Answer Me This...

Elizabeth

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 09/08/2004
Last Updated: 09/08/2004
Status: in_progress

In response to a challenge by Nelli08 in the forums. Hermione finds a quiz in Witch Weekly made for two best friends to fill out about the other. She opts to take it with Harry...could there be consequences to this simple quiz?

Chapters

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1. untitled

I am so excited to get this posted. Please review and tell me what you think. It's in response to a challenge by Nelli08. Harry and Hermione took a best friend quiz to see how much one knew about the other. So far I've only gone through Hermione's answers, because I'm exhausted and I really wanted to get at least some posted tonight. But, if need be, and if you really want it, I will post a second part with Harry's answers. =)

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It was a rather boring day. The kind of day where it would be just lovely to curl up in front of a fire with a hot cup of chocolate and your favourite book. Except that it was much too warm to even consider lighting a fire, and Hermione Granger just wasn't in the mood for hot chocolate. And so, she was resigned to sit by the window with the latest copy of Witch Weekly and bemoan the fact that she had nothing better to do.

She sighed and flipped the page. Although she wasn't usually one to read the magazine, she had bought it while grocery shopping, with the hope that maybe there would be something worth reading in it. So far, that hope had proved unsuccessful. She turned the page once more, and the bold headline on the next page caught her eye.

“How Well Do You Know Your Best Friend?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she read the beginning of the article, which stated that `Nobody knows their best friend as well as they think they do, and if they do think they know everything about said friend, then this quiz is for them!'

Who thinks up the articles for this magazine, anyway? She wondered.

But knowing she had nothing better to do, she uncurled herself from the window seat and decided to find Harry. He had mentioned something about needed to replace the mulch in the backyard, so she headed outside first.

“Harry?”

He was on the far side of the yard, wheelbarrow beside him, patting mulch down around a large oak tree. He looked up when he heard her voice and grinned. “Come out to help, did you?”

Hermione laughed as she headed across the yard toward him. “You aren't so lucky. I found this quiz in Witch Weekly I thought might be fun to try out, and you look like you could use a rest, anyway.”

Resting his shovel carefully against the tree, he dusted his hands off on his jeans and gave her a curious look as she reached him. “What kind of quiz?”

She climbed into the nearby hammock and crossed her legs, settling the magazine in her lap. “It's to see how much you know about your best friend. Or think you know.”

Harry laughed and sat down on the hammock beside her, the ropes giving slightly under his weight. “This could get interesting. Do you want me to ask you first, or do you want to ask me?”

Hermione shifted to face him. “I'll ask you. You have to answer the questions based on what I would answer, and then I tell you if you're right or wrong.”

Harry nodded. “Got it.”

“Okay, first question. When was the last time I was really, really mad?”

His face split into a grin. “Why, that would be when I accidentally blew up the kitchen!” He clutched his stomach, guffawing, as he remembered the incident.

Hermione stared at him. “It wasn't funny, Harry. To this day I don't understand how a wizard as powerful as you managed to perform a cooking spell, of all things, incorrectly.”

“I was distracted. And I did fix the kitchen afterward, so I don't see why you're still mad about it,” He said, trying to catch his breath. “Aww, c'mon, Mione. It was a long time ago! You can't still be that mad about it!”

“It was last month,” she muttered, but hid a grin fighting its way across her face. “Anyway, next question. What's my favorite kind of weather?”

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Winter. The kind of days that are snowy and freezing, where you can curl up in front of the fireplace with a warm quilt and some hot chocolate.”

She gave him a small smile as she nodded. “Who was my first kiss with?”

“Viktor?” He asked, slightly unsure of his answer. She had never really discussed her relationship with Krum with him and Ron.

Hermione shook her head. “I kind of expected that answer, but no. It was Seamus.”

Harry's eyes grew wide. “Seamus?! When was this? How did we miss that? Why, that little—I ought to—I can't believe—”

Hermione laid a hand on his leg, trying to calm him somewhat. “Harry, it was in sixth year, and it was just a harmless peck. Nothing serious, we never even dated, honest. Had anything serious happened, you would have been the first to know. Okay?”

The feeling of her hand on his knee calmed him, as well as igniting another feeling within him he couldn't quite place. He looked from her hand to her eyes and suddenly felt ashamed. Seamus was married now. He had nothing to worry about.

“Right. I'm sorry, Mione.”

The look on her face softened and she pulled her hand back. “It's okay. What foods constitute my perfect meal?”

He smiled. He'd cooked it enough to know it by heart. “Lasagna. With a garden salad and garlic bread.”

She returned his smile. He wasn't doing too badly. “And which charm do I use most often?”

“That would probably be either occulus reparo or scourgify. Both because of me.”

At least he had the decency to blush, Hermione thought, amused.

“Yes. Okay, then…how many children do I want to have?”

His face was blank. How was he supposed to know how many children she wanted? He'd always imagined her to be a wonderful mother, but she seemed very work orientated to want to start a family any time soon. “Three?” He guessed.

“Three or four,” She nodded. “I would love to have a lot of children.”

Harry looked confused. “Then why haven't you?”

A cross look came over Hermione's face. “Well, Harry, you do need a male in order to have children.”

He looked nonplussed. “And your point being…?”

“And my point being that I don't have a boyfriend, never mind a husband. Both of which I doubt are in my near future. But anyway. What would I name them?”

Now he looked even more confused. What on earth was a question like that doing on a best friend quiz? What did that have to do with anything? She had never discussed baby names with him before.

He decided to take a wild guess with some names he himself was fond of. “Er, Noah or Ben for a boy, and maybe Katherine or Charlotte for a girl?”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “I never really gave this question much thought before, but I do like those names. Sweet names. I'll give you that one.” She smiled.

He grinned. “So how many is that that I have correct?”

“Six out of seven. One wrong. Not too bad, Potter, but let's see if you can keep that up. What is my favorite piece of clothing?”

Harry thought for a minute. She had a pair of worn-in jeans that she liked to wear a lot, so maybe that? Or the blue top she was fond of…he wasn't quite sure. He decided to go with the jeans.

“Those jeans that you wear often, the real worn-in ones that cover your feet because they're so long.” He stated, hoping he was correct. She shook her head.

“Well, what is it, then?” He asked, curious.

She gave him a shy smile, a pretty flush working its way up her cheeks. “Er, well actually, it's a jumper you let me borrow a few years back and I never returned. It's quite comfortable, and it smells good. It smells like you, in fact.”

He was stunned by her answer. It smells good…it smells like you. He blinked and regained his senses. “Er, which one was it? Is it the green one that I spent months looking for and then gave up on?”

Hermione's blush grew, but she gave a small laugh. “Yes, that's the one. I hope you don't miss it too much, because I'm still not giving it back, even though you know about it now.”

The idea of her wearing something of his pleased him, although he wasn't entirely sure why. She'd worn his t-shirts and boxers to bed loads of times, but he supposed this was somewhat different. He wasn't sure how, but decided to stop thinking about it for the moment.

He was jarred back from his thoughts by Hermione's laughter. “You got another wrong! Come on, Harry, I thought you knew me better than that!”

Harry gave her an affronted look. “Okay, next question, then!”

“Floo Powder, Portkey, or broom?”

The look of confidence reappeared on his face. “Why, that's an easy one. You hate flying, Portkeys give you motion sickness, so Floo powder.”

Hermione nodded. “That was too easy. How about this one…what's my dream job?”

“Hogwarts professor, of course.” Harry answered without hesitation. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose you listen to me more often than I give you credit for. How many times have we downed a Butterbeer together?”

Now it was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow. “What sort of question is that? We've had Butterbeer together loads of times, too many to keep count, I'd think. Give me another one.”

She nodded her consent. “I suppose that is a hard question. Not in terms of hard to think of the answer, but hard in terms of missing the answer. What Quidditch position am I most qualified to play for, even if I hate to play?”

Harry leaned back onto the hammock, looking up at the leaves of the tree above him. “Well, I know that you don't like flying, but you do seem to get some liking out of being pressured. You have a knack for spotting things other people don't, so I'd have to say Seeker. And I'm not playing favorites,” he added with a grin.

Hermione laughed. “Seeker, eh? Maybe we'll have to have a go sometime and see if I'm able to even see the Snitch, let alone catch it.”

Harry stared at her. “But, Hermione, in order to do that, you'd have to get on a broom.”

She looked at him as though he were speaking to a two year old. “I know that, Harry. Maybe sometime you wouldn't mind helping me out with that, too?”

His eyes grew even wider, and he gave her a lopsided grin. “Of course I would!”

She smiled and moved one leg, stretching it out in front of her. “Okay then…what's my favorite hex?”

“Err…tarantallegra?”

“Yes. If I could be any Animagus, what would I be?”

He paused. “A cat?”

Hermione laughed. “A cat might be nice, but I'd really like to be some sort of bird…meaning perhaps a Phoenix, or some sort of bird of prey. You know, they can go miles into the air and still be able to read someone's wristwatch? If they knew how to read a wristwatch, of course, but still, their eyesight is absolutely amazing…” She trailed off as she noticed Harry watching her with an amused look. “Right…is there something in my room I hide from everyone, and what is it?”

Harry sat, deep in thought for a minute. “Err…I can't imagine you have anything to hide, so I'm going to have to pass on this one.”

Hermione gave him a thoughtful look. “Well, I suppose if I hid it, I hid it so no one would find out about it. And so it follows that I wouldn't want to tell you the answer. But seeing as how you're my best friend and know just about everything else about me, I might as well tell you.”

Harry nodded, curious as to what Hermione was hiding. “Well? What is it?”

She looked at him, an expression of utter solemnity on her face. “Playwitch magazines.”

Harry's expression changed from curious to horrified. “What?!”

Hermione burst into giggles. “I'm just kidding, Harry! I have nothing to hide in my room. Feel free to go through it anytime.”

He heaved a sigh, unsure of whether or not to believe her. He eyed her, but his resolve slowly gave way to laughter at the sight of Hermione's uncontrollable giggles. “Okay, okay. You got me. Next question.”

Hermione straightened up and took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. “Do I have any birthmarks, and if so, where?”

A gentle breeze had started up, and ruffled her hair as Harry studied her. He reached over and tucked a stray piece behind her ear, causing Hermione's stomach to flip as his hand came in contact with her cheek. He let his hand linger a moment before pulling back and murmuring his answer.

“If I remember correctly, you have one on your right hip.” Then, in answer to her unasked question, he added, “I remember seeing it when we went swimming at the water hole behind the Burrow the summer before seventh year.”

Their legs were now tangled together, heads at opposite ends of the hammock. Hermione smiled. “You have a better memory than I gave you credit for, Harry.”

He lifted his head up to look at her and returned the grin. “It's selective.”

As he tilted his head backwards, looking toward the sky, Hermione watched him. What on earth had that meant? Selective meaning he remembered what he wanted to, and so he had wanted to remember a birthmark on her hip? A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Maybe that meant…no.

“Okay, there are only a few more questions. You seem like you're getting bored—”

Harry cut her off with a soft smile. “I'm not bored.”

Her voice faltered for a minute. “Oh…okay then. Well, what's my favorite thing about you?”

Harry sat up and blinked. “Your favorite thing about me?”

She nodded. “Yes, that's correct.”

“Erm, that's a hard one…”

She gently prodded his thigh with her foot. “You know you can't get this one wrong, because anything you answer will more than likely be my favourite.”

He looked up at her, noticing that the giddiness from earlier was gone from her expression and now was replaced with the most tender look he'd seen in a while.

“My eyes?” He said softly. He wasn't entirely sure what part of him Hermione liked the best, but since he received so many compliments about his eyes, he decided to try that.

“I do love your eyes,” she said thoughtfully. He smiled.

“Of course you do.”

She laughed. “What's my all-time greatest fear?”

The look on his face grew confident. “That's an easy one. Losing me!”

He broke into laughter again at the reproving look on Hermione's face. “Harry!”

Little did he know, that was one of her greatest fears. Not that she'd ever tell him that now, seeing how cocky he was about thinking he had the right answer.

“No, Harry, everything about me does not revolve around you,” and then seeing the slightly hurt look on his face added quickly, “Although you know that I wouldn't be able to go on if I did lose you, but I try not to entertain that thought. I think I might say my next greatest fear is flying.”

He nodded. Then, in a sudden decision, he untangled his legs from hers and swung them over the side of the hammock. “Well, come on then, let's go flying!” He announced, tugging on her arm.

Hermione's eyes widened. “Now, wait just a minute—”

Harry cut her off. “No ifs, ands, or buts, Hermione. You said yourself earlier that you wanted me to bring you flying, and now is a good a time as any. The weather is perfect,” he added. Then, seeing the hesitant look on her face, gave her his best look. “Please? Please, please, please? I promise you'll love it.”

Hermione stared at him, willing herself to say no. She most definitely did not want to go flying right now. She wanted to just sit in the hammock, content to rock in the breeze with Harry. But she found her resolve quickly crumbling at the look he was giving her. She eyed him.

“If you let me fall, Harry, I swear…”

He shook his head vehemently. “I would never let you fall.” He took her hand and pulled her out of the hammock, the magazine laying forgotten.

Hermione couldn't help but delight in the feel of her hand in his as they crossed the yard. His hand was larger than hers, and calloused, and it fit just perfectly with her own smaller one. She gave it a gentle squeeze, and he smiled down at her.

All too soon they appeared at the back patio, and Harry ducked inside the back door to fetch his broom. He reappeared almost instantly, and motioned Hermione over. “Climb on, I'm going to sit behind you.”

She eyed the broom warily, but with Harry's gentle reassurance, climbed carefully on. Making sure she was settled, Harry climbed on behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Ready?” He asked, his warm breath on her ear sending shivers down her spine.

She nodded. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

He chuckled as he pushed off the ground. Hermione gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. “Harry…”

He shushed softly into her ear. “It's all right, I've got you. You aren't going anywhere.”

Although she was still nervous, she relaxed somewhat into his embrace. As Harry guided the broom higher, she couldn't help but think how right this felt. His arms wrapped around her waist, her back pressed against him, his chin resting on her shoulder.

She suddenly noticed that Harry had stopped the broom's ascent. “Open your eyes, Hermione.”

Slowly, she opened one eye, and then the other. She let out a gasp at the view before her. They were high up, although not as high as Harry probably could have taken them. She could see everything from their house to…as far as the eye could see. It was amazing…she was starting to understand Harry's love for flying.

Then all at once the height registered, and Hermione tensed up, blindly groping for Harry's hand. When she found it, she weaved her fingers through his and gripped it tightly, not intending to let go until she reached the ground. She felt his chest rumble against her with muffled laughter, and turned her head to look at him.

“You think this is funny?”

His breath caught in his throat at the closeness of her face to his, and managed a small nod. A small smile crept onto her face, and she let out a little sigh. “It is beautiful, though. Absolutely amazing…I can see why you love flying so much.”

“Mmm…” he murmured his agreement. “I feel free up here. Nothing to hold me down, no barriers, no nothing. It's one of the best feelings in the world.”

They were quiet for a moment. Hermione broke the silence first.

“There were still two questions left on the quiz.”

“Alright. Ask me.”

She turned her head to look at him, and was startled to see just how close he really was to her. Their faces were just an inch or two apart. She swallowed. “Err…well, one was…I mean…what's the most spontaneous thing I've ever done?” Her voice trailed off toward the end, almost a whisper.

“Hmm…perhaps every time you agreed to one of Ron's or my crazy plans? No, even though that was pretty impulsive of you, I'm sure there's something better…” He trailed off, closing his eyes to think.

Hermione's attention was not focused on him, however, but on his lips, which were currently hovering so very close to her own. Surely one innocent peck wouldn't hurt…no, she argued with herself. This is Harry we're talking about. Your best friend. Don't ruin things because you can't keep your hormones in check. But then the other voice persisted, it's more than hormones, and you know it.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione leaned forward and gently captured his bottom lip in hers. Oh…she gave a little sigh. It was complete and utter bliss. Their lips fit perfectly together, and his were so soft. Then it occurred to her exactly what she was doing and she pulled away.

Harry opened his eyes, a surprised expression on his face, and his lips still slightly parted. Hermione turned pink, and was about to apologize when his voice interrupted her.

“I change my answer. That was the most spontaneous thing you've ever done.” A smile was tugging at the corners of his lips. Hermione gave him a shy smile.

“You're not mad?”

His eyes widened. “Mad? Hermione, I've wanted to do that for years.”

Now her eyes widened, and all she could manage was a squeak. “Oh.”

Slightly breathless, she decided to go ahead and ask him the last question. “Harry, there was one last question. What would I be more likely to choose, falling in love or doing well in school?”

He gently nuzzled the crook of her neck before pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss, smiling against his mouth. He knew her answer, just as he knew her better than anyone else did. They didn't need a quiz to know that. As their lips met again, she knew he had given her all the answers she needed.

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me

There's a truth in your eyes, saying you'll never leave me

The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall

You say it best when you say nothing at all

When You Say Nothing At All, Ronan Keating

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