Author's Note: Here's the last part of the story; I hope you've enjoyed this little tale. I also have a little surprise at the end, sorta like bonus features of a DVD, that comes after a lengthy author's note.
Some parts of the beginning of this chapter might sound a little choppy. That's because I combined old writing with new, and couldn't figure out the best way to smooth it over (okay okay, I was just lazy).
Sleekeasy's the Devil! - Part V
After enjoying a few more laughs at Ron's expense, I was finally ready for my date with Hermione. Ginny had picked out something nice for me to wear tonight, and following her advice, I stopped on the way to Hermione's to buy flowers. All too soon, I found myself outside her door.
I stood there for a good minute, paralyzed by my fear. I finally managed to rouse myself with Gryffindorish-type thoughts (`Gryffindors are brave, hear us roar!') and idly wondered why I couldn't be a Hufflepuff (`Hufflepuffs are meek, look away while we disappear into the woodwork!') before finally knocking on her door. I heard her turning the knob, and I affixed a smile on my face.
When she opened the door, I was dumbstruck. Again. I was expecting my Hermione to answer the door - the bushy-haired, sensibly dressed young woman I've known more than half my life. Instead, I got something else entirely.
Her hair was once again all Sleekeasy'ed up, this time falling about her shoulders in elegant curls. I swear, something has to be done about the irresponsible use of Sleekeasy's. She wore a simple blouse with that one extra button left undone that I knew would keep my attention all night long. It wasn't enough to let me see any of the good stuff, but it was enough to tease me with what might be. It was truly diabolical.
And instead of jeans or slacks, she wore a skirt that ended just above the knees. Now, this normally wouldn't be a problem, since I've seen her in skirts almost everyday at school. But back then, her skirts were always accompanied by those kinky knee-length socks and shiny leather shoes (which, of course, leads to a whole different set of fantasies). The Hermione that stood before was not wearing anything between her skirt and her strappy sandals (at least that I could see; thinking about what else she might not be wearing in addition to socks would be too much for my little heart), and those legs just seemed to go on forever, which is rather interesting since she's only five feet tall on a good day, and only in the mornings at that.
"Hi, Harry, I'll be ready in just a minute," she said with a smile. I think I nodded or said something in the affirmative. I really wasn't sure though, and it's not really all that important as I was busy watching her lovely hips sway back and forth as she walked away from me.
"So, um, where are we going to eat?" I managed to speak, using a full sentence even.
"There's a nice Italian place about two blocks from here. It's Muggle, so there's less chance we'll be recognized."
"Sounds good," I called back, and then spent the next two minutes preparing myself for the night ahead. I had to be strong, resilient, and tough. Oh yes, I was going to be like steel, unbendable and unflappable. But then Hermione re-appeared and promptly melted all that steel into a pile of hormonal goo. She walked up to me, and her mouth moved up and down.
"Um, what?" I asked.
"I said, are you ready?"
"Er, yeah, let's go." We stepped out into the comfortable night air, and Hermione wrapped an arm around mine as we walked towards the restaurant. I think Hermione was talking again, but my mind was preoccupied with the dual sensations of her arm resting against my rib cage and the feeling of my arm resting against something soft and bouncy. God I'm such a perve. We eventually arrived at the restaurant and were shown to our seats.
Now, suffice to say I have not had an easy life. But through all the trials and tribulations, I have developed and held onto many strong beliefs - beliefs that got me through the tough times. I believe that good will eventually triumph or evil. I believe that if you work hard enough, you will get rewarded, even if a job well done is all the reward you get. I believe that Dumbledore always strives for the greater good, even if it means that someone (and of course I'm referring to myself) gets screwed along the way. I believe that you can always count on Hagrid to stand by your side, just as you can count on him to not keep a secret. I believe that honesty and loyalty are traits hard to find in people, and once you find those people, you better hold on to them, even if they do act like jealous, childish, red-headed git sometimes (not that I have anyone in mind specifically, of course).
And finally, through even the toughest times, I believe that there is someone out there for all of us; that after everything I've gone through, I'll eventually find that perfect someone who's a combination of best friend and sexy minx, and that when I'm with this girl, all the insecurity, the nervousness, and everything else just fades away simply because I'm with that girl. And, as I sat here at dinner, across from my best and sexiest friend Hermione, I realized something.
I was so naïve for believing such a load of crap.
Nervousness fades away? God, I've never been so nervous in my life! It's a good thing I applied nine different types of hygiene charms on myself, or I'd be sweating so much that I couldn't see. This was exactly how I felt facing Voldemort at the end: my stomach was doing flip-flops, I could barely think straight, I periodically had shivers running up and down my spine, I had the weight of the wizarding world on my shoulders, I doubted that I would survive another ten minutes, I was prepared for an agonizing and slow death…
Alright, so maybe it wasn't exactly like the time I faced Voldemort, but there are a few similarities. Some of my nervousness must've showed, as Hermione startled me out of my internal rambling by placing her hand over mine.
"Just relax, Harry," she said gently, her eyes full of understanding and sympathy. "It's only me, Hermione. I'm the same girl you've known for over ten years." I took a deep breath to calm myself, and then gave her a small smile. She smiled back and returned to her menu. At that point, it was all I could do to not roll my eyes. Was she serious? `It's only me, Hermione,' she says.
HA!
Again I say, HA!
Who was she kidding? That's the entire problem! If she were any other witch, I'd be fine. But the very fact that she is Hermione is what's causing me so much heartburn. `Only me. Hermione.' And some people say she doesn't have a sense of humor.
"So, anything look good?" she asked as she read over her menu.
"You."
Hm. That was odd. I looked around, wondering who said that, because I know that I wouldn't say something that stupid. But when I turned back to Hermione, I found out that yes, I am in fact that stupid. But if nothing else, I was known for being quick on my feet, and I was up to the challenge.
I hid behind my menu; I just couldn't think of anything to say; Gilderoy Lockheart, I'm not.
"So," I heard Hermione say, "The fettuccini looks interesting. I think I'll have that. What about you?"
"Erm, maybe the beef stew," I said off-handedly. I was too nervous to think about dinner yet and hadn't really looked at the menu, despite burying my head behind it ever since we sat down. I didn't think she'd noticed.
"Harry, this is an Italian restaurant," she said.
Well, so much for not noticing. "I meant to say lasagna," I said quickly, looking up to give her a little embarrassed smile.
Fortunately, I was saved by the appearance of our waitress, whom I could hug at this point. "Hi, my name is Anne. Can I get you anything to drink?"
"YES!" I said quickly, with just a little hint of desperation. But since that wasn't very cool of me, I repeated myself in a nonchalant tone. "I mean, yes, I'd like a scotch if you have one."
"Certainly," Anne said. "And you?"
"Water's fine."
And then Anne walked away, leaving Hermione and me alone again. Though I suppose she did have work to do, it would've been nice if she stuck around a little bit longer, got to know her better. Suddenly, I called out, "Make that a double!"
Hermione gave me a look. "Harry, am I really so boring that you need alcohol to get through the night?" I was horrified; is that what she thought by my drink order? I was just trying to calm my nerves, that's all. I struggled to come up with something to say when she suddenly broke out in fits of laughter.
"Oh Harry! The look on your face! I'm just teasing," she said, smiling at me.
"Oh…heh, heh. Right, I knew that," I say, managing a smile. Bint. Since when had my Hermione become such a cruel woman?
Anne returned at that point with my double scotch. I downed it immediately, and almost as immediately I spit it back up. Did I mention that I've never had anything stronger than butterbeer before? After assuring Anne and Hermione that I was fine, we put in our orders, and once again, Anne left me alone to my fate. No more hugs for Anne. I looked at Hermione, and my mind was completely devoid of conversation starters.
After a second of silence, Hermione reached into her pocket, withdrawing a piece of paper. "What's that?" I asked.
Hermione looked a little embarrassed. "Well, I figured it might be awkward at first, so I wrote down a list of things we can talk about."
I wasn't sure if I should be offended that she thought so little of me, impressed that she knew me so well, or just thankful that there was a light to this tunnel of misery. I decided on thankful. "Sounds great," I said, and I meant it.
Hermione smiled and started down the list. The first few topics - the weather, our jobs, etc. - were fairly disappointing and did little to erase the awkwardness. But then she brought up Ron's so-called `threat,' and things improved drastically. It's usually easy to bond with someone when you're both making fun of the same person. After that, the list was forgotten, and things were almost normal between us.
But then, as we were sharing a dessert, her leg brushed innocently against my own. Normally, we would have both automatically withdrawn our legs to a minimum safe distance, not really giving it much thought. But this time, I kept my leg where it was, and I waited with a pounding heart to see what she would do while I carried on the conversation as if something very important wasn't occurring, though why it was important, I couldn't say. She left her leg where it was. I found it to be a very intimate feeling. Not sexy, not kinky, not arousing - just intimate, a show of affection that went beyond friendship.
After dinner, we decided to walk to the movie theater, since it was only a few blocks away. Hermione was just saying how all the desserts looked good, when I replied, "You should try the tiramisu next time." And that's when it struck me. That's when realization hit, when I suddenly knew what I should've done. I thought back to that critical moment and replayed the event in my head:
Hermione says: "So, anything look good?"
Harry says, rather stupidly: "You."
And then, in a fit of brilliance, Harry says: "I mean, you should try the lasagna."
It was so simple! Why didn't I think of that before, instead of cowering behind my menu? I'm such a moron! God, where's a time-turner when you need one?
"You okay Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, fine," I mumbled, still smarting over what I should have said. I looked over at her, and then for some reason it suddenly didn't seem to matter that much.
The movie was a very pleasant experience, with the added benefit that I didn't have to speak. Hermione had selected a light, romantic comedy for us to watch. It wasn't mushy, and there wasn't a single explosion in it, so it provided a very nice compromise. At some point during the film, I found myself holding her hand. Not cupped in a friendly way, but fingers intertwined, thumbs gently rubbing the other's hand. It was a thrilling experience, and though I watched the movie, one part of my mind was very aware of what was happening on the armrest.
In fact, the date was going so well overall that I half-expected a dark wizard attack once we left the theater. I actually had my hand on my wand just in case, but we seemed to be the only magical people around. A leisurely walk back to her flat followed as we discussed the movie. I was actually feeling pretty good about the whole thing (not counting the incident with the scotch) until we got to Hermione's flat, and it occurred to me that this is the part of the date where the first kiss typically occurs. What was I supposed to do? Was I even allowed to kiss her? If I tried, would she slap me across the face for being too forward? What if she offered me a handshake? My God, I think I'd just die from shame if that happened. Were there onions in my lasagna? Did my breath stink? Was I lousy kisser? If she does give me a sign that we should kiss, which way should I tilt my head? Should I just give a quick peck and retreat, or should I try and add a little tongue action? Should I-
And then she kissed me, and it was magic. Oh, I don't mean actual magic - there were no incantations murmured, no wands waved - but in a way, it was like a spell was cast on me: all of sudden, all my insecurity, my nervousness, and everything else just melted away when she kissed me. And I knew, this was what it was all for - Hermione. She was the reason I went through it all; oh sure, there was the whole `saving the world' and `avenging my parents' thing, and those were important, but they weren't the main reason why. She was, I just didn't know it at the time.
Hermione pulled away first, and when I opened my eyes and saw her, I knew everything would be okay. She smiled warmly at me and we hugged tightly, my face buried in her hair. As it turned out, maybe I wasn't so naïve after all.
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Author's Note: And that, as they say, is that. I hope you enjoyed, even though it was sort of an awkward ending, but there's a reason for that, and it's related to the surprise.
But before I get to the surprise, I wanted to share one of my biggest pet peeves about HP fanfic. Why here? Well, because of the firewall at work I no longer have access to the forums (though I can get to the fanfic, go figure), so I gotta write my opinions somewhere.
My pet peeve is the use of the word "bemused." Stop using the word incorrectly! I swear, I have read maybe one or two fanfics that use it correctly, and I'm giving the benefit of the doubt to one of them. Bemused does not mean amused. Bemused means bewildered (or deep/lost in thought, but that one doesn't seem to apply as often). So, in OotP when Hermione suggests that Harry calls her ugly, he's not thinking, `silly Hermione, I don't think you're ugly.' No, what he's thinking is, `What the f*#$? Where'd you get the daft idea that I think you're ugly!?'
Oh, and what's with Harry's `lopsided' grin? I seem to read that everywhere! Does he really have a lopsided grin in cannon, or is this a fanfic thing that just grew and grew? And does anyone know another word for `bushy?' And keep in mind that bushy does not equal curly; if you know anyone with bushy hair, you know there's a big difference.
I got a comment about my treatment of Ron in the last chapter, that he was way too comfortable with the idea of Harry and Hermione dating. My view is that Ron's just got a crush on Hermione, caused by the fact that 1) he's insecure around girls and 2) Hermione's the only girl he does feel comfortable around, so it's only natural he feels this way. But it's only a crush. Do you know how many crushes I had when I was 14ish? It's rhetorical question, there's no way you could know, though you can guess. I counted, and from 8th grade through my sophomore year in high school, I think I had crushes on at least six or seven girls. And now, years removed from the situation, I could care less if they dated (or married) someone else. That's how I see it with Ron - he just grew out of it by the time this story takes place.
Okay, and now for the bonus. First, a bit of history. This story was originally posted on the cookie/ficklet forums on Portkey. Prior to this story, I was an action/adventure/angst 3rd person POV writer on ff.net, so it really was an experiment for me to write like this. I've updated this story to reflect my current style, but I've decided to "reprint" the unedited original ending below in case you might find it interesting. You can also see my attempt at angst and will understand why I no longer attempt to write it. I do, however, love the very last line and would've used it again had I not reposted the original end. Thought it was a perfect way to wrap-up the story.
So, pretend they didn't kiss, and read on…
Original Ending
As we approached her building, I became progressively quieter and quieter, and I swallowed nervously when her building came into sight. "Would you like to come up for a bit?" she asked me. I immediately said yes, as this was a perfect way to avoid the whole `first kiss' scenario. Then I was introduced to a whole new world of anxiety. What did she mean by that? Did she just want to talk, or did she want something more? Arghhh! I briefly considered doing a bit of the legilimency mojo on her, but I knew she would never forgive me if I invaded her privacy like that. So, with my mind even filled with more doubt and anxiety then ever, I followed her into her flat.
I closed and locked the door behind me. "Make yourself at home," Hermione called as she walked into the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I settled myself on her couch, trying out various sitting positions. Can't be too relaxed and slouch, but can't be too stiff and actually look as nervous as I feel. I think I managed something in between - nervously relaxed.
Hermione returned balancing a tray that held two cups of tea and some biscuits. We talked for a little bit, though I was having a hard time of it all, knowing that her bedroom was only a few feet away. Though I should have been happy to be there, talking to Hermione, the whole thing was getting to me; I hate situations where I don't know what to do or how to act, and the whole night was like that. Finally, unable to stand it much longer, I politely announced that it was getting late, and that I should be leaving.
Hermione nodded, and I stood, and suddenly found that she was standing very close to me, close enough that I could see the little freckles on her nose. She tilted her chin up with her lips slightly parted, and, being the legendary Harry Potter, the wizard who rushes in where angels fear to tread, I did what came naturally in situations like this - I panicked. I backed away quickly, almost tripping over her coffee table in the process.
Hermione looked at me, confused, concerned, and a little hurt. "What's wrong, Harry?"
I shook my head. "This isn't going to work out," I said quickly.
"What? Why not?" she asked, and the beginnings of a new emotion appeared on her face - anger.
"It just won't, okay?" I snapped.
"No, it's not `okay!' What, the date went too well? You had too good of a time?"
"No, that's not it," I said.
"Then what is it?" she demanded. "You…you don't find me attractive anymore?" she asked, the first trace of uncertainty I heard all night from her.
My eyes widened, and I started towards her before I managed to stop myself. "No, no, of course I find you attractive, Hermione. God, it's all I can do to stop myself from snogging you senseless!"
"Then why don't you?!" she demanded, hands on her hips, the anger coming back.
Any other time I probably would have found humor in her angry demand that I kiss her. But not now. "I…I just can't, okay?"
"No, it's not okay!" she said exasperatedly. She started ticking points off her fingers. "We had a great time together. You find me attractive. We're best friends. What's the problem?" she asked, getting very frustrated. Then her face cleared a bit, like she just thought of something. "It's not that whole best friend/crossing the line crap, is it?" she said, pointing her finger at me. "Because if it is-"
"No, no," I said quickly, my hands raised in effort to calm her down. "It's not that. It just wouldn't work out between us, all right?"
"Harry Potter! You have known me for over ten years now. What in our time together would possibly make you think that I'd be satisfied with that response?"
I turned away, rubbing my temples and beginning to feel frustrated and angry. Couldn't she just see that it wouldn't work out? Why couldn't she leave it alone? But Hermione was right about one thing: I knew her well enough to know that she'll try to analyze everything until she figures out what's going on, that she'll keep picking and picking and picking and picking away until I give her an answer that satisfies her. But I couldn't.
"What, am I not good enough for you, Harry?" she asked scathingly. "Or do you want to play the field first? Try out a few more witches until you find one you like best? Blonde hair, big boobs? Don't want to be seen with a bushy-haired bookworm like me? Embarrassed that-"
"God!" I roared, reaching my breaking point. "It's not any of that! It's because you'll break up with me in the end!"
Silence. Finally, she asked a very confused, "Huh?"
I rounded on her, the words spilling out of my mouth. "You just don't get it, do you? What you see before you, this person, these clothes - it's the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, not me! You don't know the real me!"
"Of course I know the real-"
"No you don't! You think you do, but you just don't! You only see what I let you see: the brave, honorable wizard, strong and powerful, savior of the wizarding world."
"Harry-"
"But it's all just a mask, all of it! You see the guy who saved the Sorcerer's Stone, the Tri-Wizard champion, the guy who defeated Voldemort. But that's not the real me!"
"Harry-"
I turned away, not wanted her to see the tears that mysteriously formed in my eyes. I knew I should stop talking, that I should preserve what remained of my dignity and just leave. But it was like a dam bursting: all the feelings of insecurity, of resentment, of abuse - it overwhelmed me and I couldn't stop. I angrily wiped at my eyes. "You don't see the helpless, pathetic whelp that I really am," I said. "The boy that got picked last in gym class; the boy who got pushed around every day because he couldn't protect himself; the boy who was forced to sleep in a cupboard because his own family didn't love him. And once you meet the real Harry, you'll be just as disgusted with him as I am. You'll realize what a feeble loser he really is, how he doesn't deserve you, how no one could ever-"
All of a sudden, my arms and legs snapped together, and my back straightened like a wooden board. For a moment, I stood completely paralyzed, teetering back and forth, until a pair of hands gently lowered me to the floor on my back. I struggled mightily but couldn't move, and only then did it dawn on me that Hermione hexed me. She actually hexed me! As my neck and head were frozen in place, all I could see was the ceiling until Hermione's face filled my field of vision. Unable to turn my head, I couldn't avoid looking at her warm, compassionate eyes, shiny from tears.
We looked at each other for a moment, and then she began to speak very softly. "Oh, Harry, my sweet Harry, I've always known the real you," she said, gently caressing my cheek with her hand. "I knew you when you were the scared little boy who didn't know anything about the wizarding world. I knew you when the entire school, including Ron, thought you were an attention-seeking prat. I knew you after Sirius died, and I saw what losing the last link to your family did to you. I've always been by your side; not just for the good and heroic times, but for all the bad and tragic times as well. And I see you even now; how lonely you get sometimes, how you sometimes feel out of place at the Weasleys. But I also see your kindness, your heart. I know what the Dursleys did to you, and the fact that you were able to overcome it makes me love you so much more. They tried to break your spirit, they tried to squash the love out of you, but they failed Harry. They failed. I do know everything about you, and I'm still here. I'm not ashamed of you, and I'm not going anywhere."
She continued stroking my face, her tears falling onto my cheeks, when I realized that the body-bind had worn off. I raised my hands and gently touched her cheek. I could've said something glib, cover myself in something manly and careless in an attempt to try and shrug it off. But I had already exposed my soul to this girl, and I knew I could only be honest. "I'm scared," I said softly.
She nodded. "I'm scared too, Harry. Do you trust me?"
"With my life."
"Then trust me now. You've always been the strong one, the one I turn to when I'm scared. Let me be the strong one now - it's your turn to lean on me. Nothing has ever stopped us when we've been together before, not even Voldemort, and I won't let anything come between us now."
I couldn't even begin to describe how I was feeling or what I was thinking. All these old emotional scars had burst open in a frenzy of spite and anger, and then suddenly I found myself lying on the floor, Hermione on top, a calmness surrounding me. Hermione slowly lowered her face closer, and then, ever so gently, she pressed her lips to mine.
At that moment, the instant she kissed me, I just knew. I knew everything would be okay. It wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be `happily every after' from here on out, but it would be `happily ever after' in the end. Hermione was right: there wasn't anything that we couldn't overcome together. She broke the kiss and hugged me tightly, and my arms went around her. A few wisps of her hair fell across my face, and I moved my hand to brush them aside. I held a few of the delicate curls in my fingers and couldn't suppress a chuckle.
Hermione leaned up on an elbow and looked at me quizzically, an eyebrow raised. "What's so funny?"
I shook my head, still chuckling. "It's…it's just that…well, that Sleekeasy, he's a genius."
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