Coming of Age

Author’s Note: As we all now know, Hermione is older than both Ron and Harry. She turns 17 before either of her friends. Seventeen, of course, is the coming-of-age birthday in the wizarding world – a special birthday. So, what does Hermione want for her special birthday? What does she do and what does she get? Read and you’ll see! Review and you’ll be loved! This is only going to be maybe two or three short chapters – just for fun!

And remember, this is romantic fluff my friends about our favourite couple – don’t worry what happens, just enjoy them happening - this is “brain candy” – enjoy it guilt-free because a little of what’s bad for you is a good thing! I just had to bust out and do this before I finalise the last chapter of “Day by Day” and get stuck into the sequel!

This is set in the Trio’s Sixth Year at Hogwarts.

COMING OF AGE

by Lady Jane

Hermione glared at Harry and Ron. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’ she asked tartly. Harry and Ron glanced nervously at each other. ‘No,’ they said in unison. They were sitting across from Hermione at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall having just finished breakfast; they’d been able to take their time this morning as there were no classes, it being a Saturday.

Hermione made a great show of sighing and shaking her head before leaning her arms on the table and fixing them with her “now-listen-to-me-because-I-know-better” look.

‘Now, Ron, Harry-’

‘Wait a minute Hermione!’ cried Harry, holding up both hands, palms out, as if to shield himself from that look. Ron had turned his head and was gaping at him, impressed. He’d dared to interrupt Hermione when she was launching one of her verbal missions? Bloody hell! Stupid or brave? Bit of both, Ron decided.

The momentary shock Hermione was suffering at being interrupted rendered her temporarily speechless and gave Harry a chance to speak.

‘We know we’re not the most organised people, we admit,’ Ron made a muffled snorting noise at this comment, ‘but we are your best friends Hermione and best friends don’t let other best friends organise their own birthday parties. And that’s that.’ Harry sat back and folded his arms, looking across the table at Hermione, his green eyes full of determination.

This little speech kept her silent for just a little longer, long enough for Harry to start feeling a little nervous about having made a stand. Ron simply sat and waited grimly for all hell to break loose.

Then unexpectedly, Hermione sat back and smiled at them. Just a little smile, but a smile nonetheless.

‘Do you know, Harry, you’re right,’ she told him.

Ron promptly fell backwards off his seat, a yelp of pain escaping him as he hit the floor.

Harry’s mouth dropped open and he stared at her.

‘Oh, Ron, for goodness’ sake, get up off the floor. Harry, close you’re mouth, it’s not a good look. And blink.’

Of course, they did as they were told.

‘Now, Ron, Harry, I have to admit that my initial reaction was, naturally, that I should organise my own coming-of-age party as I’m the best person qualified for the job.’ She waited to see if they would smile at her little quip but, since being completely stunned prevents smile muscles from working, they couldn’t. Hermione shrugged philosophically and continued, ‘But, you have a point – one shouldn’t organise one’s own birthday party and if I don’t let you two do more for yourselves, you won’t be able to, if you know what I mean.’ She waited and they managed to nod at her. ‘So, you may go ahead and organise my party for me. The only thing I’d like to say is that my birthday falls on a Monday this year so you should probably arrange to have it the Saturday before which means you have two weeks from today.’ Hermione stood up. ‘I leave it in your capable hands, Harry, Ron. I’m looking forward to it already.’ She gave them a wink and a smile over her shoulder as she walked off.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then at Hermione’s retreating back. ‘She winked at us,’ said Ron.

‘She did,’ said Harry, watching Hermione’s hair swinging gently across her back as she walked.

Ron swallowed audibly. ‘She said we could do it.’

‘She did,’ said Harry, his eyes drifting to the enticing curve of her waist and her hips and what he liked to think of as her delicious derriere.

‘We have two weeks.’

‘We do,’ said Harry, hypnotised by the smooth fluid movement of her legs which were encased in tight fitting blue jeans.

‘Bloody hell!’ exclaimed Ron.

‘Yep,’ sighed Harry.

Ron waved his hand in front of Harry’s eyes: no response. He rolled his eyes. Merlin help me if I ever fall in love and become so pathetic! he thought disgustedly.

₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪ ₪₪₪₪

Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor tower with the intention of finishing the Transfiguration essay that was due Monday week; as always, she liked to keep ahead with her homework. Retrieving the necessary books, parchment and quills from her dormitory, she settled herself at the small table by the window, not far from the fire, Crookshanks settling himself in the empty chair opposite her.

She’d filled two pieces of parchment with her close, neat script when she heard the Fat Lady’s portrait swing open and looked up to see Harry and Ron making their way towards her.

Ron gently, although somewhat unceremoniously, pushed Crookshanks off his comfortable perch and sat himself down, not noticing the frown Hermione directed at him. Crookshanks gave him a look of pure disgust and headed for the hearth while Harry pulled himself up onto the window ledge behind Ron. They both looked at Hermione.

Putting her quill down, she sat back, crossed her arms and waited expectantly. Harry swallowed, suddenly realising that his vantage point on the window ledge gave him a tantalising glimpse of Hermione’s cleavage; she was wearing a dusky blue sleeveless t-shirt with a round, scooped neckline.

‘Hermione,’ said Ron, sounding a little jittery at the prospect of organising Hermione, the most organised person he’d ever known.

‘Yes, Ron?’ she prompted, looking at him intently.

Ron stalled under that gaze as he usually did and looked up at Harry for help.

Harry, his hands in his pockets, his legs swinging gently, reluctantly moved his gaze to Ron, rolling his eyes at him as he said, ‘What Ron wants to ask you is whether there are any specific things you know you want or that you don’t want at your party. Any special requests, in other words.’ Harry smiled to himself. Hermione can always make Ron speechless with a stare, a glare or just a raised eyebrow! At least she doesn’t paralyse my vocal chords…she just turns my insides to jelly!

‘So glad you asked,’ replied Hermione, beaming up at him. ‘I just happen to have a list here that I wrote for myself before I handed the party reins to you two. Here, you can have it,’ she said, holding out a rolled parchment to Ron. Harry slid off the window ledge, his guilt at sneaking peeks at Hermione’s fascinating cleavage playing serious havoc with his enjoyment of the view.

Ron took it, looking at Hermione. ‘You’re a little scary, sometimes, you know that?’

Hermione laughed. ‘You’ve said that to me before, Ron.’

‘Because it’s true!’ he retorted. ‘You have some scary qualities!’

‘Rubbish! Being organised isn’t scary, Ron.’

‘Says you,’ he muttered.

‘Prat!’

‘Ron,’ said Harry in a mock-serious voice, ‘you’re wasting time. We only have a fortnight and we’re gonna need every one of those fourteen days. Let’s go.’

‘Too true, too true,’ lamented Ron as he stood up, then jumped back, startled by Crookshanks who had left the hearth and had sprung suddenly back onto the seat as soon as Ron had vacated it. ‘Bloody cat,’ he cursed. Crookshanks just looked at him.

Hermione, who had picked up her quill and was already writing again, said archly, ‘He was there first, you know, Ron.’

Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the portrait hole. ‘Come on mate, we need to get organised!’

Ron groaned. ‘Dreadful word, “organised”, bloody dreadful!’

Ron continued to complain as they walked along the corridor towards the kitchens until Harry told him to shut it for Merlin’s sake. Moaning and complaining was pointless, useless and totally non-productive, Harry told him sagely. Ron’s mood definitely improved as they got closer to the kitchen and when Harry tickled the pear to turn it into a doorknob so they could enter, he was positively glowing. You could never escape the Hogwarts’ kitchens without a few little samples from the eager-to-please house elves, bless their long floppy ears.

Half an hour later they left the kitchens with a couple of bag loads of goodies and the party food all organised, Dobby of course doing the honours (he would never let anyone but himself look after Harry Potter or his Wheezy!). They headed back to their common room, planning on sitting down together and going through Hermione’s list to see what else they’d need to organise. (‘Once this party’s over I don’t want to hear that word again!’ groaned Ron.) Harry looked around automatically to see if Hermione was still sitting at the same table working on her essay and was stopped in his tracks. Hermione was still there all right, but she definitely wasn’t working on her essay. She was sitting with Crookshanks on her lap, absentmindedly stroking him, as she laughed at something said by the occupant of the other chair. Which was all very well except that it was the way she was laughing. Harry couldn’t find the words he needed to describe it, but at a gut level he knew exactly what was happening. He felt devastated. Hermione was flirting...

To be continued…

Author’s Note: Just a gentle reminder: This is romantic fluff about my favourite couple. It is to be read with a silly smile on your face and a nice warm, fuzzy feeling in your tummy. Warning: This is not to be taken seriously in any way, shape or form.

This is set in the Trio’s Sixth Year at Hogwarts.

COMING OF AGE

Chapter Two

by Lady Jane

Harry simply stood and stared, totally flabbergasted. What was Hermione – HIS Hermione no less! – doing flirting with someone else? And she was so bloody busy talking and laughing and FLIRTING she hadn’t even noticed that he and Ron had walked into the room! Who the hell was that anyway? He then actually focused on the other person – Bloody hell! It was one of the Gryffindor Beaters – Kirke! What was his first name? Dammit! He couldn’t remember! So what, his name didn’t really matter. He hated him. Stupid git. Just wait till their next Quidditch practice…

Ron in the mean time had kept walking, heading for the lounge in front of the fireplace. He stopped and looked around in confusion when he realised he’d said something to a Harry that wasn’t there. Then he spotted him standing a little way back, staring at Hermione.

He groaned softly before calling out, not too loudly, ‘Harry!’

Oh bloody hell! If only he could see himself, the great prat! And he hadn’t heard him. He tried again, a little louder this time. ‘Harry!’ This time he managed to puncture Harry’s hypnotic fascination with Hermione’s antics. Then, as Harry turned his head slowly to look at him, Ron noticed he looked quite dazed. He signalled frantically to him. ‘Get over here!’ he hissed.

Harry’s feet automatically started walking, taking him to join Ron, but his eyes went straight back to looking at Hermione as though he had no control over them. He came to a sudden stop and looked down to see he’d bumped into the end of the lounge on which Ron was now seated.

‘For pity’s sake, Harry!’ cried Ron. ‘Sit down and stop gawping!’ Harry seemed incapable of breaking out of his horrified reverie so Ron grabbed his arm and yanked him around the end of the lounge, pulling hard so that he sat down. His line of sight to Hermione cut, Harry focused at last on Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes. ‘Harry, mate, you’re not being cool. Gawping and staring and walking into furniture is just dumb’

‘Cool? I don’t care about cool Ron – I just care about-’

‘Hermione,’ Ron finished for him. ‘Yeah, I know. It’s been sorta obvious since start of term – actually, no, I think I noticed it when we all met up in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago.’

Harry sat up straight and stared at Ron. ‘Obvious?’

Ron nodded his head. ‘Oh yeah – very obvious, mate.’ Harry looked so mortified Ron quickly added, ‘But only to me I reckon!’

‘Do you think Hermione’s noticed?’

Shrugging, Ron said, ‘Hard to say mate, but I don’t think so. She’s clever with most everything else but I’ve never heard her talk about boys and stuff.’ Ron didn’t have the heart to tell him that he reckoned Hermione would either have to be walking around with a bag over her head twenty four hours a day or actually not be in the country to have missed Harry’s altered state since they’d all met up to buy their school supplies a few weeks ago. He couldn’t fathom why Hermione was ignoring it, but then all girls were pretty well unfathomable as far as he was concerned.

Harry slumped. ‘I think I’ll die if she’s noticed.’

‘Can’t die yet mate – we have a party to organise, remember? And oh yeah, then you’ve gotta work on bumping off You-Know-Who. After that you can die. Maybe when you’re past a hundred. Now, back to the list, eh?’

But while Harry appeared to be looking at the unrolled parchment filled with Hermione’s handwriting that Ron was holding, he was in fact, miles away. Well, actually, about twenty feet away. He could hear their voices and occasional laughter. Idiot! he chastised himself. How could you not realise that you wouldn’t be the only one who finally woke up to the fact that she’s pretty and wonderful and fun and smart and well, downright NECESSARY, at least to me! He tensed as he heard a chair scraping on the floor followed by a warm and hearty, ‘See you at lunch then Hermione!’

‘Andrew!’ rasped Harry.

‘Name’s Ron, mate.’

‘No! The git! His name’s Andrew!’

‘Kirke, yeah. A seventh year. He’s one of our Beaters.’

‘I’d like to beat him,’ said Harry sourly.

They heard him walk over to the portrait hole and leave. Harry sighed, then jumped and yelled when Hermione suddenly appeared, leaning over the back of the lounge. Ron couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Harry! You okay?’ asked Hermione, also laughing. ‘Why so jumpy?’

Ron, having realised Harry hadn’t heard a word he’d said in relation to Hermione’s list, let the parchment roll up in his hands again, said flatly, ‘He’s jealous.’

The look Harry gave Ron was murderous but Ron simply glared back at him. ‘You’re a prat, Harry, you should tell her.’

‘Tell me what?’ asked Hermione, her voice full of curiosity as she looked from one to the other.

‘Nothing,’ muttered Harry, still trying to cause Ron grave injury with the strength of his glare.

‘Oh, no you don’t Harry! You’ll have to tell me now!’

Harry groped around for a reason – any reason – not to have to say anything to Hermione right now.

‘Um, actually, Ron and I are just going over your list – why don’t you finish your essay and then we can have a talk?’ he asked desperately.

‘Hmmmm. All right.’ She sounded a little reluctant to Harry’s ears.

Once Hermione had gone back to work on her essay, Harry leaned closer to Ron so that he wouldn’t be heard.

‘What the bloody hell did you say that for? Are you stark, raving mad?’

Ron folded his arms across his chest and looked sternly at his friend.

‘Listen mate, you’re getting pathetic the way you mope around after her. I reckon you should say something. Or ask her out, or something. Put yourself out of your misery. She says yes, fine. If she doesn’t, get over it. But you can’t keep going like this.’ I bloody can’t keep going like this – having a lovesick git as an excuse for a best mate!

Harry sighed. ‘Maybe you could be right. But I don’t know if I can do it.’

‘Listen, why don’t you ask her if you can be her partner at her birthday party? I mean, it’s not really anything major like going out by yourselves to Hogsmeade or going up to the Astronomy Tower. There’ll be others there so it won’t be too awkward.’

Harry stared at Ron.

‘What?’ exclaimed Ron.

Shaking his head in amazement, Harry said, ‘I never knew you were such a thinker Ron!’

Ron smiled smugly. ‘That’s cause my brain hasn’t turned to mush like yours. Love! Blimey!’

‘Your turn’ll come mate, just wait!’ warned Harry, smiling.

‘Listen,’ said Ron, ignoring Harry’s prediction, ‘go over now, don’t think about it, just go and do it, before you chicken out!’

Harry felt a huge, twisted knot suddenly take the place of his stomach; his eyes widened with fear.

‘See? You look scared already! If you sit here and think about it for too long you’ll never do it! Just go!’

Ron reached over and pushed Harry, forcing him to stand up to prevent himself from sliding onto the floor.

Scratch, scratch. He could hear Hermione writing.

He looked down at Ron, his face pale.

‘GO!’ hissed Ron, waving his arm emphatically at Harry.

Harry turned and walked over to the table where Hermione was sitting. Crookshanks was sitting in the other chair once more and Harry kept his eyes on him as he slowly got closer and closer. It felt like eons before he reached her and then he just stood, looking down at Crookshanks who appeared to be asleep.

Scratch, scratch.

‘Er, Hermione…’

‘Yes Harry?’ Scribble, scribble, scratch, scratch went her quill.

He kept looking at Crookshanks. He had no idea what to say, none whatsoever.

Silence.

The scribbling and scratching stopped and the quill was laid down as two quizzical brown eyes fixed themselves on Harry’s now rather flustered countenance.

‘Crookshanks, please let Harry sit down.’

Harry watched in amazement as Crookshanks, in one smooth movement, rose up and jumped off the chair, walking sedately over to the hearth, his tail flicking lazily in the air.

‘Uh – thanks,’ he said, sitting down.

He finally worked up the courage to look at Hermione. She was leaning on both her arms and looking at him with an I’m-patiently-waiting-for-you-to-start-talking expression. However, it quickly became obvious Harry wasn’t going to do any such thing, due mainly to the fact that he couldn’t think of one syllable to utter, so it was left to Hermione to start talking.

‘So, what’s going on Harry? Ron said you were jealous. Of whom?’

Oh shit! What the hell was he doing here? Ron and his advice! “If you sit here and think about it for too long you’ll never do it! Just go!” He was going to kill him later. If he survived himself that was. He could feel death creeping over him already by slow, agonising degrees.

Harry looked down at his feet as though they held the secret to getting him out of this excruciating situation.

‘Actually, I was just going to ask you, um, I mean I was wondering whether, well, not that you have to, but since – well, I’m not sure, but I’d like to…’ He groaned as he stopped speaking, unable to go on. He was going to kill Ron. Really slowly. This was all his fault. If it wasn’t for him, he could’ve been still sitting on the lounge, suffering minimal torture compared to this!

‘Harry, what on earth are you rambling on about? What’s the matter?’

‘I don’t know Hermione. I guess it doesn’t matter.’ Harry felt miserable. And stupid.

One of Hermione’s eyebrows moved up into a graceful arch as she tilted her head to the side.

‘I think it does matter, Harry. You sound rather flustered. You can tell me – I’m sure I could help.’

Harry couldn’t stop the low, bitter laugh that escaped him. Hermione looked even more puzzled.

‘What, Harry? Come on – you know you can trust me.’

‘Oh, trust isn’t the problem.’

‘Then what is?’

So where was his much vaunted Gryffindor courage now, when he desperately needed it? Bah humbug! It came in quite handy for fighting Voldemort and facing any number of dangers but when it came to telling a girl you liked her and asking her out – useless! Bet Godric himself, in the same situation, would have been quivering in his boots way back when.

What the hell was he going to say? Hermione, I really fancy you and – no, no.

Hermione, I think you’re rather wonderful and – nope, awful.

Shit

Hermione, if you had any idea the thoughts that went through my head about you, you’d probably hex me into the next century. Definitely not.

Hermione, I have no idea how to say this, but I really like you and I’d like to be your partner at your birthday party. Possibly.

Hermione sighed loudly.

‘Harry, come on! It can’t be that bad!’

And what would you know about it Miss Totally Kissable? he thought bitterly.

‘It’s worse than bad,’ he said out loud. Why couldn’t he just say it? Come on, Potter, don’t be chicken!

‘Harry, for Merlin’s sake! This is ridiculous! This is me, Hermione! What can’t you tell me?’

A sudden gasp reached Harry from across the table.

Hermione sat back in her chair, her hands grasping the edge of the table.

‘Harry! It’s about a girl, isn’t it? That’s why Ron said you were jealous!’ She sounded triumphant, sure from the look on Harry’s face that she’d gotten it right.

‘I swear I won’t tell, I really do.’ She was smiling at him.

Harry dropped his head onto his arms. Shit. Bloody hell. Just great. Freaking wonderful. Now she thinks it’s some other girl! What am I going to say NOW? Death will be visited upon He-Who-Was-Formerly-My-Best-Mate.

‘It is! I knew it! Who, Harry? Who? I promise truly that I won’t tell, you can trust me!’

Harry decided there were far worse things than dying, his current situation being one of them. How could this possibly be any worse? It couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of Hermione thinking he liked another girl. His whole heart yearned to tell her – but he was probably putting himself on the line to be cut down. She’d never shown any sign of liking him anymore than she did Ron, not that he’d noticed at any rate.

He felt a sudden surge of a desperate wildness and recklessness. Stuff it!

He raised his head and looked at her. He couldn’t find his voice but he looked right into her eyes. His heart was in his eyes. He put every feeling he had for her into that look; he didn’t blink, his gaze didn’t waver.

It was fascinating to watch the shift in her eyes – from the excited friend waiting for some gossip to puzzlement, then to wondering “what the hell?”, moving past “you must be kidding!” and on to “oh shit!” and finally arriving at the words, whispered, her voice shocked and stunned: ‘It’s me?’

His answer was his unwavering, love filled gaze.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note: Phew! Go Harry… Wonder what Hermione thinks??

By the way, I wanted a “real” character for Hermione to flirt with and so I went to one of my favourite information sites, The Harry Potter Lexicon (marvellous, wonderful site!) and found Andrew Kirke. Here’s what they say about him:

Kirke, Andrew

Gryffindor, mid 1990s; Quidditch Beater, 1995-6.
Kirke is at least a second year during the 1995 - 96 season, so he would have started Hogwarts no earlier than 1989 and no later than 1994.
The name, Andrew Kirke, is the name of the Magician of the title of The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis. Rowling is a great admirer of Lewis's books.

Since this story is set in their sixth year (1995 according to the Lexicon’s timeline) and I wanted Andrew to be in the year above the Trio, it means he started at Hogwarts in 1989 which fits in with what they say as being the earliest he would’ve done so.

Please leave those ten little words and if you do – thank you, thank you, thank you!!

Author’s Note: So sorry this has taken so long – I’ve starting working five days a week (drats!) so I have a lot less time for my favourite things – Portkey, reading and writing! So, this is the third and final chapter – hope you enjoy it and I’m off to finish the final Chapter of Day by Day (hooray!). Heartfelt thanks for all your lovely reviews!

Set in the Trio’s Sixth Year at Hogwarts.

COMING OF AGE

Chapter Three

by Lady Jane

He raised his head and looked at her. He couldn’t find his voice but he looked right into her eyes. His heart was in his eyes. He put every feeling he had for her into that look; he didn’t blink, his gaze didn’t waver.

It was fascinating to watch the shift in her eyes – from the excited friend waiting for some gossip to puzzlement, then to wondering “what the hell?”, moving past “you must be kidding!” and on to “oh shit!” and finally arriving at the words, whispered, her voice shocked and stunned: ‘It’s me?’

His answer was his unwavering, love filled gaze.

There was a kind of awe in her voice. ‘Oh, Harry…’ her voice trailed off.

Still his gaze remained on her. A slow blush crept up her cheeks. Her eyes dropped to the table top.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen her looking quite so lovely: softly blushing cheeks with dark lashes fanned out on them; then those gorgeous brown eyes were once more looking at him, full of – what? He was afraid to analyse it. More afraid than he’d felt of anything.

‘What did you want to ask me?’ she whispered.

Harry shook his head slightly, his eyes still not leaving her

‘I can’t remember.’ His voice was husky and low.

He saw Hermione shiver slightly. Was shivering good? he wondered.

Then it came back to him. He swallowed. ‘Oh, yeah, that’s right. Hermione, I just have to tell you that I really, really like you and I’d like to be your partner at your birthday party. I mean if you don’t mind, if that’s all right...’

Harry wished Colin Creevey was hanging around because he would have dearly loved a photograph of Hermione showing the play of expressions that were dancing across her lovely face: There was surprise and amazement, then a look as though she’d been given everything she’d ever dreamt of; then she looked incredibly happy and on top of all of that, there was a real twinkle in her eyes as though she had a secret that was the best secret. But the greatest thing of all was that she was smiling. At him. Harry smiled back.

‘Well?’ he asked softly, feeling inexplicably hopeful.

‘Yes.’ It was hardly more than a whisper but it was the most beautiful sound Harry had ever heard.

‘Wow,’ he said, putting his hand across the table, palm up, inviting her to put her hand in his.

She let go of the edge of the table and gently laid her hand on his open palm, watching as his fingers curled around hers.

‘Wow,’ she repeated, looking at him once more, her eyes shining.

They hadn’t noticed Ron who was kneeling, his chin on his arms as he rested them on the back of the lounge, watching his two best friends taking part in an age-old courting dance. Actually doesn’t look THAT bad, he thought, smiling them. Makes them look pretty bloody goofy though!

‘So, why did Ron say you were jealous?’ asked Hermione breathlessly.

Harry chuckled. ‘Because I was. Of Andrew. You were flirting with him!’

‘And you didn’t like that?’

Harry frowned. ‘Not at all. I was furious, actually.’

Hermione gently squeezed his hand. ‘It didn’t mean anything. Andrew’s really nice. It’s sort of safe to flirt with him.’

‘Not any more, it’s not,’ said Harry, the intense look in his eyes sending a delicious shiver down Hermione’s back.

‘And did you arrange to meet him for lunch?’ To Harry’s everlasting relief, Hermione shook her head.

‘Not really. I mean we usually see him there, it was just that, really.’

‘I’m glad! Listen, Hermione, we need to talk.’

Hermione nodded in agreement. ‘Why don’t we-’

‘Oy! You two!’

Both of them turned and looked at Ron.

‘Ron! You were watching!’ accused Harry.

‘Wouldn’t’ve missed it for the world mate! And let me say, it’s about bloody time you put us all out of our misery!’

Hermione laughed until Ron said, ‘So, Hermione, you must have noticed Mr Moping-Around-After-You lately? He’s been acting like a total prat!’

‘No comment,’ was all she said.

Harry shot her a puzzled look and she smiled at him, that twinkle in her eye even more evident. ‘Let’s go have our talk,’ she told him.

They stood up, and without letting go of their hands, said goodbye to Ron who smiled and rolled his eyes, then waved them off.

Harry wouldn’t have believed it was possible to feel THIS bloody brilliant. It was in direct contrast to the misery, jealousy, uncertainty, hopelessness and all the other feelings brought about by suffering what he’d believed to be unrequited love. He smiled down at Hermione. He felt as though he was floating – he felt so light! He couldn’t believe it, not really. Hermione seemed to like him, too. He didn’t know how it was possible but he didn’t really care, as long as she didn’t stop. And he never wanted to let go of her hand - it sent the most wonderful tingling sensations throughout his whole body.

As one, they headed outdoors without even discussing it. It was a beautiful day, a hint of summer left over in the September air as their feet carried them towards the lake, stopping when they reached the tree they usually sat under while revising or doing some homework or just relaxing. Always before there had been three of them. This was the first time it was only the two of them.

Harry sat with his back against the tree, Hermione sat beside him, their legs stretched out in front of them, their clasped hands resting on Harry’s thigh.

‘Harry-’

‘Hermione-’

They both laughed.

‘You go first,’ said Hermione.

‘You sure?’ asked Harry and she nodded.

‘Well…’ Harry stopped and pondered. When had it started? How had it happened? He couldn’t remember exactly, he just knew that he’d missed her terribly for the few short weeks they were all apart, more so than he did Ron and actually, to be honest, he didn’t really remember thinking of Ron at all. Then when they’d met up in Diagon Alley it had hit him like the proverbial bomb. At first he didn’t recognise the gut-wrenching feeling that tore through him at the first sight of her, didn’t know why he just wanted to grab her and hug her for all he was worth and he sure as hell didn’t understand what he was doing feeling a desperate desire to kiss her for Merlin’s sake! Then she’d run up to him as she always did, calling his name, throwing her arms around his neck, a deliciously, soft and fragrant bundle in his arms that he didn’t ever want to let go. And as she pulled back and smiled up at him, asking him how he was, the penny dropped with a huge, resounding clang! He wanted her – wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to touch her; he wanted her! He knew he must’ve made a reasonable stab at saying something normal at the time because she smiled again and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards Flourish and Blotts, calling to Ron to join them.

‘Harry?’

Harry shook himself out of his reverie and smiled at her. Then he did his best to explain what had happened to him that day in Diagon Alley when he began to realise how he felt about her.

When he finished, Hermione turned to face Harry, shifting so that she was sitting with her feet beneath her, leaning forwards slightly to run her fingers through his hair then when her hands reached the back of his neck she clasped them. Harry noticed her eyes seemed to be glistening. Was she going to cry? he wondered, fearing he wouldn’t be able to cope with a crying Hermione any better than he’d coped with a crying Cho. Then she smiled a small smile. And next thing Harry knew, her lips were settling gently on his, sending all reason and thought out the window. If he thought he’d felt bloody brilliant before, how he felt being kissed by Hermione was off the scale! His arms automatically went around her, pulling her over so that she ended up half lying across his lap, her legs still curled sideways.

When she leant back, Harry felt as though someone had plunged him into ice water as all warmth seemed to vanish from his body. ‘No, don’t stop…’ he whispered, tightening his hold on her.

‘Harry, I have to have my turn, don’t forget,’ she told him, happiness and amusement both evident in her rather breathless voice.

Harry didn’t really think it was necessary she have it right now but if she wanted to – well, what Hermione wanted, Hermione would have, so he smiled and nodded, hoping she’d be quick…

She made herself comfortable, lying down at right angles to him, her head in his lap. She clasped her hands on her stomach, Harry putting his own hand on top of hers. His free hand found itself gently playing with her hair as he looked down at her, waiting.

And then she told him. She confessed. She said she’d realised during the holidays before their fifth year that she’d somehow moved from seeing him as Harry-my-friend to wanting him as Harry-my-boyfriend. Harry felt a lovely warmth suffuse his whole body at her words – they were music to his ears!

She then went on to explain that because she knew he didn’t feel the same way just yet, she managed to maintain her usual manner with him, mostly without any great difficulty, although sometimes feeling a little forlorn and hopeless about it all. But that no longer mattered, because when she saw him again in Diagon Alley she knew he was beginning to see her differently just from the way he’d looked at her when they first saw each other. And that, she confessed, was when she knew that everything had changed and would never be the same again and she’d felt as though she was going to explode with happiness!

‘You knew?’ Harry couldn’t help interrupting.

Hermione chuckled. ‘Oh, Harry! You should’ve seen the look on your face! It was a classic! It was all I could do to NOT kiss you right there and then!’

Harry groaned. ‘I wish you had!’

‘No, it would’ve been too soon. But after that I kept a close eye on you and I can tell you now that it was just wonderful to see you realise a little more each day. I knew you were always watching me. I have to admit I loved every minute! I feel a little silly now telling you that I sort of knew how you felt, but I didn’t want to force anything so I just pretended everything was pretty much the same as it had always been. I suppose I was waiting for you to catch up. I hope you don’t think I was being awful, sort of pretending I didn’t know and-’

‘I forgive you, just! Even though all this time I was miserable!’ cried Harry.

Hermione laughed. ‘Miserable? For what? A couple of weeks? Try it for a year!’

Harry groaned. ‘All right, you win! Have you finished? Can I kiss you now?’

‘Yes, I know, yes I have and yes please!’

Putting his arms around her, Harry pulled her up as Hermione wrapped her arms around him. Then he pulled her tightly to him, covering her mouth with his, fire surging through him this time at the feel of her lips beneath his and the incredible sensations caused by having her breasts pressed against his chest. He put one of his hands around the back of her neck because he didn’t want her to be able to pull away – he didn’t want this to end. But even The-Boy-Who-Lived needs to breathe and he eventually, though reluctantly, had to release her. Harry brought his knees up so that she could rest on them, keeping one hand on the back of her neck, his other resting on her waist, her hands on top of his. She smiled at him, her eyes shining. ‘Well that,’ she said, ‘was definitely worth waiting for!’

His expression became serious, his eyes searching her face.

‘Hermione, this is real, isn’t it? I’m not going to wake up and find out I’m dreaming or something, am I?’

‘Absolutely not, Harry! Although I know what you mean about dreaming. I feel as though I’m dreaming, too!’

‘Then I hope we never wake up!’ said Harry, laughing again.

As he looked down at her, he realised her eyes were shining with unshed tears once more.

‘Hermione! What’s wrong?’

‘Harry,’ her voice was a mere whisper, ‘you have no idea how happy I am right now. How unbelievable it is to reach a day you only ever dreamed of and to find that when you do reach it, the reality is so, so much better than your dream. It’s overwhelming!’

‘Harry! Hermione!’

Harry groaned and Hermione found she had to laugh at the exasperated expression on Harry’s face.

Ron had appeared in front of them and seeing the looks on their faces, put his hands on his hips and scowled at them. ‘Hey! I gave you half an hour’s head start! Don’t look at me like that!’

‘Sorry mate, seems like five minutes, not half an hour!’ apologised Harry, laughing, as he stood up, holding out his hand to help Hermione up.

‘Thanks for the head start,’ said Hermione with a smile. She looked at Harry and knew he was thinking what she was thinking: they would probably never have noticed the time and would’ve stayed there until it got dark if Ron hadn’t turned up!

‘You’re welcome,’ said Ron, smiling smugly; he rather felt as though he’d been the one to “push them over the edge” and was rather proud of himself at that moment.

As they walked back to the castle, Ron gave up trying to hold any sort of conversation with either of his two friends. They couldn’t seem to take their eyes off each other and they certainly hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d gone to get them. But seeing them like this gave him an idea. He, too, then had a smile on his face as they all headed to the Great Hall for lunch; he really had a lot to be proud of today.

As they sat down, Hermione in the middle with Harry on her left, Ron made his announcement.

Piling food on his plate as usual, he told them HE would organise the party – that Harry needn’t worry about it, he would do everything. This managed to wipe the smiles off both Harry and Hermione’s faces.

‘Um, Ron, don’t you think that you’re going to need some help?’ asked Hermione nervously.

Ron, his mouth full, shook his head vigorously.

‘Mate, listen – two of us doing this will make it a lot easier-’ began Harry. But Ron had managed to swallow his mouthful and cut in, ‘Nope. Just me. Not negotiable. I have an idea. Everything will be fine. Trust me.’

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. They each saw terror in the other’s eyes.

Ron watched them and made a sound of disgust.

‘I know what you’re thinking! “Ron can’t do this, Ron’ll mess it up, it’ll be a disaster of massive proportions if Ron does it!” Well, let me just say this: I know exactly what I’m doing and I’m gonna do it.’

Harry looked at Hermione helplessly and shrugged. Hermione opened her mouth to say something but it wouldn’t come out.

Ron took their silence as acquiescence.

‘So that’s settled then? Good!’ and he put his laden fork in his mouth and smiled triumphantly at them.

After lunch, Hermione said she needed to go to the library and of course Harry wanted to go with her.

‘Are you nuts?’ exclaimed Ron when they asked if he wanted to come. ‘Why the heck would I want to go there when I don’t have to? Besides, I have a party to organise.’ He gave them a happy smile and headed off to who knew where.

Hermione had actually counted on Ron not wanting to come to the library and told Harry so as they walked along, once again holding hands.

‘You mean you deliberately picked the library so Ron wouldn’t come?’

‘Of course. So we can be alone.’

‘In the library?’

‘In the library.’

‘As long as the only thing you research is me,’ he told her firmly.

As it turned out, Hermione led him to the one window seat in the whole library. It was right at the back, at the end of a particularly boring and rarely used aisle of books. There were only a few dedicated, studious students present in other parts of the library and they all had their noses well and truly buried in the books of their choice. Not one gave Harry and Hermione a second glance.

‘No wonder no one comes down here,’ commented Harry. ‘Look at some of these books, will you! “The Latest Wand Movements, 1624” and oh Merlin – get a load of this one: “A Wizard’s Guide to Wand Polishing”! Which wand are they talking about?’

‘Harry!’ exclaimed Hermione, swatting him on the arm.

Harry laughed as he sat down, pulling Hermione onto his lap. ‘Your fault,’ he told her. ‘I can tell you now that I’ve been thinking things about you the last few weeks that would curl your toes!’

‘So that’s what’s been wrong with my toes! I wondered…’

Hermione’s arms slid around Harry’s neck and they smiled happily at each other.

‘Harry-’

‘Hermione-’

They both laughed. ‘You go first this time,’ Harry told her.

Hermione leant forward and touched her forehead to Harry’s. She spoke softly. ‘Harry, you have no idea how amazing this is – how absolutely incredible I feel – I still feel as though I’m dreaming! To have you feel the same about me as I do about you is – well, there’s nothing else I need.’

Harry decided actions spoke louder than words at times like this and so he kissed her. ‘Me either,’ he said when they finally parted.

That evening, the three of them were once again sitting before the common room fireplace, Hermione at one end of the large, comfy sofa, Harry lying down with his head in her lap, Ron at the other end, his hands behind his head. Crookshanks was curled up contentedly on the hearth. Harry and Hermione had asked Ron how the party plans were coming along and their only answer had been a smugly mysterious smile from Ron and a shake of his head. ‘You’ll see,’ was all he’d tell them.

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

Nearly two weeks later, the night before her party, Hermione realised she’d been so wrapped up in Harry she hadn’t given her party much thought at all. As long as Harry was there, she didn’t care about the rest! Ron had told them at breakfast that morning to be in the Room of Requirement at eight o’clock that evening and so after dinner, they’d gone back to their dormitories, Hermione to get changed, Harry to do likewise and to retrieve the presents he was giving her, shrinking them with a wave of his wand and putting them in his pocket. Naturally, he was a lot quicker than Hermione and he went down to wait in the common room for her, settling himself in front of the fireplace, Crookshanks lying at his feet. When Hermione came down the stairs a little while later, Harry stood slowly, a smile lighting up his face, his green eyes glowing.

‘Wow!’ he exclaimed

Hermione smiled, actually looking a little shy. She was wearing a dress; it was a soft cinnamon brown with a fine gold thread throughout it. It had a low, draped, scooped neckline and was sleeveless. It fitted her nicely but not too tightly, ending just above the knee. She’d pulled her hair up and twisted it into a loose chignon at the back of her neck.

‘You look pretty wow yourself,’ Hermione told him, her eyes gleaming with appreciation.

Harry was wearing a new pair of black jeans and a deep green shirt.

They walked hand in hand towards the Room of Requirement, Harry opening the door for her when they arrived.

They were greeted by Dobby as they walked in, bowing so deeply his nose touched the floor.

‘Dobby is most honoured to welcome Harry Potter and his My-knee to a special birthday celebration organised by Harry Potter’s Wheezy.’

Harry suppressed a burst of laughter while Hermione looked aghast, whispering, ‘”My-knee?” I’ll have to teach him the proper pronunciation!’

Harry couldn’t help himself. ‘Oh no you don’t! This is even better than Victor Krum’s mangled version of your name!’ causing Hermione to roll her eyes at him.

They looked around and noticed that although the room was decorated in the manner of a party – balloons, streamers, a lot of armchairs and large, soft floor cushions everywhere and of course, a table laden with party food - well, groaning actually, because house elves (and Dobby in particular) just couldn’t help themselves when it came to supplying food – there was no one else there.

‘But where is everyone else?’ asked Hermione, dismayed, when she realised the room was empty except for the three of them.

Dobby looked worried. ‘There is no one else, Harry Potter’s My-knee. Harry Potter’s Wheezy said it would just be Harry Potter and his My-knee.’ Dobby was visibly concerned and working himself up into a real state.

Harry recognised the direction he was heading in and to head him off and prevent him from trying to brain himself on the closest hard surface he quickly assured Dobby that it was just the two of them and he’d done a wonderful – no, fabulous job - and the food was great and he and his – My-knee - were very, very impressed.

Looking a little mollified by Harry’s words, Dobby told them that Ron would wait up and see them back in the Gryffindor common room later. And, oh yes, he’d asked if they would take him back some leftovers, then he bowed and backed out of the room, leaving them alone with stunned expressions on their faces and enough food to feed every single Gryffindor for a week. Turning to each other after Dobby had exited, they started laughing again.

‘That Ron! “I’ve got an idea, trust me” he said,’ gasped Harry.

‘He didn’t organise a thing! Not one single thing!’ said Hermione, laughing despite her indignation.

‘He just left the food order standing that he and I’d put in and then simply didn’t tell anyone else about the party! So much for organisation!’

Hermione sat down on a nearby chair to save herself from falling down as she’d begun to laugh so hard and Harry joined her – the realisation of Ron’s complicity hitting them.

‘You know what, though?’ gasped Hermione. ‘It was actually rather clever of him to think of doing nothing! Only Ron would do that!’

As their laughter subsided and they wiped the tears of mirth from their eyes it dawned on them: they were alone.

As their expressions slowly became serious, they looked intently at each other.

Harry stood up and taking Hermione’s hands in his, pulled her gently to her feet, slipping his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

‘Happy birthday,’ he murmured, ‘My-knee…’

Hermione, at first melting into him, stiffened and pulled back, looking at him with great indignation.

‘Do not,’ she said, leaning back and glaring at him, ever call me “My-knee” again! Dobby has an excuse, he comes with a built in house-elf speech impediment – you do not!’

Harry grinned at her. ‘Sorry Hermione, I couldn’t resist!’ His arms were still securely fastened about her waist and Hermione’s hands, which had come to rest on his chest as she’d admonished him, now slid around his neck once more as she shook her head at him. ‘You always do me in with that smile of yours!’

‘Everything about you does me in,’ replied Harry, dropping his head to kiss her again.

‘This is the best birthday I’ve ever had!’ said Hermione happily a few minutes later.

‘I nearly forgot!’ exclaimed Harry, plunging a hand into his pocket and taking out the presents, returning them to their proper size with a quick wave of his wand before handing them to Hermione.

‘Let’s go sit down,’ she said, leading Harry to a nearby armchair.

‘Open this one first,’ Harry instructed, pointing to the lumpier one.

Hermione’s eyes lit up when she held up a beautiful gold hairbrush and comb set, each with an “H” engraved on them. ‘Harry! They’re beautiful!’

‘Like you,’ he said smiling at her. ‘Now the other one.’ Hermione pulled the wrapping off.

‘Oh, Harry! How did you - ’

‘Colin took it. We didn’t even notice him, which doesn’t surprise me considering how preoccupied we were at the time.’

Hermione held up a framed photograph. It showed the two of them sitting under the tree by the lake the day they’d told one another how they felt. Photo-Hermione was lying with her head in photo-Harry’s lap, he was playing with her hair as they looked at each other, then photo-Harry lifted photo-Hermione up and kissed her.

Hermione sighed. ‘One of our first kisses - how romantic!’

Harry gently laid the presents on the floor and pulled Hermione back into his arms. ‘The first of many,’ he told her, his voice low.

******** ******** ******** ******** ******** ********

In the Gryffindor common room a tall red-headed boy was stretched out on the sofa before the fire, his arms behind his head. A large, ginger cat with a squashed in face sat close by, looking intently at the figure on the sofa.

‘What?’ said the tall red-head, frowning at the cat.

The cat said nothing, just continued looking at him.

‘I don’t know why they’re so late so don’t look at me like that! Well, yeah, I do know why they’re so late, but it’s none of our business, so just go clean your paws or something.’

The cat looked as though it may be considering this information whilst ignoring the rather ignominious command at the end.

‘All right, I’m sorry about the paw cleaning thing. I guess it’s just you and me for now, isn’t it?’

The cat obviously agreed because it jumped up and after circling a few times, settled itself near the red-head’s feet, its tail curling lazily around it.

The red-head sighed. ‘I guess it could be just you and me more often, now, what d’you think?’ He sighed again. ‘I don’t think I really want to picture what they’re up to. But I bet it’s not eating. I bet they won’t even so much as look at all that food.’ A last, heartfelt sigh. ‘And I have a horrible feeling they’ll forget my leftovers, too.’

FINIS!