All right, it's Friday night (finally) and I'm pacing the common room waiting for my date, Hermione (yeah, we're going on a date tonight). Everyone else has already gone to supper (I planned it this way so we wouldn't have a great audience for this as I think Hermione is nervous enough… and so am I), so the common room is empty right now. Hermione's running a little late, our reservations are for seven and it's half past six now, but I'm not worried considering how accommodating the witch was when I made the reservations ("Oh, my, Harry Potter is coming to our restaurant. Is this a special night, Harry Potter?" People who don't know me always use my full name. "Yes, it is." "Brilliant! We'll do everything we can to make it extra special for you." I really didn't like that extra and am a bit concerned about what they've done).
This week has been a real test for me. Hermione has been avoiding me as much as possible (which really isn't that much because I won't let her), which means that she's uncomfortable with the speed at which things are progressing. So I backed off a little (by a little I mean that let her have a bit of space, but I still make sure to sit with her in the library for an hour every evening, flirting, chatting and hold her hand, just so she won't think I've given up entirely) and it seems to have worked. Last night she actually chose to study in the common room rather than the library and, when I sat on the sofa with my books rather than beside her, she scowled at me until I moved to my usual chair, right next to hers.
It's another five minutes when Hermione finally appears at the head of the stairs and I immediately forget that we're running late. She's apparently taken my words about us 'having something more than friendship' to heart because she's gone all out and I now feel a little underdressed in a black suit, green silk shirt, and tie (the mirror said, and I quote, "She's going to go up in smoke when she catches sight of you, lad." I think that's the best compliment I've ever received). She's wearing a stunning, shimmering green gown that I think must be charmed, she's pulled her hair up in some twist thing and left a bit to hang by her face, and, if I'm not mistaken, she's wearing more make-up than usual. I almost can't believe that this is my Hermione that I'm looking at; she looks absolutely nothing like her usual self (who I already think is beautiful). She looks absolutely stunning.
I feel a hand on my arm and I realize that I've been in a daze and that she's now standing right in front of me and now I can smell her. She smells wonderful, looks stunning, and she's smiling nervously and the whole package put together sends a shock to my brain (which is never a good thing) and I take leave of my senses temporarily (I hope).
"Uh, hey, Hermione. How are you tonight?"
Now she looks thoroughly amused with me. "Hey, Harry. I'm alright."
"Good, good." I stare at he for what I think is a rather long time before my brain returns to my head. "Right, so, we should go."
I take her hand and rest it in the crook of my arm, she smiles at me and I barely manage to keep hold of my senses.
"Did I tell you how stunning you are tonight?"
She blushes and makes a how of pulling her cloak around herself. "Thank you, Harry." (You'd think after this past week she would be used to complimenting her.) "You look pretty devastatingly handsome, yourself, tonight."
Whoa, was that a compliment from Hermione? On how I look? She's never before complimented me on anything not having to do with Quidditch or school. I like it. I really like it.
I say the password to open the portrait door and stand back to let her go first, and, the moment we step out, a camera starts flashing madly and a loud chorus of cheering fills the air. I quickly realize that no one has gone to dinner yet, but that they've all been waiting for us to come out. I see Hermione blush madly and I feel my cheeks become unbelievably warm.
"Honestly, don't any of you have anything better to do than bother us? Really, we're just to friends going to dinner." What? I thought I made it perfectly clear that this is not a friend date. Maybe I should snog her, you know, just to clear up any lingering doubts.
"Bloody couple of the century, you are!" I hear amid the laughter and cheering. "You don't dress like that for dinner with a friend." Someone else calls.
I look down at us and realize that we do look rather spectacular together, like celebrities or something (Hollywood celebrities not wizard celebrities because I always look like a wizard celebrity, being one and all). I don't have as much time as I'd like to admire Hermione in her dress as she quickly takes my hand and pulls me through the throng of Gryffindors and rushes us down the steps and out of the castle (I choose to believe that she's eager to be alone with me and not embarrassed by all the attention).
"I'm sorry about that." I say when it feels safe to talk again.
"It's alright, Harry." I find that hard to believe since she's still blushing and it's been around ten minutes already. "Really. I mean, it's not like you planned all that. You were just as surprised and I was."
"True, though I honestly can't say why." I feel her confusion and shrug. "Well, it's really no secret how I feel about you, I mean, the whole castle knows. Every Gryffindor in our year has been plotting to get us together for ages."
I can she never noticed this, though I haven't the slightest idea how she could have missed it, they weren't exactly subtle.
"They have?"
"Well, yeah. Didn't you ever find it suspicious that they'd all disappear whenever we went to Hogsmeade, or that everyone at Hogwarts seemed to have dates months before the last two balls, or how every professor except Snape assigned us each other as partners for every project since fifth year?"
She thinks on that for a moment. "Now that you point it out, their behaviour has been rather questionable, but, to be perfectly honest, I never really noticed before."
I grin. "That's because you were just too taken up with your gorgeous best friend."
She shakes her head. "No, I don't really think it had anything to do with Ron at all."
I scowl at her, but find that I can't keep up the act when she starts giggling. There's no better sound in the world than Hermione laughing. Also, we've finally reached the apparition point and all playing has come to an end. This is it, the second we apparate to Hogsmeade we'll officially be on a date.
I put my arms around her waist and pull her close against me both because I've wanting to feel her against me for so long and because we have to be close in order for me to apparate both of us. She puts her arms around my neck and looks up into my face and I'm so tempted to screw Plan B and jump full force into Plan C and I probably would if I wasn't absolutely, bloody terrified of moving too fast and scary her off. Though she's taking all this rather well (which I'm very proud of her for), it can't be easy to realize that the best friend that you thought you knew everything about is actually a bit of a stranger (a stranger who wants nothing more than to snog you senseless), I think she's battling an instinct to run screaming from me. So, I shove Plan C to the back of my mind and apparate us to Hogsmeade.
We appear at an apparition point in Hogsmeade, just around the corner from the restaurant and I'm delighted that she doesn't immediately pull her arms from around my neck (rather encouraging, it is). But, as much as I'd love to stand just like this for hours, it's just past seven so we're already late for the reservations. I reach up to take her arms from my shoulders and clasp her hand in mine to lead her to the restaurant.
The hostess recognizes me and makes a big deal of showing us to our table (right in the center of the room where everyone can see that Harry Potter has chosen La Chanson d'Amour for his date) and stands around for several minutes, staring at me (I think she's trying to see my scar, so I casually brush aside my hair hoping that'll satisfy her and she'll leave) before returning to her post.
I smile apologetically at Hermione before opening my menu and holy, Merlin this place is bloody expensive (who could have afforded to bring Parvati here). I assume that Hermione has also noticed the outrageous prices when I hear her gasp.
"Harry, the prices are-"
"Unbelievable, I know." I set down my menu and reach across to take her hand. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. After all, you are on a date with the richest wizard at Hogwarts. Besides, I'd happily spend every sickle I have if it meant you would be happy." (I'm really beginning to wonder if I can say anything other than cheesy movie lines.)
"But, Harry, four galleons for a butterbeer? These prices are insane. Maybe we should go somewhere else."
She's already starting to close her menu and reach for her purse when I tighten my grip on her hand to draw her attention back to me.
"No, Hermione, it's fine really. Besides, you're too gorgeous to go anywhere else, we'd likely be kicked out for making the other patrons look poor." I give her what I hope is a relaxing smile and hand her the menu. "Now, order whatever you like, pay no attention to the prices. I know I won't, I'm starving. I've been too nervous to eat much of anything today."
"Why on earth were you nervous? It's just me."
I give her a look that I hope shows how mad I think she is at the moment. "Hermione, 'just' you? There is no 'just' you, not for me. There's you and then there's 'just' everyone else." She blushes at this (she seems to be doing that an awful lot lately), but I don't feel the slightest bit sorry for it. I warned her that I'd be unusually sweet tonight (I do have two years of holding in all these sweet comments to make up for). "This is our first date and, I don't feel at all silly for saying this, I'm terribly nervous that if I muck this up I won't get a second chance."
She smiles at me like I'm a daft four-year-old. "Really, Harry, you don't have to do anything special for me. You know that I like you just as you are."
I don't bother to point out that she likes her friend Harry just as he is and I'm trying my damndest to make her see me as more than a friend and she's really not making it too easy. She just keeps accepting everything at face value and it doesn't seem to be affecting her opinion of me much at all.
"I know I don't have to do anything special, but I really want to. I want this night to be perfect."
"It already is, Harry."
It's comments like that that make me wonder if she actually is aware that she's in love with me and is just biding her time until she feels the moment's right. But then she smiles at me just like she's been doing since we met and I realize that she still sees me as that eleven year old boy, scared by what's going on around him and wondering where his place in the world is. And though that very smile has been stopping my heart for two years, tonight it makes it ache like it never has before because to me she's a wonderful young woman and to her I'm a daft little boy. I wonder if she'll ever see me as the man that I am, the man that loves her with everything he is and has.
* * *
Supper was fantastic, well worth the dent in put in my savings, and now we're wandering around town, too full to either sit and relax or dance. I haven't said much since dinner and I think it's starting to worry Hermione as she's started fidgeting constantly and keeps stealing glances at me. But I don't deign to put her out of her misery. At the moment, I don't feel much like reassuring her, especially since I've only realized a half hour ago that my dreams of being with her may remain just that.
Finally, she can't take it anymore and she stops (so do I since her hand is gripping mine) and turns to me. "What's wrong, Harry? You've been awfully quiet since dinner."
I shake my head and try to keep walking because I know that if I say anything it will be absolutely horrid and ruin this night even more and as hurt and disappointed as I am at this moment, I don't want to upset her because I love her so much more than she will ever know.
"Harry?"
"It's nothing, Hermione, really."
She doesn't seem to like that answer much and tugs my hand to get me to turn around. Her soft hand touches my cheek and she looks really concerned for me. "Come on, Harry. You know you can tell me. Besides, I already know that it's something that I've done." I must give her a pretty surprised look because she 'tsk's me and shakes her head. "Please, you were chatty before supper and you've barely said a word to me since, and when you have spoken it's been short answers to something I asked. Tell me what's bothering you."
"Well, it is you, you're right about that. But it's not something you've done, not really. It's just…" I trail off. I really don't know how to put this without telling her too much and scaring her off.
"Just what, Harry?"
"It's just… well it's how you look at me." Yay for ambiguity, I'm a big fan.
"How I look at you? What does that mean? Why would that upset you? I look at you the same way that I always have."
Precisely.
"Because of exactly that. I don't think you see me, Hermione."
She scoffs at that and I think I may be upsetting her a little. "Honestly, Harry, of course I see you."
I shake my head, shaking her hand from my cheek at the same time, and step back from her. "I don't think you do. You see that eleven-year-old boy that you met on the train. You see the boy who goes to you for help with his schoolwork, who needs you to demonstrate the latest charm Professor Flitwick taught us, who needs you to talk him down when he's right mad at Snape or Malfoy. But, I'm not that little boy anymore, Hermione."
She's looking at me like I'm daft (she's been doing that a lot lately). "Of course, you're not, Harry. I know that. I know you're not eleven anymore."
I shake my head; this just isn't coming out properly. "I know you know that, but you don't look at me like you know that. You don't see me. You don't see the man who has spent the last week trying to get you to see him as more than a friend; and you don't see the man who would give his life for you; and you don't see the man who killed Voldemort so that you could be safe. You see that little boy and not the man who wants to be with you."
She doesn't say anything for quite a long while and I wonder if I have ended up scaring her. But she eventually reaches out for my hand and I let her take it. When she meets my eyes again, I can see tears in hers and I hate that I put them there.
"You've given me a week, Harry, one week to deal with everything you've been throwing at me and to figure out what it means. I've been so overwhelmed by everything that you've been doing that I've hardly had time to think about how I feel and if I do see you as more. But, I'm trying, Harry. I really am. I just… I think I need some space and time to deal with all this."
"I don't want you to have to try, Hermione. I just want it to be there."
She shakes her head and wipes at the tears on her cheeks. "That's not how it works, Harry. It's not that simple."
"It was for me." I argue. "It was more simple than that even. I didn't have to try or think about it. It was just there one day."
"I'm sorry, Harry. But it's just not there for me."
Yes, it is, I want to yell, you just have to open your eyes and look. But I know that I can't say that. If this, us, is going to work, she has to see it on her own; I can't force it. But, even though I knew that it is there for her too, hearing her say that it isn't just broke my heart. To have the woman that I love look me in the eye and tell me that she doesn't feel anything beyond friendship toward me is one of the hardest things I've ever endured. But I refuse to give up hope. She'll see it eventually; she has to, because the idea that she won't is too painful to think about.
I slip my hand from her grasp and step back from her again. I keep my eyes on the ground because I know that if I look at her I'll start to cry or say something stupid.
"Okay."
I see her hand reach for me and I pull back further. "Harry,"
I shake my head. "No, Hermione, really, it's fine. You can't feel what's not there."
"I'm sorry." She whispers, and I can hear the regret in her voice and I know that she truly believes that she feels only a love for a friend for me.
"Yeah, me too."
We both decide that dancing may not be the best idea tonight and it's getting rather late, so we head back to the castle. We apparate back to the grounds from the same apparition point we used earlier and the walk across the grounds is made in silence and we're so far apart that I almost forget that she's even with me. When we reach the common room, everyone is sitting around playing games, chatting, or joking around, but silence reigns as we enter. I watch as Hermione quickly disappears up the stairs and around the corner before I trudge over to my seat in the corner and collapse into my chair. I lay my head back and close my eyes, relaxing for the few short seconds that will be allowed to me.
I hear someone come over to me and sit and I smile when Ron starts cursing and jumps up because he apparently forgot about the charm we put on Hermione's chair. He moves over to the third chair in our corner (his chair, nothing special about it) and I can feel his eyes on me and I know that he's dying to ask about my night.
"We're friends," I say before he can ask me anything. "Nothing less, nothing more. Just friends."
"But, Harry-"
I shake my head slowly. "She just doesn't feel anything for me, Ron. She knows-thinks she knows-how I feel about her, and she doesn't feel the same. So we're just friends."
"That's crazy, Harry. Everyone knows that she loves you. Even Professor McGonagall has commented on it." Well, that's news to me, not shocking, but new.
I open my eyes to look at him and I'm touched to see that he's actually concerned about this. "Yes, Ron, I know that everyone knows and I know that she loves me. But that doesn't matter because she doesn't know."
He nods and seems to accept that as a valid point. "You're not giving up, are you?"
"Don't be daft, Ron. Of course, I'm not giving up. What good would that do?"
"Right, so what's the next plan? Are you going onto Plan C, then?"
I love Ron, I do. He's like a brother to me. He's my best mate, but I said it before and I'll say it again; he's really quite clueless when it comes to dealing with girls, especially if that girl is Hermione.
"No, Ron, I am not going on to Plan C. I believe that would have the opposite effect of what I'm aiming for. That comes later, much later."
"What are you going to do, then?"
I shrug and start to set up a game of wizard's chess, pretending that I need a moment to think, which I don't because I've had a backup plan ready since the beginning.
"I'm going to give her the space she seems to think she wants. I'm going back to the way things were before." I proudly inform him.
Now he's looking at me like I'm daft and I find it bothers me more then when Hermione does it.
"You're going to what? How do you figure that'll do anything? Isn't that what she wants?"
There you go. "Exactly, Ron. She's gotten so used to me being there all the time and holding her hand and being sweet and carrying her bag and doing everything that I wouldn't do if I were just her friend. Now, I'm going to stop doing all that. I'm going to go back to being 'friend' Harry and see how much she likes that."
"What are you getting at, Harry?"
Good, God, Ron, try to keep up.
"You see, Ron, I've been laying it on pretty thick this past week and Hermione still doesn't see me as anything more than a friend. My theory is that if I revert to being just her friend and abruptly stop doing what I've been doing this past week, she'll realize that she's likes it when I'm more than just her friend." I see that he still doesn't get it. "It's like that saying, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.' By taking away what she's grown accustomed to she's bound to realize how much she likes it. And, by avoiding her, and there by giving her the space she's asked for, she'll realize how much she likes, nay, loves me. I hope."
I can see that he's completely confused, but when I try to break it down further for him he quickly shakes his head and holds up a hand.
"I think you've been spending too much time with Hermione. Just do what you need to do, Harry. I've confidence in you."
"Gee, thanks, Ron."
"But, if you hurt her, in anyway, I will be forced to beat you severely. However, I promise to try not to cause any long-term problems for you, although you'd probably deserve them."
"Gee… thanks, Ron." Though the phrasing is a little scary, I appreciate the sentiment. As much as he picks at her, he really does care for Hermione. She's like a little sister to us-him. To him, definitely not to me because that would make what I want to do to her illegal.