumbled.

Hannah had most certainly taken her by surprise, taking an interest in her, asking what she
liked to so, what she liked to read, what kind of perfume she wore. Hermione supposed she should be
happy that Hannah finally seemed to be warming up to her...but really, it wasn’t all that much of
an improvement. She found all the questions dead annoying, and Hannah was still rather gooey when
it came to Harry. To make Hermione’s mood even worse, she realized now that Hannah was being nice,
she didn’t even have anything to complain to Harry about.

“For Harry,” she whispered to herself, “I’m doing what Harry wants.”

Halfway up the stairs, Hermione realized she’d forgotten her bag. “Hannah,” she said, “I have to
run outside and grab my bag, I left it at the cafe across the street.” She handed the box over to
the blonde.

“Okay,” smiled Hannah. “I’ll just meet you upstairs, shall I?”

“Don’t forget this is a Muggle dance studio,” reminded Hermione.

Hannah grinned at her. “Look at these trousers,” she laughed, “I’m not likely to forget. It’s so
much easier to walk in robes!”

For the first time, Hermione and Hannah shared a mutual laugh.

Running down the stairs, and out the door, Hermione jogged across the street. The clerk was
wonderfully nice, said people forgot things all the time, and gave her bag her favorite
handbag.

Smiling at the young man’s flirtations, and feeling better about herself than she had in weeks,
Hermione crossed the street in a daze, unaware of the sewage grate that she was walking
across...

Until she got stuck. Her strappy black heel got caught, and she could not move it.

“No!” she moaned, struggling to pull her foot out of the grate. Frustrated, she slipped her foot
out of it, and bent over, trying desperately to pull it out with her hands.

“Oh! My new Morgana shoe! I paid a small fortune for this!”

Fighting with the stubborn shoes, Hermione did not notice a car speed past on the next block,
bumping a dumpster, nor did she notice said dumpster flying in her direction until it was too
late.

Hearing a low rumbling noise, Hermione looked up just in time to see a tall figure tackle her
out of the way of the moving death object.

They rolled in a heap, said figure landing on top of her, and thought disoriented, Hermione was
vaguely aware of hard lines contrasting with soft skin.

The figure pulled away, and Hermione noticed startling green eyes brought out by an emerald
colored jumper.

Her savior was Harry.

“Whoa, hoa,” panted Harry, his breathing ragged. Hermione noticed she was panting as well.

“Hermione...you okay? Are you okay?”

Hermione smiled up at him dazedly, acutely aware of the weight of his body on top of hers.

“I’m great,” she said, gasping.

“Okay,” Harry breathed.

“Where’s my shoe?” asked Hermione weakly.

“Your shoe,” Harry glanced at Hermione’s right hand, which was clutching the cursed footwear.
“You got it, right here.”

Harry frowned. She looked a little disoriented, that was certain. He’d had first-aid training as
part of his Auror requirements, and Hermione looked like someone who’d experienced head trauma. He
peered at her anxiously, one arm still snaked under her head.

“Okay, now talk to me, how are you feeling? Are you experiencing any dizziness, nausea,
difficulty breathing?” He cupped her face, trying to check her for any bruises.

“The breathing thing rings a bell,” gasped Hermione. She paused.

“Then again, you are on top of me, cutting off my air supply.”

Harry grinned and gave a small laugh. “Your mental clarity’s excellent. That’s good, that’s
good...you don’t appear to have a concussion. You took quite a fall.”

Hermione stared at him. “Why are you still on top of me?”

Harry looked up and down their bodies, distinctly aware that Hermione’s dress was hugging her in
all the right places.

He smiled awkwardly. “That’s a good question.” He nodded his head to indicate the nearly
demolished dumpster.

“You see that dumpster? It seems that dumpster tried to kill you.” He sat up, still supporting
Hermione across her back. “The road was coming right at you...sit up straight, take your time.”

Hermione sat up, blinking, feeling light-headed; whether this was from the fall, or Harry’s
closeness to her, she didn’t know.

She turned and stared into those jade pools Harry had the nerve to call eyes.

“You saved....my shoe,” she shook her head. “I mean my life.”

“I was going for the shoe...you just turned out to be a bonus,” he touched her face gently. “Now
we’re going to try and get up,” he directed, still supporting much of the witch’s weight. “Take
your time...take your time...”

As they stood up, Hermione felt her knees weaken, and she reached out and clutched Harry
instinctively.

“Whoa, oh, I got you, I got you,” he soothed.

Hermione smiled, her eyes half-lidded. She buried her face in his neck.

“You smell like...sweet red plums and...grilled cheese sandwiches,” she mumbled weakly.

Then she fainted dead away.

Harry caught her thin frame easily, scooping her up into his arms.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I get that all the time, thank you.”

And with an unconscious Hermione in his arms, Harry sighed and walked back towards the dance
studio.

Author Notes: Ron’s slightly rude pet names for Hermione were inspired by an episode of the
X-Files called “Arcadia”, in which Mulder and Scully pose as a married couple...every time Mulder
used a “Sweetie” or “Darling”, Scully called him something that doesn’t make a good nickname, like
“Poopy-Head.” I thought it would work perfectly in Ron and Hermione’s situation. Great episode of
the X-Files too, one of my particular favorites.

The Killer Dumpster scene, of course, was taken verbatim from the Wedding Planner, in case you
haven’t seen it.

Raven, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to email you, my email has a
tendency to act up. Just thought I’d let you know that I’m working at such a furious pace that I
decided to have someone I live with beta, that way I don’t have to send it away to you and wait for
it back. I guess this is just one of those stories that is coming along too fast, and I’m impatient
to post! Please don’t be disappointed!



6. Dancing In The Moonlight
---------------------------

**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.”



7. Fun With Limestone
---------------------

**Chapter Seven-- Fun With Limestone**

Hermione’s head swam. Draco was asking her to marry him. She, Hermione Jane Granger, was
receiving her first marriage proposal, and she hadn’t the slightest idea what to do about it.

“Hermione, please say something.”

Malfoy’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“I’m not sure what to say yet,” she replied honestly.

Draco gave a small smile. “Well, at least you’re not saying no and running away screaming bloody
murder.”

Hermione nodded, but she was already miles away in her own world.

A life with Draco. Sarcastic, sweet, irritating Draco. Someone who had always been there for her
since he’d joined the Light side during the war. Someone who loved her and cherished her. She
studied him. That silky blonde hair, playful smirk, and piercing silver eyes. Yes, he certainly was
nice to look at. And she loved being in his company.

Then blonde hair morphed into raven, smirk transformed into grin, and silver brightened to
emerald.

*Harry*.

Hermione’s heart gave a painful twinge. Her best friend of twelve years. The man she’d only
recently realized she was in love with. The man that had saved the wizarding world, the man that
had taught her all about friendship and loyalty, the man that had appreciated her when no one else
had, the man...

The man that was marrying someone else.

‘Face it, Hermione,’ the woman told herself, ‘Harry is never going to notice you. He is going to
marry Hannah and have a house and kids and never waste a night’s sleep wondering about what might
have been.’

Hermione thought back to the days when she’d dated Draco. She’d been happy then, very happy.
Voldemort had been defeated, and everyone finally had the chance at normal lives. Draco had
been...wonderful. They had spent hours and hours just talking and being in love.

‘And,’ thought Hermione with a flush, ‘The sex was pretty fantastic, too.’

‘We were so in love,’ thought Hermione, smiling, ‘So in love we couldn’t see anything but each
other.’

The only reason they had broken up, in fact, was that Draco had gotten scared at how serious
things were becoming in such a short time. They both agreed they were too young for such a big
commitment, and they’d agreed to be friends, with the possibility of some day getting together
again.

Years had passed, and Hermione had often thought that they had lost their chance. Then Harry had
graduated the Aurory, and most of her free time had been spent worrying about him...until, most
recently, she realized she was in love with him. That hadn’t left much thought for another man.

Hermione looked at Draco. He was watching her, but keeping his mouth shut. Draco knew Hermione
well enough to know that she was thinking and trying to make a good decision...and he had quite a
stake in this particular decision.

The witch bit her lip. If she couldn’t have the man she loved most...perhaps she could have the
one she loved second most. Draco could give her a happy life. And she knew she could love him
again.

But Harry’s face kept popping into her head. It was all too much too much to bear.

“Draco, I don’t know, I just don’t know. You know that...I’m in love with Harry. And I’m in a
fake engagement to Ron! And I’m planning the wedding of my best friend, whom I’m secretly in love
with, to a woman I hate, who also happens to be impersonating me. I don’t think throwing a
relationship with you into the mix would help!”

“You’re right, of course you’re right,” sighed Draco. “Just...don’t dismiss me, okay? If Harry
doesn’t realize what a prat he’s being...I’m always here. And I’ll wait for you, Granger. I’ll wait
until you get married...whether it be to Harry or someone else.”

Hermione placed a gentle arm on Malfoy’s face. “I could never dismiss you, Drake. I adore you.
And I promise, things don’t work out with Harry...you’ll be the only person who could ever capture
my heart.”

Draco stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, time for me to revert to friend mode.
Granger, like my grandpa once told me, your chances go up when you file an application.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’ve got to tell Harry that truth if you ever want a shot.”

“He’ll absolutely go mental!”

Draco shrugged. “So you’re not ready to tell him yet? Fine. At least, break off the “engagement”
you have with Ron, tell him the truth about that. He deserves to know all the facts before he
marries that awful woman.”

“You’ve met her, then?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, I met Harry for lunch the other day, he brought her along. Right bloody
annoying, if you ask me.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“Ha bloody ha,” mimed Malfoy. “You’re lucky Luna’s put up with your little charade with Ron at
all.”

Hermione blinked in surprise. “You’ve talked to Luna?”

“Sweet Merlin, Granger, you’ve had your head up your ass even more than usual lately.”

“That’s better than having my foot up your ass, a pleasure you’re about to receive if you keep
talking.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Easy. You’re like a menstrual troll when you’re aggravated, you know
that?”

The witch scowled. “You really do know how to revert to friend mode, don’t you? Or is this
asshole mode?”

Draco shrugged and gave Hermione a cheeky grin. “Generally, they’re one and the same.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble, do you think we could get back to the subject at hand?”

“Right. Luna, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and I have been getting together and...discussing things.
More specifically, things about you and Harry.”

“And Ron filled you guys in,” supplied the girl.

“Pretty much.”

Hermione frowned. “Wait. You know I’m in love with Harry, and in a big mess, and you still asked
me to marry you?”

“I’m sorry, but currently hopeless romantic Draco is taking a vacation. If you’d like to leave a
message, he’ll get back to you at the first available opportunity. BEEP!” said Malfoy
mechanically.

She sighed. “I’m in no mood to argue with you right now. What you’re saying is that the first
step is to tell Harry that Ron and I are not together?”

“Yes. Inform Ron about what you’re going do, then talk to Harry. Tell him you broke it off,
Ron’s in love with Luna, whatever you want. Just tell him.”

“Damn it, Malfoy, when did you get so smart?”

He gave her a flashy smile. “Oh, I thought it was time for my brains to catch up with my good
looks.”

“I’m going to start calling you Lockhart.”

Draco clutched his heart. “Ouch, Granger. That one hurt. Right here.”

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Hermione awoke the next morning with a frown. She was sore and tired and ready to burst with
stress.

‘What I need,’ she reflected, ‘Is a day off.’

She shuffled into the kitchen and sent Harry a quick owl to let him know she wouldn’t be around.
She also sent an apology to Luna and a note to Ron about her talk with Draco.

Hermione selected a cd from her shelf and slid it into the player. She poured herself some
orange juice and got into a warm bath.

The lyrics seemed to wash over her, every bit as cleansing as the water. The witch smiled weakly
and sang along.

“Desperate for changing

Starving for truth

Closer to where I started chasing after you

I’m falling even more in love with you

Letting go of all I’ve held onto

I’m standing here until you make me move

Hanging by a moment here with you...

There’s nothing else to lose

There’s nothing else to find

There’s nothing in the world

That can change my mind

There is nothing else

There is nothing else....

I’m falling even more in love with you

Letting go of all I’ve held onto

I’m standing here until you make me move

Hanging by a moment here with you

I’m living for the only thing I know

I’m running and not quite sure where to go

And I don’t know what I’m diving into

Just hanging by a moment here with you.”

Amazingly enough, she felt better. A lot better.

After getting dressed in a white buttoned down shirt and a pair of jeans, Hermione spent the
rest of the morning sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading a Muggle novel...actually,
she was reading Pride and Prejudice, one of her all-time favorites.

At lunch time there was a knock on her door. She looked up, surprised. Who could that be?

Opening the door, Hermione tried to hide the shock on her face.

Harry Potter was standing on her doorstep with a large teddy bear and a sheepish expression.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said earnestly.

“Harry, what am I going to do with you?” sighed Hermione, pulling him inside.

“Love me?” suggested Harry helpfully, hugging the woman tightly.

“I already do,” grumbled Hermione, “I already do.”

As they broke apart, Harry thrust the toy into her arms. “I know nobody has ever given you a
teddy bear before, so I thought...” he broke off, embarrassed.

“Oh, Harry,” whispered Hermione, praying that the tears in her eyes didn’t spill.

Harry watched her for a minute, then seem to shake away whatever was on his mind.

“Anyway, I know you wanted the day off, but we had an appointment to see those statue things
Anna wanted.”

Hermione clapped herself in the forehead. “Crap! I’m so sorry, Harry, I’m such a daft wanker.
*I* should be the one reminding *you* of appointments, I’m supposed to be helping you,
not hindering!”

Harry placed a consoling arm on Hermione’s back. “You’re anything but a hindrance, doll. You’re
really pulling everything together. I appreciate everything you do.”

Just then, Hermione turned to grab her day-planner, and Harry caught a whiff of
something...something strangely familiar.

“Hermione,” he said sharply, “What is that smell?”

Hermione was puzzled. “What smell?”

“Are you wearing perfume?”

Hermione laughed. “Harry, I’m wearing the same perfume I’ve worn everyday since we were fifteen.
Vanilla Fields.”

Harry paled. “That’s what Hannah’s started wearing. I thought it smelled familiar.”

The witch met his gaze evenly. “I know. She asked me a few days ago what I wore. Needless to
say, I wouldn’t have told her if she was going to steal my scent. I hate wearing the same perfume
as another person I hang about with.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Why would Hannah do that?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” Hermione stared at him defiantly, “You tell me. Why would she do
that?”

Before Harry could answer, the clock chimed one.

“Damn, damn, damn!” swore Harry. “We’re supposed to be there by now, come on.”

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As the two friends walked through the garden of sculptures, Hermione smiled. This goofy Harry
was much more like the one she knew and loved. Without Hannah around to spoil everything, they
were....

Hermione swore under her breath. She had to stop blaming everything on Hannah. Sure, she was a
right tart, but honestly, was Harry really this stupid? Hermione was beginning to wonder if she
should be with a bloke that daft.

“So Anna wants a statue at the wedding,” said Harry as he and Hermione weaved their way through
the outdoor exhibit of art.

“Well, a well chosen sculpture can enhance the tone and theme of the ceremony,” explained
Hermione, slipping easily into her wedding planner persona. ”Something like this could be nice,”
she gestured toward a flowery depiction of a robed Aphrodite.

“A little depressing, isn’t it?” remarked Harry.

Hermione scowled. “No. It’s wistful and romantic.”

Harry rolled his eye as they continued along and Hermione sighed. He may have apologized, but
the tension between them was still rather thick.

“I always pictured a small wedding,” admitted Harry softly. “Close friends and family on a beach
somewhere, cool saunty breeze...” he trailed off. “Or something like that, anyway.”

Hermione felt awkward. What could she say? That his wedding was probably all wrong because his
fiancee was all wrong? Instead, she changed the subject back to more business.

“You know, the Aphrodite we passed on the way in might be perfect,” she said.

The Boy-Who-Loved-To-Torture-Hermione grinned as he spotted a large statue of a naked,
well-toned male brandishing a sword.

“Well, what about this guy?” he asked, examining the model.

“This is all wrong for a wedding,” explained Hermione, pursing her lips. “It’s too
menacing.”

“No, Mione, I think you’re wrong. He’s not menacing, He’s...” Harry imitated the pose of the
statue, “He’s masculine, he’s the protector...”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry put his hand on the statue. “This man is strong.”

“This man is naked,” muttered Hermione.

“This man is sturdy,” Harry gave a little push...and the sculpture toppled over, dragging Harry
with it.

“Oh no!” shrieked Hermione, rushing over. “Pick it up before someone sees!”

The two friends puffed and grunted under the weight of the stone, but they managed to upright
it.

“Oh my gosh, there’s a guard coming!” exclaimed Hermione as they wedged it back into it’s
rightful place. As Harry was struggling with it, Hermione glanced at the ground and gasped.

“Harry!” she hissed. “You castrated him!”

The naked man’s stone penis was lying on the grass. Harry picked it up gently. “Oh, no,” he
whispered.

“Whoa, I’m sorry buddy,” Harry said apologetically.

“Oh my gosh, the guard’s coming this way! I do a lot of work here! We have to fix this!”
Hermione rummaged around hurriedly in her bag, fishing out some Krazy-Glue.

Harry nodded. “Ah, yes, Krazy-Glue, of course...why didn’t I bring the Krazy-Glue, in case his
pecker fell off?”

Hermione giggled. Harry pressed the detached member back in place as the guard approached.

“Oh, shit,” he suddenly muttered, trying to pull his hand away. “Harry’s stuck, dammit, Harry’s
glued to his pecker.”

Hermione stared, wide-eyed. “*What*?”

“Hi there,” greeted Harry suddenly to the burly security guard that had finally made his way to
them.

“Sir, touching the statues is not permitted,” he reprimanded crossly.

“Uh, yes, sir,” agreed Harry, turning to Hermione. “You know, you were right, honey, it’s
limestone, it’s not granite.” He turned back to address the guard. “We had a bet going on what it
was made out of, and she won.”

Hermione laughed and nodded.

“Sir,” said the guard angrily, “Your hand, sir!”

Harry grinned sheepishly, removing his hand, and with it, the stone penis.

“Uh, there it is,” he chuckled nervously, “A limestone penis...you think he’d be bigger,
wouldn’t you?”

Hermione laughed.

A few minutes later, after a large check had been written by Harry, he and Hermione sat out on a
stone bench. Hermione pulled some Q-tips and a bottle of nail polish remover from her bag and
cradled Harry’s hand gently.

“What else you got in there?” he asked curiously.

Hermione smiled warmly at him. “My entire universe.”

There were a few awkward seconds, and Hermione realized that she still hadn’t apologized
properly for their fight.

“I’m sorry,” she said, just as Harry was uttering the same thing.

They shared nervous smiles. “You go first,” said Hermione.

“I’m sorry about giving you a hard time about being engaged,” said Harry.

“And I’m sorry what I said about your marriage being doomed to fail,” added Hermione, dabbing at
Harry’s glued hand with a soaked Q-tip.

“Well, I apologize for saying that you were just an opportunity...that was, well, that was
pretty ugly of me.”

“Yeah,” continued Hermione, “And I was only half-serious about the teal bridesmaid thing.”

Harry leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, at least I have a fifty-fifty chance, right?” He
grinned.

Hermione smiled weakly. “You and Hannah are going to be real happy together.”

Harry looked at solemnly. “So are you and Ron. It‘s gonna work.”

The witch drew a deep breath. This was the perfect opportunity...it was now or never.

“Yeah, well, we’re not engaged anymore.”

He stared at her. “Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Really,” Hermione replied softly.

“Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah!” said Hermione sincerely. “It was more everyone else wanting to get us together anyway. I
think he really does like Luna.”

“Why would everyone want to do that?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Probably because they know how much I want someone to love,” answered the woman truthfully.

Harry nodded in understanding as Hermione continued dabbing his palm.

“So, Anna said to go ahead and go forward with the violet chocolate, the chocolate cake,” Harry
announced suddenly, trying to break the spell of awkward tension.

“Good, so I’ll go ahead and put in that order today?” chattered Hermione, nervously nodding her
head and knitting her brow. “How is Hannah?”

“She’s good,” answered Harry hesitantly. “She’s, you know, running around, being the charmer,
being Hannah.”

Hermione finished her surgery and pulled the stone member cleanly away from Harry’s hand.

“Oh, nicely done!” Harry flexed his fingers and admired his beat friend’s handiwork. He lifted
his emerald orbs to her face. “Thank you, Mione.”

Harry handed Hermione the limestone penis. “You wanna keep it?”

She laughed and shrugged, throwing it into her bag. “Sure.”

Watching the sun set together, creating warm hues of gold and auburn, Harry felt a twinge of
happiness. “It’s a nice day,” he remarked.

Hermione paused. “You know, I agree with you about the small wedding,” she said, almost
inaudibly, “That’s the way I’d do it too.”

Harry put his arm around her. Despite the stress of the wedding, the complexity of his
friendship with Hermione, and the way his emotions were one big tornado lately, Harry felt
inexplicably at peace.

For a few glorious minutes, as the sun brought the day to a close, both Harry and Hermione felt
all was right in their worlds.

Author’s Notes: The Lyrics are from “Hanging By a Moment” by Lifehouse, and they do not belong
to me. T

he book Pride and Prejudice is by the incomparable Jane Austen, and if you haven’t read it, what
are you doing here reading my silly fluff?? Go buy a copy!

The limestone penis scene, is of course, verbatim from the Wedding Planner...I love that
scene.

Harry’s idiocy is completely his own.

Thanks to all my reviewers!



8. Karaoke Night Again, And Another Surprise
--------------------------------------------

**Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up everyone. I’ve had a rough week. My insomnia is
damn near incurable, so I’ve been visiting various doctors and trying to fix things. Anyway, here
is chapter eight, and I’m rather fond of it, because Harry is finally starting to get a bit of a
clue! There is a *really* fluffy HG/DM moment in this chapter, so all you Pumpkin Pie shippers
be forewarned! Don’t worry, our Harry will get the girl eventually! And maybe Hannah will die a
tragic death...a lot of people seem itching for that...hehehe. Tell you what...I highly doubt I
will kill off Hannah but whoever leaves the most creative means of possible death in their review
will get an early peek at the next chapter! Let the chaos begin!**

**Chapter Eight-- Karaoke Night Again, and Another Surprise**

Hermione spent Thursday and Friday at her office doing paperwork and checking in with her boss.
In truth, those things could have waited, but Hermione thought the less time she spent alone with
Harry, the better. One more minute of his company and she would not be responsible for her
actions...such as snogging him senseless. Then again, if she waited until Hannah returned, perhaps
justifiable homicide would be in order...maybe a machete and a pair of pliers?

Nah. Too messy. It’d take ages to get the blood out of her robes.

Friday night came as usual, and Hermione was thrilled to arrive last at the pub, the sight of
her friends huddled together giving her a warm glow.

There was Ginny, looking particularly pretty in a blue jumper. ‘Ginny is a wonderful friend,’
Hermione reflected, ‘And she doesn’t get told that enough.’

There was Neville. He’d been terribly busy at work that week, but his sympathetic expression
told Hermione that Ginny had probably filled him in on the situation.

There were Luna and Ron, heads bent low and hands intertwined. For once, Luna was not the only
one with a dreamy look on her face.

There was Draco. He grinned at her, and Hermione felt her heart stop. He was fantastically
gorgeous, there was no denying that. He just wasn’t Harry.

And Harry. She hadn’t truly expected him to be there. Yet there was that famous green-eyed
Gryffindor, slouching in his chair and nursing a drink. He was scowling fiercely and Hermione
wondered what was bothering him.

Hermione settled down next to Harry as everyone greeted her warmly.

“So, Mione,” laughed Ginny after everyone had settled down, “Draco here has decided to sing the
first song of the evening.”

“Really?” Hermione asked in surprise.

“Absolutely,” Ron assured her as Malfoy scowled.

“What are you going to sing?”

Neville gave Malfoy a push out of his seat. “You’ll see.”

Hermione watched expectantly as Draco took the stage. When he opened his mouth, Hermione had to
pick up her jaw off the floor. The rest of the table was trying not to laugh...except for Harry,
who looked murderous.

“I’ve heard people say that too much of anything is not good for you Baby, But, I don’t know
about that, As many times as we’ve loved, and we’ve shared love and made love...it’s just not
enough, Hermione...it’s just not enough....Awwwww....”

Hermione gaped as Draco really got the song going.

“My darling, I can’t get enough of your love, Babe

I don’t know, I don’t know why

I can’t get enough of your love Babe

Some things I can’t get used to

No matter how I try

It’s like the more you give, the more I want

And, Baby, that’s no lie

What can I say

What am I going do?

How should I feel when everything is you?

What kind of love is this

That you’re given me?

Is it in your kiss?

Or just because you’re sweet?

All I know

Is every time you’re near

I feel a change

Something moves

I scream your name

Do what you got to do!”

Draco hopped off the stage and gave a very nice spin, striding over to Hermione in time to the
music.

“’If I could only make you see

And make you understand

Girl, your love for me is all I need

And as much as I can stand

How can I explain

All the things I feel?

You’ve given me so much

But girl you’re so unreal

I keep loving you more and more each time

What am I gonna do?

‘Cause you’re blowing my mind.”

Draco grabbed Hermione out of her chair and pulled her close as she laughed. He finished his
song and pressed his lips gently against hers amidst a room full of catcalls. Hermione found
herself unconsciously relaxing in his familiar embrace.

When he pulled away, Malfoy was beaming at her.

“Draco,” she breathed nervously. He put his finger against her lips.

“Not now, Granger,” he mumbled roughly. “Not bloody now.”

And he lowered his mouth to hers once more.

Hermione broke the kiss this time, immediately turning to glance at Harry. He appeared ill.

“Malfoy,” whispered Hermione, “What exactly did you tell them?”

“The truth,” replied Malfoy easily. Hermione’s eyes widened. “Just kidding, love. I told them I
was trying to get back with you, that‘s all.”

“Malfoy!” Hermione hissed angrily. “In front of Harry? You know how I feel about Harry!”

“Yes, Granger, I know how you feel about Harry,” Draco responded gently, “And I know how Harry
doesn’t feel about you.” And with a strangely appropriate half-bow, Malfoy turned and stormed out
of the pub.

“Damn, damn, damn,” swore the witch, sinking back into her chair.

“Way to go, Hermione!” squealed Luna.

“Yeah, Malfoy is hott,” added Ginny.

“I think you two make a great couple,” threw in Neville.

“Dunno why you ever split up,” agreed Ron.

“I haven’t said yes to anything!” protested Hermione.

Harry, who had been looking rather cross, brightened considerably. “You didn’t give him
permission to paw at you? You want me to beat the tar out of him, doll? Because I will, you just
say the word and I’ll--”

“Give it a rest, Potter,” Ron rolled his eyes. “It was just a kiss, for Merlin’s sake, he wasn’t
trying to feel her up or anything. Besides, it’s not like they’ve never shagged before--”

“Ron!” yelled Hermione.

“Sorry, sorry, just trying to get my point across.”

“Oh, bloody hell. This is all rubbish!” Harry stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. “I’ll see
you all later.” And without so much as a look back, he left.

“You guys!” exploded Hermione as soon as Harry was out of sight. “What the devil are you all
thinking? You know I’m in love with Harry! Merlin, Ron, you’re the one that thinks I should tell
him! And the rest of you hate Hannah, too!”

“Mione,” said Ron calmly. “We know all that. Did you see the way Harry reacted? Are you blind as
to what that means?”

“But Harry was just...” the woman trailed off, looking thoughtful.

“Jealous,” finished Ginny triumphantly.

“So you guys...”

“Planned the whole thing,” supplied Neville cheekily.

“You see, Hermione,” Luna explained dreamily, “It killed two birds with one stone. Draco wanted
to prove he was serious about how he felt, and we wanted to see if Harry would be upset about it or
not.”

“But Malfoy’s feelings...don’t his feelings count for anything?” asked Hermione.

Ron sighed. “We told him what we were hoping...he knew. He just...he wants you to understand
that he loves you, and if Harry isn’t interested...he’ll be around to pick up the pieces.”

Hermione buried her head in her palms.

“Do you think I’m an idiot for getting involved with Harry? Emotionally involved?”

“No,” replied Ron quietly, “I think he’s an idiot for not treating you well.”

Pulling her head up, Hermione smiled through her tears. “You are the best mates in the
world.”

“Don’t we know it,” mumbled Luna.

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Harry went home and sulked on his couch. He tried watching the telly, tried to read, tried to
sleep, and finally threw a tantrum when he saw a seating chart for his wedding lying under the
table.

“Erhhhhhhh...” he moaned in frustration, ripping up the chart in a frenzy and then flopping on
the couch wearily.

Hermione had looked beautiful tonight. She’d rushed in after a long day at work, but she’d been
as lovely as ever, or at least Harry thought so. Her curls had been pulled away from her face in a
messy ponytail, her cheeks flushed, her lips full...

And then came that whole bloody Malfoy ordeal. Who did the chap think he was? Barry White?

Harry was fuming. How dare that...that...that *bugger* try to get in Hermione’s knickers!
He hadn’t liked them dating the first time, and he didn’t like it now. Malfoy just wasn’t suited to
Hermione, that was all there was to it.

“Besides,” Harry added aloud to Hedwig, “Mione should be concentrating on planning our wedding
anyway.”

Hedwig hooted.

“Oh, you know what I mean, mine and Hannah’s wedding,” amended Harry.

Hannah. He had hardly spoken to her since she’d left. It was strange really, when one considered
the way she hung all over him when they were together. Harry had tried owling her that morning, but
still no reply. He couldn’t Floo her; Hannah said that Beauxbatons wasn’t connected to the
network.

It was rather odd.

What he needed, Harry decided, was a plan. A way to make Hermione so busy that she wouldn’t have
time to date Malfoy even if she wanted to. The Auror racked his brain...the wedding plans were
progressing at a quick pace, but still...he needed something more pressing, like...like.....

Like a bridal shower traditionally thrown by the maid of honour.

Yahtzee.

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As Harry stewed, Hermione spent time with the others, then called it an early night.

At least, she tried to call it an early night.

She never expected to come home and find a half-asleep Harry sprawled on her sofa.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “I know I said you’re always welcome in my flat, but this might be a bit
much.”

“Mione?” he mumbled sleepily. “Hey, Mione...”

Hermione rolled her eyes and flopped down beside him. “Hey, Harry.”

“I wanted to ask you something.” Suddenly, Harry was wide-awake and serious.

“Yes?” Hermione’s attention was focused solely on the wizard in front of her. Could this be it?
Had tonight finally made Harry realise that he cared about her as more than a friend?

“It’s about Hannah.”

Hermione’s hopes plummeted faster than a Wronski Feint.

“Oh.”

“I know that you’re already doing practically everything, planning the wedding and all, but you
are the maid of honour, so...” Harry trailed off, flushing red.

“So what, Harry? Listen, I promise to go along with Hannah and wear that horrid dress, okay, if
that‘s what you‘re worried about.”

“No, that’s not it. I--”

“And I relented about having carnations in her bouquet, though they are probably the ugliest
flower know to man.”

“Oh, I don’t care. I just--”

“And I already told her to go ahead and wear gloves if that’s what she wants, even if she looks
like some bizarre serial killer. I once saw this documentary where this bride went crazy and
stalked people in her wedding dress. They all thought that she--”

“HERMIONE!” screamed Harry. “Would you listen for a moment?”

“Gee, Harry, there’s no need to shout, I’m right here. Bloody rude, interrupting people like
that.”

The man sighed. “I wanted to make sure that you remembered that it’s tradition for the maid of
honour to throw the bride her shower.”

“**What**?”

“A wedding shower, you’ve heard of them? It’s the maid of honour’s job. I just wanted to remind
you of that. I don’t want Hannah to miss out on any part of this experience.”

“Harry, it’s usually the maid of honour’s job because generally she’s the bride’s closest
friend. I’m *not* Hannah’s closest friend. I’m not Hannah’s *anything*-friend. In fact, I
can BARELY TOLERATE THE BLOODY TROLLOP!”

Hermione, it seemed, had reached her breaking point. She didn’t give a Kneazle’s behind whether
Hannah had a bridal shower or not. And she certainly had no intention of *throwing* one for
the manipulative little tart.

“I know that Anna’s not your favourite person, doll,” sighed Harry, “But you *did* agree to
be the maid of honour, and you *did* agree to try and do your best.”

“I am doing my best, Harry James Potter,” said Hermione impatiently. “But that is...please,
just...ask Ginny to do it or something.”

“Then what will Hannah think?”

“Frankly, Harry, I don’t give a damn,” smirked Hermione...she’d always wanted to say that.

“But...”

“Godric’s Hollow, Harry! You were Head Boy...improvise. Tell her I’m busy planning the perfect
wedding, but I cared too much to let her go without a proper bridal shower so I roped our dear
friend Ginny into it.”

“But...” Harry protested feebly. In truth, Hermione’s plan couldn’t really be rationally argued.
It’s just that Harry’s plan seemed to be going right down the loo.

Perhaps the direct approach would work.

“Are you going to date Malfoy?” Harry asked suddenly.

“What?” the witch asked incredulously. “Harry, what in Merlin’s beard does that have to do with
what we were talking about?”

“I want to know,” he insisted stubbornly.

“Oh, what do you care?” retorted Hermione.

“I care,” Harry replied softly. “Of course I care.”

“I don’t know, Harry. I honestly don’t know anymore.”

“I think it’s a mistake,” Harry voiced his opinion firmly. He ran a hand through his indelibly
messy hair.

“Thanks for your concern,” replied Hermione dryly.

Harry stood up angrily. “What the hell is with the attitude? I’m just trying to be a good
friend!”

“Bull. You’re trying to make sure that I don’t have too many distractions so that your
*darling Anna’s* wedding goes perfectly. Well, just quit. It will be fine. Why? Because I am
level-headed. I am organised. And I am damn professional!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Now get out.”

“What?”

“I said get out.”

“Hermione, don’t be mad. I was just...”

“I’ve had enough of not being mad, Harry. I’m tired of it. I intend to be mad for a little
while. I‘ve more than earned it.”

“You’re right,” admitted Harry.

“I’m always right. It’s a curse.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

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Hermione passed the weekend holed up in her flat, singing depressing songs and just generally
commenting on the dysfunctional world that she was forced to live in. Harry spent the weekend
worrying about Hermione, worrying about Hermione and Malfoy, and occasionally wondering why Anna
hadn’t owled him at all.

The workdays came quickly, and Hermione made her excuses to Harry and spent more time in the
office. All in all, when Tuesday rolled around, Harry was relieved that Hannah was due back any
minute.

At dinner time, there was a knock at Harry’s door.

“Bloody hell, Anna, why didn’t you just Apparate in? The wards recognize--” Harry had started
talking before opening the door, but now that he had, there was not just Hannah staring at
him...there was a tall, handsome man in robes.

Bloody, rotten, stinking hell.

Harry suddenly felt as though he’d spent a week living off of Hagrid’s rock cakes.

In other words, extremely sick.

Author’s Notes: The song lyrics are from Barry White’s “Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe.” I
don’t own them, nor do I own Barry’s sultry voice, God rest his soul.

Not necessarily a true quote, but I feel the need to acknowledge it anyway...I have a tendency
to use the phrase “Damn, damn, damn,” a lot when I feel the characters would swear. This is for two
reasons: 1) Because damn is possibly the least offensive swear word, and truth be told I’m not
crazy about vulgar language and 2) Whenever I use it, I’m thinking of Professor Henry Higgins (aka
Rex Harrison) in the movie version of “My Fair Lady”, one of the best musicals ever. He constantly
uses that to swear, and I love the way it sounds.

Hermione’s question “Do you think I’m an idiot for getting involved with him?” and Ron’s reply
“No, I think he’s an idiot for not treating you well,” is a little snippet from the movie “Center
Stage”, which I happen to adore. I’m actually considering writing an AU H/Hr fic based on
that...

I think everyone in the world should know this quote, but if not...eh. betteer be safe than to
have a lawsuit on my hands...”Frankly, Harry, I don’t give a damn,” was an adaptation of Rhett
Butler’s line from the movie “Gone With The Wind,” which, of course, is a classic. If you haven’t
seen it, then you are no true film buff!

All the warped and twisted humor is my own.

Except for Malfoy. Bloody hell, I think he writes himself.



9. Dirty Deals and Ice Cream Cones
----------------------------------



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!

-->



10. Salty Sweetness and Temporary Tattooes
------------------------------------------



The sound of the creaking swing chains cut through the still air. The ice cream cones were long
gone, but the two friends remained in the park, their sanctuary, their special place.

“Mione?”

“Yeah?”

“We should spend the night together.”

Hermione nearly choked on her own spit. “Excuse me?”

“You know, you, me, like used to, and all night, and school the next day, but tired, and you
know, the silly stuff?”

“What in the *bloody hell* did you just say?”

“Me,” Harry adopted a caveman grunt and pointed at himself. “You. Walk. All night. Work
tomorrow. Fun. Understand?”

“Me Jane, you Tarzan?”

Harry sighed. “Yes, Jane. Me Tarzan, you Jane. No, you tart, I meant that we should walk around
and hang out all night like we used to do when you were in college. Doing fun and silly things,
just the two of us, and still managing to go to school or work the next day. Those were some of the
best times in my life.”

“I like the way you think, Tarzan.” She grinned.

The tall wizard shrugged. “I know, I'm brilliant. That's why I offered to sell my brain
to science.”

“What, is there a shortage of prats' brains in scientific research?” laughed Hermione.

“Why you little…”

“Oh, go ahead and sell it, it's not as though you're using it or anything.”

“I intend to get you for that, Jane.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn't.”

There was a minute of silent reflection, as the friends just gazed at one another and enjoyed
the moment. Hermione felt herself admiring his face for the billionth time. Merlin, he was
gorgeous.

“Um, Harry,” her voice croaked, “What…uh…what did you want to do tonight?”

“I think, that since I've been taking up all your time planning this wedding, that tonight
should be about making all your wishes come true.”

Hermione thought that unless Harry planned on simply tying a red bow around himself, that was
highly unlikely to happen. However, she simply raised an eyebrow.

“And what, exactly, did you have in mind?”

“You'll see.”

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Meanwhile, Ron sat worriedly across from Malfoy in the Hogshead.

Draco looked around disgustedly. “Tell me again, Weaselbee, why it is that you made me Apparate
all the way to this pathetic excuse for a pub?”

“I don't want us to be overheard by anyone we know.”

“No chance of that here,” sneered Malfoy. “We have better chances of picking up some incurable
disease.”

“Oh give it a rest, FerretFace,” frowned Ron. “This is serious.”

“Lay it on me.”

“ I think Hannah is cheating on Harry.”

This caught Draco's attention.

“What? The two of them are sickening together. Why would she cheat on him?”

“I dunno,” sighed Ron, “But I saw her in the Leaky Cauldron talking to some guy.”

“They could just be friends,” countered Draco logically.

Ron shook his head. “I don't think so. You should have seen them together.”

“Yeah, because you're so well known for your acute powers of observation, Weasley,” Draco
rolled his eyes.

“No, I mean, they looked really guilty, like they were up to something.”

Malfoy stared at him intently. “If you're so concerned, then why are you telling me this
instead of Potter?”

Ron sighed. “Because, you great insensitive git, it's going to absolutely kill him…that is,
if he *believes* me, which I'm not so certain he will. Hannah's got him wrapped around
her finger. He acts like a bloody dolt around her, and when she's not around, he never stops
talking about her…”

“So what, like who better to break the bad news to him than me?” asked Draco dryly.

“…always on and on about how smart she is, and how adorable she is,” continued Ron as though he
hadn't heard a word. “She's so beautiful when she chews her quill, and I love the way her
nose crinkles when she laughs, and she's always teaching me something, her brown hair is so
lovely, and she's a goddess and blah, blah, blah. If I have to hear one more word about her
I'll go mad.”

“Wait just one minute, Weasel.” Malfoy appeared very thoughtful.“Did you *hear* what you
just said?”

Ron blinked. “What, about Harry? Yeah, mate, haven't you been listening? Damn, I told you
this was important and there you go….”

“Hold your tongue, Weasley. *Think* about what you just said. He was supposed to be talking
about Hannah to you and he raved about her gorgeous **brown** hair.” Draco gave the redhead an
intense look.

“Huh?”

Draco sighed and gave Ron a hard slap across the cheek. “Pay attention, Weaselbrain! Potter was
supposedly talking about Hannah, but he made a Freudian slip. He said brown hair. Hannah's a
*blonde*.”

“So bloody what? I don't care anymore about that trollop's hair then when Harry was
talking about it. Why do you want to talk about it? I swear, Malfoy, you're taking the mickey,
and I'm not sure…..”

“WEASLEY!” yelled Draco. “Brown hair. Lots of brown hair.”

“What, are you going to dye yours?”

Malfoy picked up his tankard and dumped its contents over Ron's head.

“Wake up! Who do we know with lots of *bushy brown* *hair?”*

“Bloody hell! He was talking about Hermione and didn't know it! Wait. Harry loves Hermione?
HARRY LOVES HERMIONE!” Ron whooped, butterbeer dripping down his face.

“Yes. It's about time you caught on. Potter loves Hermione. And she loves him.” For the
first time, sadness registered on Draco's face.

“Hey, wait a minute. You're in love with her, mate,” said Ron softly. “Isn't this
killing you?”

“No,” said Draco crisply, his shaky voice betraying his true emotion, “Because I *do* love
her, and she deserves to be happy. And if Potter makes her happy, then damn it, he's going to
be with her, even if I have to club him and drag him to the altar.”

“At this rate, that's a distinct possibility.”

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“Harry!” laughed Hermione, tugging at the handkerchief around her eyes. “Where are you taking
me?”

“You'll see,” whispered Harry mysteriously.

Hermione felt the warm pressure of Harry's hand in her own, and had to suppress a shudder.
Why did it have to be this way? Was she going to stay in love with him forever? It was killing her
to be around him, and yet…and yet…it was the best feeling in the entire world.

Suddenly, they stopped and Hermione felt the blind fold being removed form her head.

“Ta-da!”

“Har-ry!” gasped Hermione. “You remembered.”

“I called in a favor,” he shrugged and tried not to look too pleased with himself.

When they used to take their late-night adventures, one of their favorite haunts was the
ice-skating rink. It was a wonderful place with lights and music and a happy atmosphere. Hermione
had always spoke of a wish that they could have it all to themselves sometime, but from October
until February every year, it was absolutely packed with other people.

Tonight, however, it was empty. Harry had made her wish come true.

Hermione had her skates laced up and was on the ice before Harry even had time to remove one
shoe.

She flowed about and spun, and Harry noticed, once again, how graceful she was. He paused and
stared at her.

The lights were reflecting upon her hair, making it glow with each turn of her head. Her arms
were outstretched, her face uplifted, and she looked…angelic. Angelic was the only word to describe
it.

“I could watch her forever,” thought Harry ruefully, “Forever and ever, and still wish I had
more time to simply admire her for who she is.”

It was this reflection that caused Harry to remember something Ron had asked him over a week ago
during their tuxedo fittings.

*“Harry...can you...can you honestly see yourself with Hannah* **forever***? I mean,
you have to remember this is* **forever***. Permanent. Irreversible.”*

Only **now** did he realize he hadn't exactly answered the question. And, watching
Hermione, he realized *why* he hadn't answered it. Because until now, he had never
understood how any person could truly see themselves with someone else forever. Until now, he had
never realized how there just wasn't enough time in the universe to spend with someone.

Until now, he had thought he was over Hermione.

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As Ron paid the bill, Draco paced nervously around the lobby of the pub.

He was, at the moment, having an attack of conscious, something that had never happened to him
before.

On the one hand, the right thing to do was to inform Potter if anyone even had any
*suspicions* that Habba-Dabba or whatever- her-name -is was cheating on him. On the other hand
if they did tell Potter, then that left him free and clear for Hermione, something Draco was none
too pleased about.

He sighed. They had to tell Harry, and he knew it. And, if truth be told, somewhere deep in his
heart he knew that Harry and Hermione belonged together.

As Ron came into the lobby, Malfoy gave him a hard look.

“Ronald,” he said solemnly.

“Uh, Draconis,” replied Ron bewilderedly. “What are you on about?”

“I have come to the conclusion that Potter and Granger are destined to be together, if only
they'd stop mucking it all up.”

Ron snorted. “Talk about being slow on the uptake. The rest of us have known that for
years.”

Malfoy gave an evil grin, one that meant he was up to something. Ron shuddered. He hadn't
seen that grin for years. But he knew exactly what it meant, and when Draco looked like that,
whoever he was after had better watch out.

“The difference is, Weasley, that you didn't have me then.”

And, for whatever the reason, Ron had a strong suspicion he was right.

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Harry and Hermione sat breathlessly on a bench removing their skates.

“Oh, thank you, Harry, thank you ever so much.”

Harry grinned. “It was my pleasure, doll.”

As they gathered their things and made their way outside, Hermione gave a small shiver.

“Godric's Hollow, it's cold for October,” she marveled.

Harry slid an arm around her. “Better?”

She gazed up at him, his breath warm on her face. “Yeah,” she breathed dreamily, “Yeah,
that's perfect.”

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“So tell me again why we are here?” asked Ron incredulously as he stood under an Invisibility
Cloak with Malfoy outside Hannah's apartment.

“Because, Weasley, I did the locate spell and this is where she is. If she's cheating on
Harry, we need proof, which means we've got to follow her around.”

“Bloody hell, does that mean I've got to be crammed under an Invisibility Cloak with you
until we get something?”

“You've got it.”

“I hope you showered.”

“I hope you ate a breath mint after those onion rings.”

“Yeah, well, I'd still smell than you if I didn't.”

“Not if you're still using that sludge you call shampoo.”

“Hey! I like my shampoo! It's Chudley Cannons!”

“Which explains why it smells like a locker room.”

“It does not! It smells like…like….fresh air and a Quidditch Pitch!!”

“It smells like ass.”

“Shhh…here she comes…and see! There's that guy I told you about!”

“Ron, you dolt, that's Ernie Macmillan!”

“Ernie? I thought he lived in the States? Doesn't he write for that cheesy tabloid Rita
SKeeter runs?” asked Ron confusedly.

“Yes…o Melrin, no…please don't let that mean that Hannah…”

“Writes for it!” gasped Ron. “Oh, no. He's not her lover…”

“He's her boss.”

“Shit.”

“Couldn't have said it better myself, Weasley.”

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“Where to now, Tarzan?”

“I've got some ideas left up my sleeve, Jane.”

As they continued walking down the avenue, Harry stopped outside a drugstore. “Hold on.
Don't move a muscle.”

Hermione waited as Harry ran inside and came back with a small bag.

“What's in there?”

“I'll show you later.” Harry stuffed the parcel in his pocket.

The two friends strolled about laughing and talking for another hour, before they came to a
movie theatre.

“Mione, look! They're playing *The Shop Around the Corner*!”

“That old Jimmy Stewart movie? I love that movie!”

“I know, let's go.”

And in they went, Harry buying their tickets and then leading the way to the concession stand.
He ordered Snowcaps and popcorn, then proceeded to dump the chocolate right into the popcorn
bucket.

“Harry! What are you doing?”

“You've got to get that perfect blend of salt and sweetness. It's terrific.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

“C'mon, try it. Trust me.”

Hermione sighed and grabbed a handful, chewing thoughtfully.

“Well?”

“That's absolutely disgusting…I love it.”

Harry beamed.

Later, after the movie, Harry sat down at a bench outside and pulled out the bag he'd bought
earlier.

“Temporary tattooes. I know you've always wanted one…this is as close as I could get.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“Where do you want it?”

Hermione slid down her shirt, and gestured toward her shoulder. “Right there.”

“I think the butterfly.”

“Okay.” He wet it carefully and then blew on Mione's back to dry it.

“Perfect,” he whispered, locking eyes with Hermione.

“Yes, perfect,” whispered Hermione back.

“Alright there, Mione?” gasped Harry as he felt his face leaning towards hers of its own
accord.

“Never better, “ she managed just before his lips engulfed hers and she forgot everything,
including her own name.

At that moment, they both saw a flash, and heard a yell, and moments later, Hannah, Ernie,
Draco, and Ron came tumbling out of the bushes in a fighting, dueling heap.

-->



11. The Plot Thickens, and Harry Gets Stuck In It
-------------------------------------------------

Author's Notes: Sorry it's been taking so long between chapters, I didn't have a
computer at home for the longest time, and now the one I have stinks. I promise that this story is
still in the works, and will be continued until it is done, so those of you who keep wondering if
I've abandoned it, fear not! I hope that the next chapter will be posted soon, and I thank you
all for your patience. I also apologize for the evilness in this chapter...it's short, but I
really love it. Watch out for the M&Ms!

Chapter Eleven-- The Plot Thickens, and HarryGets Stuck In It

As his lips engulfed hers, she forgot everything, including her own name...

At least, that's what would have happened, had Harry's Auror instincts not kicked in a
split second before their mouths touched. Hearing a commotion nearby, Harry's wand was out and
trained on the group before they even hit the ground. The confusion appeared on his face as he
registered the strange companions that tumbled out of the shrubbery: namely, Ethan, Draco, Ron, and
Hannah.

"Anna?" asked Harry bewilderedly, just as Hermione said "Draco?" in an
equally mystified tone.

"Ethan?" continued Harry, clearly baffled.

"Ron?" gasped Hermione incredulously.

"What in the bloody hell is going on around here?" they questioned in unison.

There was a moment of complete silence before the explanations started pouring in.

"Um, well you see..."

"And then Ron..."

"With Ethan, but..."

"...tripped over my shoelace..."

"...thought Malfoy was...."

"I ran after him, but then..."

"Stop!" Harry and Hermione shouted at once. "I can't understand a word,
" added the witch, still unnerved by the almost kiss, and wondering who had actually witnessed
said almost-kiss.

"Malfoy, you tell us what happened," ordered Harry in his Auror voice.

The Slytherin raised an eyebrow at Potter's tone, but decided not to comment.

Ron said a prayer of silent thanks to God that Harry had called upon Malfoy, because Ron himself
couldn't lie to save his mother from a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"Ron and I went out for a drink, " lied Draco smoothly. "We happened to run into
Hannah and-- Ethan is it?--and I ran to catch up with her, but then she thought someone was trying
to attack her from behind, and she hexed me. Ron misunderstood, and came charging in like the daft
bugger he is---"

"I am not daft," interrupted Ron crossly. "I thought you were in
trouble."

Ron caught Malfoy's eye on that remark, and it took all of the latter's self-composure
not to bust out laughing. Ron's typical defensive remarks gave the whole story an authenticity
it would have otherwise lacked.

"--so Ethan hexed Ron," continued Malfoy as if he hadn't heard Ron at all,
"And then Hannah tripped over her shoelace, and ended up landing on Ron--"

"Right," chimed in Hannah, "So then poor Ron felt ganged up on, and called to
Malfoy for help--"

"So Malfoy came over and tried to pull Ethan off of me and explain that he was a friend of
Hannah and Harry's--"

"But I thought he was attacking again, so I tried to punch him--"added Ethan.

"And I tackled him, while Ron was trying to get to his feet--" threw in Malfoy,
"But then we all ended up in that shrub."

The others nodded vigorously in agreement.

Hermione and Harry gaped at their friends.

Hermione began to answer. "That is the most--"

"--ridiculous story we've ever heard," finished Harry, frowning.

Ethan, Ron, and Hannah all shifted uncomfortably, but Draco spoke up, ever the confident
deceiver.

"Absolutely ridiculous," Malfoy affirmed, "Which just goes to show that nobody
could make something like that up."

This, of course, was a blatant lie, but it was the best thing he could come up with under the
circumstances.

Hermione and Harry exchanged a series of looks that meant that neither one of them bought a word
of this rubbish, but Harry wordless conveyed to Hermione that it was best to play along for
now.

Hermione was the first to concede with a small smile. "Malfoy has got a point, Potter. Who
would make up something that stupid? That would be the worst cover story in the history of the
universe."

Malfoy scowled at this abuse of his lying skills, but Ron elbowed him. "This is supposed to
be the truth, remember?" he hissed out of the side of his mouth. Malfoy changed his
expression.

"Okay, okay, but all four of them are bloody mad if you asked me, " laughed Harry.

Hermione grinned. "Now Harry's got a point, Malfoy."

"The only point that Potter's got is on the top of his head, " scoffed Draco.

Everyone chuckled a little, but Hermione remained stern. "Well, you're all quite lucky
that the Ministry wasn't all over you like Mad-Eye Moody on a Death Eater, " she scolded,
"Throwing hexes around in the middle of a Muggle sidewalk."

"Aw, come on Granger, " smirked Malfoy, tossing a casual arm across her shoulders,
"We weren't in the middle of the sidewalk, exactly. We were mostly covered by that
shrub."

Hermione laughed and stared up at Draco in a bemused way, which, it should be noted, Harry found
extremely annoying.

It should seem miraculous that Hannah, the Hufflepuff git, stayed silent throughout this, but
she was trying to avoid calling too much attention to herself. After all, she had been palling
around with "Ethan", and how would that look to Harry? She was supposed to be catching
Harry in some scandalous affair, not vice-versa.

"Ethan", or Ernie, as Ron and Draco had managed to glimpse before he applied more
Glamour Charms, was also hovering carefully in the background. If Harry Potter found out about
Hannah's true identity before they had some dirt on him, that would mean the end of Ernie's
career, and he knew it. Digging up gossip on the Savior of the wizarding world was like a ticking
time bomb, and it could blow up in his face at any time. His only hope was that he had set up
everything sufficiently enough that Hannah would be taking the fall if this scheme backfired.

The truth of the situation had been that Ron and Draco had been carefully tailing Hannah and
Ethan when they realized that the two Hufflepuff idiots were, in fact, tailing someone of their
own...Harry. Luckily enough, Draco had indeed tried to sneak up on Hannah to distract her long
enough for her to lose Harry's trail, but she heard him and threw a hex.

The rest was a bit of a blur, but consisted of several well-placed Bat-Bogey hexes and a rather
disgusting curse that gave Hannah oozing boils in a rather, um, delicate area. Ron could scarcely
hold in his laughter as he watched the nasty woman shift around awkwardly.

In the end, perhaps the only good that came out of the episode was the things it prevented from
happening. It prevented Ron and Draco from revealing their knowledge to Hannah, which meant that,
for now, they had the upper hand. It prevented Hannah from accidentally exposing herself and
bringing things to a messy conclusion, as she undoubtedly would have eventually. Who in their right
mind attempts to tail an Auror? The only thing that had saved her thus far was that Harry had been
so distracted with Hermione, he probably wouldn't have noticed if Voldemort himself rose from
the dead (again)...which brings us to perhaps the most important thing of all...it prevented anyone
from seeing the almost kiss between the two Gryffindors.

Now, as everyone struggled with their own thoughts, there was a momentary silence. Sadly, like
all good things, it came to an end all too soon, especially for one particular green-eyed
Gryffindor Auror, because Hannah is the one that chose to break the aforementioned silence.

"Harry-Bear, maybe you should walk me home," she cooed.

Potter's brow furrowed. "Your flat is halfway across town." He paused for a
moment. "In fact, what in the name of Dumbledore were you doing over here anyhow?"

Ron and Malfoy smirked. How was the human wasteland known as Hannah going to talk her way out of
this one?

"Well, ah, you see,"stammered the blonde, "Ethan wanted to take in the city, and
I, being the ever-polite host, thought I would show him around."

The tall, dark wizard processed this information as Hermione, Ron, Draco, and yes, even Ethan,
rolled their eyes.

"Well then, Anna, wouldn't it be fair for Ethan to escort you back home then? If
you're too tired to walk home, then find a safe place to Apparate or hail a cab."

Harry's friend stared at him in shock, and Ethan frowned angrily at Hannah. Hadn't she
told him that she had Potter wrapped around her finger? This didn't seem very accurate to
him...in fact, he was starting to wonder why the guy was even going to marry her. Personally, Ethan
thought Hannah was acting like a twit. And coming from a Hufflepuff, that's saying
something.

Hermione couldn't help smiling, thinking, 'There is the Harry Potter that I know. Look
who finally got a clue about Little Miss Barbie-Bride- Wannabe over there.'

"But, darling, "protested Hannah.

Harry ignored her. "Ron, Malfoy, I dunno if you guys are on a date or what, but if so, then
have a nice shag."

"Go to hell, Potter, " mumbled Malfoy.

"You first, " retorted Harry, grinning. He turned to Ethan and shook his hand
solemnly. "Ethan, nice to see you again. Please see that my fia-- please see that Hannah gets
home safely."

Finally, Harry turned back to Hermione. " Now, if you all don't mind, Miss Granger and
I have plans. Come on, doll." And with that, he took her arm and waltzed carelessly away.

As an astonished Hannah and Ethan looked on in wonder, Draco Malfoy was sure that he had never
had so much respect for Harry Potter.

Not that the whole defeating Voldemort thing hadn't been cool, too.

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Harry and Hermione walked along quietly until the witch finally spoke.

"That was quite a speech, Potter," she began cautiously, not sure if she was ready to
broach the subject that was really on her mind...the Almost Kiss, with capital letters, as it was
now known in her head.

Harry shrugged. "It was nothing."

Hermione stopped and met his eyes carefully. "Was it, Harry?" she whispered. "Was
it nothing?"

Harry swallowed thickly as they continued walking.

"What is it that we're talking about exactly, Hermione?"

"If you don't know, Harry, then you're a hell of a lot stupider than you
look."

"And that's really saying something, right, doll?" joked Harry.

"You're avoiding the subject."

"Yes, I am avoiding it just now, and if you don't mind, I'd like to avoid it a
little longer."

"But I do mind, Harry," said Hermione gently. "We can't avoid it
forever."

"Says who?" shot back Harry..

"Says me, Potter!" snapped the woman angrily.

Harry sighed. "Okay. Okay. You win. But not here. We need somewhere private...let's go
to your place."

"My place it is. Should we hail a cab?"

"Are you a bloody witch or not?"

"Boy, are you ever grumpy when you're avoiding confrontation."

"It makes me hungry," whined Harry.

"Oh, shut up, I'll order a pizza. Now let's get out of here."

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Meanwhile,Hannah tossed and turned in her bed. She was losing sleep over a story, and she
didn't like that feeling one little bit. Frustrated, she sat up and flicked on a lamp.

Ernie had taken her home and then he had left for his hotel room, but not before leaving her
with a warning that she had better get something on Potter before the end of the week. The more
that she thought about it, the more that she realized she was in way over her head.

Harry Potter was just too perfect, and there was no way around that. He was loyal to a fault,
and it wouldn't matter if he was in love with anyone, if he made a promise to her then he was
going to keep it.

"Which could be just the thing that saves me," Hannah mused aloud. And the more that
she thought about it, the more sense that it made to her.

She was young, and stuck in a dead-end job, when all she really wanted to do was write romance
novels for a living. She had no boyfriend of her own, and even her own family thought that she was
really in love with Harry Potter. They might disown her when they found out he was just another
tabloid story. Her family didn't believe in hurting innocent people.

"But," she reflected, "If I really marry him, what have I got to lose, besides my
job? Then I have myself married to a rich, handsome, powerful wizard. He'll never cheat on me,
he's too loyal, and he'll never divorce me, he's too chivalrous. I could live in luxury
and write all day long...he could use his connections to get my stories published. He's even
gorgeous, so the physical aspect might not be so bad either..." Hannah trailed off,
plotting.

All in all, it sounded like the perfect plan. The only person that knew the true nature of her
original plot was Ernie, and he didn't have any proof. She could spend the rest of her life as
Mrs. Harry Potter.

Hannah smiled. She was going to marry him, and there wasn't a single thing anyone could do
about it.

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The two friends found a dark doorway to Apparate. As soon as they reached Hermione's flat,
she phoned for a pizza and began brewing some tea. As they settled down at the table, she produced
a bag of M&Ms and poured them into a bowl. Harry watched in fascination as she picked out all
the brown ones and ate them, leaving the other colors in the dish.

"What are you doing, Hermione?"

She smiled. "I only eat the brown ones," she said as she chewed thoughtfully on a
piece, "Because I figure they have less artificial coloring, 'cause chocolate is already
brown!"

Harry stared at her with a look that warmed her from the tips of her toes to the ends of her
hair.

"How very scientific of you, Miss Granger," he murmured tenderly.

The silence then settled in, cloaking them both from the tough conversation ahead. Now that they
were here, neither of them knew what to say.

"Harry," whispered Hermione finally, "What is going on between us?"

"I-I'm not sure?"

"Was that a question?" asked the witch, pulling distractedly on a curl.

"Yes. No. I don't know!"

"I..Harry, I...There is something I have to tell you," Hermione choked out, cursing
her throat for picking this moment to go dry.

Harry bit his lip. Her eyes were shining in a way he had never seen before...she was practically
glowing, and suddenly he was terrified. This strong, powerful Auror who had defeated more than a
dozen Death Eaters was terrified of the tiny witch before him. And he wasn't sure what she was
going to say, but he wanted to get out before she said it. Because whatever it was, good or bad, he
was certain it would change their friendship forever.

He couldn't lose her. He couldn't let her say anything that might destroy their
friendship.

Harry hopped out of his seat. "I--I have to go," he stuttered.

Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry. No," she reiterated firmly. "Not this time.
You are going to listen to me." She stood and placed her hands gently on his face.

"Harry," she began.

"I really have to go, Mione," pleaded Harry. "I--"

Hermione continued shaking her head. "No, Harry. What you have to do is listen to me. You
can't marry Hannah, Harry."

Harry pulled away from Hermione's reach and looked as though he was ready to bolt for the
door.

"We'll talk about Hannah later, doll, she's just been acting a little strange
lately, and I have a lot of thinking and re-evaluation to do, but that's got nothing to do with
you, you and I can--"

"That's got everything to do with me, Harry!" shrieked Hermione. "Now listen
to me, Harry. Listen."

"I can't," Harry growled in despair, "I just can't!" He started
walking to the door, but Hermione stalked angrily in front of him.

"Stop being such a...such a...such a big baby!" Hermione spat out finally.

"I'm afraid," admitted Harry softly. "I don't want to hear what you have
to say."

"Merlin, you daft wanker, I'm trying to tell you that I'm in love with you!"
And with that, Hermione grabbed his face and kissed him hard on the mouth.

It wasn't the most romantic of kisses, certainly not-- but man, did it ever get
Hermione's point across. The force of that kiss hit Potter directly in the stomach.

"I-uh-I-uh..." he mumbled. "I have to go, " he finished weakly. And he
slipped out the door, leaving a thoroughly broken-hearted Hermione behind.

Now this is the part of the story where dramatic irony comes in to play. Dramatic irony, as used
here, is when the audience (that's you, readers) know something that the characters don't
know...and how this misunderstanding drives the story forward, usually in a very complicated series
of events that would be much simpler if the characters only knew what we do.

It is my sad duty as the author to inform you that Harry Potter was running off to break up with
his fiancee so that he could propose to the women he really loved, and now knew loved him. Now,
normally this would not be so sad, but Hermione had misunderstood his abrupt exit as a signal that
he did not love her back.

And now, my dear readers, you will see that this is a horrific turn of dramatic irony, because
this is what Hermione did next.

She picked up the phone.

She dialed.

Someone on the other end picked up.

And into the receiver, she said, "Draco, it's me. Come quickly--I need you."

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Author's Notes: My description of dramatic irony is an idea borrowed from Lemony
Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, a series of books I thoroughly recommend and adore. I
love talking directly to the readers as a comic and dramatic device, and therefore felt it was
appropriate in this chapter.



12. Silly Putty and Other Malfoy Philosophies
---------------------------------------------

Author's Notes: Thanks for the response on the last chapter...I really had fun writing this
one, and as always, Malfoy kind of stole the spotlight. I bloody love him.

Chapter Twelve-- Silly Putty and Other Brilliant Malfoy Philosophies

Harry Potter felt as though he were flying. He was running as fast as he could down the stairs
of Hermione's apartment, and the only way he could have been moving any faster was if his
Firebolt had magically shown up and given him a ride.

"She loves me!" he cried to an empty street, while flapping his arms frantically to
hail a cab. "She loves me!!! Bloody hell, I need a ride, I can't Apparate like this. Cab!
Oh, damn, c'mon, uh..." Harry racked his brain as he scanned the deserted road. Suddenly,
a brilliantly ludicrous thought occurred to him. "Accio Taxi!" he muttered under his
breath.

There was about a half a second delay while Harry wondered if it had worked.

Thirty seconds after that, he was tucked safely in the back of a shiny black car, leaving behind
the chaos that was a dozen vehicles that had been summoned into a fire hydrant, a lamppost, a
street sign, a fence, a dog, a manhole, a ditch, a storefront, an old woman, a display of fruit, a
news stand and a manure truck, respectively.

Between the smell and the water, Harry managed to slip away unnoticed into the one undamaged
car.

"I wonder if I should leave them a note, " he mused as his cab pulled away.

Harry Potter had never been happier. And in an hour or so, everything would be as it should be
in his life, for the first time ever.

At least, that's what he thought.

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Draco took a deep breath and knocked on Hermione's door, willing his heart to slow down.

"I will be strong, " he told himself firmly. "I will play the friend role, and I
will take care of her, and then I will get out. Hear me, Malfoy? Don't be a jackass and screw
anything up between her and Harry, you know she loves him...unless he doesn't love her, in
which case that would be fair game, and..." he shook his head emphatically, as if to clear
it.

"Look at this! I'm such a fruit-loop, I'm already trying torationalize things that
haven't happened yet! Get it together, Malfoy!"

Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Draco, Hermione answered the door, looking...well,
looking as though she had just spent an hour wrestling awilde-beast.

"Granger, " Malfoy greeted shortly. "You look like twenty-seven miles of bad
road.And I mean really bad, with potholes, and bumps, and those uneven traffic lines that are so
bloody irritating, and--"

"I get it, mate," sighed Hermione wearily. "Will you just come inside and try to
pretend you know how to be a sensitive male?"

Draco crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. "I'll try, Granger, but
I'm warning you now, if you think I'm going to watch Bridget Jones and talk about Colin
Firth's arse, you're as delusional as Gilderoy Lockhart."

Hermione threw herself on the couch as Malfoy took the arm chair farthest away from her. She sat
up and gave him a pitiful look.

"Why are you way over there? I'm going through a mental breakdown and I need a shoulder
to cry on."

"This old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be, Granger, " replied Draco
smoothly. "These shoulders are closed for business, so you better take what you can get, which
is an ear. Start talking."

"They're big enough," mumbled Hermione crossly.

The Slytherin prince raised a customary eyebrow. "Watch it, Gryffindor. Your teeth may have
been shrunk but your mouth is as big as ever. I might have to hex you."

"Like you did to Hannah?" Hermione asked a tad too casually.

Draco smiled ruefully. "I knew you didn't buy that crap, Granger.I'll explain some
other time. Right now, just tell me what you dragged me out of bed for."

"Harry."

"Duh," retorted Malfoy sarcastically. Somehow, even the basest of insults came across
eloquently in the man's silky tones.

"I told him, Drake," whispered Hermione pathetically. "I told him, and I snogged
him, and...he ran out. I mean, it was like he was on fire or something."

"His pants probably were."

"Oh, shut it, Malfoy, you know what I mean. He acted like he was absolutely repulsed by me
or something. It's because I'm ugly, isn't it?"

"Self deprecation doesn't become you, Granger. You know damn well you're not ugly.
Now if you had said stupid, I might have boughten it, but ugly? Not a chance."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "Stupid, huh?"

"Oh, absolutely," nodded Malfoy solemnly, "I mean, you're practically an
idiot savant."

Hermione still had the trace of a smile on her face, but she remained silent.

Draco sighed. "Listen, Mione. It's not easy to find out that someone you thought was
your friend is really the love of your life. Potter might be having a hard time adjusting. It's
like having a dream come true, and sometimes it is hard to believe that it's real. He'll
come around."

"And--and if he doesn't?" The witch bit her lip.

"Not possible."

"Drake," pleaded Hermione, "And if he doesn't?"

"Then you'll reshape your heart and move on. Contrary to popular belief, Granger, the
human heart isn't made of glass. It's more like silly putty. Sometimes it gets stretched
out or misshapen or spotted with dirt, but if you give it enough time, it will go back to it's
original shape. It's just that sometimes you have to get your hands a little sticky to do
that."

The brunette shook her head. "I dunno if I can go through this anymore. Maybe I should just
cut my losses and get over it."

Malfoy got up and poured two drinks, handing one to Hermione and seating himself beside her.

"Do you really want to let him go?"

"I don't think I have a choice."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "You always have a choice, Granger."

Hermione stared at him intensely for a moment. "You're right, Drake," she said in
a dazed voice. "Maybe I made the wrong one to begin with...maybe I can fix it now..." And
she learned forward and pressed her lips against his.

It took all of Draco Malfoy's self control to push her gently away. She had already been
seemingly rejected once tonight, but it wouldn't be right to let her convince herself that he
was the one she should be with. Because in his heart of hearts, Draco knew that he wasn't. And
God, how he hated that knowledge.

"Hermione," he said with his usual glib humor, "I can permit you to call me
Drake, because you're upset, and I can let you cry and talk, and hell, I'll even take back
what I said earlier and discuss Colin Firth's arse with you. But I CANNOT, under any
circumstances, allow you to put your lips all over my delectable body, because I'm sorry to
say, I'm on my period. Perhaps next time you have a mental breakdown, if I'm not afraid of
getting pregnant or something."

Hermione Granger laughed harder than she ever had in her entire life. Malfoy's typical
sarcasm and irritating manner had brought her back to herself.

"You're right, Malfoy, you're right. I mean, what would our kids look like?"
she gave a fake shudder.

"Probably sexy as hell if they took after their dad."

This gave Hermione another good laugh.

"So is this working?" asked Draco in an unusually candid moment. "Is the laughing
making your head clearer?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, thank you. And...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I dismiss your
feelings for me and call you whenever I'm having a self-esteem issue. It's
unfair."

"No, no, it's not. That's what friends are for, Granger. And I will always, always
be your friend. I love you too much not to be."

"I love you too, Drake. And if there wasn't a Harry..." the witch trailed off
thoughtfully.

"But there is a Harry," Draco reminded her as he stood up. "And you belong with
him. Now get some rest, and call him in the morning.Let me know if you need anything."

Hermione stood up as well. "I need a hug," she admitted.

Malfoy hugged her tightly and went to the door, pausing.

"And Granger," he added, "It wouldn't hurt if you slutted yourself up a
bit."

Hermione threw a decorative pillow at his retreating back.

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Hannah answered her door with a bright smile.

"Harry," she grinned. "What are you ding here? I thought you were spending time
with Hermione?"

Harry met her eyes. "I need to talk to you."

Hannah furrowed her brow. "I need to talk to you, too."

Harry stepped inside and into Hannah's kitchen, seating himself at her table. She sat across
from him.

"Hannah," he began, and then stopped. "You first."

She shuffled her feet and wiggled in her chair. "You're not going to like this,"
she confessed, "But I can't lie to you. I just hope that you'll find it in your heart
to forgive me."

"I'm listening."

Hannah took a deep breath. "I'm not an Ancient Runes professor...well, I am , it was my
major in college, but...that's not what I do for a living. I'm a tabloid
reporter."

Harry's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

"You were supposed to be my first big story. I was supposed to get close to you and find
some secret out about you; anything, really. I told my family I wanted to follow you to Albania
because I had a crush on you, and then...I don't know, I guess the easiest way to get near you
seemed to be to date you. The only girl I had ever seen you hang around was Hermione Granger, so I
tried to act like her, especially when we got back here and I could pick her brain. It's
just...it's just that I didn't count on falling for you, Harry. I care for you, I love you,
and... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you."

Harry stared at her in disbelief, unable to process what he was hearing. Hannah continued
talking.

"It wasn't all pretend, Harry. I mean, I really hate being called Anna-Banana, and I
can't stand acting like a ditz, but...I really do love Quidditch, and moose tracks ice cream,
and spending time with you. You make me feel like a real person, Harry, something I haven't had
in a long time. I know that you could never marry me now, but I was hoping that maybe...maybe you
would still want to see me? Get to know me?"

Harry was on overload, and wasn't sure what to do. Sincerity was radiating off the
Hufflepuff, and for the first time in many weeks, Harry caught a glimpse of the woman he had fallen
in love with. But, what about Hermione? He loved her. He had always loved her. How was he going to
tell Hannah that? Although she had lied to him, he cared about her, and he didn't want to break
her heart.

"Hannah, I'm--" the wizard's words were cut off by his mobile ringing.
"Bloody hell, hold on," he said, answering it crossly.

"Hello?"

"Harry?" came a tentative voice.

His voice softened. "Hermione?"

"Yeah, it's me. Are you busy?"

"I'm with Hannah right now, and-"

"Oh." Hermione felt her heart stretching out of shape, as Draco called it. She had to
make a decision. Malfoy had been wrong. Harry wasn't going to come around, he was with his
fiancee right now, probably explaining what a nutter his best mate was. And she knew that she
couldn't lose him.

"Listen, doll, about earlier--"

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that," she interrupted. "I was just messing
with you, you know? A pre-wedding joke and all. Hope you didn't take it too seriously or
anything."

Harry felt his heart plummet."Oh, no no, of course not. You--in love with me? That's a
good one." He gave a fake chuckle.

"A good one, yeah. So, um. I just wanted to let you know that, I mean, I know that you know
that there was a little tension between us tonight, and I just uh, well I wanted you to know that I
know that you know that it was just a weird night and all, and uh, that I know that you didn't
really mean it, you're just all romantic about your wedding and all. So I know what you're
feeling, and uh, I know that you knowthat I know that it was all just a little midnight
nostalgia...you know?"

"Sure?"

"Great," sighed the woman. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to be a bit
busy, and maybe we can do some of the planning via email for the next couple of weeks?"

"Okay, I guess so," replied the Auror reluctantly. "If you want."

"I appreciate you being so flexible, because we're friends at all, even though
technically I'm working for you."

"Hermione," protested Harry, "You know I don't think of it that way at all.
You're doing me a favor--"

"I know, I know. Anyway, also make sure you talk to Ginny about Hannah's shower, and
I'll help her through some emails, too, give her some coaching and whatnot. Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah," he said sadly.

"Give Hannah my best. Good-night."

"Night."

Harry turned back to Hannah, who was staring at him anxiously.

"Okay," he said resignedly. "Okay, Hannah. I forgive you."

"And you'll--you still want to see me sometimes?" she asked nervously.

"No," he said firmly. "No--I don't want to do this halfway. The worst is out
of the way, the secrets, the temptation for betrayal. I still want to marry you."

"Oh, Harry," Hannah threw her arms around him. She knew he was loyal, but she never
expected him to take the truth like this. What a piece of pumpkin pasty.

Harry hugged her back. Oh, Harry indeed. If he couldn't have Hermione, then he might as well
marry someone who loved him. And if Hannah was willing to give up her career and everything she had
previously held dear--well, then, what did a few original lies matter?

He hoped he knew what he was doing.



13. A Peck of Electronic Owls
-----------------------------

Author's Notes: This chapter is all in email, and yes, I do believe that someday Wizards
will have their own version of email. I know it's a little different than usual, but it's
still got my own special flavor to it, as always. I had a TON of fun writing this chapter, so I
hope you like it.

Chapter Thirteen-- A Peck of Electronic Owls

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

Subject: Why Are You in the Office?

Granger~

You're in the office. Why are you in the office today, Granger? You should be at home,
snogging Potter. You did call him, didn't you? Tell me you called him, Granger.

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To:theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

From: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject:Re:Why Are You in the Office?

Malfoy--

Why am in the office? Why AM I IN THE OFFICE,HE ASKS?

Because I'm planning a sodding wedding.

I did call. He was with Hannah. I lied. I shall now die hopeless and alone. Have a nice
lunch.

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

Subject: Silly Putty

Silly putty, Granger. Remember the Silly Putty.

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To:theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

From: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Shove Your Putty Where The Sun Don't Shine

Malfoy--

Do you remember that bloody Silly Putty comes in eggs? EGGS, Malfoy. Eggs are breakable. And
I've got egg on my face for sure. So no more stupid metaphors, kay?

--Mione

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

Subject: The Stick

Granger~

Try the stick. And those are PLASTIC eggs, dumbass.

~Draco

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To:theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

From: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Re: The Stick

Malfoy--

Stick? What stick?

--Mione

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

Subject: Stick Removal

Granger~

The one shoved up your arse. And why did you lie to him? What good did that do?

~Draco

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To:theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

From: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: I Hate You

Malfoy--

I hate you. And for your information, my lying saved our friendship. Good thing I think quick on
my feet.

--Mione

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

Subject: Ah, Good Thing You Explained That

Granger~

Ah, you see, it's a good thing you explained that, because I thought you were just being a
bloody coward by lying to him. My mistake.

Your humble servant,

Draco Malfoy

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To:theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

From: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Did I Mention...

That I Hate You????!!!!!!!!!!

Humble Servant my ass.

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: theslytherinprince@ministry.gov

Subject: There's No Need...

To bring Your Ass into this. It has enough problems of its own.

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: Alright?

Mione,

Um, hope you're okay. It's been a whole day and I haven't heard from. Everything
okay?

Harry

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To: scarhead07@ministry.gov

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Re: Alright?

Harry--

Everything is brilliant. I just found those lovely silk tents for your wedding.

--Mione

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: Not Really What I Meant

Mione,

That isn't really what I meant. Are you still mad about what happened the other night?

Harry

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To: scarhead07@ministry.gov

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Re:Not Really What I Meant

Harry--

Nothing happened. I thought we discussed this?

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: Um

Then why are you acting so weird?

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To: scarhead07@ministry.gov

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Speaking of Weird...

How do you feel about me booking the Weird Sisters for your reception?

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: Now I know...

That you are being strange. Hermione, the Weird Sisters broke up five years ago. What is going
on with you? Are you sick?

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To: scarhead07@ministry.org

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: My Mistake

No, no, not ill. My mistake. I knew the Weird Sisters broke up.

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: You sure?

Are you sure?

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To: scarhead07@ministry.gov

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Of course

OF COURSE I'm sure, Harry. I knew that. I really did. Now, did Hannah want me to get those
special pearls, or was she going to wear her mother's after all?

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: Pearls? PEARLS???

I'm trying to make sure our friendship is in tact and you want to just talk to me about
PEARLS?

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To: scarhead07@ministry.gov

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Don't Be Silly

Don't be silly, Potter. I need to talk to you about table linens, too.

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: Daft

Hermione Jane, you're being a DAFT COW. What is wrong with you????

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To: scarhead07@ministry.gov

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Re:Daft

Don't get testy, Potter. We can always talk about your tuxedo instead. Madam Malkin says you
would look splendid in black with an emerald green tie.

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

DAFT COW! DAFT COW! DAFT COW!!!!! Why are you doing this to me? Of all the fucked up, mental
game playing stupid arse..............................

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To: scarhead07@ministry.gov

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Wow

Well, gee, Harry, if you're going to talk to women like that, I'm amazed that you found
anyone to marry you. Watch your language.

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!(Cont')

.....idiotic, annoying, unstable, worst liars in the world, Hermione! TELL ME WHAT IS REALLY
GOING ON.

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To: scarhead07@ministry.gov

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: I Already...

I already told you what was going on Harry. It was a joke. Ask Hannah if she wants champagne or
wine at the reception. Or both. We could always do both.

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To: bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: scarhead07@ministry.gov

Subject: Both

Just do both. Just go ahead and do both. And while you're at it, if you see my best mate,
the REAL Hermione Granger, and she wants to talk about whatever is bothering her, let me know.

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To:scarhead07@ministry.org

From: ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

Subject: Did You Really...

Call Hermione a Daft Cow? She sounded pretty upset on the phone to me. What is going on,
mate?

Ron

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To:ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

From: scarhead07@ministry.org

Subject: I Did

Ron,

I did, I really did. But she's acting ridiculous. I just said that to get a rise out of her,
but she didn't even blink.

Harry

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To:scarhead07@ministry.org

From: ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

Subject: Blinking

How can you tell if she blinked?

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To:ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

From: scarhead07@ministry.org

Subject: An Expression

It's just an expression, Ron. It means she acted like she didn't even care at all. Just
kept talking about the wedding.

And what happened, mate, is that Mione and I almost kissed.

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To:scarhead07@ministry.org

From: ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

Subject: BLOODY HELL!

You waited through two emails to tell me that?? Harry, that's great. Why are you guys
fighting?

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To:ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

From: scarhead07@ministry.org

Subject: Love

We're fighting because I'm in love with her and she SAID she was in love with me, but
when I ran out to break up with Hannah, she called and said she was just joking.

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To:scarhead07@ministry.org

From: ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

Subject: BLOODY HELL! (Again)

Wait, wait, wait. She tells you she loves you and you run out? Please tell me you TOLD her you
were going to break up with Hannah. Tell me, Harry.

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To:ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

From: scarhead07@ministry.org

Subject: Um...

Not exactly. Well, in truth...no. It doesn't matter, she doesn't love me. I'm going
to marry Hannah and make the best of it.

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To:scarhead07@ministry.org

From: ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

Subject: No Way...

...am I going to let you marry that tart. She's a SPY, Harry. A REPORTER...Malfoy and I just
found out, and we wanted you to make your own decision but....SHE'S A TROLLOP,MATE, YOU
CAN'T MARRY HER!

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To:ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

From: scarhead07@ministry.org

Subject: Yes Way

Hannah already told me. She's quitting her job because she really loves me.

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To:scarhead07@ministry.org

From: ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

Subject: No She Doesn't

Hermione does though. She told me she loves you, Harry. She thinks you don't love her.
Merlin, I'm dumber than either of you usually, but youguys are acting ridiculous. Just tell her
how you feel.This is like a sodding circus.

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To:ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

From: scarhead07@ministry.org

Subject: Well...

If this is a circus, then bring on the liontamers. I AM NOT TELLING HER. I'll look like a
prat and I'll probably lose her forever.

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To:scarhead07@ministry.org

From: ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

Subject: Idiot

Harry, you're being an idiot. Do the two of you think your friendship is so fragile that it
won't withstand something so little as one of you being in love with the other? You're an
arse, especially since you BOTH love each other.

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To:ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

From: scarhead07@ministry.org

Subject: What Am I Gonna DO?

This is hopeless.

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To:theslytherinprince@ministry.gov, ginevraweasley@thedailyprophet.com, nevillelongbottom
@Herbologyrocks.org, loonylovegood@theQuibbler.com

From:ChudleyCannonsRule@QuidditchLeague.org

Subject: EMERGENCY

Guys, we gotta act fast. We need a brilliant plan, or Harry and Hermione are going to ruin their
lives and annoy us to death in the process. Meet me tonight at Luna and Neville's flat at about
7. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Bring all your best ideas, some medical supplies, sedatives, and if need
be, gunnysacks. If all else fails, we will drug them and lock them in a room together.

But I really don't want it to come to that. SO THINK OF A PLAN!

Ron

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To:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

From: studpuppy@loveshack.com

Subject: Colin Firth's Arse

Colin Firth's arse is a piece of art, don't you think?

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To:studpuppy@loveshack.com

From:bookworm4primeminister@ministry.gov

Subject: Nice Try

Sod off, Malfoy.



14. Bloody Hell ( Malfoy plots, Harry gets a lesson, and Hermion
----------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Sorry so short. This is a transition chapter. I had fun putting in Mara Jade, in honor of
my Star Wars obsession. I needed a character, just sort of stuck her name on it. In her honor, I
put in a ton of veiled and not-so-veiled Starw Wars quotes and references. See if you can name them
all.

Chapter Fourteen-- Bloody Hell ( Malfoy plots, Harry gets a lesson, and Hermione doodles)

The emergency meeting turned out to be a little less 'meeting' and a little more
'emergency'.

Draco was the last one to arrive, and as he pulled off his tunic, he immediately registered the
chaos coming from the living room.

As he entered, Malfoy found Ginny and Ron screaming at each other, while Luna was looking
unusually alert and Neville was banging a cup against the coffee table, trying to calm the Weasleys
down.

"What in the name of the Good Ship Lollipop is going on around here?" demanded Draco,
immediately taking control of the situation.

Everyone abruptly stopped what they were doing and faced him. Nobody spoke.

Draco raised an aristocratic eyebrow and lowered his voice to a deadly whisper.
"Perhaps," he said quietly, "You did not hear me. I want to know what in the name of
Yoda is happening."

"We're frustrated about Harry and Hermione, and we're taking it out on each
other," explained Luna.

The Slytherin stared at her with new eyes. "What an articulate response," he nodded
thoughtfully. "That sounds quite accurate. Now do you guys want to waste time, or do you want
to help our friends?"

"We want to help," the four others chorused.

"Good.Let's get down to business. Don't just sit there. We have to do
something!"

"What?" cried Neville desperately.

"Anything!" ordered Malfoy.

"Um, Malfoy?" spoke up Ron tentatively. Malfoy may have been on their side for a long
time now, but sometimes, he showed just how formidable he truly was. Ron didn't want to risk
setting him off.

"Dragonbreath?"

Ron gave an unconscious sigh of relief. Malfoy obviously was back to his usual sarcastic
self.

"Please tell me you have a plan."

"Bloody hell, must I do everything? What if I just showed up and said I expected you to
have a plan? What would you say?"

"I would say we're doomed," spoke up Luna cheerfully and Ron glared at her as
Ginny giggled.

Draco gave a theatrical sigh. "Lucky for you, I always come prepared. Especially when I
realize that I'll be working with daft gits."

"Hey, I prefer dumb prat," replied Neville indignantly. Everyone laughed.

"I'll just grab some drinks," offered Luna hospitably.

"Good, we're going to need caffeine, especially if I'm supposed to get
Weasley's brain stimulated out of its permanent coma-like state," drawled Draco.

"Hey!" protested Ron and Ginny at the same time.

"I wasn't talking about you, Weaselette," smiled the wizard. "Actually,
you're rather bright, occasionally. When you aren't acting like a ditz."

Ginny blushed in spite of herself. "Yeah well, you're alright, occasionally. When you
aren't acting like a scoundrel."

"Oh, scoundrel," echoed Draco delightedly. "I like the sound of that."

Luna returned from the kitchen with a tray, tripped over Ron's giant feet, fell into
Ginny's lap, and spilled coffee all over Draco.

"Well," said Malfoy smoothly,wiping coffee from his brow, "If this week's
installment of Laurel and Hardy is over, I suggest we get this little plot off the
ground."

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Hermione sat crouched over her desk, doodling idly on a spare piece of parchment. It was late,
much later than usual, but she just didn't want to face her empty apartment. She didn't
feel like doing any work, though. So she just continued her scratchings.

To her right was a stack of owls that needed to be sent. Beautiful white scrolls tied with deep
green ribbons.

Specifically, wedding invitations.

More specifically, Harry's wedding invitations.

Even more specifically, Harry and Hannah's wedding invitations.

She should have sent them weeks ago, she knew. But something always stopped her.

Hermione peered down at the name she had begun unconsciously writing.

Harry. Yep, there was the reason right there.

There was a light knock on the door, and Hermione glanced up to see a woman with pretty red-gold
hair staring in the frame.

"Still here, Granger?"

"I'm swamped with the Potter wedding."

The redhead frowned. "You know, it's funny..."she trailed off, looking
hesitant.

"What is?"

The tall woman straightened and stared her in the eye. "I always thought the two of you
would end up together. He's obviously nuts about you." She shrugged. "Good-night,
Granger."

"Good-night, Mara," replied Hermione absently.

He's obviously nuts about you...

Could it be?

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Harry paced around his office. She was two floors above him, he knew.

He knew because he'd walked past there a dozen times, and always saw a light on.

He wanted to go see her. He needed to see her.He needed to know what was wrong with her.

Hell, he needed to know what was wrong with himself.

Harry paused, running a typically frustrated hand through his hair.

Someone knocked on his door and opened it slightly, peeking a red head inside.

"Hey, Potter," she said companionably. "You going home yet?"

"I'm...I'm..." Harry fumbled for words.

"You're getting married, I hear,"cut in Mara.

"I am, " Harry affirmed.

"Maybe that's why you're pacing around in here," suggested Mara bluntly.

"How did you know that?" Harry asked amazedly.

The woman pointed to the tracks he had worn into the carpet.

Harry appeared sheepish. "Oh."

"You know, Potter, "continued Mara conversationally, "I often wonder how
intelligent men can be so oblivious. You don't have a clue, do you?"

"Huh?"

"Smooth, Potter, smooth. Do a quick mind exercise with me, will you? Close your
eyes."

Harry hesitated.

"C'mon, Potter, it's not as though I'm going to hex you when you're eyes
are closed. Though I'd like to. Now close them," Mara urged him impatiently.

He obeyed.

"Now, picture the face of someone you're always happy to hear from. Don't tell me,
just picture them. Picture a person that makes you smile most. Picture the one who is always there
for you. Picture a person that you would sacrifice your life for. Picture a person that cares more
about your well-being than their own. Picture someone who stands up for you no matter what. Are you
picturing all these people?"

Harry nodded. It was easy. They were all the same. Somehow he sensed Mara knew this.

"Good. Now, keep picturing those people, and we're going to play a quick word game. I
say a word, and you reply with whatever pops in your head. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Broom."

"Quidditch."

"Hogwarts."

"Home."

"Wizard."

"Dumbledore."

"Millennium."

"Falcon."

"Happiness."

"Hermione."

"Tenderness."

"Hermione."

"Love."

"Hermione."

"Brown."

"Hermione"

"Home."

"Hermione."

"Marriage."

"Hermione."

Mara stopped her rapid-fire words and allowed Harry a moment to absorb what he had just said. He
opened his eyes and stared at her bewilderedly. He was in big trouble.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

"That's funny, Potter," grinned Mara, "I've got a good feeling about
this. Talk to Hermione. Good-night, Potter."

Harry stood stupidly in the middle of his office. An acquaintance, a mere acquaintance, had made
him take a close look at his own heart.

And he was still looking.

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"How in the name of Skywalker are we going to do this?" moaned Ron. "Harry is
never going to believe that Hermione is marrying you, Malfoy, you dunderhead."

"This ain't like dusting crops, Weaselbee. I've given this a lot of precise
calculation. Don't you remember his reaction at the karaoke bar? He'll buy it."

"Even Harry's not that daft," insisted Ron.

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny jumped in. "Ron, listen to what you're
saying. Harry was daft enough to think he'd fallen in love with someone he just met. He was
daft enough to get engaged and ask Hermione to plan the wedding. He was daft enough not to believe
Hermione loved him. He was daft enough to forgive Hannah and agree to marry her despite the obvious
fact that she's a trampy little gold-digger. And he was daft enough to call an angry woman a
daft cow repeatedly, even if it was only in email."

"That's all true, " nodded Luna.

"At this point, it seems like a miracle that Harry's not daft enough just to throw
himself under the Knight Bus. So if your best argument against this plan is 'Harry's not
that daft', you'd better come up with something else."

"Oh, bloody hell," conceded Ron. "I'm in."

"Okay, so let's review. Ron, you are going to call Harry RIGHT NOW and have him meet us
at the karaoke bar, while Ginny calls Hermione. Check?"

"Check," said Ginny and Ron.

"Neville, when they get there, you are going to distract Harry while I pull Hermione aside
and give her the ring and tell her my fake little story. Check?"

"Check?"

"Was that a question?"

"Oh, no," Neville shook his head. "I meant check."

Draco glared at him but continued on to Luna.

"And Luna, you are going to get Hermione to sing that song while Ron tells Harry that
it's her last message to him, right? I mean, Check?"

"Check," Luna responded dreamily, "But I still maintain that it would be more
effective to lock them both in a room with a Saber-Toothed Mucus Love Plant."

Draco did his best to hide his revulsion. "That sounds disgusting and painful, Luna,"
he said.

"You think that Harry will just flip out when he thinks that Hermione has agreed to marry
you and stop being friends with him?" asked Ginny worriedly.

"Once she sings that song and he realizes that she has only agreed to marry me because she
thinks he doesn't love her--" Malfoy broke off. "He'll buy it," he said
firmly.

"This is risky," Ginny met his gaze evenly. "Very risky."

The Slytherin prince raised another eyebrow. "You got a better idea? Let's hear it,
Your Highness."

"No...no, this is our quickest, best bet. You better make Harry really believe that you
don't want him around Hermione anymore."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Malfoy grinned evilly.

"I'd watch it, Ferretface," frowned Ginny. "Don't push him too hard, or
you'll end up with a broken jaw."

"Hey," scoffed Draco, "It's me."

"Oh, Merlin help us all," moaned Neville.

"That should be our battle cry," laughed Ginny.

"Cool, can we make T-shirts?" asked Ron.

Everyone threw pillows at him.

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Ten minutes later, Hermione's phone rang.

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Two floors below her, Harry's phone rang.

And so it began.

Author's Note: I think I'm a little in love with Malfoy. Dunno where he came from, but
what a hottie.



15. Malfoy Comes Out of the Closet, and Hannah Says Goodbye
-----------------------------------------------------------

A/N: So I pretty much forgot about this story when I happened to come across it and realized I
owed it to myself- and to my readers- to finish, especially since I had the last couple chapters
half-written already. I'll have the final chapters up within in the month. THanks to anybody
who is still reading this story.



Chapter Fifteen: Malfoy Comes Out of the Closet, and Hannah Says Goodbye



"I'm really, really tired, " Hermione grumbled, tidying up her desk as she cradled
the phone between her shoulder and her ear. "And hanging out with Harry seems like the last
thing I want to do tonight."



"Live a little!" Ginny enthused, shoving Malfoy away as he attempted to lean over her
and listen to Hermione's responses. "You've got to deal with Harry at some point. You
might as well have the benefit of friends around." Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "And
lots of pints of ale, " amended Ginny hastily, scowling.



Hermione gave a derisive snort. "Heh, I suppose that's true enough. If you can't
deal with your best mate surrounded by an honor guard of other best mates and while in an
intoxicated state, you're never going to be able to deal with him. Ah, fine. I'm
in."



"That's the spirit!"



"But, " Hermione mumbled, "If this goes south, I'm calling in a favor and
having your editor ship you off to the middle of nowhere for a long undercover story. Got
it?"



"Killjoy."



"Cheeky bitch."



"See you soon!"



As Ginny hung up, Malfoy gave her an appraising look. After a moment of discomfort, Ginny
shifted awkwardly in her seat. "What?"



He shrugged. "You did well, that's all. Fairly casual."



"That surprises you, does it?"



Draco brushed aside a lock of hair from his forehead and grinned. "You're a Weasley,
Gin. Subtlety doesn't really enter into your gene pool."



"Kindness doesn't enter into yours. Yet here we are."



"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was a compliment, Weaselette."



"Good thing you do, then. Now come on back to my flat with me while we work out details,
l've got to change."




************************************************************************************************************************************



"Ron, I don't want to see her, mate. Honestly. I'm gonna marry Hannah, and
that's the sodding end of it. Hermione doesn't want me," Harry shouted.



"So what then? If you really love Hannah and not Hermione, then that's as you'd
want it, isn't it?" Ron twisted the phone cord between his hands impatiently.



"I do love Hermione, Ron! I do love her!" Harry's voice cracked and Ron
immediately felt terrible for baiting him.



"Listen, Harry, I really think you should talk to her. She's your best mate, and you
love her, and just- well, there's a million reasons, really, but if you quit talking to her,
who's going to teach you awesome new spells? Merlin knows you're lazy as all bollox about
research."



Harry laughed softly. "Okay, I concede that point. And you know very well that I'll
talk to her when I stop feeling so hurt and angry. Maybe by the time Hannah and I are married andÂ
we've spent a few weeks away somewhere, the whole thing will just blow over and Mione and I can
go back to what we used to be."



Ron smacked himself in the forehead, wishing Harry were there so that he could smack the Boy Who
Lived To Be A Prat instead.



"Harry, " said Ron with a note of pained patience, "You cannot marry Hannah. And
you know why? Because if you did, you'd be doing worse to her than she attempted to do to you.
She was going to use you for a story; you're trying to use her as a shield against loving
Hermione, or losing Hermione, or -something. And that's even worse, because you're better
than that. You know better than that. So stop pretending that it's even a possibility anymore.
It's not."



Harry took a deep breath and Ron heard a shivering exhale over the line. Eventually, Harry
answered in a small voice, "You're right."



"I know."



"Now what do I do?"



"Tell her, Harry."


**********************************************************************************************************************************



"You could be done anytime, now, you know, " called Draco from the living room.
"You've already fouled the evening up. We were supposed to talk to Hermione when she got
to the pub and explain to her about our fake engagement and whatnot. Now she's already there,
and Harry's on his way. There's no time for a setup, so now I'm really going to have
give a fake proposal."Â



There was no reply.



"You do realize that means that Potter will likely hex me into oblivion, yes?"



"Shut it already, Malfoy," shouted Ginny from down the hall. "You're taking
one for the team."



"One? One?! I've taken so many hits for this team that I'm gonna change my name to
Muhammed Ali." Draco paused. "And why the hell do you just happen to have an engagement
ring lying around, anyway?"



"Undercover assignment, " replied Ginny's increasingly soft voice.



There was a loud crash and muffled swearing from Ginny's bedroom. "Malfoy, come help
me!"



Draco slipped off his robes and rolled up his shirtsleeves. "Why do I have a feeling this
is going to involve manual labor?" he asked as he entered the room.



"Because it is, " replied Ginny from her closet floor. "Put this box back on the
top shelf." An overflowing carton was sitting on top of her chest. "Ooh, and fish out
that little black box first, it has the ring in it, and don't--" her command broke off as
Draco entered the closet, allowing the door to slam shut behind him.



"-let that door close," Ginny finished weakly.



"Why not?"



"Um, well, you see, it sort of…locks and wards itself automatically."



Draco turned a strange shade of puce. "Who the hell puts automatic wards on their closet,
Weasley?"



Ginny scrambled out from beneath the debris. "Somebody who used to have a bit of a
clothes-thief for a flatmate!" she replied indignantly.



Malfoy began pounding the door with his fists and kicking that the handle with the heel of his
boot, shaking the door at it's hinges, but it was simply too strong with the magical
reinforcements placed upon it.



Draco flopped down on the floor with a disgusted sigh.



"It's no use, it is absolutely no bloody use!"



Ginny had the good grace to look sheepish. "I'm sorry."



"I can't believe this, I just cannot believe this, " Malfoy shook his head as the
Gryffindor seated herself beside him, making the four foot space seem eve smaller.



"This is all your fault."



"MY fault? You're the one who forgot your wand."



"I wouldn't have needed the sodding thing if you hadn't let the door slam behind
us!" retorted Ginny crossly. "besides, you left yours in the other room."



"Yes, well, Weasel, I'm not the one who knew the closet had wards, now am I? You
should've just Accioed the ring and been done with it!"



Ginny glared at him, her face as nearly red as her hair. "I wouldn't have needed the
ring if you hadn't changed the plan!"



"I wouldn't have needed to change the fucking plan if you hadn't made us late! You
took forever getting dressed! Draco roared, standing up. His breathing was rapid and his shoulders
were tense. Ginny hopped up to face him, heat pouring from her retaliating words.



"I wouldn't have spent so much time getting ready if you had ever just paid attention
to me the way that I was, you sodding arsehole!"



Draco paused, brow furrowing, anger momentarily forgotten. "What?"



"That's right," Ginny shouted, still furious, "I've been trying to get
you to notice me for months! I've tried getting all dolled up, ignoring you, flirting with you,
making fun of you. I've tried everything to get you to go out with me."



Hot, angry tears were pouring down Ginny's face unashamedly. Draco pursed his lips and
arched an eyebrow.



"Why didn't you just try asking?"


************************************************************************************************

Hannah's face was pale and small as Harry sat across the table from her, playing with his
hands. The diner was old and dim, and they were tucked in a far corner, picking at cold French
fries and uncomfortably drinking sodas.



"I figured it would come to this, once you found out the truth," she offered
awkwardly. "It was sort of a miracle that you were going to go through with it anyway. I
didn't deserve that."



Harry shook his head. "No, probably not. But you didn't deserve what I was going to do
to you either. Marrying you, using you as an escape so that I didn't have to deal with my
feelings for Hermione- that would have been cruel."



The smile on Hannah's face was genuine. "Yes, well, it's not exactly like they
would have been offering me the Order of Merlin for what I was doing to you. Don't be too hard
on yourself. You always are."



"I guess you did learn a thing or about me," said Harry sheepishly.



"I always liked you, Harry. That part was never a lie. And I think that I truly could have
loved you, if I hadn't been after a story, if I hadn't been afraid to just be myself."
Hannah paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. "If I knew who I really was."



Shaking the dazed look out of her eyes, Hannah focused on Harry once more and gingerly took his
hand. "Actually, Harry, I think I'm going back to Albania for awhile to do just that- find
myself. I have you to thank for that. No more lies, no more stories. Just me, figuring out my
dreams."



Harry smiled, and for the first time in weeks, felt that a great weight had been lifted off of
his shoulders. "I hope you find what you're really looking for, Hannah."



"I hope you find what you're looking for, too, Harry Potter."


****************************************************************************************************

"Why didn't I ask?" Ginny threw her hands in the air. "Oh, gee, Malfoy, I
dunno, maybe because you've been pining aft Hermione for years, just like every other stupid
boy I know! To make matters worse, the only guy I hang around that doesn't fancy Hermione
Granger is my own brother! It's like salt in a wound."



"Weasley?"



"What, Malfoy?"



"Grow up. If you want something, you either go after or you don't. If you don't,
then stop blaming other people for not chasing it. That's all on you."



"Malfoy?"



"What, Weasley?"



"You're such a wanker."



Just then, the mobile phone in Malfoy's pocket rang.



Ginny punched him in the chest. "You git, you could've just called somebody to get us
out of here! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"



The Slytherin was already in mid-conversation. "Yes, Weasley, in Ginny's closet,
it's warded, we've no wands with us, so if you could just come and--no, you prat, I'm
not going to say that so that you can -- no, no, do not put me on speakerphone --no, just -- oh,
fuck, fine, yes, just -- THIS IS DRACO MALFOY, AND I'M COMING OUT OF THE CLOSET! Everybody
heard, yes splendid, so will you come now? Yes, fine, goodbye." He snapped the phone shut.



Malfoy gave Ginny a death glare as she smirked at him.



"Not a word, Weasley. Not a bloody word."