Am I Too Late?

Author’s Notes: This story was inspired by my friend Christina who will do anything for anyone even if it breaks her heart. And this story is dedicated to Mandy, my twin, my beta, my friend. She first got me hooked on H/Hr and we’ve been cruising these seas ever since.

AM I TOO LATE

Chapter One

Butterbeers and Brown Bags

By all accounts she should have been declared legally dead at the scene of the crime, at the scene of the declaration.

Her skin was ashen. Her heart wasn’t beating—how could it when it had, just moments before, crashed through the wooden floor beneath her? She wasn’t breathing. Her eyes held the glassy, unseeing blank stare of the recently deceased.

By all accounts she should have been declared legally dead, but when the body dies, there should be an absence of pain. And there wasn’t.

There definitely wasn’t.

The pain had burst inside her like an imploding Roman candle, a Polyjuice potion gone horribly awry, and there had been no warning, no safety belt, no crash helmet.

“Hermione, did you hear me?” she heard a faraway voice ask.

No. Yes. I don’t know. I think I’m dreaming. That’s it. I’m having a nightmare. Don’t say it again. Don’t say it again, she begged the voice.

She felt like her head had been shoved underwater. Hot water. Sweat beads broke out across her forehead. Her chest felt constricted as if she were trapped beneath a herd of Hippogriffs. Movements and voices around her traveled through the tar holding her senses hostage.

“I said I was going to ask Beth to marry me,” Harry repeated clearly. “What do you think about that?”

And like a whip rolling out and cracking, the snap back to full-speed reality was instantaneous. Her safe house of glass shattered. Voices in the pub resumed, loud and laughing. Glasses clinked together, chairs slid across the wooden floor, people shouted out their orders to the bartender, someone coughed nearby, and the noises were almost overwhelming.

What do I think about that? Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Harry can’t get married. He can’t get married! Everything would change. He’d spend all of his time with her, and there’d be no more room for me…and I…I…

Her hands suddenly clasped her neck in a choke hold. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, but her lungs were screaming for air.

“Hermione are you okay?”

She looked frantically at her two best friends. She could see the concern on their faces.

“I can’t breathe!” she finally blurted out hysterically. She began hastily unbuttoning the top two buttons on her blouse, but her fingers felt fat and clumsy. “I can’t breathe!” she wheezed in a strangled shout.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, leaning across the booth to get closer to her.

“No, I’m not okay!” she snapped, pulling in a weak breath of air. With the second button undone, she fanned her shirt. “I’m burning up!”

“Are you having some sort of allergic reaction to the Butterbeer?” Ron wondered, casting a sideways look of concern toward Harry.

No, Ron! I’m having a reaction to Harry’s statement. Tell him he can’t possibly marry her because I…I…because I… Oh, God. Oh, God. I can’t breathe.

She swung her legs out of the booth and leaned her head between her knees. She could practically hear the world crashing all around her. Blood rushed to her ears and momentarily blocked out almost all the voices in the pub. Almost all the voices—except his.

“Shit, Ron. Should we get someone? She’s having some sort of fit or something. Maybe she is allergic to the Butterbeer,” Harry said, and she almost screamed when she felt his hand burning a hole straight through her blouse to the skin on her back.

The shadowy hands of shock and despair were squeezing the air from her lungs and the hope from her heart. Suddenly a brown paper bag was thrust in front of her face.

“Here, honey, breathe in. Nice and slow now.”

Hermione obeyed, clutching the bag like it had the power to fill her lungs with the air she desperately needed and the power to wipe away the conversation that had just sliced through her heart. The cool air began to fill her lungs as her breathing relaxed. The horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, however, did not subside.

“What did you do?” Ron asked, staring at the witch who’d brought Hermione the paper bag.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to intrude,” the older witch said, “but I noticed the signs from across the room. The pale skin, the emotionless eyes, then the tale-tell head between the knees. She was hyperventilating. My oldest daughter did it quite often when she was younger. The little brown bag works like a charm every time.”

Ron continued to stare at the strange witch as if she’d just told him she had once fathered Voldemort’s children.

“What’s with the bag?” Ron asked.

“I’m Muggle-born, and this is what Muggles do when they hyperventilate. I’ve found it works much faster with the bag, that’s all. There now. Slow deep breaths. That’s right,” she cooed to Hermione.

The witch rubbed Hermione’s back in a motherly fashion, and Hermione found it soothing. She tried to smile around the bag. She didn’t dare look at Harry and Ron; she was afraid they’d see the truth in her eyes.

“You boys stressing out the misses?”

“Us? Stress her out? No way,” Ron answered. “She doesn’t need us to stress her out. She does that on her own. Quite well actually.”

Hermione glared at him. The witch shrugged. “Usually my Emily would struggle with it when she received stressful news.”

“Listen, we weren’t doing anything. Harry here is getting married. I don’t think that’s the kind of information that stresses people out,” Ron said defensively, and Harry blushed as the witch turned her attention to him.

“Are you now? Well, I’d say that’s wonderful news and quite exciting.” Then, the witch turned to look at Hermione. The two witches locked eyes, and Hermione knew she could see the truth hidden just behind the façade she was trying to quickly construct. The witch’s gaze softened for a moment in an apologetic expression before she turned away.

“You two take care of her. Make sure she gets home safely.” She looked at Hermione and touched her shoulder. “You hang in there. This will get better; you’ll see.” When she walked off, Hermione wasn’t sure if she was talking about the hyperventilation thing or the ‘I know you’re in love with him and he doesn’t know it’ thing.

After an awkward minute of silence passed by with Hermione holding the bag to her mouth and breathing, she finally pulled it away. When she swung back around in the booth, she didn’t look up at her two best friends. As she folded the little brown bag neatly, she clasped her hands together on the table and could feel the blush heat her cheeks. She painted on a weak smile and looked up at them.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said quietly.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, and for once in her life, she hated to see the concern on his face. Why couldn’t he look at her with loathing? Why did have to look at her with those bright green eyes?

“Sure. It was nothing,” she mumbled.

“Well, it bloody hell didn’t look like nothing. What’s wrong with you? Are you allergic to the Butterbeer?” Ron asked.

“No,” she answered in annoyance, “I’m not allergic. I…” she paused as she tried to assemble a believable lie. “I’m stressed about work. We’ve been staying late, working overtime—“

Ron waved his hand dismissively and called over a waitress. “Yeah, yeah. It’s always work with you Hermione. No wonder you had a fit; you’re obsessed with your job.” He looked up at the smiling waitress. “Yes, could we get another round of Butterbeers? Thanks.” And he looked back at Hermione. “You’re practically a work-a-holic. In fact, the word probably has a picture of you next to the definition—“

“—that’s enough,” Harry interrupted. He had a fairly good idea where that conversation would lead—a fight between his two best friends.

“You’re right. It is enough.” Hermione reached over and grabbed her robes from the seat. “I should be getting home.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Harry asked.

Hermione’s head shot up and she blurted, “No!” Sighing, she looked away from his gaze and smiled wearily. “No, Harry. Thank you, but I’m fine. You two have a good night.”

“Don’t forget your bag,” Ron said teasingly.

“I don’t need it anymore, Ron,” she said, glaring at his lack of sensitivity.

As she slid out of the booth, Harry grabbed her arm. When she looked into his eyes, she wished they were still children, still years away from an adult life…years away from marriage proposals.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” he said gently.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you…later.”

“Okay, because I really want to talk to you about Beth…and this whole marriage thing.”

“On second thought,” she said, leaning over the table and grabbing the little brown bag, “you never know when this might come in handy. Well…goodnight.”

She slipped the bag into her robes and walked away, pushing her way through the crowded, joyful pub. The cold outside air was like a slap in the face, but she needed it. She needed something to jerk her back into reality because evidently she had been under the false impression that she and Harry would be best friends forever, that she would be his only girl, platonic or not, for the rest of their lives. Clearly, she had been horribly wrong.

AM I TOO LATE

Chapter Two

Don’t Let Me Cry

Hermione tugged her coat and robes tighter around her body. The wind was cutting down the street with a vengeance, and it sliced through her shivering body. She walked down the cobblestones like a little girl lost in a foreign city, staring straight ahead but not seeing anything.

The pub, The Benevolent Badger, was only a five minute walk from her flat, but the streets seemed to have lengthened, causing her short walk to feel painfully far.

By the time she reached her flat, her face felt frozen, and her hands were numb. She fumbled with her keys, dropping them onto the tile floor three times before pulling out her wand and opening the door magically. Harry had always teased her for still using Muggle keys.

Harry.

She walked into her flat, pulled off her coat, slung it over the nearest chair, and leaned on the door, shutting it with her weight. She closed her eyes and pressed her head back.

He’s going to marry Beth. He’s going to marry her. Why is this bothering me so? He’ll still hang out with me. They’ve been together for a while now and it doesn’t change our time together. Why would this change things?

“Ugh!” she groaned. “She’s going to be his wife,” Hermione whispered, and for the second time that night, she thought she might cry. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry. That was silly, foolish, and entirely too weak in her opinion.

She paced the floor in her living room for a good half an hour before thinking if she didn’t talk to someone she would lose her mind. She walked over to her fireplace, shoved her hand into the black container of Floo powder, and knelt down. She would give Ginny a call. They were best friends. They told each other everything—only they’d never talked about Harry…not really. They’d certainly never discussed his love life. It had always seemed like such a personal issue, and Hermione and Harry were only friends.

She was on the verge of tossing the Floo powder into the hearth when she reconsidered.

“This is silly,” she said to herself. “What am I going to say? Hey, Harry’s marrying Beth and I don’t like it?” She sighed loudly. Then a wave of sadness crept through her, and she tossed the shiny powder into the fireplace. She stuck her head inside the flames and called out Ginny’s address.

“Ginny?” Hermione called out from the hearth.

“What? Who is it? Is that you Hermione?” Ginny’s voice could be heard shouting from around the corner.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Hermione answered.

“Okay. I’ll be right with you,” she yelled. “How did your weekly dinner with Ron and Harry—“ Ginny stopped talking when she saw Hermione’s head in the flames. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh…nothing,” Hermione said quickly. “I was wondering if you could come over for…a friendly chat?”

Ginny knelt down on the hearth rug and eyed Hermione. She didn’t believe her best friend’s response. “Just for a friendly chat?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Hermione groaned. “Can you come over or not?”

“Don’t get shirty with me, Hermione. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said, looking up at Ginny apologetically before pulling her head from the flames.

* * * *

When Ginny arrived at Hermione’s flat, she could smell coffee brewing and…cookies? Was Hermione baking?

“Hermione?” she called out.

“Hey Gin! I’m in the kitchen,” Hermione yelled back.

Ginny walked through the living room and found Hermione in the kitchen just as she said, but she was also wearing an apron embroidered with a roaring lion and holding a sheet of chocolate chip cookies. Her hair was pulled back from her face and tied neatly in a scarlet ribbon.

“You’re baking?” Ginny asked.

Hermione smiled brightly. “Yes. I thought we might curl up near the fire and eat cookies and talk. That’s what girls do when they get together. Have a cookie,” Hermione said, her voice tight and full of excitement.

Ginny frowned. “How much coffee have you had tonight?”

“Oh, none yet. I was waiting for you.”

“Oh-kay,” she said slowly, taking the offered cookie. “I’ll get us a couple of mugs,” she said, reaching up toward the cupboard.

“Oh, no, that’s okay. You have a seat, and I’ll get everything for us. You just go relax,” Hermione said, ushering Ginny out of the kitchen.

Ginny sat on the couch and looked over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. She could hear Hermione humming. Something was definitely wrong with her, but she could only be patient and wait to find out what exactly had her best friend acting so strange. After all, everyone knew that Hermione didn’t bake cookies at eleven o’clock in the evening. Actually, she never baked cookies or hummed. It was almost unnerving.

When Hermione finally emerged from the kitchen, she held a plateful of cookies in one hand and two steaming mugs of coffee in the other.

“Here we are,” she said, placing the cookies on the coffee table and handing the mug to Ginny.

“This is definitely a surprise,” Ginny finally said, taking a bite of the cookie. Her eyebrows rose. “These are really good,” she mumbled through her mouthful.

“Oh thanks,” Hermione glowed. Then in one single breath she said, “I got the recipe from my mum. I called her tonight. She was sleeping, of course, because she and Dad always go to bed by ten, and it was probably 10:30. Well, she gave me the recipe over the phone, and if you’re wondering why I didn’t just Floo over there…well basically Mum forbid me from Flooing anymore because of that ugly mishap when her partner, Dr. Lloyd, was over there, and the whole memory cleansing ordeal. You remember, don’t you? Well, this is her secret recipe and aren’t they wonderful?!” Hermione inhaled a deep breath and then stuffed a cookie into her mouth.

Ginny’s mouth was agape, and she was sure her eyes were the size of saucers. Coming back to her senses, she closed her mouth and picked up her mug of coffee. “Well, you’re definitely chatty tonight, aren’t you?”

Hermione smiled, but Ginny could see the tiny twitch in the corner of her mouth. “We haven’t had a girl’s night in a long time. We never sit around and chat, and I thought it would be nice.”

“It’s very nice. So…let’s chat,” Ginny smiled. “Anything on your mind?” she asked nonchalantly, sipping the hot liquid slowly.

Hermione hesitated, her smile wavered, and her knuckles were white. Ginny could see the liquid in Hermione’s cup ripple across the top—it was obvious that her hands were trembling.

“Is something wrong, Hermione?” Ginny asked carefully.

Hermione’s face perked up immediately, and the smile she forced was almost convincing. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?” She tried to laugh.

“Well, for starters, you’ve got a wicked death grip on your mug,” Ginny answered.

Hermione’s hands instantly relaxed. “Oh, I guess I was holding on too tightly. My mind was wandering…I was thinking.” She laughed again, and it didn’t sound forced. It sounded distant.

“What were you thinking about?”

Hermione could no longer hold it in. She placed her mug on the end table and turned to Ginny. She moved her mouth into what she hoped was a genuine smile.

“Harry told me something tonight,” Hermione said quietly, trying desperately to keep her raging emotions subdued.

“He did?” Ginny asked, widening her eyes and feeling suddenly nervous. “What did he say?”

“He told me he’s getting engaged,” she answered quickly.

“Oh heavens!” Ginny shouted and then burst out laughing. “I thought you were going to say he told you he was in love with you!”

Hermione blanched. “Why on earth would he say that?” she choked.

Ginny’s laughter quieted. “Oh, I don’t know. The look on your face. I’m sorry. But he’s getting married?! That’s wonderful! Is he excited?”

Hermione feigned enthusiasm. “I don’t know. Just after he told me, I got sick—“

“—you got sick?” Ginny frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think it must have been the dinner. I told Ron that I couldn’t eat all of that fish, but he said I could—“ She cleared her throat. “Never mind. I’m fine now. But Harry said he’d call on me later and we could talk more about it.”

“Did he seem pleased?” Ginny wondered, eating another cookie.

“Oh sure, why wouldn’t he be?” Hermione asked, picking up her mug and standing up. She walked over to her mantle and lifted a picture with her free hand.

Moving and smiling in the picture were Ron, Harry, herself, Ginny, Neville, Justin, Seamus and Beth. It had been taken at Ron’s last “friends only” birthday party. They’d been at Justin’s pub, The Benevolent Badger, and they’d had a great time. Beth had stayed only twenty minutes after the picture had been taken, and Ron and Ginny had gotten so sloppy drunk (competing to see who would pass out first), she and Harry had been forced to carry them both home to Harry and Ron’s flat. Then, she and Harry had fallen asleep on his couch, watching an old Muggle movie.

Hermione stared at Beth in the picture. The smiling witch waved up at her, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder in the process. Harry draped his arm over her shoulder, and lost himself in her dark brown eyes before looking away.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Hermione asked her question again, returning the photograph to its place on the mantle. “She’s perfect.”

“You’ve got that right. I mean, she’s beautiful…and very sweet,” Ginny added. “I’ve always liked her.”

Hermione sighed. “Me too,” she replied honestly. “I think Harry will be very happy with her.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose and watched Hermione stare at the floorboards. Then, she cocked up a questioning eyebrow and said, “I’m sure he will be. Like you said, why wouldn’t he be happy? She’s perfect in practically every way. She’s just as famous as he is; her fashions are amazing. I’ve got one of her dresses at home. I wonder where they’ll go on their honeymoon.”

If possible, Hermione’s face paled even more. She’d somehow not even thought that far in advance. Of course, they’d go on a honeymoon—they were getting married. It was the next obvious step.

Hermione shrugged and stared into her coffee. She pulled the cup to her lips. “Probably somewhere fabulous…with lots of privacy…somewhere romantic and…perfect,” she whispered into her coffee.

Ginny sat up and placed her mug on the coffee table. Then she shook her head and glanced up at Hermione. “I don’t believe it,” she said.

“What?” Hermione mumbled, slowly sipping her coffee.

“You’re in love with Harry,” she stated plainly.

In her shock, Hermione sucked in a deep breath and a large amount of coffee through her nose. She instantly choked, spewing coffee out of her mouth and nose. Ginny burst out laughing.

When Hermione finally stopped coughing, she frowned and said, “It isn’t funny.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Since when is shooting coffee out of your nose not funny?” Ginny asked playfully.

Hermione walked over and put her coffee mug down on the table. She’d had enough. Then she swallowed and asked Ginny, “Why did you say that?”

“Say what? That you’re in love with Harry?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you are, aren’t you?” Ginny said, crossing her arms and leaning back on the sofa.

“Absolutely not!” she said firmly.

“Come on Hermione. You’ve been baking for Pete’s sake. Not to mention that when I first arrived you chatted my head off—“

“—Can I not chat with my best friend?” she asked angrily, placing her hands on her hips.

“Of course you can, but Hermione, I know you, and you weren’t being you. I could tell something was bothering you, and then suddenly you’re practically about to burst to tell me about Harry. I just put two and two together.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I’m definitely not in love with Harry. I’m happy for him,” she said, turning her back on Ginny and walking back toward the mantle.

“I know you are, Hermione. Listen, if you do have feelings for Harry, I completely understand. He’s a handsome bloke—“

“—I don’t!” she shouted, glaring at Ginny over her shoulder.

Ginny threw her hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m obviously mistaken. If you’re not in love with Harry, then what’s your problem?”

Hermione sighed as her shoulders slumped. “I don’t want things to change.”

“How so?” Ginny wondered.

Hermione reached again for the photograph. Ron was forcing a party hat on Seamus’ head while Harry threw a handful of confetti into the air. It rained down on hers and Beth’s heads.

“I don’t want our friendship to end,” she said quietly.

“Oh don’t be silly, Hermione. He’s been dating her for two years and he’s not stopped being your friend. Being married isn’t going to change that.”

Hermione smiled down at the picture as Neville blew on a noisemaker and streamers flew out. Beth walked out of the picture as Ron shoved a piece of cake into his mouth. Then, Harry pulled her into a silly embrace, and they laughed wildly.

“I don’t know, but I have this feeling that marriage will change everything,” she whispered.

Ginny frowned and stared at Hermione’s back. “Harry would never give you up Hermione. You two have been friends for far too long.”

“Yeah…perhaps you’re right,” she muttered, feeling tears prick her eyes.

Inside the frame, Seamus and Justin were each downing two pints of ale. Ron’s arms were around her shoulders, and Harry’s were around her waist. She held on to both of them, and then Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek. She watched herself blush furiously as she leaned into Harry. He leaned his head against hers just before Neville blew another noisemaker, and the streamers flew into their faces. When the streamers were falling to the floor, she and Harry exchanged a glance that had her leaning closer to the frame. But before she could register the emotion on their faces, Beth put her arms around Harry’s waist and tugged him away playfully.

Had it been there all along? Had the underlying feelings of something more been present for years? Even the photograph seemed to know things she didn’t. Something jerked uncomfortably in her stomach; a tear fell from her eye and splashed the glass covering the photograph.

She looked back at Ginny.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny asked immediately with concern on her face.

“Don’t let me cry,” she said sadly.

“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny said, standing to her feet. “Harry isn’t going to give you up. You’ll see. He loves you, and he and Ron will be by your side forever.” She walked toward Hermione.

“You were right,” she whispered, staring down at the photograph.

Ginny stopped walking. “About what?”

“About me,” she whispered, wiping another tear from her cheek.

“What?” Ginny whispered in response.

Hermione looked up at her and smiled sadly. “I am in love with Harry.”

Author’s Notes: Thanks to everyone who has been leaving me reviews. I really appreciate it. If anyone has any questions, feel free to email me, or you can find me wandering around livejournal (penelope78). Thanks again for your support!HHar

Author’s Notes: Thank you to Mandy for all her beta work. And thanks to everyone who’s been reviewing this story—you really make writing it worthwhile. Hope you enjoy the next installment.

AM I TOO LATE

Chapter Three

Midnight Confessions

Hermione looked up at her and smiled sadly. “I am in love with Harry.”

Ginny and Hermione stood silent for an eternity’s second. Neither knew how to respond to the words of honesty that now hung in the air like an additional house guest—welcomed yet forbidden.

“Well…” Ginny finally said, taking a deep breath. “That’s certainly something.”

Hermione continued to stand stock-still with a dazed expression in her eyes. Speaking the words out loud seemed to stop any other thought process from functioning correctly.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asked, her concern growing with Hermione’s statuesque form.

Hermione merely shook her head.

“Okay, Hermione, you’re starting to freak me out. Will you talk to me?”

Hermione blinked her eyes slowly, raising her gaze to meet Ginny’s. “I…am in love with Harry,” she whispered.

“Yeah. You said that already.”

“I can’t be. It’s not possible,” she continued to whisper.

“Come over here and sit down. We’ll talk this out,” Ginny said.

Hermione walked over to the couch like a zombie and dropped down onto the cushions with very little grace. Then, suddenly, she threw her arms over her face and leaned back.

“I can’t be in love with Harry. He’s my best friend. You don’t fall in love with your bloody best friend!” she groaned in distress.

“Hermione this isn’t that surprising—“ Ginny began.

Hermione sat up quickly and stared at her, creasing her forehead in frustration. “—And why not? I have never acted like Harry was anything other than my friend!”

“That’s not what I mean, Hermione.”

“Then, what do you mean?”

“All I’m saying is that you, Harry and Ron have been inseparable for the past, oh, I don’t know, fifteen years. It isn’t surprising that something started to grow into more than friendship—“

“—Nothing is growing here! We are friends. Just friends.”

“Of course you’re friends, but you just said—“

“—I know what I just said!” Hermione shouted, leaning her head between her knees. She could see the black spots dancing on the edge of her vision.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asked worriedly.

“No,” Hermione groaned. “I’m having a panic attack and…and…I’m in denial!” she wailed.

“Time for more coffee,” Ginny said, standing to her feet and picking up their mugs. “I think this is going to be a long night.”

* * * *

At two in the morning, Hermione’s eyes were bloodshot and drooping. Ginny yawned, and the two friends smiled sleepily at each other.

“You should go, Gin. You’re exhausted.” Hermione sighed.

“I know. I’ve to work in the morning. Bright and early,” she rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry for keeping you out so late,” Hermione apologized.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Ginny gathered her things and walked toward the hearth. She turned to look at Hermione. “What are you going to do?”

Hermione shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

“We’ve been over this already, Ginny. Harry is happy with Beth. She loves him; he loves her. He wants to marry her. I’m just his friend and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“But what if he knew the truth about how you feel?”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s my job to be his friend…nothing more. Telling him how I feel wouldn’t change anything. It would merely make him awkward around me and I don’t want that.”

It was Ginny’s turn to sigh. “Still, I think you should tell him. You never know.”

Hermione didn’t answer. “I appreciate you coming over, and I appreciate you keeping this to yourself.”

“Of course. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Ginny.”

Hermione watched Ginny Floo out of her flat. Then, she found her way to her bedroom. Too tired to change into her pajamas, she fell into her bed still wearing her jeans and t-shirt. Her dreams were fitful and were filled with visions of Harry turning into a snitch she was never quite fast enough to catch.

* * * *

Across town, Harry was sitting in an oversized leather chair listening to Ron snoring on the couch. He held in his hand a picture Beth had given him. In the photograph she was holding him around the waist, and he was smiling broadly. Her long black hair moved in the wind, and her perfect lips were smirking up at him.

She was beautiful, smart, sexy and talented. They had been dating for a bit over two years, and he had nothing to complain about—other than the tiny fact that she traveled constantly. But that’s how the fashion world worked—or so she said—one had to stay on top of the changes, outsmart the competitor. And everyone knew that Beth Jordan was at the top of her game.

Harry had met her one night at a party for Ron’s Quidditch team. She had been with the Chaser that night, but it wasn’t long after when she called upon Harry. They’d been together ever since. And at least Harry knew she wasn’t dating him just because he was Harry Potter. Hell, she was probably better known than he was these days, and that suited him just fine.

He patted his pocket. He could feel the tiny black box, the shape of the square pressing into his leg. Beth would be home in two days time, and he was going to ask her to marry him. He wished Hermione had been more helpful in her feelings concerning the matter, because he never felt entirely comfortable making big decisions in his life without Hermione’s opinion.

He decided he would call on her tomorrow. Perhaps the night’s dinner hadn’t sat very well with her. He didn’t like the fact that she was so overworked—so overworked that she was having panic attacks. He wondered if he could force someone at her office to give her some time off. Yes, he would do that. He would make a stop at her work first thing in the morning and see what he could do. He smiled thinking of how surprised Hermione would be with him if he could get her a vacation. Then, he closed his eyes and dozed off in his comfortable chair.

* * * *

The following morning when Hermione fell out of bed half an hour after her alarm had first gone off, she groaned, stumbled into the shower, stumbled out of the shower ten minutes later, grabbed a cup of black coffee, drank it as she walked out the door, and apparated to work.

Always an activist, Hermione worked for a small, yet widely respected company that fought for the rights of every creature—from house-elves to goblins, from witches to hags, from vampires to werewolves. And speaking of werewolves, Remus Lupin was the president of the company. Due mostly to his unyielding fight during the last War against Voldemort, people were forced to see him as more than an animal. Hermione usually enjoyed working with Remus (she’d dropped the title of professor at his urging), but this particular morning, she didn’t fancy seeing anyone.

As she walked up the front steps, she rubbed two fingers against her temple. She felt sure there was a tiny person inside her head, practicing his ninja moves with an enormous weapon; it was quite possible that he was fighting a war with the backs of her eyeballs. Hermione thought he was winning. With her headache, combined with her puffy eyes and nervous stomach, she felt her symptoms could be compared to those caused by a hangover.

She pushed open the front doors and walked in, careful to not make eye contact with anyone lest they believe she actually wanted to be pulled into a conversation. As she shoved on her office door, her secretary, Stephanie Warbeck, called out to her.

“Hermione!”

Hermione moaned under her breath and stood with one hand on her office door as she dropped her head down.

“Yes?”

Stephanie stood up from her desk and hurried over. “Harry Potter is here to see you.”

Hermione groaned again. Her stomach shifted around uncomfortably. She didn’t have it in her today to meet with Harry. She needed more time to prepare her smile, to work on her phony words of excitement and encouragement.

“Why do you always add his last name when you talk about him? I don’t even know anyone else named Harry,” she said in annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” Stephanie apologized quickly, and Hermione immediately felt guilty.

“Steph, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a lot of work to get finished today—“

“—I thought you were all caught up—“

“—I’m never caught up,” Hermione interrupted, internally swearing at the ninja in her head—he was presently stabbing the back of her right eye. She sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. Could you please go to the waiting room and tell Harry that I can’t meet with him this morning? Tell him I’ll talk with him later,” she said as she pushed her office door the rest of the way open.

“But he’s—“
”—Just tell him, Steph. Besides I look like complete hell today.”

“Aww, that’s a bit harsh, Hermione, I’d say. You look fine to me,” Harry said, and her mouth dropped open when she saw him sitting behind her desk.

“I was trying to tell you that he wasn’t in the waiting room. He was waiting for you in your office,” Stephanie said as she walked off.

“Yeah, thanks for the heads-up,” Hermione muttered sarcastically.

“Don’t be so hard on Steph. She’s a sweet girl, and besides, I forced her to let me in,” Harry said, grinning as he leaned his elbows on the top of her desk.

“Charmed her, did you?” Hermione asked, dropping her bag onto the floor beside her desk.

“Me? Charm? No way. I bribed her with chocolate frogs.” He smiled.

Hermione hated to see it, because it made her heart flip upside-down in her chest.

“I thought that only worked with Ron,” she said, turning on her Muggle coffee pot though she wondered if she would need something much stronger than coffee to get her through the next few days.

“Well, evidently there’s someone else in this world that also has a weakness for them,” Harry said, shrugging. “So, you’re not feeling well?”

Hermione dropped into a chair in front of her desk since it was apparent Harry had no intention of vacating her chair. She began rubbing her temple again.

“Not especially.”

“Didn’t sleep well?” he asked.

“Not especially.”

“Want to say something other than ‘not especially’?”
”Not especially,” she replied, and he’d done it—he’d made her crack a smile, and just as she thought, it hurt…her heart.

Harry smiled at her. “I talked to Remus this morning,” he began.

“That’s nice,” Hermione answered, not feeling much like conversation. She could hardly maintain control of her organs. Her stomach was one giant knot, changing back and forth from molten lava to lead in the passing seconds; her heart was palpitating at break-neck speed, and her palms were sweating. She wiped them on her pants.

“We talked about you,” Harry said, trying to suppress a grin. He had a twinkle in his eye that made her immediately suspicious.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I asked him to give you some time off.”

“What?” she asked quickly. “What for?”

“Well, I told him about your panic attack last night and how you’re obviously overworked. He said he’d been trying to get you to take a vacation for months.”
Hermione closed her eyes; she desperately wanted to scream. “Okay,” was all she could say.

“And I also told him that I need your help with something else,” Harry said with excitement in his voice.

“Really? With what?” Hermione asked, trying to mask her curiosity.

“Well, since I’m going to ask Beth to marry me, she knows she’ll be traveling a lot, and she’s asked me to plan most of the wedding. She says she trusts my judgment and with all the work she’s doing, she won’t have the proper amount of time to give to it, but she doesn’t want to wait until she does have time…we might never get married if we waited for her to have a spare moment.”

Hermione felt nauseated. She swallowed down the bile in her throat. “She knows you’re going to ask her?” she asked, amazed that she didn’t vomit instead of speaking.

“Sure. I suppose it was mostly her idea. Anyways, I don’t know anything about weddings. And, seeing as how you’re a girl, I want you to help me,” Harry admitted, grinning widely. “Since you’re my best friend, who better to help with such things?”

Hermione’s eyes were wide with an emotion she was sure could be termed shock—if it was multiplied one million times.

“I…uhh…I…” she stuttered.

And then he gave her the look. His bright green eyes sparkled; his lop-sided grin pleaded with her. “Please, Hermione. You’re the only one who can help me.”

She caved in. “Okay,” she said weakly.

“Brilliant!” he shouted, jumping up from her chair. “I told Ron you’d agree to help. He said you wouldn’t want to help because it’s such a girly thing and you’re not in to frills and such, but I knew you wouldn’t let me down. But, now I’ve got to get going. Supposed to meet him before he leaves for his next match. I’ll get back with you about this…Beth is coming home tomorrow. I’ll ask her then and afterwards you and I can get started. Remus said you could take off as much time as you needed. If he had any questions about your files, he said it would be easy to floo you at home and get what he needed. Besides, he said you are so advanced on all your files that he’s surprised you have anything to do at all. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

He touched her shoulder gently before hurrying out of the room. Hermione dropped her head back so that it dangled toward the floor, and she stared at the tiles on the ceiling.

“I’m being punished for something,” she whispered sadly into the empty room. “Do you suppose I’m being punished for stealing those ingredients from Snape’s storeroom in second year?” she whispered to no one in particular.

Her stomach began to churn. Why in the world had she agreed to help Harry plan his wedding? Had she gone completely mad? Pitched into the deep end? She stood up and rushed out of her office, plowing right into Remus.

“You okay, Hermione?” he asked, touching her shoulder. “You look a bit peaky.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she mumbled, pushing past him in search of the nearest loo.

“Breakfast not suit you?” he asked at her retreating form.

She shook her head and continued walking. No, Remus, she thought, I’ve just agreed to help the man I’m in love with organize his wedding with some other woman. I’m being punished, she thought again as she disappeared into the lavatory.Har

AM I TOO LATE

Chapter Four

Engagement Binges

Hermione wasn’t sure how she made it through the remainder of the day, but she chalked it up to rigid stubbornness to focus and do something productive with her time. Remus had informed her that she wasn’t allowed to come into work in the next few days, and he was disappointed that she hadn’t told him of her panic attacks and feelings of overwork.

She felt increasingly guilty about allowing him to believe that her sudden stress overload was due to work, but she couldn’t just tell him the truth about Harry. She was still hesitant to believe it.

Hermione tried to spin a positive twist on her “forced” vacation time, but the following morning as she sat at her kitchen table, drinking the remains of her coffee, she drummed her fingers anxiously. She had to do something, anything.

First she called on Ginny, who was busy working the morning shift at the new apothecary in Diagon Alley. When her head appeared in the flames inside Admina’s Apothecary, she could see Ginny working feverishly over a bubbling cauldron.

“Ginny?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

“One minute,” she said, very slowly adding something purple and oozing to the cauldron. A blue puff of smoke erupted from her concoction and she stepped back, wiping her hands on her apron. “Excellent,” she said smiling, and then she turned around to look at Hermione.

“Hi,” Hermione said.

“Good morning. You okay?” she asked.

“Oh sure. I’ve got the day off—“

“—the day off?” Ginny asked in shock.

Hermione laughed uneasily. “Yeah. Can you believe it?”

“Actually I can’t.” A loud voice yelled something that Hermione couldn’t understand. “In a minute! I said the potion would take ten minutes, and it’s only been five! Tell Aunt Hildy she’ll have to wait a bit longer.” Ginny turned back to Hermione and frowned. “No one has the time for patience anymore. Don’t they know that potions is an exact art and a subtle science?”

“Eww,” Hermione replied, grimacing. “That’s almost frightening.”

“What?” Ginny asked, looking over her shoulder.

“You sounded like Snape just then.”

“It’s too early for insults of that caliber, Hermione. Now what’s this about you having the day off?”

“Actually,” she paused, “I have more than a few days off.”

“Oh, come off it, Hermione. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Ginny laughed.

“It’s Harry’s fault really.”

“Oh?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione sighed. “Yeah. He talked Remus into forcing me to take a vacation.”

“Did he now?” Ginny smirked.

“Oh, it’s nothing good, I assure you.”

“And why not?” Ginny wondered, untying the strings on her apron and folding it neatly. She placed it on the table behind her.

“Because my vacation should have come with a warning label,” Hermione groaned.

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, stirring the liquid in her cauldron.

“Well for starters, I’m bored out of my head. What am I supposed to do all day?”

“I don’t know, Hermione, enjoy it? Read a book?”

“Don’t be saucy. You know I hate being idle. And at the moment, I’ve read every book in my house.”

“That’s not surprising,” Ginny mumbled under her breath.

“I heard that. And secondly, Harry wants me to help him plan his bloody wedding.”

Ginny’s hand froze mid-stir. She wrinkled her forehead and turned to look at Hermione. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.” Hermione sighed again.

“I hope you bloody told that prat no!” When Hermione didn’t answer, Ginny let her mouth fall open before glaring at her friend’s head hovering in the fire. “Hermione, you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t agree to help him! Oh, you did! I can’t believe you, are you nutters? And what’s he need your help for, can’t she plan her own wedding?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She should have known Ginny would react in the exact manner that would remind her decidedly of Molly Weasley.

“He said she wanted him to do it. She’s going to be so busy with her work and all, she won’t be able to plan a proper ceremony. And seeing as how Harry is right clueless about women most of the time, he asked me to help him. What was I supposed to say?”

“Well, no, would have the correct response.”

“But Ginny,” Hermione said in a voice that teetered dangerously close to whining, “he gave me this pitiful, begging look.”

Ginny crossed her arms and frowned. “I can’t believe—wait a minute, has he already asked her to marry him?”

“Not yet,” Hermione answered.

“Then how has she asked him to take care of the wedding arrangements?”

“Obviously she knows he’s going to ask. They must’ve talked about it. Actually, now that you mention it, Harry did say it was mostly her idea,” Hermione said.

“Hmmm…well, I still think it’s a bit odd for a woman to want her fiancé to plan her wedding. Would you want someone else planning your wedding?”

“Of course not,” Hermione scoffed. “But she is busy.”

“Too busy for her own wedding?” Ginny frowned again.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can’t you take a break or go to lunch with me or something? I’m going to go stark mad here all alone for an entire day.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ginny said in irritation, turning back to her cauldron. “Agreeing to help with Harry’s wedding,” she tiffed, “what in the world were you thinking?” Another shout pulled Ginny’s attention. “Oh all right! Keep your knickers on. I’ll be right there!” Ginny looked at Hermione. “Look, we’re swamped here today. I probably won’t even see food until tonight. I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the pitiful expression on Hermione’s face. “Don’t look at me like that. Listen, I’ll come by your place around 7 and we’ll head down to Justin’s pub…get some dinner…have a drink or two. Sound good?”

“Okay,” Hermione said dejectedly. “I suppose I’ll find something to do until then.”

“Why don’t you find the cure for some incurable disease? That should take you all of the afternoon, don’t you think?” Ginny teased as she scooped a large amount of slimy yellow goo out of her cauldron.

“Very funny. I’ll see you tonight,” Hermione said, and then she pulled her head out of the fire, disappearing from Ginny’s sight.

* * * *

Harry paced his apartment. He tossed the tiny black box up in the air and caught it. He repeated this action over and over again. Today was going to be a great day. Beth was coming home, and he was going to ask her to marry him. Hermione had agreed to help him with the wedding plans. There was no one else in the world he would rather have help him with such an important event.

The hearth lit up, and he grinned widely as he shoved the box into his pocket. In a matter of seconds, Beth materialized and stepped out of the flames, brushing the excess soot off her stylish clothes.

“Sweetheart!” she chimed as she stepped into the room and kissed both of Harry’s cheeks.

He pulled her into a quick embrace. “Welcome home,” he said sweetly. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” she asked, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt with her hand. “I missed you. Paris was an absolute madhouse though the hotel was simply divine. We should go there sometime,” she said, walking into his kitchen and opening the refrigerator. She frowned. “No soda?”

“You told me to throw it out. Too many calories.”

She flashed a winning smile. “You’re right. I should thank you for watching out for me.” She walked over to him and wound her arms around his waist. She kissed his lips. “I did miss you.”

Harry grinned and pulled her close to him. “So you had a good trip?”

She pulled away and walked over to the sofa and sat down. “It was work, but my fashions went over famously. I think the new dresses for spring are going to be a ‘must have’ item for anyone who’s anyone.”

“That’s good right?” Harry said, not entirely understanding the fashion world.
”Very good,” she purred, leaning her head to the side and patting the vacant spot beside her. Harry complied. “Did you have any plans for tonight?”

“I thought we might go to The Benevolent Badger for dinner,” he said.

“Good. I don’t feel much for pomp and circumstance tonight. Something cheap and casual sounds great to me.”

“I thought you might be too exhausted for fine dining.”

“And you were right,” she said, snaking a hand up his chest. “You’re always right, and that’s what I love about you. You always know just what I need.”

And realizing immediately that her words held more meaning than agreeing over simple dinner plans, he pulled her to her feet and led her to his bedroom because he knew she liked certain activities to occur in their appropriate rooms.

* * * *

Ginny, staying true to Weasley fashion, was half an hour late arriving at Hermione’s flat. By the time she arrived, Hermione was standing on a ladder, dusting the top shelf of her bookcase.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked, stepping out of the hearth and into Hermione’s living room.

“Dusting.”

“Like a Muggle? Why?”

“I was bored,” Hermione said in annoyance as she climbed down from the ladder and put the duster on the end table.

“So you were dusting?” Ginny questioned disbelieving.

“Well if you had been on time then perhaps I wouldn’t have been forced to keep busy.”

“Oh, come on already. Let’s go. Besides, you knew I wouldn’t be on time.”

And with that, Hermione smiled. “You’re right. I did.”

Hermione and Ginny walked the few blocks to Justin’s pub, The Benevolent Badger. By the time they arrived, they both had pink cheeks, cold noses, and icy fingers.

“Brrr,” Hermione shivered, pushing the heavy wooden door open and feeling the heat from inside wrap around her instantly.

“Oh, it feels good in here,” Ginny said. She saw Hermione head instinctively for ‘their’ booth.

It was common knowledge that when any of the gang visited Justin’s pub, they always sat in the same spot. It was a ritual of sorts.

“Hey, why don’t we sit at the bar?”

“Why?” Hermione questioned.

“Something different. Shake things up a bit. Closer access to the alcohol.” Ginny winked, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to drink…much.”

Ginny smiled. “I would never dream of making you drink…much.”

They climbed onto the tall, black leather-cushioned barstools, and as soon as Justin saw them, he walked over.

“Well, look who’s here. How are you lovely ladies doing tonight?” he asked, wiping off the bar in front of them with a clean towel.

“Oh, we’re great,” Ginny said, smiling back at him. “What’s good tonight?”

“Fish and chips is the special. Half off tonight. The special drink is the Purple Pixie.”

“Ohhh, that sounds perfect. We’ll have two orders of fish and chips and just for kicks, bring us two Purple Pixies.”

“That okay with you Hermione?” he asked, surprised she was allowing someone else to order for her.

Hermione shrugged. “Sure. One Pixie won’t kill me.”

Justin leaned over towards Ginny and whispered, “Suppose I should tell her what’s in it? She might change her opinion.” He winked at them and walked off to prepare their order.

“What is in it?” Hermione asked.

“Just what we need tonight,” Ginny said, unwilling to elaborate. “So when is Harry going to ask her?”

“Tonight,” Hermione answered.

Justin sat two bubbling Purple Pixies down in front of the two girls and smiled. “Enjoy.”

Ginny reached out and caught his arm, and glancing once at Hermione, she said, “I think we’ll need another one of these. Each.”

“Already?” he asked playfully.

“You have no idea,” Ginny said. He nodded and walked off.

“Honestly, Ginny, drinking is no way to deal with my problems.”

“Of course it isn’t,” she admitted, “but it sure does make you forget for a bit, and that’s exactly what you need.”

“I don’t need to forget—“

“—Hermione for one night can you just go with it? We are two girls having a ruddy drink or two in order to drown our sorrows. Just this once I think it will be acceptable.”

Hermione sighed and then smiled. “Okay, but promise me you know a good anti-hangover charm.”

“Well, I don’t, but I’ve had personal experience with Justin and he is a bloody master with them.”

Ginny held up her glass filled with the bubbling purple liquid, and Hermione followed suit.

“Cheers to us,” Hermione said.

“Cheers to us,” Ginny repeated, clinking her glass against Hermione’s.

The bubbling purple liquid was sweet on the tongue and slid down the throat like water. It was so delicious it could be properly termed sinful. But it was highly deceiving—most people partaking of the Purple Pixie were mislead by its sweet, non-alcoholic taste, but it was, in all actuality, highly potent. Hermione would not be the first to fall victim to its cunning deceit and sugary taste.

By the time she and Ginny had finished their dinner, they were toasting with their fourth Purple Pixie.

With shiny, slightly cloudy eyes, Hermione held up her glass with a somewhat wobbly hand. “To chaos,” she said seriously.

“To chaos,” Ginny agreed, smiling widely. They clinked their glasses together, both giggling madly when the purple beverage spilled over the edges of their glasses and soaked the bar top.

* * * *

Harry held open the heavy wooden door as Beth slid in and thanked him. The inside of the bar was warm and cozy, the lighting dim and flickering. He glanced quickly to the rear of the pub and noticed their usual booth was empty.

“Great,” he said.

“What?” Beth asked as she turned, taking off her coat and draping it across her arm.

“Our booth is empty,” he said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowded pub.

“I don’t understand the fascination with this one spot. It’s dark and in the back corner—“

“—and perfect,” Harry said, smiling as they sat down. “We can hide from everyone back here.”

“Why would you want to hide?” she asked, reaching across the table for his hand.

“It’s the privacy.”

She laughed teasingly. “And you do love your privacy, don’t you?”

“More than anything else,” he said, looking at her seriously.

She poked out her bottom lip in a pout. “More than me?”

“Okay,” he said, “almost more than anything.”

Beth flashed a winning smile and squeezed his hand. A waitress stopped in front of their booth and grinned at Harry.

“Evening Harry,” she said sweetly.

“Evening Liza,” he greeted, “you remember Beth, don’t you?”

“Of course. Good evening to you, Miss Jordan,” Liza smiled. “Fish and chips is the special tonight.”

“Excellent,” Harry said. “We’ll have two of those.”

“Harry,” Beth said, frowning slightly, “I can’t eat those greasy foods.”

“Why not?” he wondered.

“I don’t want to put on extra weight. Not with spring just around the corner. I need to be able to fit into my spring line.”

Harry laughed. “Okay, whatever you say. I think you’re perfect.”

Beth smiled at him. “Thanks sweetheart.” She looked up at Liza kindly. “I’ll have the fruit plate and a side of asparagus.”

“Great,” Liza said as she turned to walk away.

“Oh Liza!” Harry called. “Tell Justin I’m here. And bring us two butterbeers, please!”

“Sure thing, Harry,” Liza said as she swept through the pub toward the kitchen.

* * * *

Hermione placed her half empty glass of Purple Pixie on the top of the bar. She held a cold hand to her forehead and tried to stop giggling. The laughter seemed to have sprung a leak somewhere inside, and she couldn’t get it to stop.

“I feel weird,” Hermione said, looking up at Ginny.

Ginny leaned closer to her and smiled widely. “Great, isn’t it? Want another?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” Hermione protested.

Justin walked over to them and leaned his elbows on the bar. “Hermione, I never knew you were a drinker,” he said playfully.

“I’m not,” she said, hiccupping accidentally, and she and Ginny burst into another fit of giggles. When she maintained some sort of order, she smiled sheepishly at him. “Sorry, Justin. This is all Ginny’s fault. She said you knew a wicked Sobering Charm, and I’d be safe.”

“Did she now?” Justin winked at Ginny, who blew him a kiss in return. Hermione looked at the two of them in surprise. “Oh, Hermione, don’t look so shocked. Ginny and I had a go at dating. Found out we’re better off friends though.” He leaned closer to Hermione and whispered, “She’s an excellent kisser, but she beats me at bloody everything…Quidditch, chess, academics. Bit of a constant blow to my ego, you understand.”

“Oh, Justin,” Ginny piped in, “I told you I’d let you win.”

“Not the same, love. Not the same.”

“And the Sobering Charm?” Hermione asked, blinking quickly because for a moment she could see two Justins.

“That’s true enough. When you’ve had your fill, let me know. I’ll set you back to normal quick enough.”

Someone brushed up against Hermione, and she turned to see Seamus and Dean crawling onto the barstools on either side of her and Ginny.

“Hermione, tell me I’m seeing things. Are you partaking in the spirits?” Seamus asked, his eyes wide and glassy.

“Of course she is,” Ginny said, “and we’ll have another round Justin.”

Before Hermione could protest, Justin was bustling off. She looked back at Seamus and shrugged her shoulders.

“One time thing,” she said. “An experiment you could say.”

“Well, if you’re experimenting, you should try the Vodka Horntail.”

“The what?” Ginny asked, her interest peaked.

“A silly drink Dean introduced me to. It gets you pissed in no time. We’ve had two each and I’m damn near gone,” Seamus said, leaning over toward Hermione.

“No thank you,” Hermione said, realizing how tipsy Seamus actually was.

“Come on, Hermione,” Ginny said. “Justin already told you he could cast a Sobering Charm on you. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah,” Seamus said, clasping a hand on her shoulder, “come on Hermione. Let loose for one night. It’ll be fun for us. You always have to take of our drunk arses. This time you can join in the fun.”

Justin placed two more Purple Pixies down in front of Ginny and Hermione. He greeted Seamus and Dean.

“If Neville and Ron were here, we’d have the whole gang,” Justin said happily.

“How is that?” Ginny asked, sipping the purple liquid up through a blue straw.

“Well, you and Hermione and these two blokes are here, and Harry’s in the back corner.”

The color drained from Hermione’s face quicker than it took her to blink. “What?” she whispered.

“Yeah. He’s back there in our booth having dinner with Beth.”

Hermione’s head turned without her permission and stared straight at their old booth. There he was sure enough. He and Beth sat laughing and eating. Her heart thudded in her chest, and then sank beneath her barstool.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Ginny blurted out.

“What’s the problem?” Dean asked, glancing at Harry over his shoulder.

“Let’s get them to join us,” Seamus said, trying to slide off his stool.

“NO!” Hermione shouted immediately, grabbing Seamus’ arm and tugging him back up to the bar.

“Why not?” Justin wondered.

Hermione couldn’t answer, so Ginny did. “Harry’s going to ask Beth to marry him…tonight.”

Hermione reached for her Purple Pixie and sucked it up quickly through her pink straw. She was trying to wash down the knot in her throat.

“Blimey,” Seamus said.

“Wow,” Justin beamed. “That’s great news. But…” he trailed off.

“But what?” Dean wondered.

“I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “I suppose I always thought Harry would end up with Hermione.”

Ginny gasped. Seamus laughed. Dean nodded his agreement, and Hermione dropped her head onto the bar; it thudded against the thick wood. She mumbled something incoherent.

“What’s that love?” Ginny asked, rubbing Hermione’s back.

Seamus glanced at them in shock, and then a wide smile split his face in half. His eyes were shining brightly when he said, “I think she said she wanted the bloody Vodka Horntail.”

“Excellent,” Dean replied, slapping his hand against the bar top. “Make it four!”

* * * *

Harry finished his butterbeer and laughed as Beth told him of the model who had tripped over her skirt and had landed face down in the lap of a poor photographer.

“Did it hurt her?”

“No,” Beth laughed, “but the photographer thinks he’s in love.”

Harry wiped his hands and moved his hands under the table. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the tiny black box.

“When are you leaving again?” he asked, looking up at her as he held the box in his hands beneath the table.

Beth frowned. “I have to be in Rome by noon tomorrow, and then Paris by four.”

Harry smiled. “Paris might as well be your home,” he said.

Beth’s eyes lit up. “We could live there one day,” she replied.

Harry frowned slightly. “Live there? I rather like it here.”

“I know you do. We’ll have a home here and perhaps a home there.”
”Sure,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Well, speaking of that.” He pulled his hands up to the table and held the black box out for her. “I’ve never been very good with these sorts of things, but I’d like you to marry me.”

“Oh Harry,” she gasped, reaching out for the box. She flipped open quickly, and her smile faltered, but only momentarily. “Did you pick this out?”

“Yes,” he said proudly. “All by myself. So what do you say?” he asked.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” she gushed as she pulled the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger.

Harry grinned. “What do you think of it?”

“The ring?” she asked. “Oh…well…it’s really lovely, Harry,” she said, but he could see something in her eyes.

“You don’t like it, do you?” He looked temporarily wounded but shrugged it off. “Well, to be perfectly honest with you, I didn’t know what style you liked. We’ve never really talked about it. I could exchange it for something else.”
”Oh, no, don’t be absurd. It’s lovely…very…traditional.”

“Here,” he said, reaching out for her hand. He slipped the ring off, and she frowned. “Really, I don’t mind at all. Tell me what you’d rather have. I want you to really like it.”

She sighed and smiled. “You know me so well. It’s lovely Harry, but I’d rather like to have an emerald cut diamond.”

“Done,” he said, slipping the ring into his pocket.

“You’re not mad, are you?” she asked, reaching across the table for his hands.

“Not at all. I want you to be happy. You said yes, and that’s all I needed,” he admitted sweetly.

“Oh, I am so crazy about you,” she said. “Are you still okay with planning everything for the wedding?”

Harry smiled, thinking of Hermione. “Absolutely.”

“Great. I wrote down a few possible dates. I’ll give them to you when we get back to your place. In fact, let’s go home.”

“Alright. Let me go up to the bar and pay for dinner. I’ll be right back,” he said, sliding out of the booth.

“Kiss me before you go,” she said, leaning up for him.

Harry kissed her briefly before winding his way around the tables and finding his way to the bar.

* * * *

The crowd at the bar erupted in a roar of laughter. Hermione shushed them with a finger pressed firmly to her lips, smashing them in the process.

“Husssshhh,” she slurred, “I’m working here.”

She took Dean’s shot glass and stacked it on the top of the architectural edifice they had dubbed the Tower of Debauchery. Everyone clapped and Hermione faked a few bows—the last one tipping her off the back of her stool into the arms of a stranger.

She collapsed like a rag doll into someone’s arms and closed her eyes as her body shook with laughter.

“Oh dear,” Ginny said, moving sluggishly but smiling broadly as she recognized the stranger.

Hermione looked up at the stranger and was going to apologize, but her gaze locked on his green eyes and she sucked in a breath. She struggled to get to her feet, but he helped her slowly, still cradling her in his arms.

“Hermione?” he asked, boyish merriment in his voice.

“Huh?” she asked.

“Are you…drunk?” Harry finally asked, trying not to laugh.

“Of course she is mate!” Seamus said, rocking dangerously on his stool.

Hermione, pushing Harry’s arms away, turned around to look up at him and wobbled. He steadied her, and she brushed his hands away again.

“Wow, when I asked Remus for a vacation for you, I never thought you’d spend it getting sloshed with my mates,” he said, obviously greatly amused.

“I mam most…mam…I man…I am most cccertainly not,” she said, holding her head high.

Harry laughed in shock. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen you drunk in my entire life.”

“Oh, we’re having a jolly good time,” Dean said, holding up a shot of something that was on fire.

Harry’s eyes widened at the stack of empty glasses in front of Hermione. “You’ve had quite a bit to drink, Miss Granger. Do you need walking home?” he asked, reaching out to steady her again. She swayed back and forth as if blown by an invisible wind.

“Absssofluting not,” she said defensively. “Jusstin iss going to cast a Sseverus Charm,” she frowned and scratched her head, “…a Sssevering Charm…”

Ginny laughed loudly and shook her head. “A Sobering Charm.”

Hermione grinned over her shoulder at her. “That’sss what I read…said.”

Harry laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. He gripped Hermione’s arms and leaned forward, pressing his mouth close to her ear.

“Can you hear me?”
Harry’s warm breath had a sobering effect on Hermione. It tingled down her neck, and she closed her eyes. “Yesss,” she whispered, resting her hands on his chest and leaning into him.

“She. Said. Yes,” he whispered.

The alcohol in Hermione’s blood was wreaking havoc on her system. She could feel tears welling behind her closed lids. She couldn’t find the words to speak, so she nodded her understanding.

Harry pulled away. “You’re still going to help me, right? With the wedding?”

Hermione nodded but didn’t open her eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Again she nodded. “Great! Justin, here mate, this is for my dinner. I’ll see you blokes later. Goodnight.” And he rushed off, shouting to Hermione over his shoulder. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow!”

Hermione turned back toward the bar, climbed clumsily onto her barstool and dropped her head again. Dean was called over to a table by some other friends, and Seamus wobbled clumsily toward the nearest lavatory.

“What did he say?” Ginny wondered, leaning close to her.

Hermione lifted her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “Beth said yes.” She turned to look at Justin. “The charm?”

He smiled at her. “Coming right up.” Justin reached behind the counter for his wand and pointed it at Hermione. Before he spoke the words, he leaned toward her and whispered, “Chin up, love. She’s a mere shadow compared to you.” He winked at her and cast the charm. In an instant, the hazy world she’d been twirling in disappeared. She blinked her eyes and wiped her cheeks.

“Don’t suppose you know a good Heartache-zapping Charm, do you?” she asked Justin sadly.

* * * *

Ten minutes later, Hermione moped into her flat. Though Justin had cast the Sobering Charm, she still felt slightly sluggish and as if someone had taken out her brain and filled her head with cotton instead.

She shed her coat, kicked off her shoes and never stopped walking until she was in her bedroom, where she proceeded to fall into bed and into sleep almost instantly.

* * * *

Harry took Beth’s coat and hung it up once they were inside his flat. He started a pot of hot water on the stove; Beth always liked tea after dinner.

“I can’t believe Hermione was pissed,” Harry said, clanging around the pots as he searched for his kettle.

“You’ve said that already,” she replied as she dug through her bag in search of her planner.

“I know, but…” he paused as he filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. “It’s…so unlike her.”

Beth looked up at Harry and shrugged her shoulders. “Sweetheart, you can’t possibly know everything about her.”

“We’ve been best friends for fifteen years. I think I know her very well,” he said defensively.

Beth smiled. “I know that dear, but a woman’s heart is full of secrets.”

“Oh, is it? And yours? Is yours full of secrets?” he asked, crossing the room and sitting down on the couch next to her.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Of course it is.”

“Tell them to me.”

She laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “If I told you then they wouldn’t be secrets anymore, now would they?” She winked up at him and flipped open her planner.

“I just hope nothing is wrong with her.”

Beth sighed. “Will you stop worrying about Hermione? She’s a grown woman and practically all of your friends were there with her. She’s fine. I mean, it isn’t my style to get completely pissed in a bar, but to each his own.”

“It isn’t her style either—“

“—Yes, yes, of course it isn’t. You can ask her about it later. Now back to important business,” she smiled and rubbed her hand on his thigh. “This week here in June would be perfect…or this one in July. What do you think?” she asked.

“That’s only six months away,” Harry said in surprise.

“I know,” she grinned, “you’d better get planning. You decide which date you’d like. They both fall on free weekends for me…both after the summer line debut. We should be okay. Does that sound good for you?”

Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “Sure.”

“Oh fabulous!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “You are so good to me!”

Harry blushed and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She giggled and pulled away.

“Harry…not on the couch,” she teased.

“Okay, okay,” he said as he lifted her up and carried her into his bedroom and closed the door. A moment later, the bedroom door opened and Harry rushed into the kitchen. The kettle was whistling loudly. He turned off the stove and poured the steaming water down the drain. Then, he hurried back into his room, closing the door behind him.

AM I TOO LATE

Ring Shopping

Chapter Five

The following morning, Hermione awoke to bright sunlight spilling through her bedroom windows. She groaned and clutched a hand to her forehead. She’d forgotten to close the curtains, and now the cheerful sunlight filled her room; she found it annoying.

She moaned as she sat up slowly. Her head ached, and her mouth felt like a desert had moved in overnight without her permission. She rubbed her eyes sleepily as she rolled ungracefully out of bed. Shuffling over to her wardrobe, she pulled open a drawer and grabbed the first thing she saw and made her way to the bathroom.

The shower water was hot and eased the pounding in her head. When she’d washed away the smell of the pub, she stepped out of the shower and into the lingering steam. She wrapped a towel tightly around her and then reached out to wipe her hand across the mirror. A perfect patch of silver shone back at her with a reflection of her eyes.

“Oh, Hermione,” she said to herself, “what are you doing? This is madness.” She sighed, slumped her shoulders a bit, and then held up her head. “No. I can do this. It’s not Harry’s fault that he’s in love with someone else. I shouldn’t punish him for this. He needs a friend, and I’ve never let him down before and I don’t intend to start now.”

And with that, she nodded at her reflection, squared her shoulders and proceeded to towel dry her hair. She slipped on the nightie she’d pulled out of her drawer and reached for her toothbrush.

“I can do this,” she whispered, “I can do this. It’s been much worse before…much, much worse. This is nothing. Just a friend helping a friend.”

* * * *

The clock in Harry and Ron’s flat chimed nine in the morning, and Harry was out the door. He knew Hermione would be awake; she was always an early riser. He apparated to just outside her flat and smiled. He fumbled in his pocket for the key to her flat that she’d made him a year ago in case of emergencies.

He knocked first and waited as he jingled the ring of keys in his hand. He knew she had to be home; she had the day off. He knocked once more before slipping the key into the lock and swinging the door open. He could hear water running in the bathroom, so he walked through the living room toward her bedroom.

When he stepped into her room, he quickly glanced around, taking in the surroundings. Her bed was unmade—a sign she hadn’t been up very long. Her clothing from last night had been dropped onto the floor haphazardly; that fact told him that it was quite possible she’d been too tired to change into proper bedclothes (very un-Hermione like). He was going to call out to her, but when he glanced toward her bathroom, he was startled into silence.

Hermione stood, leaning over the sink, brushing her teeth. Her hair was damp and hanging loosely around her shoulders. Neither of those facts bothered him. It was what she was wearing that caused his mouth to fall open involuntarily. A thin, silky, and very short nightgown the color of crimson barely covered her body. Harry had never seen so much of Hermione before, and he found he couldn’t look away.

Her arms and most of her legs were showing, and the thin material displayed curves Harry had never actually known were there before. Not that he didn’t know Hermione was female, it was just that he’d…never really seen her that way. He tried to swallow; his mouth was dry. He knew he should turn around and sneak back into the living room, but he was so intrigued with seeing his best friend, who he thought he knew everything about, in such a different way. He gathered his thoughts together, mentally punched himself for staring at her while she wasn’t properly dressed, and backed out of her room very slowly.

When he was standing in her living room, he called out to her. “Hermione! I’m here!” He heard a tiny eep when she heard his voice, and he was glad he’d not surprised her in her bedroom. It would be his little secret.

A minute later she emerged from her bedroom with a robe tied tightly around her, and he was surprised to feel a strange sort of disappointment creep into his chest. But he smiled just the same.

“Good morning,” he said, sinking into the oversized arm chair.

“Morning? Yes. Good? Not sure yet,” she said as she walked across the living room toward the kitchen. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“What kind?” she asked, rummaging through the pantry.

“The kind you always drink. I think that’s my favorite.”

She leaned her head out of the pantry to look at him. “I thought you were into decaf.”
”Nah. That’s Beth’s favorite. I’d much rather have the dark-strong-put hair on your chest stuff you drink.”

Hermione laughed. “I hope it’s not putting hair on my chest.”

“I doubt it is,” he said, and he blushed as he instantly thought of her in the tiny red nightie.

When she was done starting the coffee, she walked out and sat on the couch. Her hair was damp, and she still felt tired. In her weariness, it was almost easy to forget why Harry had come over—until he spoke about it, of course.

“So,” he said, moving out of the large chair and climbing over onto the couch beside her, “I want to show you our first assignment of the day.”
”Okay,” she said, sighing but sitting up to pay attention.

Harry pulled a tiny black velvet box out of his pocket and held it out for her. She took it and snapped the top open. Her eyes widened, and she gasped in surprise. Her weariness disappeared immediately. She also forgot to act calm and collected.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. The sunlight from the nearest window sparkled inside the diamond, and she stared at it transfixed. “Oh, Harry, it’s so beautiful!” she said again. She looked up at him to see him frowning. “What is it?”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m taking that one back.”

“Why?” she wondered immediately. “Is it flawed?”

“No. The jeweler said it was perfect.”

Hermione smiled. “And it certainly is.”

“Well…Beth wanted a different cut.”

“How do you know?” Hermione said, frowning deeper than she realized.

“She told me,” he said plainly.

“Oh.” Hermione didn’t know what else to say. How could anyone turn down a diamond so beautiful? It almost made her angry, but she pushed aside her feelings. “I suppose she should be happy with it. So, we’re going to take this one back and get a different style then?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Hermione said, closing the box and handing it back to Harry.

The coffee pot began gurgling, and she stood up. As she walked into the kitchen to grab a couple of mugs, Harry opened the top of the ring box again.

“Do you really like it?” he asked, and she turned around to look at him.

“Like what?”

“The ring.”

Hermione smiled involuntarily. “Oh yes, definitely. I think it’s lovely.”

Harry smiled at her. “I should have known we’d have the same taste,” he said quietly.

Hermione blushed and opened a cabinet to hide the color in her cheeks. “You should have. After all these years, we’re bound to gravitate toward the same things.”

“Unless of course it’s Quidditch. Then all bets are off.”

She looked at Harry’s twinkling eyes as he sat on the couch. The sunlight was dancing in his black hair, and she laughed lightly. “Exactly.”

She filled up two coffee mugs and carried them into the living room.

Harry took a sip and moaned quietly. “This is just what I needed. Nobody makes coffee like this. Do you suppose you could make coffee like this just for me for the rest of your life? I’d pay you.”

Hermione giggled. “You wouldn’t have to pay me.”

“But I could. In fact, I could bribe you with books.”

“Books for coffee, eh? Sounds like a decent trade.” Hermione leaned back on the couch and rested the mug between her hands. Sighing, she closed her eyes. She felt Harry lean back beside her.

“We haven’t done this in forever.”

“Done what?”

“Lazed around…not working…”

“True. I’m always working and you’re always on assignment or coaching. How did you get time off?”

“Ah, I’ve got all my things done or organized. The coaching is more freelance at the moment, and I finished my last assignment three days ago. I probably won’t have another for a couple of weeks.”

“That’s good,” she mumbled, feeling completely relaxed. The sun coming through the window was warm.

“This is good,” he said quietly.

“Mmhmmm,” she agreed.

Harry lifted the coffee mug out of her hands, and she felt him shift around on the couch. Then, she felt him tug her arm which caused her to lean over. She rested her head against his shoulder.

“You seem tired. We can sit for a while until you feel rested. Besides, we’ve no time table today since we don’t exactly have a schedule.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, completely forgetting that she shouldn’t feel so comfortable resting against Harry’s shoulder, and completely forgetting that he was getting married to someone else. At the moment, she didn’t feel anything but perfectly content.

* * * *

When Hermione awoke, Harry’s head was drooped down at an awkward angle. He was sleeping quietly, and she couldn’t help but smile. He seemed to sense she was awake and opened his eyes.

“Morning…again,” he yawned. “I suppose I needed a rest as well.”

“Looks like it,” Hermione said, gathering up their unfinished coffee and carrying the mugs into the kitchen.

Harry stood up in the living room and stretched his arms high above his head. “I feel all rested up. You?”

“I feel great,” she said, and she meant it. “Let me get changed and we’ll go and get the ring exchanged.”

“Okay.”

Hermione disappeared into her bedroom but didn’t close the door. Harry could hear her removing her clothes and opening and closing drawers.

“Do you know what style of ring she wants?” Hermione asked nonchalantly, having decided that she would approach this situation like a project instead of like a heartbreak.

Momentarily distracted by the sound of a zipper being pulled up, Harry missed what she was saying. He mentally scolded himself immediately. He had no business letting his mind think of Hermione in such a way—with or without her clothes on.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The ring? Do you know what she wants?” she asked as she walked out of her bedroom wearing a sweater and a pair of jeans.

“Oh, yeah. I think so.”

“Great. Did you buy the ring in Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah. Down in the new section.”

“I figured. I’ve heard they have some great new shops down there.”

“And the ice rink. Have you seen it? It’s huge.”

“Really? I haven’t had a chance to go down there yet. Not with working and all, but Ginny told me about it.”

“We should go,” Harry said as he smiled.

“To the rink?” she asked, looking around for her jacket.

“Yeah. Why not? It would be fun.”

“But I thought we were going ring shopping,” Hermione replied.

“Come on, Hermione. We can do both. It won’t take us all day to shop.”

Hermione shrugged. “I suppose that’s okay. Shall we Floo or Apparate?”

“Apparate,” Harry said. “I’ve never been very fond of Flooing.”

Hermione laughed. “One time Harry. It was only bad that one time.”

“Sometimes once is all it takes,” he said playfully.

“Evidently. Now let’s get going.”

* * * *

Harry pushed open the door to Laviera’s Fine Jewelry and Accessories Shop. Hermione had yet to step inside this particular shop in Hogsmeade, so she was instantly shocked at the plush interior.

The carpet was a rich velvety blue and thick drapes adorned the long skinny windows. Chandeliers flickering with candlelight illuminated the room, and every space, every corner seemed to sparkle.

“Wow,” Hermione whispered.

Harry turned around and smiled. “It’s a nice place. Ron wouldn’t even come inside. He said he knew he’d break something and then he’d have to sell his kidney to pay for the damages.”

“Ron makes plenty of money playing Quidditch,” Hermione said in confusion.

Harry laughed. “I know that, but he still likes to make the ‘poor house’ jokes.” Hermione smiled. “There’s the man that helped me the first time.”

Harry weaved through the display cases, and Hermione followed close behind though she found herself walking much slower. Her eyes drifted down at the jewelry as she passed.

“Mr. Potter, it’s good to see you again,” the wizard behind the counter welcomed.

“Hi, Mr. Laviera.” Harry pulled the tiny black box from his pocket and placed it on the counter. Mr. Laviera frowned.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Well, not exactly. The ring is great, but Beth really wanted a different style,” Harry grinned sheepishly.

“Oh?” Mr. Laviera said in surprise. “I was sure that was a real winner.”

“Oh, it is,” Harry agreed. “Hermione loved it, but I suppose it wasn’t really Beth’s choice.”

“Hermione?” Mr. Laviera asked.
”Hi,” Hermione said, smiling at the jeweler as she stepped up to stand by Harry, “I’m Harry’s assistant.”

Harry laughed. “This is Hermione Granger, my best friend.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Granger. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you. Your shop is wonderful. This is my first time inside.”

“Oh, well, be sure to take a look around. I hear you liked the ring.”

Hermione leaned against the glass case and smiled wistfully. “It’s very lovely. Probably one of the loveliest I’ve ever seen.”

Mr. Laviera beamed and winked at Hermione. “Smart girl.”

“But, we need to find the one that’s best for Beth,” Hermione said, snapping back to a more serious nature. “Do you remember what style she said she wanted, Harry?”

“She said emerald cut,” he answered.

“Okay, follow me,” Mr. Laviera said, and Harry and Hermione walked around the room until they stood in front of a case full of square cut diamonds.

“These are nice,” Hermione said, looking down.

“Okay, pick one,” Harry said to her.

“What?”

“Pick the one you think is the best.”

“Harry, it isn’t for me. I have no idea what she’d want.”

“Well, I trust your judgment,” Harry said as he smiled.

“Don’t be silly. I’m not choosing the ring for you. I said I’d help, but I won’t do it all myself. She’s your girl friend. What do you think she’d like?” Hermione asked, feeling flustered.

Harry leaned his elbows against the top of the glass case and looked seriously at Hermione. “Listen, I picked the first time and it wasn’t right. I brought you along so you could give me a woman’s opinion.”

Mr. Laviera laughed as he listened to the two friends arguing. Hermione frowned. “Oh, honestly, Harry! I thought the first ring was gorgeous. But she wants one of these dull square ones, so I think you should pick out whichever one you can afford.”

“I can afford them all,” he whispered playfully as he leaned closer to Hermione. “Pick one.”

“Fine!” she said in a huff. She pointed down at a ring, and the ring levitated out of its holdings and floated up toward her. She stared at it and wondered what to do next.

“Hold out your finger,” Harry said.

She looked up at Harry in shock. “What?!”

“Hold out your finger. It will slide on, and we can see how it looks,” he said innocently.

“I will not,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t see any reason to try it on. You aren’t marrying me,” she said as her cheeks burned pink.

Harry laughed. “I know I’m not marrying you, Hermione. If I was, we’d be over at the other counter with the first ring, but I need to see how it looks. Besides, I want your opinion.”

Hermione held out her finger, and the ring floated over and slipped on. The ring size adjusted immediately to her finger, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s very nice,” she said quietly.

“It is,” Harry agreed. He reached out and lifted Hermione’s hand in his and leaned closer to get a good look at the ring. Her palm suddenly felt clammy, and her chest constricted. Harry looked up at her and smiled. “I think this one should do the trick.”

“Works for me,” she said breathlessly as she and Harry locked eyes.

He turned away and smiled at Mr. Laviera. “We’ll take it.”

“Great. I’ll be right back with the box and receipt.”

The ring slipped from her finger as easily as it slipped on, and a small part of Hermione was sad to see it go. After Harry paid the jeweler and dropped the ring into his pocket, he looked at her and grinned.

“What?” she asked, looking at him suspiciously. There was a gleam in his eyes.

“Hot chocolate and ice skating?” he asked.

She groaned. “I thought you’d forgotten about that.”

“I know.” He smiled wider.

“Listen, Harry, I’m not a very good ice skater.”

“You’re good at everything,” Harry said playfully.

She placed her hands on her hips. “No, I’m not.”

“Come on. We’re going ice skating,” he said, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the shop.

She looked over her shoulder as Harry ushered her out of the store, and she saw Mr. Laviera looking at the two of them curiously. Before she could over think the look in the jeweler’s eyes, she was thrust outside into the cold, and Harry was dragging her toward the skating rink.

AM I TOO LATE

Skating in Paradise

Chapter Six

Harry practically dragged Hermione down the streets of Hogsmeade toward the ice skating rink. She tried to distract him by saying they should visit the other shops, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said she never allowed herself to have fun, and book shopping was nowhere near the enjoyment they were going to have making complete fools of themselves while ice skating. She relented; she didn’t seem to have any other choice.

The ice rink was covered by a large dome with a giant open hole in the very center at the top. This hole allowed for the natural light to spill down onto the charmed ice below, but any other unwanted elements could not pass through the hole and ruin the fun of the skaters. Charmed snowflakes fell continuously and indoor snow-covered trees were scattered all around. There were also snow drifts everywhere to give the illusion of the outdoors. To Hermione, it looked like she had stumbled into a wondrous magical forest with a frozen lake in the middle.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Harry asked, smiling at the look of amazement on her face.

“I had no idea,” she said quietly.

“This must be a good time to skate. There’s hardly anyone here.”

“Less people to see me fall,” Hermione muttered.

“Oh, come on, Hermione,” Harry laughed. “I’ll keep you from falling.”

“I doubt that,” she said cryptically as she thought of the condition of her heart.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she replied, walking away from him and crunching the magic snow beneath her shoes.

Harry followed her. “Why don’t you go sit on that bench over there,” he said, pointing to a wooden bench resting beneath an antique wrought iron street lamp. “I’ll go get some starter hot chocolate and then we can skate.”

“Okay,” she said, and before Harry could walk away, she called out to him. “Hey Harry!” He turned. “No marshmallows!”

He frowned at her and shook his head. “I know you don’t want marshmallows.”

She smiled involuntarily at him before turning away and heading for the bench. As she walked, she watched a couple skate by laughing and holding hands. When she arrived at the bench, she actually felt like she was in an enchanted forest. The snowflakes sparkled in the air as they fell like tiny diamonds from the ceiling, she could almost swear there were fairies in the trees, and the snow felt and sounded very real beneath her feet. She immediately inhaled a slow deep breath and thought how very romantic the entire scene was all around her. Then, instantly following that thought was a sudden rush of panic.

What am I doing? I can’t do this! This place is a couple’s dream, and I can’t, can’t, CAN’T be here with Harry!

She started to stand up, but she saw Harry approaching her. A smile was stretched across his face, and her heart leapt forward in her chest.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” he asked as he neared her.

“What? Nothing,” she said quickly.

“You looked spooked,” he teased.

“Do I? Oh, I was thinking—“

“—Not about work, I hope,” he interrupted her as he sat down and handed her a mug of hot chocolate.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking of work.”

“Good because we are here to have fun.”

She sighed and sipped her hot chocolate. She wanted to have fun with Harry. She wanted to be with him without thinking of being with him. She wanted it to be like it was before…only she didn’t know what that meant anymore.

“And as for you not wanting marshmallows, don’t you think I’m well aware of that fact by now?” he asked, and she laughed at the expression on his face. He looked mildly insulted.

“Well, I don’t know, Harry. You and Ron aren’t the most observant people I know. You don’t pay attention to half the things around you, so I merely assumed that you wouldn’t know such a trivial thing about me.”

“Okay, so perhaps Ron and I miss a few things, but we don’t miss things about you,” he replied innocently.

Hermione coughed unexpectedly at his response. Maybe it was true. Maybe Harry and Ron caught most of the things concerning her, but they definitely weren’t catching this new development. Of course, Ron hadn’t been around long enough to see anything.

“What? You don’t believe me? I know lots of things about you,” he said defensively.

“I know you do, Harry,” she laughed. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, drink up. I left our skates over there,” he said as he pointed to an entrance onto the ice.

“You got mine, too?”

“Of course.”

“Did you know the right size?” she asked curiously.

Harry half-glared at her, and she burst out laughing. “Hermione, if you insult me one more time, I’m going to have hurt you.” She laughed harder.

“I’m sorry,” she said playfully. “But, you’re full of surprises today.”

He shook his head. “I expected you to think more of our friendship,” he teased in mock sadness. “Don’t you know my shoe size?” he asked.

“Of course,” she joked arrogantly, “but I know everything.”

And Harry laughed as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “So true, so true.”

* * * *

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she stood up and wobbled on her skates. She tried to straighten her legs, but her right knee would spastically tremble and buckle beneath her.

“This is going to be a disaster,” she sighed.

“Nah, you’ll get the hang of it quickly,” Harry assured her right before he grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the ice. Hermione squealed and instantly clutched the nearest object for support—a lamppost.

“Just for the record, I hate you for this,” she mumbled against the metal post. She could hear Harry laughing behind her. She braved a look over her shoulder and glared at him.

“Come on. You can hold my hand,” he said sweetly.

Hermione pulled her body into a standing position while still clutching the post with her arms. “I am not going to hold your hand,” she said in irritation.

“Why not?” he asked.

Because this is one of the most romantic places I’ve ever been and I’m not going to hold your hand because you’re in love with someone else.

“Because…we don’t hold hands,” she said stupidly.

“We’ve held hands lots of times,” Harry laughed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Those were life and death situations, and clearly those times don’t count.”

Harry laughed again. “Life and death situations? How is that different from now?” he teased.

Hermione sighed. “Point taken. I could potentially fall down and kill myself this afternoon. It will be all your fault, of course.”

“Of course,” he smiled.

She hesitantly released the death grip on the post and reached out a hand to Harry. He smiled and reached for her.

“Now take it slow,” he said gently, pulling her closer to his side. Her skates slid easily across the ice. “Okay, one foot at a time,” he continued as he eased his skate out and Hermione followed.

Within a few minutes, the tension left her face and shoulders, and she was almost enjoying herself. Harry’s hand was hot against hers, and the feeling was a constant distraction. She tried to focus on skating, but with the snowflakes, and the trees, and…was that music?

“Do you hear music?” she asked, careful not to pull her attention away from the movement of her skates lest she fall down.

“Sounds classical.”

“Great,” she grumbled. Could the place really get any more romantic?

She forgot herself for a moment and looked over at Harry. For a split second she felt as if she and Harry were the only two people around, lost in a magical forest deep in the heart of a winter paradise. She smiled and felt her heart expand in her chest…right before she lost her balance.

“Woh, woh! Har-RY!” she yelled, swinging one arm like a broken windmill and yanking Harry with the other.

She fell in slow motion. The snowflakes hung in the air, suspended in backwards time; the music halted, and the wind rushed by her ears. She couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t break her fall. She merely fell back as though preparing to lie down on a bed of ice. But she wasn’t prepared for the way the ice felt or the fact that she pulled Harry down with her.

She hit the ice full force and…bounced. She was immediately shocked and relieved. Harry landed half on her body and half on the ice, and he was laughing loudly. His forehead smacked hers, and she winced as he tried to apologize through his laughter.

My, isn't this a cliché? she thought.

Harry’s laughter was contagious; she couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Sorry, Hermione,” he said as he reached up and rubbed his hand against her forehead. “Did that hurt?”

“Why are you apologizing?” she asked, squirming slightly beneath his touch. His hand was warm. “I just made you fall with me.”

“And we bounced,” he laughed. “That was unexpected.”

“But nice,” she replied, smiling up at him.

He leaned over her, and she stopped breathing. A slow smile crept across his face, and she could feel her mouth drying. “You should have seen your face,” he said quietly.

She blushed. “I told you I wasn’t a good skater.”

“You were doing so well. Why did you fall?” he wondered, pulling her into a sitting position as he sat down beside her on the ice.

“I wasn’t concentrating,” she admitted.

“Oh, let your mind wander, did you? What were you thinking about?”

She wanted to say she had been thinking about him, about how perfect the entire place felt, but she knew she couldn’t say those things. So, she shrugged.

“I’m sorry I made you fall,” she said softly, staring down at her hands.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he teased. He stood up slowly and reached down his hands for hers. Then, he pulled her to her feet. “Who better to fall with?”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but smile. My thoughts exactly.

Harry held out his hand for her. “Promise not to pull me down this time?” She laughed. “Unless of course you’re ready to leave.”

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered honestly before she could stop herself.

“Good,” he smiled, “me neither.” He pulled her forward, and they began skating again before he added. “We should do this more often.”

A sense of sadness drifted into Hermione’s heart. “We don’t have time for things like this.”

“We could always make time,” he said.

She laughed, but it sounded hollow and doubtful. “No, we couldn’t.”

“Why not?” he wondered, looking over at her, but she carefully avoided his gaze.

“Well, for starters we work.”

“We’re not working now,” he replied.

“That’s because you needed help with your wedding,” she said a bit too coldly, “which leads me to reason number two why we couldn’t do this more often. You’ll be married in a few months.”

“What does that have to with anything?” he asked.

Hermione stopped skating and dropped Harry’s hand. “I highly doubt Beth is going to want you to go ice skating with me all the time.”

Harry frowned at her and wrinkled his brow. “What would that matter?”

Hermione felt a strange mix of emotions assault her at once—anger, frustration, sadness. “Because your wife isn’t going to want you to skate around holding hands with another woman!”

“But it’s you,” he said, and it was evident that he was growing frustrated as well.

“Well, I’m still a woman, Harry!” she exclaimed as she placed her hands on her hips. She felt on the verge of tears.

“I know you’re a woman, Hermione, believe me,” he stated and immediately pinked as he thought of her seeing her earlier in the morning with little to nothing on. “But it’s you, and Beth knows about our friendship. Getting married isn’t going to change us, Hermione.” His voice was gentle, and his face was sincere.

She sighed; the fight left her instantly. “Everything will change, Harry. It always does. Nothing stays the same,” she spoke quietly, hearing the sadness in her voice.

He skated closer to her and stood before her with a look of absolute resolution in his eyes. “This,” he motioned to the two of them, “will never change. I can promise you that. We’ll always have this.”

Hermione lowered her eyes and sighed again. “Okay,” was she could say.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out and lifting her face, “I promise. I know I’ll be married, but our friendship won’t change because of that. I won’t let it. The friendships I have…yours, Ron’s…the guys…are much too important to me to let go of.”

Hermione looked at him and nodded. “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

Harry reached out and playfully grabbed her upper arm. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Hermione Granger?” He eyed her carefully, and she laughed away the confused feelings inside.

“You found me out. Who told?”

“It’s all over the streets. You’ll never get rid of me.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said playfully, thankful the conversation had shifted away from the seriousness. She skated off laughing, and Harry chased after her.

When he was next to her again, she asked, “So, what’s on our agenda for tomorrow?”

Harry shrugged. “Flowers, dresses, music, honeymoons…you know, the usual.”

“Well, I think I’ll pass on all of the above.”

“I don’t think so, Miss. I fully intend on seeing you dressed up in a gown.”

Hermione choked out a laugh. “You have to be joking me. I am not going to go dress shopping for Beth’s gown. She’s a designer, for Merlin’s sake.”

“I know that, but she wants to know what my favorite style is,” Harry pouted.

“Well, then I suggest you take Ron with you for that assignment. He’s a better match for her in size!” Hermione said as she skated off quickly, giggling madly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, chasing after her again. “You are going to help me whether you like it or not!”

“I’ll run away!” Hermione yelled over her shoulder. She skated off the rink and wobbled quickly into a thicket of snow-covered trees, hiding behind an old maple. She pulled out her wand and cast a Breezing Charm. The snow stirred up from the ground and created a blowing fog of white, concealing her from view.

“No fair! I’ll find you!” he yelled in return. “You won’t get far!” Hermione could hear him laughing as he searched for her. She covered her hand with her mouth and snickered. “I hear you!” Suddenly, two arms grabbed her around the waist and she squealed. “I win! You should have known you can never hide from me.”

He turned her around, and she stared up into his bright green eyes. “I should have,” she whispered as she lost herself in his gaze.

He smiled. “Nice charm.”

“Thanks,” she said, suddenly realizing she had her hands on his chest. She slid them off immediately. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled.

He lowered his hands, too, and stepped back. Hermione could feel an electrical current of energy surrounding them, and from the look in his eyes, she wondered if he could feel it, too. A long second of silence hung in the air around them before he spoke.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Sure,” she answered.

“Then, we can go home,” he added. “And you’ll be free…until tomorrow,” he said, grinning at her.

“I can hardly wait,” she said sarcastically.

He waited for her to wobble up beside him, and he put his arm around her shoulders. “Come, on, admit it…you had fun today.”

She smiled up at him. “Okay,” she sighed reluctantly, “I had fun.”

“And we should do this more often?” he asked playfully.

“Yes, we should,” she agreed.

He stopped walking and turned to face her. “No, even better…we will.”

Harry looked down at her, his eyes full of innocence and friendship, and she could see herself, though figuratively, handing over her heart. She knew she was mostly lost to him already, but looking up at him with the diamond-like snowflakes falling all around them, the fairies twinkling in the trees, the gentle rolling sound of the music, she knew she was lost completely. There would be no turning back, and though she knew her heart would break, she would enjoy every last moment they would spend together before he would be lost to her forever.

AM I TOO LATE

An Angel in Ivory

Chapter Seven

Harry somehow talked Hermione into heading over to Justin’s pub The Benevolent Badger though it wasn’t hard; her stomach was already rumbling. Harry opened the door for her, and the warmth from inside was inviting. Behind the bar, Justin smiled as he watched them enter. Hermione waved, and Justin motioned them over.

“What are you two doing off from work?” he asked as he wiped down the bar in front of them. “Especially you, Miss Granger.”

Hermione laughed as she climbed onto a barstool. “Harry finagled with Remus, and I got a vacation.”

Justin raised his eyebrows and shot a look at Harry. “Yeah, it wasn’t hard. Everyone knows she’s the hardest working witch in the world. She’s even helping me during her vacation,” Harry said as he popped a few peanuts into his mouth and sat on a stool next to Hermione.

“That’s our girl, always working,” Justin said sweetly. “What are you two working on together?”

Hermione paled slightly and adverted her eyes. Harry answered. “My wedding.”

“Oh?” Justin asked, watching Hermione closely. “Well, that’s definitely interesting.”

“Yeah, this is the busy season for Beth—“

“—it’s always the busy season for Beth,” Hermione blurted before she could stop herself.

Harry laughed. “That’s true, but by the time the wedding gets here and we work it into our schedules, it will be the busiest season for her. So, Hermione is helping me plan things.”

Justin reached out and touched Hermione’s arm. “That’s really sweet of you, you know that right? You’re amazing.”

She and Justin locked eyes, and she nodded slightly. Harry slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. “Not much more you could ask for, is there?” he said playfully.

“My thoughts exactly, mate. So, what’ll it be today?” Justin asked, changing the subject because he saw Hermione’s eyes begin to cloud.

“What do you feel like eating?” Harry asked her. She glanced off and thought for a moment.

“I’m not really in the mood for anything specific, so why don’t you pick what you want, and I’ll eat some of yours.”

“Okay, then. Justin, would you get us a couple of butterbeers and shepherd’s pie, please?”

“Coming right up,” Justin replied as he walked off and disappeared through a swinging door.

“But I didn’t think you were really crazy about shepherd’s pie,” Hermione said to Harry when Justin walked off to fill their order.

“It’s one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

“Well…yeah, but—“

“—And you’re sharing with me.” And that was all he said concerning the matter. He acted as though it was the simplest reason, but Hermione wanted to hug him for such a gesture. She wondered why he couldn’t see how perfect they were for each other. It was the little things that mattered, and my, oh, my, the little things were really piling up into one great big mess of trouble.

While Harry and Hermione were sitting at the bar a wizard walked up and tapped Harry’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mr. Potter?”

Harry and Hermione turned around to look at the man. “Yes?” Harry asked.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your engagement,” he said, grinning widely.

“Oh,” Harry said in surprise. “Well, thank you.”

The wizard reached out for Hermione’s hand. “And congratulations to you, too,” he said as he smiled at her.

“Oh,” she blushed, “I’m not getting married.”

“You aren’t?” the wizard asked in confusion.

“No, I-I wouldn’t marry Harry,” she said foolishly as she looked away from his stare and pulled her hand back into her lap.

“Why not?” Harry asked playfully.

“Harry,” she said uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I assumed you were the fiancé because you were here together. I know how popular Mr. Potter is.”

“Yes, of course, well all know how popular our Harry is, and a girl would be silly if she didn’t want to marry him,” Hermione said with a bit of sarcasm in her voice.

Harry frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione looked at him and saw his brow furrowed. Before she could answer, the wizard who was apparently still involved in their conversation answered.

“Well, you are, Harry Potter,” the wizard stated.

“So?” Harry asked, clearly growing annoyed.

“Harry,” Hermione began, “let’s be honest, most people are immediately drawn to you because…well because you’re Harry Potter.”

“So what? You’re Hermione Granger,” Harry replied in annoyance.

“But nobody knows who I am,” she said honestly.

“I bloody know who you are,” Harry argued.

“Harry, you saved the entire world from evil. You’re a hero,” Hermione said quietly, reaching out to touch his arm. It was clear to her that Harry was a bit ruffled.

“Well, I didn’t save the world on my own,” he said, glaring at her. Then, his face softened. He touched the hand she had resting on his arm. “I had a lot of help. And besides, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Hermione felt tears prickle in her eyes. “Oh, that’s not really true,” she said quietly as she pulled her hand away from his. “There were lots of other people around.”

“Yeah, sometimes there were others around. But you were always there. I couldn’t have done half the things I did without you behind me, helping me.” Harry locked eyes with Hermione, and she found she couldn’t look away. The wizard near them rocked back and forth on his heels and watched the two of them with intrigue.

“Well, if you’re not marrying her, then who are you marrying?” the wizard asked.

Harry looked away from Hermione and stared at the wizard. He struggled to remember the answer to the question. The silence grew long and awkward.

“Her name is Beth Jordan. She’s a top-rate designer,” Hermione finally said, struggling to fill in the empty space.

The wizard nodded his head and walked away. Hermione glanced over at Harry who seemed to be lost in his thoughts while he stared at the floor. She slowly reached out her hand and touched his shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked softly. When Harry looked up at her, it took her breath away. She could see the questions in his eyes—questions she had asked herself a million times…why weren’t they together?

Two butterbeers clinked against the wooden bar top, and Harry and Hermione looked up at Justin. “The shepherd’s pie will be out in a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks,” Hermione replied as Justin smiled and walked off to help another customer. Hermione sipped at the foam at the top of her mug and glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye. He was sitting quietly, staring off at nothing. She wanted to say something light and funny, but she couldn’t think of anything. Finally he ended the silence.

“I couldn’t have done any of those things without your help,” he admitted quietly.

“What?” she asked, putting her butterbeer down and looking at him.

“Everything,” he answered as he looked up at her. “You always helped with everything.”

Hermione laughed nervously. The seriousness in Harry’s eyes made her stomach jump and dance around. “We’re best friends. That’s what I was supposed to do.”

“It may be selfish, but I hope that never changes,” he said as he smiled slowly at her. It made her stomach disappear entirely. She didn’t know how to respond. She knew Harry’s impending marriage would change everything, so she merely smiled. A second later, Justin placed their meal down in front of them, and all seriousness drifted away as the three old friends laughed and talked about anything and everything.

* * * *

After an easy dinner at Justin’s pub, Harry was strangely silent as he walked Hermione home to her flat. She tried to ease the uncomfortable silences with lighthearted jokes, but Harry’s laugh was distant. She wondered if she’d said something wrong, if she’d done something to initiate his solemn mood.

She pulled her keys from her pocket and turned to wish him goodnight as they stood outside her door. His pale green eyes spoke of a troubled heart, and she sighed quietly.

“Harry, are you okay?” she asked softly.

He smiled though it was forced and only half-genuine. “Sure.”

“You can talk to me.”

“I know,” he assured her.

“Well, goodnight then. I’ll probably…” she bit her bottom lip, “…shop for dress designs tomorrow.” She tried to smile.

He nodded.

“And, I’ll let you know what I find.” She couldn’t believe what she was saying—trying to cheer him up by acting as though she was excited to try on wedding dresses for Harry’s fiancé. “I heard there was a great new bridal shop in Hogsmeade. Maybe I’ll talk Ginny into going with me.”

He nodded again.

She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she questioned again.

Harry looked down at the hand on his arm and slowly eased his eyes up to hers. “Yeah. Fine. Ron’s coming home late tonight. What time do you think you’ll be in Hogsmeade? We could all have lunch together.”

Hermione smiled. “That would be great. I should be in Hogsmeade by ten.” She dropped her hand from his arm.

“Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night, Harry.”

She watched him walk away before unlocking her door. It had always been so easy for her to read Harry’s emotions, but she didn’t understand his mood. He’d been happy and entertaining over dinner. But on the walk home, he’d been somewhere else entirely. She walked into her flat, closed the door, and sighed loudly. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, she hoped they’d all find a suitable happiness.

* * * *

Harry apparated home, dragged himself into his living room. He dropped down onto the couch and stared blankly at the Muggle television. His insides felt tight, and he rubbed his palm over his chest, thinking. He closed his eyes.

He loved Beth. He knew he did. But something nagged in the back of his mind, something spoke of feelings he didn’t quite understand. Moments from his past, moments he’d pushed aside, rocketed through his memory. In practically every scene his brain replayed, he could find Hermione. She was there coaching him, testing him, laughing with him, helping him.

He exhaled a long, slow breath. He loved Beth. He knew he did—but something inside made him feel off kilter, something was beginning to question all his neatly assembled facts.

* * * *

The following morning, Hermione stood outside Ginny’s door and banged loudly. It was almost nine, and she had brought coffee and danishes to entice Ginny into dress shopping with her. Hermione banged on the door again.

Within seconds, the wooden door flung open to reveal a disheveled and angry-looking redhead.

“It’s not even nine o’clock, Hermione,” Ginny said flatly.

Hermione held up the cups and a white paper bag. “I brought coffee and danishes.”

Ginny’s angry mouth twitched. “Cream cheese?”

“Of course,” Hermione smiled.

“Come in,” she said, opening the door wider, “and you’d better have a bloody good reason for getting me out of bed on my day off.”

Hermione breezed in and placed the coffee cups on the table in front of the couch; she opened the bag and pulled out the napkins before arranging the food on the table.

“I need help shopping,” Hermione said, looking up at Ginny.

“Shopping?” Ginny reached for the cup of coffee and a danish. “Mmmmm. These are my favorite.”

“I know. Yes, I need help shopping.”

“Wudya lookin’ for?” Ginny asked through a mouthful.

“A wedding dress.”

Ginny coughed while trying to swallow her breakfast.

“I’m helping Harry,” Hermione frowned. “You know that.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re helping Harry by shopping for a wedding dress?” Ginny stood to her feet and paced the living room floor.

“Yes.”

“Hermione, this has gone too far. This is out of control. Have you completely lost your mind? I will not allow you to shop for a bloody dress for Harry’s wench! I have to draw the line somewhere!” Ginny ranted.

Hermione sighed and stared down at her feet. “I know it’s crazy, Ginny. I really do. But I promised Harry I’d help him.”

“Well, then, unpromise him!”

Hermione jerked her head up. “I can’t. I’ve never gone back on my word!”

“This is the one time where I think you would have a legitimate reason to break your promise.”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

Ginny dropped onto the couch beside Hermione. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. It’s torture for you, and it’s difficult for me to watch it. I know you love him, and only because I’m you’re best friend will I help you. But you should know that if this gets much crazier, I’m going to have to stop you. And if that means hexing you into next year, I won’t hesitate.”

Hermione nodded.

Ginny took another large bite of her danish. “There’s a great new bridal shop in Hogsmeade.”

Hermione smiled. “I heard that, too.”

“Might be fun to try on a few gowns, pretend we’re getting married to some dashing bloke. Let me change and then we can leave.”

* * * *

“Oh, Ginny, you look wonderful!” Hermione breathed out as Ginny walked out of the dressing room and twirled.

“This is fabulous!” She looked at herself in the long mirrors. “I really like the beadwork on the front, don’t you?”

“Yes. You look so elegant. I definitely think that cut flatters your figure. Of course, everything flatters your figure, but that one is my favorite.”

“Okay, your turn,” Ginny giggled.

Hermione walked over to their rack of dresses and pulled out her favorite one. She’d been saving it for last. She held it gently in her hands as if holding an object of reverence. The silky texture felt cool against her skin, and the calm color of ivory caused her to dream of lilies and candles, walking down an aisle, Harry’s face waiting at the end for her—

“Are you going to try it on or drool on it?” Ginny teased.

Hermione blinked her eyes quickly; the dream left her thoughts. “Okay, okay.” She walked behind the dressing curtain and began changing. She could hear Ginny humming in the room beside her.

“I’m going to get a necklace from the display cabinet. I think I saw one that will look great with that dress.”

“Okay.”

Hermione lifted her arms over her head, and the dress floated up and eased down onto her body. It was a perfect fit. The strapless gown displayed her shoulders and collarbone, emphasizing her appealing features and bone structure. Suddenly, she felt emotional, as if she was creating a bond with the dress.

This is it, she thought.

“Are you finished? I found a few accessories for you.”

Hermione pulled the curtain aside, and Ginny gasped.

“Oh. My. Gosh. Hermione, you look amazing.”

Hermione blushed and turned to look at herself in the mirrors. “It really is nice.”

“Nice isn’t a strong enough word. If I was into women, I’d definitely marry you.”

Hermione giggled. “Thanks…I think.”

“Here, let me put on this necklace.”

“Are those diamonds?”

“Yes.”

“How many are there?”

“A lot. Be still so I can clasp it. And look at this. It’s a tiara. I know it’s a bit fancy, but I thought it would be fun to go all out on this one. There. Now stand up on the riser there. Okay, look at yourself.”

Hermione stepped up onto the riser and turned slowly. The vision she saw in the mirror looked like a princess; she barely recognized her reflection.

“You look beautiful.”

“I don’t even look like me.”

“Yeah, you do. It’s just a you that you keep hidden behind your books and sweaters,” Ginny said sweetly.

Hermione smiled and slid her hands down the smooth satin material of the dress. “I feel like someone else entirely, but it’s a nice feeling.”

“Harry Potter must be crazy to not see you for what you are,” Ginny said quietly.

Hermione looked over her shoulder. “And what am I?”

“Perfect for him.”

* * * *

“You should have seen his face,” Ron bellowed. “He couldn’t believe it, kept arguing with the ref!”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I wish I could have been there. I love to see Timalt’s face when it gets all red and blotchy.”

Ron nodded his agreement. “So, where is it we’re going again, mate?”

“The bridal shop. Justin said it was somewhere just around this corner,” Harry said, glancing at the shop names.

“I hope you don’t expect me to look at dresses with you. A man has his pride, you know.”

Harry huffed. “Hardly. No, Hermione is trying on wedding dresses.”

Ron paled. “What the bloody hell for?”

“For me.”

Ron threw out his arm, pressing it to Harry’s chest and halting him. “Wait just a bloody minute. What is going on?”

Harry looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Why is Hermione trying on wedding dresses for you? Is there something you need to tell me?”

Harry’s stomach tightened quickly before releasing as he smiled. He chuckled. “No, you dolt. Beth wants to know what my favorite dress design is, and Hermione agreed to help me, which is why she’s at the bridal shop this morning.”

Ron dropped his arm, his mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ as realization dawned on him. He grinned. “I thought you were going to tell me something had happened between you and Hermione.”

Harry’s step faltered. “W-why would you think that? Wouldn’t that be…” he searched for the right word, “…weird?”

Ron shrugged as they walked. “I don’t know that weird is the right word.” He stopped walking; Harry nearly plowed into him. “I think we’re here.”

“Why?”

Ron pointed. “Look.”

Harry turned toward the shop window and peered inside. Standing on a step of some sort, turning slowing and smiling widely, was one of the most beautiful visions Harry had ever seen—an angel in ivory.

His mouth fell open; his mind blanked.

“Wow. That looks like Hermione, but…” Ron tilted his head, “…but it doesn’t.”

Harry couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare at the woman standing inside the shop. The dress she was wearing sparkled and shimmered in the lights. Her hair tumbled over her bare shoulders, and diamonds twinkled around her neck. On her head sat a crown fit for a princess. She looked…

“Perfect,” he whispered.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“She looks perfect.”

“It is a great dress. Suppose that’s the one you’ll want for Beth, then?”

Harry shook his head. It was much too difficult for him to imagine anyone else wearing the dress. Hermione and the dress seemed like one, heavenly element. The idea of putting the very same gown on someone else felt like sacrilege.

“No. That dress is perfect for Hermione.”

Ron smiled. “Shame you aren’t marrying her then.”

“Shame,” Harry muttered.

Ron glanced at him in surprise before clearing his throat loudly. “Well, are we going to go inside or are you planning on gawking through the window all day? I don’t know about you but I’m bloody starving.”

Harry swallowed, hoping like hell his heartbeat would settle down and his hands would quit shaking. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He didn’t understand why seeing Hermione in a wedding dress would unsettle him so, didn’t understand why he could picture her walking down the aisle…an aisle where he was standing at the end, heart in his throat, grinning like the luckiest man in the world.

AM I TOO LATE

Surprise Invitation

Chapter Eight

The bell on the shop door jingled, and Hermione pulled her eyes away from the mirrors. She swayed on her feet, and Ginny quickly reached up a supportive hand as Harry and Ron wandered into the store.

“Hey guys,” Ginny said quickly.

“Morning. Great dress, Hermione. Harry and I’ve decided it’s the one,” Ron said as he nodded his head in agreement.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it? I was just telling her I think it’s the loveliest we’ve looked at.” Ginny smoothed a hand down the silky fabric. “And it feels wonderful, too.”

Ron glanced at the rack of dresses near the changing room. “How many dresses have you been trying out? And what the bloody hell are you doing in a dress?”

Ginny laughed. “Oh, Ron. Relax. I’m merely helping out a friend, right, Hermione? Hermione?” Ginny glanced up when she received no answer.

Hermione and Harry had both been strangely silent, and now Ginny saw why. Whether speechless or shocked, she wasn’t sure, but both friends were merely staring at each other. There seemed to be a longing in the air.

“Hermione?” Ginny asked once more. Ron shifted his weight on his feet and frowned at Harry.

“Do you really like it?” Hermione asked quickly. She was speaking only to Harry.

He took a cautious step forward, and Ginny almost gasped when he stretched out a hand toward Hermione. She took his hand and stepped off the riser. Harry slowly reached out and touched the tiara. He grinned. “Nice crown.”

Hermione gazed at the floor, studied the polish on his shoes. “Yeah, well, Ginny thought we’d…get a bit crazy.”

“It isn’t crazy. It’s perfect,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him. “Really?”

“Sure,” he replied. He fingered the diamonds around her neck and the heat of his touch on her skin almost unwound her. “It fits. All of it fits you perfectly.”

She smiled a sincere, swelling-of-the-heart smile. “Thanks. I think we found the right one then,” she answered softly.

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“No?” she asked quickly. “But I thought—“

“That dress is perfect for you, and I can’t imagine anyone else with it on.”

“Oh.”

Ginny and Ron looked at each other awkwardly. “Well, mate, I’m starving. Are we going or…?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Hermione said immediately as she pulled herself away from Harry. “I completely forgot about lunch. I’m sorry, Ron.” She rushed over and hugged him quickly, catching him off guard. “I’m glad you’re home. I’ll just go change, and we can get going.”

“I’ll help,” Ginny said. She rushed into the changing room after Hermione.

When the girls were out of earshot, Ron turned to Harry. “What the bloody hell was that about?”

“What?” Harry asked, looking away from where Hermione had disappeared.

“That…that…” Ron motioned to the space where Hermione had been standing. “What was that?”

“What was what, Ron?” Harry asked. He pushed a nervous hand through his unruly hair.

“Harry, you were…cow-eyed over Hermione!”

Harry laughed loudly. “Cow-eyed? What does that even mean?”

Ron leaned over and whispered darkly. “You were looking at Hermione…like she wasn’t your friend.”

“What? Ron, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry admitted.

“Like you’d take her in the back room if the idea weren’t so bloody indecent.”

Harry paled. He stared at Ron. “I…I…”

“Yeah, I, I nothing. Something’s going on here, and I don’t like it. I’m not completely blind.”

“Nothing is going—“

“Okay, we’re both ready,” Hermione said in an overly cheerful voice. “I’m starved. Where are we heading off to?”

“Just around the corner. There’s a new place I want to check out. My mates on the team said it has amazing food,” Ron said. He leaned toward Harry and whispered, “We’ll talk about this later.”

“And good beer, no doubt?” Ginny asked.

Ron smiled at her and slipped his arm around her shoulder. “But of course. Would I settle for less?”

“Never,” she laughed, and the four friends walked out the door.

* * * *

Ron held open the door to The Radner’s Pub. Ginny walked in, and Hermione thanked Ron as she followed Ginny. Harry strolled in behind the girls, but he was staring at the floor and shaking his head.

“What’s gotten into you, mate?” Ron asked, catching Harry’s arm.

“It’s…” Harry cursed under his breath. “I don’t know.”

“So, you’re admitting it’s something?” Ron asked. He nodded his head at Ginny who stood near the hostess. He held up four fingers.

“I don’t know what I’m saying, Ron. I just feel…weird.”

“Weird like you’ve eaten a plate of rotten meat or weird like you were looking at Hermione with cow eyes?” Ron waved at a few of his teammates who were seated at the bar. “We’ll be right there,” he told Ginny. She gave him the ’what are you doing’, look but he shook his head in response.

Harry sighed. “Did you see her?”

“Who?” Ron asked, glancing around the pub.

“What do you mean who?” Harry asked in annoyance and then lowered his voice. “Hermione. Did you see her? She looked…” He cursed again.

“Yeah, I saw her. Listen, mate, she’s your best friend. She’s lovely and…well, we love her, but I think you’re thinking too much about it. There’s no problem in thinking our best friend is lovely. Is that what’s wrong?”

Harry sighed again. Then nodded and forced an awkward smile. “Yeah, that’s it,” he lied. Ron was obviously not going to understand the depth of his uneasiness.

Ron smiled and slapped Harry’s back. “Good. I’m glad we got that settled. I’m starved.” He walked off in search of Ginny, and Harry followed slowly behind.

Harry knew that wasn’t it. He wasn’t merely thinking Hermione was lovely. He was thinking of her in other ways—ways that made his stomach uneasy, ways that made his cheeks hot and his hands sweat. And he was involuntarily thinking of the back room.

* * * *

Harry arrived at the table to find Ginny and Ron seated on the same side of the booth, and he inwardly groaned. Hermione, however, wasn’t there.

As if sensing his question, Ginny said, “She went to the loo. She’ll be right back. But she’s going to want the outside.”

“I know,” Harry mumbled as he slid to the inside of the booth near the opaque windows.

A minute later, Hermione weaved her way through the tables and smiled when she saw the booth with her friends. Before she could slide into the side with Harry, someone stepped up to her.

“Hey, Weasley, how’s it going?” the man asked.

Ron smiled. “Ridley, it’s good, mate, good. I thought I’d take your advice and check out the place.”

The tall man standing beside Hermione smiled at her. She blushed.

“Ridley Todd,” he said in a deep voice that vibrated the chest.

Ridley Todd towered over Hermione. He was broad shouldered, sinewy like a Seeker, and had pale blue eyes. His sandy blonde hair fell over his forehead and brow. When he smiled, every tooth was in place and a long dimple formed in his left cheek.

“I see you’ve brought friends,” Ridley said, but he nodded in Hermione’s direction.

“Yeah. This is Harry Potter, and this is my sister, Ginny. I think you’ve met before—“

“—yeah, we have,” Ginny said, flashing Ridley a smile.

“And you’re standing beside—“

“—Hermione Granger,” Ridley finished. He held out his hand for Hermione, and she stared at him.

“How?” she asked, not able to form any more coherent words.

“I’ve read all your publications. I think you do amazing work. Between your volunteering and your advocating for rights, I don’t know how you do it,” Ridley said.

“Oh…”

“He really is a fan, Hermione. Been talking about meeting you ever since I told him we were mates since we were kids,” Ron said as he took a sip of his beer.

“Well…thank you,” Hermione said, and she could feel the pink in her cheeks.

Harry shifted in his seat. His jaw was tight, and he could feel a twitch start in his cheek. “So, you’re Ridley Todd? The new Seeker?”

“That’s right.” He held out his hand for Harry. “It’s nice to meet you, Potter. Weasley speaks highly of you.” Before Harry could answer, Ridley turned back to Hermione. “I’d love to talk with you sometime about the work you do. Are you working on new publications?”

“Actually, I am.”

“Great. Let’s do something. Anything. We could meet at the new library,” he said and smiled at her. He pushed his hand through his hair, and she felt a flutter in her chest.

“I love the library,” she admitted breathlessly.

“I knew you would. What do you say, tomorrow? Are you free?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I am. I’ve got a few days vacation thanks to Harry,” she said, turning to look at her best friend.

“Thanks to me,” Harry mumbled.

“Would you like that?” Ridley asked gently. He touched her upper arm with his hand.

“I would.”

“I’m really looking forward to this. I’ll meet you there, let’s say, two o’clock tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sounds great. It’s nice to meet you, Ridley.”

“Oh, this is definitely my pleasure. I best be going before the other guys eat my share of the food. Nice to see you again, Ginny. Potter, take it easy. Weasley, I’ll see you in a few days.”

The others said goodbyes, and Hermione lowered herself onto the cushion beside Harry. She touched her fingertips to her flushed cheeks. “Well,” she finally said, “that was unexpected.”

“I think he was asking you out, Hermione,” Ginny said. She smiled but watched Harry’s eyes darken.

“Oh, no. I think he’s just interested in my work.”

Ron snorted. “Hermione, no man is interested in your work.” Before she could protest, he held up a hand. “Besides, he’s told me numerous times how gorgeous he thinks you are.”

“Oh,” she said and looked down, grinning into her lap. “That was really kind of him.”

Harry stared into his lap, too, but it wasn’t to hide his grin. It was to hide the sharp lines in his cheeks caused by his clenched jaw. It was to hide the thin line created by his lips. And it was to hide his true feelings, but Ginny noticed. She noticed but said nothing—not yet.

AM I TOO LATE

Meet Me in the Afternoon

Chapter Nine

Hermione frantically pulled unused hair and facial products, Muggle and otherwise, out from under her bathroom counter. She tossed them onto the countertop and chewed her bottom lip. Her wet hair, hung down past her shoulders in heavy dark curls.

Her bed looked as through her closet had rejected every outfit in a wild frenzy, and now they were crumpled and smashed in different piles of color and fabric—and still she had nothing to wear. She leaned closer to the mirror and poked gingerly at the puffiness below her lower eyelids.

“Definitely have to cover those up. If only I’d slept better last night,” she mumbled to herself.

She’d actually come home and gone straight to bed, only she hadn’t fallen asleep for hours. Her heart would sink and flutter from moment to moment. First she’d think of Ridley—this new man. He was striking and definitely charismatic with intelligence to spare. Then there was Harry, and, holy Merlin, he had looked at her differently in the Bridal Shop. It felt as though he’d been looking at her for years and suddenly he’d seen her. And it made her want to run to him and throw her arms around his neck and breathe, thank you, God, thank you, thank you. I thought you’d never really know.

She cursed her thoughts for drifting into places they should not venture and set about smoothing a facial cream onto her neck and cheeks. Just as she finished dabbing concealer beneath her eyes, there was a knock on her door. She frowned into the mirror before grabbing her bathrobe. In her haste to get to the door, she forgot to tie the belt, and the crimson robe fluttered behind her as she walked.

“Coming!” she called as she hurried across her living room. She opened the door and was shocked to see Harry grinning at her. He held a large brown paper sack in one arm and what looked to be Muggle DVDs in the other. “Harry?”

Harry’s mouth fell agape. He’d been smiling. He’d even been trying to convince himself that he and Hermione were just the same as they’d always been. But she stood before him, her wet hair framing her face, wearing an opened bathrobe and a short black nightie. He realized it was doubtful that nothing had changed between him and his best friend. She was wearing practically nothing, and his pulse was registering that observation…very easily in fact.

“Harry?” she asked again. “What are you doing here?”

“I…er…I…”

She giggled. “Always so eloquent, Mr. Potter. What can I do for you other than give you a grammar lesson…or perhaps simple instructions on the lexical structures of semantics?”

He shook his head as if to clear a lingering fog and grinned again. “Very funny. I brought food,” he lifted the large brown paper sack, “and wedding organizer stuff.”

“Food?” she asked as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

Harry tried not to stare at the smooth, paleness of her exposed skin, at the elegant way her collarbone emphasized her delicate features. “Er…yeah. Food. You do still eat, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s almost half past one.”

“So?”

“So, did you forget that I was meeting Ridley this afternoon?” she asked and opened the door wider to let Harry inside. “Here, give me those. Are these DVDs?”

Harry nodded and walked into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pushed the bag onto an empty bottom shelf. “Well, they’ve been magiked into Muggle DVDs so we can use your player. And about the meeting, I guess I did forget.” But he hadn’t forgotten. He’d wanted to selfishly detain her. “Are you having lunch with Ridley?” The name slipped from his lips a bit too acidic for Hermione’s liking because she frowned.

“No, and don’t look at me like that. He seems like a nice man.”

“I’m sure he is,” Harry said quickly. He smiled at her and noticed how smooth her legs were as she sat on the nearby ottoman. His smile faltered. He watched her slide her palms nervously down her thighs. “Water,” he croaked.

“What?” she said. She looked up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t mean to ignore you, but…well, quite frankly, I’m a bit nervous about meeting Ridley.”

In the kitchen Harry turned on the tap and drank the entire glass of water before answering. “You don’t have to go,” he said hopefully.

She laughed. “Of course I don’t have to go, but I want to go. Did you hear him say that he was actually interested in my works? That’s amazing, Harry, and you know it. I’d have to drug you and Ron to get you to even listen to something I’m working on,” she said playfully.

Harry frowned. “That’s not true.” He walked back into the living room and chose to sit on the opposite end of the couch as to not have to stare directly at her half naked body.

“Oh yes it is,” she laughed. She glanced at the clock on the wall and jumped up. “I have to get ready, Harry.” And then realizing she’d forgotten to tie the belt on her bathrobe, she blushed furiously and jerked it closed. “Oh my,” she whispered. “I wasn’t…I mean…I didn’t…you…I wasn’t expecting company.”

“That’s okay, Hermione,” Harry said, unable to stop his cheeks from turning red from the sudden heat. “It’s just me.”

She nodded and hurried from the room. “What’s in the bag you brought over?” she called from her bedroom.

“Food,” he said as he leaned back on the couch and pushed his hands through his black hair. When he closed his eyes, he could see Hermione wearing a black nightie, leaning down and kissing his lips. He jerked his eyes open and clenched his jaw.

“I know that, you prat. What kind of food?” She grinned at him as she poked her head out of her bedroom door.

“Stuff to make pizzas and a bottle of wine.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Wine? What’s the occasion?”

“None,” he answered, but he thought, friends, realizations, regrets, love.

When she walked out of the bedroom a few minutes later, Harry felt his heart tighten. Hermione looked as she always did, but there was a pink flush to her cheeks and excitement in her eyes, and Harry wanted to beg her to stay instead of going to meet some stranger in the library.

“I hope this looks okay,” she said nervously. She smoothed a hand down her blouse and fidgeted with her earring.

“I’m sure it’ll do the trick.”

Harry leaned forward and placed his elbows on his thighs. He gazed up at her through dark lashes, and she caught a shiver of sadness in his green eyes. She smiled slowly. “Pizzas tonight then?”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Yeah. As long as you’re cooking.”

“Deal. Here, I’ll walk you outside. What time do you think you’ll be back?” he asked, lifting her coat and helping her pull it on.

“Hmmm…we should definitely be done by midnight.”

“Midnight?!”

Hermione laughed at Harry’s expression. “I’m kidding. I should think he’ll be bored to tears with me in a few hours.” She locked the door to her flat and dropped the keys into her coat pocket. “Five or six?” she asked as they walked down the stairs to the street.

“Sounds good to me. And then it’s just us.”

“And about 20 DVDs on wedding stuff,” she added, and her stomach tried to knot again, but she pushed it away. She was, after all, going to meet a handsome, single man who was interested in her activist babbling.

“Right. Me, pizza, wine and weddings. What more could a girl ask for?” he teased, and she laughed.

How right you are, she wanted to add but didn’t. “See you in a little while, Harry. Cross your fingers for me.” She laughed again when he held up his crossed fingers. She waved over her shoulder and as soon as she turned, he uncrossed his fingers and sighed. Then, he walked down the street shaking his head, and he wondered what in the world he was doing.

* * * *

Hermione pushed open the doors to the library at exactly two in the afternoon. Ridley was leaned against a nearby stack and smiled at her. She waved nervously and adjusted the bag she’d slung over her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said evenly.

“Hi.”

“I see you brought your stuff,” he said. He placed a hand on her lower back and ushered her to a table.

“Were you not serious about reading my things?” she said, and she blanched.

He chuckled. “Of course I was serious. Here we are. I got a donut, a danish, a bagel and a few cookies. I also bought hot chocolate and water.” He pulled a chair out for her, and she thanked him as she sat down.

“Hungry?” she asked, and he laughed quietly again.

“No, I didn’t know what you’d like. So, I tried to get one of everything. Other than the cookies, of course. And if you must know, I have an insatiable weakness for oatmeal cookies.” He smiled at Hermione as he sat beside her at the table, and she relaxed somewhat.

“Well, thank you. That was really kind of you.”

“Hot chocolate?” he asked. He pushed the mug in her direction but stopped when she bit her bottom lip. “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing personal, but I have this issue with marshmallows,” she admitted. “I just can’t eat them…they’re too…gooey.”

He chuckled again. “I never thought you’d be this funny,” he said and picked up an oatmeal cookie.

“Me? Funny?”

“Yeah. I always thought you’d be serious. You write about such serious ideas and beliefs. Your work seems to leave little room for playfulness, but you…you’re different. Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful smile? It completely disarms me.” He pushed his hand through his sandy blonde hair and grinned down at the table. “I feel so intimidated.”

“What? Really? That’s absurd. I’m not…intimidating,” she stuttered in embarrassment.

“Not only are you beautiful and intelligent, you’re also modest. Hermione, you are going to kill me.” She laughed nervously. “Now, I’m embarrassing you. I don’t mean to, it’s just that I’ve wanted to meet you for so long and now that you’re here…it doesn’t seem real. And you’re so much more in person.”

Hermione fumbled with the strap on her bag and opened it in an attempt to keep her hands busy. “Well…thank you, Ridley. I don’t quite know how to respond, which is an exception to the usual, I assure you.”

Ridley placed his hand on the back of her chair, and she looked up into his pale eyes. Her heart wavered. “I want to be honest with you, Hermione. I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” she said and pushed her hair behind her ears. “You’re not making me uncomfortable, I’m just not…not used to flattery.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said honestly. “You’re…amazing.”

She reached out abruptly for the glass of water and slapped the cup instead. The water rocked and tipped the glass over. Liquid sloshed across the table and before she could do anything, Ridley has his wand out, and he cleaned up the mess.

“I’m so sorry. Bet you didn’t think I was clumsy,” she said jokingly as she righted the empty cup. He placed his hand on hers, and she glanced into his eyes, smiling shyly.

“I’m really glad I ran into you at the pub.” He smiled genuinely, and Hermione found it hard to look away from his intense gaze. “You want to show me your new ideas?” He tapped a finger on her bag, and she nodded in response.

* * * *

Harry pushed open the door to the apothecary. His nose was assaulted with the strong scents of garlic and melting rubber. An older witch behind the counter wiped her hands on her blue apron and smiled as she adjusted the ribbon in her hair.

“Well, Mr. Potter, what an unexpected surprise. What can I help you with?” she asked sweetly.

“I’m actually looking for Ginny,” he said, nodding at another witch who hurried up the aisle when she’d heard his name mentioned.

“Ms. Weasley? Oh, of course,” she said in a voice that made Harry want to protest. “I’ll be right back.” Harry rocked on his heels with a book tucked beneath one arm, and in a minute the older witch returned. “You can go on back, dear. She’s in the middle of a potion.”

“Okay. Thanks,” he said as he circled the counter and slipped through the Employees Only door. “Ginny?” he called.

“Back here.”

Ginny was leaning over a cauldron. She held a spoon in one hand and a wriggling green plant in the other. She glanced up at him and smiled quickly before focusing back on the cauldron.

“It really stinks back here.”

“Yeah, it’s the stuff in the blue jug. Mr. Navadeaux needed something to keep the neighborhood dogs out of his trash.”

“That will probably keep everyone out of his trash,” Harry laughed.

“My thoughts exactly.” She dropped the plant into the boiling liquid in the cauldron and sighed in relief. “Finally. What are you up to?”

“Oh, not much. I needed a quick bite to eat before I returned this book,” Harry said nonchalantly.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Book? You’ve been reading?” she laughed.

“I do read.”

“Something other than Quidditch magazines?” Ginny asked as she slipped her apron over her head and hung it neatly on a nearby hook.

“Yes, something other than Quidditch magazines.”

“Well, that’s definitely a surprise. I suppose I always assumed you couldn’t read unless it was a play book or the history of Quidditch,” she said as she sat down. Ginny reached out her hand toward Harry. “What did you get?”

“Oh, it’s just a boring book I checked out last night. Nothing exciting. No romance, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said quickly.

Ginny crossed her arms and wondered why Harry seemed so agitated. “Well, if you didn’t come by to tell me about your new book,” she said, tilting her head to the side and attempting to read the spine, “why did you stop by?”

“Just wanted to say hello. I was over here, that’s all.”

“Well…that’s nice of you.” Ginny grinned and covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. She’d managed to read the title of Harry’s book.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Nothing. Nothing. So, going to the library, are you?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

“Yeah, that’s right. I need to get this book back.”

Ginny nodded and pulled her hair up in a make-shift bun using a pencil. “Isn’t Hermione at the library this afternoon?”

Harry jerked his head in her direction. “What? Well, I don’t know. I suppose she might be.” And upon seeing Ginny’s skeptical expression, he added, “Yeah, she might still be there with what’s his name.”

“Ridley.”

“Ridley, that’s right. Ridley Todd. Speaking of him, what do you know about him?”

Ginny nodded, realizing Harry had finally gotten around to the real reason he’d stopped by. “Not much actually. He’s your age, I think. Tall, gorgeous, friendly, intelligent, charming, sexy—“

“—okay, Ginny, I get the point.”

Ginny watched Harry’s emotional battle ripple across his face, and she felt saddened. She knew something was changing inside Harry. She’d known him for far too long not to see it, but for the moment, there was nothing she could do.

“He’s not you though,” she added quietly.

“What’s that?”

“He’ll never be you, Harry.”

Harry looked away and shifted on his feet. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Just an observation. You should take that book back.”

“You’re right. I should.”

“And check on Hermione.”

“And check on…wait, I’m not going in to check on her.”

“I know you’re not. You’re going to return that book.”

Harry nodded. “Okay, Ginny, I’ll see you later.”

She stood up and reached for her apron again. “Oh, and Harry?”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“Does Mr. Darcy end up with Elizabeth?” she asked.

“Who?”

She pointed to his copy of Pride and Prejudice. “The couple in the story. I think they’re meant for each other. What do you think? Do you think they should end up together in the end?”

He looked down sheepishly and said, “Seems a shame for it not to work out somehow, doesn’t it?”

“It does indeed. Have a good afternoon, Harry.”

“Yeah, you too, Gin.” And Harry turned and walked out. Ginny watched him go and shook her head. She wondered what in the world he and Hermione were going to do when everyone, including themselves, realized they were in love with each other.

AM I TOO LATE

Double Date

Chapter Ten

Harry shoved open the doors to the library and instantly heard Hermione’s laughter. He cringed. She was having a good time. Why did that bother him? Had he really been hoping she’d have a rotten time with Prince Ridley? Yes. Yes, he’d been hoping just that.

I’m a bastard, he thought.

He stood near the front doors and stared at the novel in his hand. Should he drop off the book (which he’d checked out minutes before the library closed last night) and leave or should he meander back to Hermione and say hello? Another burst of laughter propelled his feet in the direction of a table near long windows.

He caught sight of her before she saw him. Ridley was sitting next to her and leaning too close to her for Harry’s liking. But Harry straightened his shoulders and strolled through the stacks until he stood beside their table.

“Harry,” she said. Her eyes were sparkling, and her smile was infectious.

“Potter, how are you?” Ridley asked. He stood up and held it his hand out to Harry.

Harry shook it and grinned. Ridley sat back down.

“I’m good. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m returning this book, and I thought I heard Hermione. I only wanted to say hello. I’ll let you two get back to whatever you were doing,” Harry said nonchalantly.

“Oh, we weren’t doing anything,” Hermione responded quickly.

“Hermione was showing me her new project on Merpeople, and I recalled a story about Ron and I off the coast of Majorca involving a bikini, a jellyfish, two bottles of rum, and a fishing boat,” Ridley explained. He touched Hermione’s shoulder, and she giggled at him.

“It’s really a funny story,” she said, smiling at Harry.

“I bet it is.” Control yourself, Harry. “Well, I’ll be going now.”

“Oh, that’s okay, Harry. You aren’t interrupting,” Hermione said. “What book are you returning?”

Harry tried to hold the book out of reach, but Hermione was too fast. She snatched the book from his hand. “It’s just a little something,” Harry said quietly.

Ridley leaned over to read the spine of the book as well. “Pride and Prejudice?” she asked incredulously. “You were reading this?”

Harry looked from Hermione’s shocked expression to Ridley’s confused one. And he did the only thing he could think of. He lied. “Oh, no,” he forced a laugh, “I’m returning it for Ginny.”

“Oh,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like something you’d read.”

“I read,” Harry said defensively.

Hermione looked up at him. “I know you read, Harry. I only meant that love stories don’t generally end up on the top of your reading list,” she explained.

Ridley propped his arm on the back of Hermione’s chair. “I’ve actually read that one. Great Muggle author. The book is amazing. I have a first edition copy.”

Hermione turned to him. “Really?”

“Of course. The tumultuous relationship between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett is riveting,” Ridley said. He leaned closer to Hermione as he spoke.

Harry rolled his eyes though no one was watching him. He wished Ron had been there to insert a sarcastic comment. “Okay,” Harry said. “If you’ll hand me my book back, I’ll return it.”

“Oh, sorry, Harry,” Hermione said sheepishly. “So, I’ll see you this evening?”

“Yeah. Five or six. I’ll come to your place,” he said as he took the book from her.

“What’s going on tonight?” Ridley asked, clearly interested.

“Harry and I are making pizzas and watching wedding DVDs,” she answered.

“How exciting!” a woman’s voice chimed in.

Harry turned around, and there was Beth, looking radiant and perfect. “Beth?” he asked.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She planted a kiss right on his lips and slipped her hand around his bicep. “Surprise.” She smiled at Hermione and Ridley. Then, she held a hand out to Ridley. “Hi, I’m Beth Jordan, Harry’s fiancé.”

Ridley stood to his feet and took Beth’s hand. “Ridley Todd. Nice to meet you. Weasley told me Potter was getting married. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“You could have seen my face in the fashion magazines, but that’s no matter. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Beth said sweetly.

“I’m not much into fashion. A Seeker’s uniform is good enough for me,” Ridley replied.

“Isn’t that sweet? Harry, did you hear that? Ridley is a Seeker, too. I bet you two have lots in common,” Beth said. She leaned her head against Harry’s shoulder.

Like loving the same girl? Harry though bitterly. “What are you doing home?” he asked.

“Spur of the moment change of plans,” she smiled. “And what’s this about pizza and watching DVDs?” She looked directly at Hermione.

“We were going to look at some wedding DVDs to come up with ideas for you,” Hermione said. Unease slithered around in her stomach. “Pizza was going to be dinner.”

“Sounds great to me. Let’s make a date of it. What do you say, Ridley? Are you up for a double date?” Beth asked. She brushed lint from her starched capris.

“Well, I…I don’t know. Hermione? Is that okay?” he asked Hermione.

She glanced up to Harry. And he shrugged his shoulders and looked away.

“The more the merrier,” Harry said flatly.

“Oh, wonderful! Pizza and wedding plans. We’ll be over at your flat around six, Hermione, okay? Okay. Come on, sweetie, I want to spend some time alone with you. We’ll see you two later.” And Beth whisked Harry away.

“Bye,” Hermione said after they’d both gone. She stared at books tilted on a shelf.

“You okay?” Ridley asked after quiet seconds had passed.

“What? Oh, sure, I’m fine,” she answered.

“Is this okay? It sounded like you and Harry had plans. I don’t want to spoil them,” Ridley said gently.

Hermione smiled but it was only to cover her annoyance. “Don’t be silly. You can’t possibly ruin what Beth has already spoiled.” Ridley looked surprised. “I don’t mean that to sound harsh. She’s just…aggressive.”

“And pushy,” Ridley added.

“Yes, and pushy,” Hermione said, and she smiled at him. “Hope you like pizza.”

“If you’re there, I’d eat dirt.”

Hermione laughed. “I won’t make you eat dirt. Not tonight at least.”

Ridley and Hermione spent a few more minutes making idle conversation, and then they parted. She gave Ridley directions to her flat, and he said he’d bring dessert. As she made her way home, she felt disturbed.

She’d had a wonderful time with Ridley. He was so kind, so funny, so charming…so everything. But Beth’s interruption left a dark smudge on the day. Why did having a double date with Harry and Beth make her cringe so horribly? Why did she want to smack the smile off Beth’s lips? Why did she want to be alone with Harry so badly? She shook her head as she walked and prepared herself for an interesting evening.

AM I TOO LATE

Four’s a Crowd

Chapter Eleven

Hermione arranged the pizza ingredients on the countertop in her kitchen. Pulling out her wand, she doubled the supplies so there would be enough for four, and then she sighed.

What’s wrong with me? Harry has been dating Beth for years. Ridley is handsome and he likes my studies. It will never work between Harry and I. Never. He’s getting married.

“He’s getting married, Hermione,” she whispered into her hands.

Someone knocked at the door. She composed herself and hurried to the door to open it. Ridley stood just outside. He held two cake boxes and a bottle of wine.

He smiled at her. “Hope you’re hungry,” he said as she ushered him into her flat.

“I’ll probably be starving by the time the pizzas are done.” She took the bottle and a cake box from him and walked into the kitchen. He followed close behind.

“Am I the first one here?” he wondered.

“Mmmhmm,” she answered as she made space for the boxes on the counter.

Ridley lifted the wine bottle and turned it around in his hands. “Want to get a glass? The wizard at the store told me this stuff is amazing. It’s made from grapes that grow on the ocean floor. A specialty from the Baltic Sea.”

“Sure,” she said. “Let me find a couple of glasses.” She pulled two wine glasses from a cabinet and opened a drawer to retrieve the wine opener. She held the opener out to him.

Ridley smirked. “A wine opener?”

“What?” she asked, puzzled. “Don’t you need one?”

“I have a wand.”

Hermione snickered. “Sorry,” she said, holding up her hands. “You caught me. Certified Muggle-born. So the cliché goes, ‘old habits die hard.’”

Ridley took the wine opener from her hands, and his fingertips brushed across her palm. Her stomach jolted. Looking into his pale eyes, she could see more there—more if she could bury her feelings for Harry. She smiled at him.

He held eye contact. “You look great tonight.”

“Oh, this old thing—“

Before she could finish, Ridley’s arms were around her. His muscled body pressed into hers, and her breath hitched halfway up her throat. His lips were warm, and Hermione was too surprised to do anything but kiss him. Ridley moaned lightly into her mouth, and desire licked down her veins. He was strong. She was weak, and it had been so bloody long since she’d been kissed, she didn’t care if she hardly knew him.

She encircled his neck with her arms and stood on tiptoe. He held her waist, and he pulled her closer still. There was heat between them. Hermione’s head felt dizzy. She clutched onto him for support, and in the moment, nothing and no one else mattered.

* * * *

Harry stood in Hermione’s doorway. The door was ajar. “That’s odd,” he said quietly.

“Maybe she left it open for us. Besides, I hear someone inside. Go on in,” Beth said as she shoved him from behind.

Harry carried a grocery bag full of vegetables and another bottle of wine. Even though it had been Beth’s idea to crash his evening of pizza with Hermione, she didn’t want to eat pizza. She said her hips would get fat. Harry had grudgingly agreed to stop by the market and buy her fresh vegetables and another bottle of wine for courtesy’s sake.

The living room was empty, but Hermione’s CD player was emitting soft sounds of classical music. Harry rounded the corner and stopped. Standing in the kitchen, in a most inappropriate position, was Hermione and Ridley—locked together. Harry was too shocked to stop staring. In fact he took in every minute detail, even the details he wished he hadn’t seen.

Ridley had Hermione shoved against the refrigerator. One hand was buried in her hair, the other had a firm grasp on her behind. Harry could hear Ridley’s groans, and he wished someone would puncture his eardrums rather than expose him to such torturous sounds. Hermione, on the other hand, had one leg hiked on Ridley’s thigh. Her hands were on his face, then in his hair, then on his face, then in his hair, then—

“Umm…excuse us,” Beth said, and then she giggled into the back of her hand.

Ridley and Hermione sprung apart like repelling magnets. At least Hermione had the decency to blush. Ridley cleared his throat and then grinned like a dumbstruck jackass.

“Hey, guys. Didn’t hear you come in,” Ridley said.

“That’s probably because the door was open,” Harry replied.

“We…we…we were…” Hermione stuttered.

Beth moved into the kitchen and grabbed Hermione’s arm. “We could see what you two were doing,” she said and laughed again. “Come on. Let’s get you freshened up. You look a little disheveled.”

“Oh, okay. Sure. That’s a good idea,” she agreed and hurried past Harry without looking at him.

“Bad timing, Potter,” Ridley said good-naturedly.

“That’s for sure,” Harry said. He opened Hermione’s cabinets and pulled down another wine glass.

“It’s just that…well, you see, I’ve been wanting to date Hermione for…for a long time,” Ridley began. Harry jerked out his wand and opened his bottle of wine. He poured himself a generous portion without offering any to Ridley. “And, well…I think she’s bloody amazing. I don’t know how you could have known her for so long and never seen it…I mean, she’s bloody fantastic.”

Harry downed the entire glass and watched Ridley with narrowed eyes. He wanted Ridley to shut up. He wanted Ridley to choke on his tongue. Wishful thinking.

Ridley leaned against the countertop and grinned. “Man, it’s unbelievable. She’s intelligent and funny. I’m sure you know all of this, but wow, she’s with me. I can’t believe it. She’s so great—“

“—I know she’s great. Okay? I’ve known her for fifteen years,” Harry said in clipped tones.

“I know you do. It’s just crazy to think I’ve wanted to date her for so long and seconds ago we were—“

“—Ridley, I get the point.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. How about sharing some wine? I need a drink.”

Harry poured himself another glass and shoved the bottle into Ridley’s hands. Then, he walked out of the kitchen. Ridley seemed oblivious to Harry’s darkening mood.

Hermione and Beth walked out of her bedroom. Hermione continued staring at the floor while Beth scurried by.

“I’m going to start chopping vegetables. Harry in a few minutes, I’ll want you to get started on the pizzas so we can get to business,” Beth said as she began moving around in Hermione’s kitchen.

Harry dropped onto the couch, and Hermione hovered in the center of the living room, not knowing what to say or where to go. She could hear Ridley and Beth chatting in the kitchen.

Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “Harry.”

He glanced up at her and drank more of his wine. “Hermione.”

She could tell he was annoyed. It caused an ache deep inside her. She glanced into the kitchen and felt sure Beth and Ridley wouldn’t overhear. She crossed to Harry and sat down beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally.

“Don’t be.”

“Harry, I am. It was inappropriate,” she continued. He stared into his wine glass.

“It’s your flat. You can do what you want.”

“Why are you being such a prat?” she asked in irritation.

Harry jerked his head up and glared at her. “Me? Why am I the prat? You were the one…you were the one…in the kitchen…you know what you were doing,” he whispered heatedly.

Hermione leaned away from him. “So what if I was kissing a man in my kitchen? What do you care anyway?” she argued.

“I don’t care,” he quipped.

“If you don’t care then why are you so mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

She could see his clenched jaw, the line furrowed between his brows. “Harry Potter, I have known you forever. I know when you’re mad. Don’t lie to me,” she said.

Harry’s shoulders sagged and he sighed. When he looked up at her, his green eyes revealed defeat. “You’re right. I’m being a prat.”

“Why?” she asked quietly. Beth dropped a pot in the kitchen. It clattered loudly on the tile.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. Well, I do know—“

“—what?” Hermione asked. She sensed something in Harry’s words. She didn’t know what it was, but it felt important. “What is it, Harry?”

He looked at her. He wanted to touch her face. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay—somehow it would all work out. He looked down at his hands. “I wasn’t prepared to walk into your flat and see you and Ridley like that.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have been more responsible,” she said as she straightened out the wrinkles in her skirt.

“It’s not that, Hermione. Kissing a man doesn’t make you irresponsible. It’s just you kissing a man that bothers me,” he said.

Without thinking about it, Hermione reached over and placed her hand on Harry’s. “Why does that bother you, Harry?” Harry’s hand was warm. Touching him made her want to close her eyes and sigh.

“I…I…er, I—“

“Sweetheart? We’re ready for you to start the pizzas,” Beth interrupted.

Harry stood up and said nothing more. Hermione released a shaky breath. What was he going to say? she wondered. Ridley motioned to her from the kitchen, and she forced a smile as she walked to him.

* * * *

Harry, Beth, Ridley and Hermione sat on her couch. With remote in hand, Harry started the first wedding video. Hermione was thankful for the wine. It dulled the edges of her frayed emotions. Ridley’s body was warm beside hers, and when she thought of their shared kiss, her stomach felt alive with fire.

“Sweetie, why don’t you sit in the middle beside Hermione? The two of you always have good ideas about things. And Ridley, too. Feel free to spout off ideas. Of course, I have the executive decision, but opinions are always welcome,” Beth said. Without waiting for Harry or Hermione to protest, Beth forced Harry to slide over.

The weight on the cushions in the center of the couch caused Hermione and Harry to lean toward each other. There seemed to be no position Harry could arrange himself in that would situate him away from her. Then, he stopped trying. He felt foolish. Hell, he and Hermione had slept in a bed together multiple times and he’d never once felt uncomfortable or weird. He knew he was being ridiculous about sitting next to her on the couch.

After a while Harry forgot he was sitting close to Hermione. That is until she nestled into shoulder. When he looked down at her, she seemed unconscious of their closeness. Her attention remained on the television.

After 10 DVDs, three pizzas, two and a half bottles of wine, and Beth saying, ‘Clearly they have no idea what the fashion is in Paris these days’ at least eight dozen times, Harry’s attention was failing, Hermione was yawning, and Ridley was asleep.

“I don’t understand how they can say that is fashion. Clearly they don’t know what the—“ Beth began.

And Harry finished with, “—fashion is in Paris these days.”

“You’re right, sweetheart. That’s the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen. What do you think, Hermione?” Beth asked as she leaned forward and looked at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. “It’s not my taste. I don’t care for that style of dress. I did see a dress the other day that was gorgeous,” she said, and she closed her eyes and could almost feel the smooth slide of silk and lace on her body.

“Really? Who designed it?” Beth asked in interest.

“No idea,” Hermione replied. “I forgot to check.”

Beth looked shocked. “Oh.”

“It was a great dress,” Harry added.

“You saw it, too?” Beth questioned.

“Yeah,” he answered, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut or fallen asleep like Ridley.

“Well, maybe you should show it to me,” Beth said as she crunched on a carrot.

“No,” Harry said.

“No?”

“No. It wasn’t your style. It was more Hermione’s style. In fact, it was the perfect dress for her. I don’t think it would do for you at all,” Harry said.

“In that case, you’re probably right. I may just design my own. I have plenty of time. Excuse me, honey, I am in need of the loo,” Beth said, and she heaved herself off the couch.

When she was gone, Harry looked down at Hermione. She was pressed against his arm. Her eyes were closed.

“Hermione?” he asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“You sleepy?”

“Mmmhmm.”

He brushed her hair out of her face, and her eyes fluttered open. He smiled. “We can finish this later. I’ll clean up.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione mumbled as he got up.

“No problem. I don’t mind helping you clean up. I’ll come over tomorrow, okay,” he said as he directed their dirty dishes into the sink with his wand.

“No, thanks for saying that about the dress,” Hermione said softly.

Harry stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “I can’t imagine anyone ever wearing that dress but you.” They locked eyes, and Hermione was sure she saw something deep and conflicted in Harry’s eyes.

“Harry—“ she breathed out in a whisper.

He shook his head. “Don’t, Hermione. Don’t say anything.”

“But—“

“Are we leaving?” Beth asked when she saw Harry putting away the dishes and unused groceries.

“I think we’re calling this a night. Hermione, maybe you should wake up Ridley. He’s drooling on the armrest,” Harry said.

Hermione stood up. “Thank you both for coming over. It was…fun,” she said, and Harry smirked at her.

“Yes, it was. Thank you for having us over, Hermione. You’re always so kind. You take of my Harry while I’m gone,” she said, and she leaned over and kissed Hermione on both cheeks.

“Oh, I think Harry can take care of himself quite well,” Hermione smiled.

“That’s my Harry, so strong and capable,” Beth said as she beamed up at him. She gripped his bicep and pressed her cheek into his shoulder. Hermione turned away.

“You want me to wake up Ridley?” Harry asked.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll wake him up when you’re gone,” Hermione answered.

“You sure? If you don’t want to be alone with him, I can wake him up now.”

“Come on, Harry. I think we both know that Hermione and Ridley are perfectly okay on their own,” Beth said, and then she winked at Hermione.

“Have a good night,” Hermione said. She walked them to the door. When she opened it, Beth stepped out into the enclosed hallway.

Harry reached out quickly and slid his hand down Hermione’s arm. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon. Good night.” She closed the door and knocked her head against it over and over again.

When she turned around, Ridley’s head had dropped to the left, and he looked uncomfortable. She crossed over to him and tapped his shoulder lightly.

“Ridley? Ridley, time to get up,” she said gently.

He opened his eyes and grinned sleepily. “What did I miss?” He yawned and pushed his hands through his sandy hair.

“Nothing,” she said as she sat beside him. “Nothing at all.”

“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” he said.

“I don’t blame you. I’m pretty exhausted myself. One can only take so much of wedding planning and opinions on Parisian fashion in one evening.”

Ridley smiled and reached for Hermione’s hands. She wanted to feel a jolt of passion, but she felt nothing. “I would really like to see you again,” he said.

“I’d like that,” she said. And it was the truth. She liked Ridley. He was attractive, and more importantly, he was attracted to her. Plus his kisses were amazing.

Ridley stood up and pulled Hermione to her feet. He hugged her briefly, and as he walked to the door, he assured her he’d call soon. He even made a joke about her Muggle telephone.

She locked the door when Ridley was gone, and she felt more than exhausted. She felt emotionally drained and confused. Harry seemed changed, like he was seeing her from a different angle. Things had altered between them. She could feel it, and she knew he sensed it, too. What would the next day bring, she wondered, and the day after that? Was fate shoving them apart or shoving them together?

She collapsed on her bed, face down in her pillow, and screamed. No one would hear, but it sure made her feel better, if only slightly. She rolled onto her back and thought of kissing Ridley. Warmth started in her toes and traveled up, but by the time she felt a tingling in her chest, the mouth she imagined pressed against hers wasn’t Ridley’s. It was Harry’s.

AM I TOO LATE

Like Old Times

Chapter Twelve

Harry awoke to Beth leaning over his face. He squinted in the sunlight streaming through his open blinds. The maroon bed sheets were tangled around his feet.

“Good morning,” she said. Her black hair slid down her shoulders like silk.

“What time is it?” he groaned. He tossed an arm over his eyes.

“Time for me to get going. It’s nearly six a.m. I have a meeting to be prepared for by eight. Then it’s off to Athens by noon and back to Paris by dinner.”

“Six a.m.? Merlin, your job sucks,” he said as he rolled onto his side. He grabbed the sheets and tugged over his legs.

Beth fluttered around the room and smiled over her shoulder at him. “I love my job. And you know what? You’re gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” She strode toward Harry and pushed her hands through his untidy hair.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto the bed. She smelled sweet, like cedar and tulips.

“Harry, don’t,” she squealed. “I don’t want to press these pants again. You’ll have me looking a mess.” She pushed herself off the bed and straightened her blouse. “There. All better now. Do you have plans today?” she asked as she lifted her black leather suitcase.

Harry shrugged. “Nothing in particular.”

“There’s an invitation stuck to the refrigerator that says it’s someone’s birthday. Finicky someone or Frolligan maybe. I can’t remember.”

“Finnigan?” he asked. He propped himself up on his elbows. He reached for his glasses and slipped them on.

“Yes, that’s it.” Beth combed her hair and looked at her reflection in the mirror over the mahogany dresser. She smiled.

“You know Seamus,” Harry said.

“Yes, well, I only glanced at the invitation. I couldn’t remember the name.” She wiped a smudge of eyeliner from her lower eyelid.

“I completely forgot. It’s Seamus’ birthday today. Suppose we’ll meet at The Benevolent Badger.”

Beth frowned. “Don’t you ever get tired of that place?”

“No, why?” he asked as he slung his legs off the bed.

“It’s…a pub,” she answered. She touched up her lipstick and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her pinky finger.

“And it’s owned by one of my best mates. I happen to love the place,” Harry said defensively.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Harry. It was only a question. But I have to run. Have a great time tonight, sweetie. Tell Seamus I said happy birthday. You’re still my favorite. I’ll send an owl as soon as I get to Paris. I love you oodles and oodles.” She kissed his cheek and waved over her shoulder as she disappeared from his room.

Harry scratched his arm, glanced at the clock and fell back into bed. Six a.m. was way too early to be up and moving around. Besides, he knew Hermione wouldn’t be awake yet.

* * * *

Hermione spread work papers across the top of her coffee table. Remus may have given her time off, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t keeping up with what was going on at the office. She sipped her green tea and jotted notes in the margins of the paper. She calculated figures on scratch paper, and she highlighted important messages.

Sunlight crept up the living room wall as the morning waned and the afternoon began. She stretched and placed her quill down only when her stomach began to growl.

Hermione stood and stretched. Walking into the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and searched for something quick and easy to eat. She reached in for three day old casserole just as someone knocked on her door.

The knocking persisted. “Hermione, open up.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said when she recognized Ginny’s voice. Hermione opened the door, and Ginny breezed in.

“Finally. I’ve brought lunch,” she said, and she promptly shoved all of Hermione’s work papers onto the floor.

“Hey!” Hermione yelled.

Ginny rolled her eyes, pointed her wand at the papers, and spoke a spell. The papers rearranged themselves on the floor as they were on the coffee table. “There. Happy now?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “That’s important stuff.”

“Oh, don’t pout, Hermione. It’s fixed now. Come sit down and eat. We have a long day today,” Ginny said. She turned a brown sack over and food slipped out of the bag and gathered on the coffee table.

“We do? Mmmm, I love macaroni and cheese,” Hermione said, taking the fork Ginny offered her.

“I know you do. And yes, we have a long day. It’s Seamus’ birthday.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Hermione said through a mouthful. “Mmm, this is good.”

“It’s the best. It’s my Mum’s.”

“I love your Mum,” Hermione said. She smiled and stuffed another large bite of macaroni into her mouth.

“Me, too. Wait till you try to pie she’s made us. I would kill someone for this pie. Seriously. It’s that good. But yeah, we’re going to finish eating and head on over to Justin’s pub, and start the festivities,” Ginny said. She cut a piece of chicken with a knife.

“This early?” Hermione turned and looked at the clock. “It’s barely two o’clock. It’s two o’clock. I can’t believe it’s that late. Where is Harry?”

“Harry?” Ginny asked. “Were you expecting him?” Ginny raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Hermione looked away. “Well, not exactly. He said he’d come over today.”

Ginny passed Hermione a buttered roll. “In that case, he probably forgot about Seamus’ birthday. The guys are out playing a game of Quidditch. They’re going to meet us in an hour.”

“You’ve seen him today?” Hermione asked. She tried the mashed potatoes and moaned.

“Good, aren’t they? Seen whom? Harry?” Ginny popped the top on a bottle of Ryck’s Magic Root Beer. When Hermione didn’t answer, Ginny continued, “Yeah, I saw him. Why? Is something going on that I should know about?”

Hermione stuffed her entire roll into her mouth and shook her head.

Ginny laughed. “Hermione, you’re going to choke, and for what? Just because you don’t want to admit that you’re curious about Harry? Come on, it’s me. And besides, he was talking about you, too—“

“—he was?” Hermione asked hurriedly.

Ginny shrugged. “Yeah, he was. I actually overheard a conversation Harry was having with Ron this morning. And it was about you. See, I was over there bringing Ron Mum’s specialty scones that he’d been asking her for—“

“—they were talking about me?”

“Try the beans. It’s a good thing I don’t live at home anymore. I’d be as huge as a house.”

“Ginny, what were they saying?”

“Okay, okay. Well, you’re going to be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why would I be embarrassed?”

“You sure you want to know?” Ginny sipped her root beer.

“Yes.” Hermione’s fork dangled in mid-air as she waited for Ginny to tell her what had been said.

“Well, Harry was telling Ron about how he caught you and Ridley having sex in your kitchen—“

“—having sex!” Hermione screeched.

“Hermione, blimey, put your wand down. I was kidding. It was a joke. Seriously, put your wand down. You’re scaring me.” Ginny swallowed and shook her head. “They were talking about how Harry caught you and Ridley kissing.”

“What did Harry say?”

“He said you were kissing Ridley.”

“Is that all?”

“He said it looked like if he hadn’t interrupted you and Ridley, you both might have ended up on the floor,” Ginny answered while she ate a bite of creamed corn.

“What would we have been doing on the floor?”

“Cleaning it, Hermione.” Ginny rolled her eyes and laughed. “What do you think you would have been doing on the floor?”

“Did he really say that?”

“Yes, and if you must know, he sounded effing angry about it,” Ginny admitted.

“He did?”

“Yes.”

“Why would he be angry?” Hermione asked. She leaned closer to Ginny. Her brown eyes were big and questioning.

“Why do you think, Hermione?” Ginny eyed her best friend. Hermione shrugged. “Because he doesn’t like you kissing Ridley, that’s why.”

“Oh,” Hermione stared into her hands.

“But there’s more,” Ginny said, and she paused. Hermione looked up at her. “He doesn’t want you kissing anyone.”

“He…he said that…to Ron?”

“Sure did. And then he and Ron got into a huge fight about it. They finally decided that they are protective of you, and the thought of some guy groping all over you makes them a bit testy. Then, they kissed and made up and went out to play Quidditch. So, basically what that means is that Harry’s safe.”

“Safe from what?” Hermione asked.

“Safe from Ron knowing the real reason why you kissing Ridley really makes him so angry.”

“And what do you think the real reason is?”

“I think Harry doesn’t want you kissing anyone else because he wants you to be kissing him. Ridley was the catalyst, now Harry’s on fire…for you.” Ginny stuffed a huge bite of chicken into her mouth. Then she laughed and almost choked when she saw Hermione’s expression. She swallowed, took a slug of her root bear, and said, “Go on, smile, Hermione. You know you want to. It’s just me. I won’t tell anyone. Here, try this pie, it’s delicious.”

* * * *

Ginny and Hermione strolled into The Benevolent Badger at half past three, and Neville waved them over to their booth. Their gang was seated and already celebrating Seamus’ birthday. The girls could hear their raucous laughter coming from across the room, and it only grew louder as they neared.

As always, the booth was magicked to fit as many people as needed. Neville took Ginny’s and Hermione’s coats and draped them across a nearby chair.

“Slide in,” Ron said to Ginny. “I’m sitting on the outside.”

“Okay, but if you elbow me in the nose like you did last time, I swear I’m going to put spiders in your bed,” she said as she eased into the booth between Seamus and her brother.

Ron paled. “You wouldn’t,” he whispered.

“Itty bitty spiders. Creepy crawling babies,” she said as she tickled her fingers up his arm.

He shook her hand away. “Stop it! I’ll tell Mum!” Ginny tossed her head back and laughed.

Harry stood up. “You mind sliding in, too?” he asked Hermione. She shook her head and slid into the booth beside Dean.

“Hey, Dean. Happy Birthday, Seamus,” she said and she passed a present across the table.

“Ah, Hermione, you didn’t have to bring a gift,” he said. “But thanks, love.” She smiled at him.

Neville slid his chair up to the end of the booth, and then he pulled up an extra chair for Justin.

“Neville, there’s room for you in the booth. We can make it larger,” Hermione said. “Can’t we make this larger?” she asked Harry.

Ron snickered, and Harry leaned close to Hermione’s ear. “We can, but Neville holds his liquor about as well as a colander holds water. He’ll be visiting the loo every five minutes, which is okay, but Ron and I commandeered the ends of the booths, so that either means we’re up and down all night, or Neville pulls up a chair.”

“Oh, he can’t possibly have to go the bathroom every—“

“—be right back,” Neville said, and he walked away.

Ron grinned at Hermione. “See, he’s had two beers and he’s off again. He just sat down.”

“Neville has a bladder the size of a knut,” Seamus laughed.

“Justin! Where are our drinks? The women are here!” Dean yelled. The noisy pub appeared to ignore the small party snug in the booth. The afternoon light was almost entirely blocked out of the pub as it filtered through windows paned with thick wavy glass. The low light and dimly lit chandeliers made it appear as though it was evening.

“What are we drinking tonight, boys?” Ginny asked. She lifted Ron’s beer and took a large swig.

“I’m not drinking,” Hermione said.

Harry looked at her disbelieving. “Miss Granger, I do believe you are mistaken,” he said in a phony American accent.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I said I wasn’t drinking, John Wayne.”

“John Wayne? Who the hell is that?” Ron asked.

Ginny leaned over and whispered, “Famous cowboy.”

Harry batted his eyes at Hermione. “Don’t make me force you,” he breathed close to her face.

She leaned away from him. His pupils were large, and his irises were thin lines of emerald green. “How much have you had to drink?”

Harry turned away and shrugged. “Not enough.” Ron and Seamus laughed.

Ginny leaned across the table and reached for Hermione’s hands. She mouthed, “Justin knows a wicked Sobering Charm, remember?” Hermione shook her head.

Justin carried a tray of tiny glasses filled with rainbow colored liquid, and he placed the tray on the end of the table. He winked at Ginny. “Hey Sex Kitten,” he said.

“Hey, Love Machine,” she said in return.

“Watch it,” Ron growled.

Justin smiled at Hermione. “Hey, Beautiful.”

She blushed, and Harry grinned at her modesty. “Hey, Justin.”

“Glad to see some women among these men. It isn’t nearly as much fun with a bunch of hairy blokes. Now we can start the party. No worries about getting up for more. These glasses are instantly refillable. Everybody take a glass. Hey, where’s Neville?”

“I’m here. Sorry, there was a line,” he said as he sat down beside Justin.

Everyone reached for a glass except for Hermione. “Come on, love, drink just one. For my birthday,” Seamus pleaded. Hermione looked conflicted.

“Hermione, you’re safe with us. And besides that, you’re trapped in a booth beside me. You’re safe with me,” Harry said quietly.

She looked up at him and sighed. If you only knew, she thought.

“Justin knows a Sobering Charm. We’re only going to play a harmless little game. You can stop whenever you want, but I guarantee you’re going to have so much fun you’ll never want to stop,” Harry grinned at her, and her heart jolted. She reached for a tiny glass, and Dean cheered.

“Now, what’s this little game about?” Ginny asked.

“Drink up, and we’ll tell you the rules. To Seamus’ birthday. He’s a swell bloke, one of my best mates, and I hope we have many more nights just like this,” Justin said, and he raised his glass. Everyone else did, too.

The glasses clinked together. Drops of rainbow colored liquid dripped onto the table. Everyone put the glass to his or her lips, but Hermione hesitated.

Harry leaned over and whispered in her ear. “It tastes like cherries. You’ll love it.” She shivered as his breath tickled her ear. And in one gulp, her glass was empty.

But instantaneously the glasses refilled themselves.

“Okay, glasses down,” Justin said. “Now, just so everyone knows, this game was Seamus’ idea. He and I played it at a university party back when we were trying to coax a few co-eds into bed—“

“—no need to air our dirty laundry in front of the neighbors, mate,” Seamus said and smiled.

“You’re right. Water under the bridge. But what you’re drinking is a little concoction created by Sir Verdade Carrington. It’s called Rainbow Ride. Besides the obvious colors, he also named it that because after an all-night drinking binge, he swore he saw rainbows. Whether or not it was the drink or some other hallucinogen he neglected to mention, we’ll never know.”

“Rainbow Ride? Sounds a bit lame,” Ginny said as she spun the glass around with her fingers.

“It may sound lame, but it is anything but. Rainbow Ride is alcoholic and a mild truth serum,” Justin explained. Hermione gasped. Ginny glanced up at her with wide eyes.

“You okay?” Harry asked.

“Oh, sure. Never better. When does this wear off, Justin?” she asked immediately.

“I would guess that one drink would wear off in about a half an hour. What do you say, Seamus? We had, what, two bottles, and we were still unable to lie three days later?”

“That’s about right. Of course, after the first bottle, I don’t remember much other than that feisty redhead—“

Ron cleared his throat loudly. Seamus looked at him. “I wasn’t talking about your sister, mate.” Ron grumbled something under his breath, and Ginny elbowed him in the ribs.

“As I was saying, the game is called ‘Second Chance’, and it is played while the players are partaking of Rainbow Ride. One person at the table gets to ask someone else two consecutive questions. And this is where the fun begins. Rainbow Ride will allow one lie to be told, but only one. So one question you can lie if you want to, but Rainbow Ride will force the truth out of you for the next question, regardless. So choose wisely. If you lie on the first question, the second question will force you to be honest. This game is hilarious—“

“—sounds great,” Dean added.

“Sounds scary,” Hermione whispered. “Is it too late to back out?”

“What, love? Got some skeletons in that closet?” Seamus teased.

“Oh, she has cemeteries in her closet,” Ginny laughed. Hermione glared at her.

“No, too late. You’re part of the game. Seamus’ orders. Now everyone, drink another round, and then we’ll start.”

Hermione’s palms began to sweat. Then, she took a few deeps breaths. Harry poked her in the ribs, and she looked up at him.

“Don’t look so frightened,” he said. “No one is going to ask you anything crazy. Besides, what have you to hide? Everyone knows you’re a goody two shoes.” He winked at her frown. “I’m kidding. This will be fun, you’ll see. Bottoms up.” He tilted his head back and drank his second glass of Rainbow Ride. Hermione hesitated then drank hers, too.

Here we go, she thought as the liquor slipped down her throat and warmed her chest.

* * * *

“Oh, bollocks, no fair,” Seamus whined.

Harry laughed. “Obviously, Seamus, you lied on the first question because you’re sweating.”

Ginny snickered at Seamus. “So, you did lie about sneaking Parvati into your tent during our camping trip. I swore to Hermione that I heard moaning. I was right.”

“This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Ginny, love, ask me something different,” Seamus begged.

“You know those aren’t the rules, mate,” Justin said. His eyes were glassy and he wore a perpetual grin.

“I ask you again, Mr. Finnegan, have you or have you not ever had a sex dream involving Madame Hooch?” Ginny asked. There was a wicked gleam in her eye, and Hermione leaned into Harry’s arm to muffle her laughter.

“Yes. Yes, I did. Just once,” he answered. The table erupted into disbelieving laughter. “It was only once! I was thirteen. I was confused. It scarred me!”

“Bottoms up!” Justin said, and all reached for their glasses.

“Ron, it’s your turn,” Dean said. “You’re asking Hermione.”

“I don’t think it’s my turn to be asked again,” Hermione said. Her words were dangerously close to slurring.

“Hermione, you need to relax. Two hours of drinking and playing this ridiculous game have led people to find out two, I repeat two, mysterious things about you,” Harry said. There was a slight flush in his cheeks, and his eyes shone behind his glasses. “One, sometimes you sleep in the nude.” Neville snickered, and Hermione blushed. “Which won’t shy a guy away, I assure you. And two, you had a secret crush on Professor Lupin when you were thirteen. And compared to Seamus’ sex dream about Madame Hooch and Dean’s experience with the Lavender and Angelina, I think your experiences are pretty unexciting.”

Hermione gasped. “Unexciting? That simply isn’t true. I do lots of wild and crazy things.” She leaned close to Harry’s face. He laughed at her. “You don’t believe me? Ron, ask me the two craziest, unlikeliest questions. Go on, now. Ask me.” Hermione picked up her full glass and tossed it back into her mouth.

“Well…uh…Hermione…honestly, I don’t really want to know crazy—“ Ron stammered.

“Ask me, Ron,” Hermione demanded.

Ginny drank her glass of Rainbow Ride and said, “Just remember this was your idea about the super set of personal questions.”

Hermione smirked at her. “I’ll remember. Neville pass the peanuts.” She pushed her hand into the bowl and popped a few into her mouth before Ron could gather up a good question. “I’m ready.”

“Okay, okay. You’re always so bossy. Question one,” Ron paused to wink around at the guys. “Ridley Todd thinks he is in love with you.” The pink in Hermione’s cheeks faded. Harry shifted around beside her. “He told me so. But if he told you that he was madly in love with you is there a possibility you would have sex with him right away…if you were indoors, of course?”

Hermione balked. A little voice in her brain said yes, yes, yes. But she didn’t want to talk about sex in front of…Harry. Ridley was so gorgeous. If he professed his love to her and looked at her with his big blue eyes, she didn’t know what she would do. They practically assaulted each other in her kitchen—and Harry saw them. She straightened her shoulders, and did what she had to do.

“No, of course not,” she lied.

“I knew it,” Seamus said into a handful of peanuts.

“Hermione, have you ever even had sex,” Dean slurred.

”Back off, Thomas. It’s my question time,” Ron quipped. “Okay, Hermione, that was obviously an easy one. I hoped that you’d lie so that the next one would be more fun, but okay, I’ll go ahead and ask the one I intended. Would you, if possible, have sex with one of the fine blokes at this table, even if you weren’t having a relationship with one of us?”

Ron beamed at his question. Ginny choked on a peanut, and Ron slapped her back until she swallowed it down. Harry turned and stared at her, waiting for something, anything.

Hermione knew she was going to throw up. Her head was already spinning. It felt as though she were riding a ship being tossed by the waves. The voices of the pub faded in and out, pulsing inside her foggy mind. Harry touched her arm, and it jerked her back into reality.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” she muttered.

“So, Hermione? What is your answer? Sex with one of us without a relationship? It’s an easy question. You don’t even have to lie,” Ron teased.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Neville excused himself. Seamus’ and Dean’s mouths dropped open. Ginny closed her eyes and waited. Harry inhaled a surprised breath.

“Hermione, you don’t have to lie on that question. You can be honest,” Ron added.

“Perhaps she is being honest, you dolt,” Justin replied. He glanced at Hermione, and the expression on her face made him want to hold and protect her.

“You would?” Ron asked in disbelief. “You would have sex with one of us immediately without a relationship?” Then Ron sat back and laughed. “Oh, I get it. She’s lying now.”

“She’s not lying now,” Ginny mumbled. She drank another glass of Rainbow Ride.

“How can that be possible?” Ron asked.

“Merlin, mate, are you that thick?” Justin asked. “She lied on the first question. She had to tell the truth for the second.”

Ron looked completely confused, but Harry turned quickly to Hermione. She spun her tiny glass round and round in her fingers.

“You would have sex with Ridley if he told you he was in love with you?” Harry whispered, but the others noticed and stopped talking. The entire table was listening.

“I don’t know,” she answered him.

“You must have had a vague idea because you lied.”

“Harry, I said I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know. Ridley’s gorgeous. Have you not noticed? And what the hell do you care if I have sex with Ridley or not?” she asked heatedly. Now they were facing each other, whispering angrily, noses almost touching.

Neville sat down and Justin promptly shushed his questions, but not before Neville asked, ‘Did Hermione just say hell?’

“Because it’s…it’s…”

“It’s what? Absurd to think someone would want to have sex with me?” she asked.

“No, that’s not what I was saying at all—“

“—then what were you saying?”

“That it’s disgusting! It makes me want to vomit!”

“Someone having sex with me makes you want to vomit?” Hermione asked in shock. She squeezed her fists together below the table.

“No, no, no. You and Ridley having sex makes me sick. I can’t stand to think about it,” he answered with a clenched jaw.

“Well, don’t think about it, Harry. There is no reason for you to sit around and think about me having hot sex with Ridley,” she said, smirking.

“Hot sex?! Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that again—“

“—what is your problem with Ridley? He’s a great guy. You should be happy for me that a wonderful man has expressed interest in me. After all, I’m pretty unexciting remember?”

“Hermione, that is not fair. I don’t think you’re unexciting. All I meant is that you’re not a bloody whore like Seamus and Dean—“

“—Hey!” Dean and Seamus said.

“Shut up!” Hermione and Harry fired back.

“Well, thank you very much for saying I’m not a whore. Now stay out of my love life. If I want to have sex with Ridley, I will.” And she turned away.

Harry grabbed her upper arm and pulled her closer to him. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” she wondered.

“I can’t stay out of your love life,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because…because I care about you…and…wait, if you lied about having sex with Ridley, does that mean you would have sex with someone at this table?” Harry dropped her arm.

“Without a relationship,” Ron added. Hermione glared at him. Ron stuffed a handful of peanuts in his mouth and looked away.

“Answer me,” Harry said.

Hermione looked up into his green eyes. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of their conversation. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and tell him everything, but she also wanted to cry, to burst into painful sobs right in front of everyone.

“Yes.”

“Yes you would?” he asked.

“Yes, Harry. Yes, yes, yes. Yes, I would have sex with someone at this table without a relationship—“

“—Hermione,” Ginny warned. She cleared her throat and began shaking her head. Harry looked at Ginny then back to Hermione.

“Who?” Harry asked her immediately.

“I’m sorry, Harry, my question time is over,” she answered.

“I know it isn’t me,” Justin said, and he sipped from his glass. “But Ginny is a different story.”

Ginny laughed and Ron scowled. Neville ate a chocolate frog and shrugged. “I know it isn’t me,” he answered. “Hermione’s like my sister.”

“Is it me?” Dean and Seamus asked simultaneously.

“No and no,” Hermione answered, but Harry’s eyes were serious and he would not look away from her face. Her cheeks were hot, and her palms began to sweat again.

“Is it me? I mean, we did date. That would make sense, and it’s okay, Hermione, I still think you’re bloody attractive, but you’re like my sister now…but it’s okay if you feel like you’d jump me—“ Ron began.

“—Ron,” Hermione said. “Too much information.”

“Is it me?” Harry whispered. His hand had somehow ended up on top of her thigh. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Is it, Hermione?” A captivated hush fell over the table.

“Harry, this is an inappropriate conversation,” Hermione said.

“You answered everyone else,” he replied.

“Just to shut them up. Honestly, Harry, it’s no one’s business—“

“—so answer me. You answered everyone else. Answer me, and I’ll shut up.”

“Harry—“

“—answer me, Hermione,” he said. He leaned down closer to her. Without meaning to, he gripped her thigh with his hand and waited. Hermione could hardly breath.

“Yes, no, Harry, I don’t want to talk about this. It’s just a stupid game—“

“—Why don’t we go somewhere? I think we’ve spent enough money here. We could go back to your place, Ron,” Ginny interrupted, and Hermione glanced at her with thankful eyes.

“Good idea,” Ron said. “Come on, mates, let’s take this party elsewhere.” He slid out of his booth, and Ginny and Seamus piled out beside him.

Harry removed his hand from Hermione’s leg, and she exhaled. “Sorry. Must be the alcohol,” he said to her, and she nodded. Harry stood up, and Hermione and Dean followed.

Everyone gathered in the lobby and agreed to head over to Harry and Ron’s flat. Hermione slipped on her coat, and Harry came up behind her. He pressed a hand to her back and leaned close to her ear.

“Forgive me?” he whispered.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she answered. “I don’t want to think of you having sex with Beth. The thought makes me…”

“…nauseous?”

She smiled. “Yes, exactly.”

Harry put his arm around her waist and tugged her close to him. “Then, tonight, no talk of nauseating sex. It’ll be like old times. Just you and me and the whole gang.”

“That sounds perfect.” He held the door open for her, and she walked out of The Benevolent Badger.

He let the door close, and he walked up beside Hermione. “So, let’s be honest. It was me you would ravage on the table, right?” he asked.

Hermione laughed and pulled out her wand. “You’re hopeless, you know that, right? You’ll never know the truth, but it’s awful pigheaded of you to assume it’s you. See you in a few minutes.” And she Apparated away.

AM I TOO LATE

An Almost Kiss

Chapter Thirteen

Hermione stood outside Ron and Harry’s flat and waited. Soon, she heard the telltale pops of the others Apparating around her.

“Did you Apparate drunk?” Ron asked in disbelief. “What the hell is wrong with you? You could have splinched yourself.”

“Ron, I’m fine. I could Apparate in a coma,” she said, and she sidestepped into the door.

Harry grabbed her by the elbow and shook his head. “Only you could Apparate while drunk and still be stumbling around into things. Here, Justin, cast the Sobering Charm on Hermione,” Harry said.

Justin strolled over to Hermione and cast the charm while tapping her head playfully. “There, love, all better. No more follies,” he said.

It took a moment for Hermione’s head to clear, but the previous conversation still resided as clear as ever in her mind. She’d almost admitted to Harry that she would have sex with him on the pub table. She rubbed her fingers against her forehead.

“You okay?” Harry asked as Ron unlocked the flat door. The others crowded in the entranceway and entered one after another.

“Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” She walked into the flat without looking back at Harry.

Once inside, Hermione grabbed Ginny’s arm and tugged her away from the group. “Why didn’t you stop me?” Hermione asked.

“And stop your one way train to Blabbermouth, no way.”

“Ginny, I’m serious,” Hermione whispered. “I practically admitted that I’d have sex with Ridley and that I’d have a nice go at it with one of our friends!”

Ginny snickered. “Ouch, Hermione, don’t hit me. That hurts. It’s funny. You have to admit that goody goody Hermione talking about sex is funny. Perhaps I should be looking for the Four Horsemen.”

Hermione groaned and left Ginny giggling in the hallway. She walked into the living room. Seamus and Dean were roping Ron into a game of Exploding Snap for old time’s sake. Neville excused himself to use the bathroom, and when Ginny walked into the living room she planted herself in Justin’s lap. Harry leaned back on the couch and stretched his legs onto the coffee table. He looked up at her as she entered.

“Want to watch an old Muggle movie?” he asked.

Hermione shrugged and sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. He frowned but said nothing. “What did you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you pick?” he said.

Hermione pointed her wand at the bookshelf that housed all the movies. Soon a movie was floating across the room and loading itself into the player.

“What did you pick?” Harry asked.

“You’ll see,” she said and sighed. She must be losing her mind. She’d just voluntarily chosen to watch a sappy romance movie. Maybe she was a masochist without the sexual pleasure.

“Are we watching a Muggle movie?” Ginny asked as she snuggled against Justin on the loveseat.

“Oh, I love Muggle movies,” Justin admitted. “I bet Hermione picked something scary and full of blood.” He laughed when he saw Hermione’s shocked expression.

“For your information I chose a documentary on the migratory patterns of Humpback whales,” she said indignantly.

Harry cast a sidelong glance at her and chuckled. “You’re a horrible liar,” he said. And she smiled though she would not look at him.

* * * *

Beth stood on a balcony that overlooked the Paris streets below. The Eiffel Tower was lit up and flickered through the darkness. She puffed on the end of her cigarette and cursed.

“What’s wrong?” a man asked from the bedroom.

“I bloody forgot to send Harry an owl,” she said. She tossed her unfinished cigarette off the balcony and walked into the bedroom through the open french doors.

“I think he’ll survive,” the man said.

Beth glanced at the bed and frowned. Yves Laroque propped himself up in bed. The sheets bunched around his waist. He smoked his cigarette with languor and grace. His naked chest revealed the body of an athlete, and that’s what had attracted her to him at first. They’d slept together the first day she’d seen him strut down the catwalk in one of her designs. Six foot two, blonde and blue eyed, she would have been foolish to turn down his advances. He was the most sought after model in all of Europe.

“I know he’ll survive, but I told him I would owl him, and it’s your fault I’ve forgotten,” she said. She formed her lips into a pout.

Yves flung the sheets off his body and smirked at her. “I don’t think you were complaining earlier. I don’t know why you stay with him. Marrying Potter will ruin what we have,” Yves said. He rose out of bed and walked across the room to place kisses on her neck.

“Marrying Harry won’t change us. He’ll never move to Paris.”

“Another reason for you to get rid of him. Who gives a bloody fuck if he’s The Boy Who Lived?”

“I do, Yves, now stop kissing me. I have things to do,” Beth whined. He brushed her hair from her shoulders and kissed down her collarbone. Then, he pushed her robe down, and it puddled on the floor at her feet.

“But does Potter make you feel like this?” he asked. She moaned but said nothing else as he buried her in kisses.

* * * *

Ginny yawned and climbed over Justin, who was snoring loudly on the loveseat. “It’s after midnight,” she mumbled as she stumbled out of the living room and down the hallway.

Hermione held her hands up to her mouth and sighed as the movie reached its climatic ending—the part where the girl and guy get together and the world is right and things fall into place just as they should.

She sighed again. “I love this movie,” she whispered. She blinked away happy tears. When she looked at Harry, he was smiling at her in a way that made her want to blush. “What?” she asked.

“I’m just amazed at how you can watch the same movie hundreds of times and still sigh and smile and cry at the ending,” he said.

“It makes me happy,” Hermione said defensively.

“I know. I just think it’s…it’s…”

“It’s what?” she asked.

“I don’t know…it’s just…you,” he said. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Harry slid closer to her on the couch, and Hermione had no where to go. She pressed her back against the armrest.

“It just means it’s you, and it’s what makes you so attractive.”

Hermione had no response for a few passing seconds, and she simply stared openmouthed at Harry. “I’m…attractive?”

“Yeah. Of course you are,” he said honestly.

“Oh…well, thanks…I mean…you’re…I think you’re attractive, too,” she stumbled.

Harry reached out and pushed a stray hair from her face. “Thanks,” he said. Hermione closed her eyes when his fingers brushed her cheek. When she opened her eyes, Harry was watching her, and what she saw in his eyes, made her stand abruptly.

She glanced around. Ron had already gone to bed. Neville was sleeping in the recliner, and his head was cocked at an awkward angle. Hermione shoved a pillow beneath his head, and all he did was snort in response. Dean was sleeping on the kitchen floor, and Seamus was sprawled out on the rug in the living room.

“I should get home,” she said. Maybe watching the sappy love story was a bad idea. Now I don’t know whether to float home on a cloud or cry myself to sleep, she thought.

Harry stood up and stepped around the bodies in the living room. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels.

“You’re right,” Harry said. “It’s late, and I’d say you could stay but—“

“—But I better not,” she finished.

“I agree.”

Hermione placed her hands on her hips. “You agree? I’ve stayed over a million times.”

Harry pulled his hands from his pockets and shoved them helplessly through his hair. “I know, but…this time it’s different,” he said.

“Different?” she asked. Then, realization dawned on her. “Oh, because you’re engaged.”

Harry took a few steps toward her, and Hermione looked up at him. Her hands fell to her sides. “No. It’s not because I’m engaged.”

“It’s not?” she asked.

Before he could stop himself, Harry reached out and placed his hand on Hermione’s cheek. Her sudden inhalation of breath jumpstarted his pulse. When she reached up and placed her hand on top of his and leaned into his touch, he swallowed down the dryness in his throat.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

She looked up at him and tears glistened in her eyes. She could say nothing due to the knot forming in the back of her throat. But she reached out and rested her other hand on his chest. Harry took another step closer to Hermione, and she didn’t push him away.

He traced the outline of her lips with his fingertip, and she closed her eyes. Her breath escaped in a quiver. Inside Harry’s head was a rush of madness. He leaned toward Hermione with the full intention of kissing her, and at the last moment, just before his lips brushed against hers, he pulled away.

“Bloody hell,” he said, planting his face into his hands. When he dropped his hands and looked at Hermione, silent tears spilled from her lower lids and left wet tracks down her cheeks.

“I should go,” she said in a broken whisper. Harry turned away from her and nodded. The sight of his back to her almost ripped a sob from her throat. “I’ll get my things and go.” In a rush, she gathered her coat and wand and hurried to the door. She gripped the doorknob and took one last glance over her shoulder. Still with his back to her, Hermione bit her lower lid to control the sorrow that tried to burst out.

Once out in the hallway, she cried fiercely as she held out her wand and Apparated home to her flat.

Harry walked to the couch and dropped onto it. He covered his face with his hands. He felt as though something had ripped itself from his chest.

“What’s going on, Harry,” Ginny asked.

He dropped his hands. “Oh, Ginny, I thought you were sleeping.”

“Nah. I started looking at Ron’s Quidditch Truth magazine, and I lost track of time. So, what’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Harry leaned his head back on the couch.

“That’s not what I mean. What’s going on with you and Hermione?”

“Nothing,” he said.

Ginny sat down beside Harry and turned to face him. “Harry, you know I love you—“ Harry looked startled, and she laughed. “Like a brother. That one year at Hogwarts assured me that you were simply a crush. But I love you like I love Ron. Therefore I think I can speak to you like I speak to him.”

“Of course you can,” Harry said while rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“If you don’t straighten up and stop this bullshit with Hermione, I am going to hex you. Badly. That’s a promise.”

“W-what?” His eyes were wide with surprise.

“What are you doing? Seriously, Harry, this has to stop.”

Harry rubbed his forehead. An ache formed behind his eyes. “I love Beth, I really do. Yeah, she’s a bit self-absorbed and pushy, but I love her.”

“I’m going to get us a couple of root beers. Keep talking,” Ginny said as she crossed the room and carefully stepped over Dean.

“You know how we met, right?” Harry asked.

Ginny popped the tops on two root beers. She returned to the living room and handed Harry a drink. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I was at a party for Ron’s Quidditch team. She was dating a Chaser, one of his teammates, Stephen Shoche—“

“—oh, he’s handsome,” Ginny chimed in.

“Yeah, well, that’s where we met. Of course I thought she was beautiful, but she was dating Stephen, and he was a nice enough bloke. I don’t go around taking guys’ girlfriends. But a week later, I get this call from her, and we went out to dinner, and that was over two years ago. We’ve been together ever since.”

“Okay,” Ginny said as she sipped her root beer. “What is it about her that has kept you with her for all this time?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know the specifics. We do have a great time together. She’s a lot of fun when she’s around. She’s a great kisser,” he said and then blushed. Ginny poked him in the ribs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I think Justin is a great kisser, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry him,” Ginny said.

“That’s not why I’m marrying her.”

“Then, why are you?” she asked.

“It seems right. It seems like the next step. I do love her,” Harry said.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Ginny asked.

Harry clenched his fists in frustration. “Ginny, I do love Beth.”

“Okay, so you love Beth. I get it. But you also love Hermione,” she said simply.

“Of course I love Hermione. She one of my best friends.”

“But you don’t try to kiss your best friends,” she said.

“W-what? I didn’t…” Harry looked at Ginny, and she cocked an eyebrow up at him. He shoved his hands through his hair over and over again. “I don’t know…I don’t know what happened. It was out of nowhere. She was standing there looking at me, and I was looking at her, and I had this urge to…to…”

“Kiss her?”

“Yes, oh bloody Merlin. What is wrong with me? I’m engaged to be married. I can’t go around kissing other women, and I certainly can’t go around kissing Hermione.” Harry stood up and began pacing back and forth.

“But you wanted to kiss Hermione. She’s not just some other woman. She’s Hermione, your best friend for years, the girl who has been by your side for everything.”

“I know who she is, Ginny,” Harry argued. Neville snorted and turned over in the recliner.

“I’m simply trying to tell you that I don’t think it was only hormones that made you want to kiss Hermione.”

Harry stopped pacing and looked at Ginny. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re in love with Hermione—“

“—no way. I am not in love with Hermione. I’m in love with Beth.”

Ginny put her empty root beer bottle on the coffee table and stood up. She shrugged. Harry looked torn, exasperated, despairing. “Okay, Harry. You win. You’re not in love with Hermione. You weren’t trying to kiss her tonight. You don’t think about her when you’re apart. And you definitely can’t see yourself needing her for the rest of your life. Goodnight,” Ginny said as she walked to the door.

“Is she going to hate me if I marry Beth? Will she hate me for what I almost did tonight?” Harry asked. His voice was desperate and distressed.

Ginny opened the door and looked back at Harry. She shook her head sadly. “Hermione could never hate you.” Then she turned and closed the door.

Harry stared at the door long after Ginny was gone. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Hermione and her tears. Never mind Ginny hexing him, he wanted to hex himself. How could he have almost kissed Hermione? And even worse than that, was every time he thought of that moment, he knew he wouldn’t change it. He’d still try to kiss her over and over again—and if he closed his eyes and imagined long enough, sometimes his and Hermione’s lips would meet, and it would send him soaring.

AM I TOO LATE

Unexpected Vacations

Chapter Fourteen

Hermione stumbled out into her kitchen. The late morning sun cascaded through the windows, and she felt like crawling back into bed and never surfacing again. Despair pulled a sigh from her lips.

She turned the coffee maker on and leaned her head against the refrigerator. She couldn't stop thinking of Harry…Harry almost kissing her…Harry turning his back on her… She blinked away tears.

Someone knocked on her door. Her heart plummeted. Was it Harry? Had he come to apologize? She flew to the door and wrenched it open. Ridley stood smiling at her, but one look at her face and his smile faded.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

She blinked at him. Then, she shook her head. “Headache,” she said, and it wasn't a complete lie. She did have a headache.

“Can I come in?” he asked after a moment.

Hermione released a breath and tried not to feel overwhelmed with disappointment. She mentally smacked herself. Why would Harry be at her door? He was sorry for trying to kiss her, but not sorry for not kissing her.

“I don't have long,” Ridley said, “but I had to see you before I left.”

“Left?”

“We have a match tomorrow, but we'll be staying after that, we have a week off. We'll be in Spain,” he said. He ran his hands down the front of his shirt in a nervous motion.

“Spain is lovely,” Hermione said and her voice sounded dead.

“I was hoping you'd visit,” he said. He reached out for Hermione's hand.

Her eyes widened. “Really?” she asked, completely shocked.

Ridley smiled and it made her want to burst into tears. “Hey,” he said softly. He touched her face. “You okay?”

Hermione nodded her head in silence, but it was too late. The tears escaped from her lower lids. Ridley tugged her toward him, and she was too weak to protest. She leaned her head against his chest and cried softly. Ridley rubbed her back until she pulled away from him.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized, “I guess I'm overwhelmed. Lots of things going on.”

“I can't stand to see you cry,” he said honestly.

She blushed. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” he said. “What do you say?” he asked. “Maybe you need to get away?”

Hermione wiped her cheeks with her fingers. She nodded and inhaled a deep breath. “Yeah,” she answered, “maybe I do.”

Ridley smiled and slid his hand through her hair. “We could relax on the beach,” he said. His hand slid down her arm and then down to her hand. “Just you and me. Nobody else.”

“Nobody else,” she repeated.

“Is that a yes?” he asked. He smiled at her again, and she wanted to trust in all the hope she saw in his blue eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. “I would like to get away.”

“With me?” he asked.

Hermione looked up at him. The only way to get over Harry would be to get away and spend time with a man who actually wanted her. “Yes.”

Ridley leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. He pulled away and cupped her cheek. “Chin up,” he said. “I'll pick you up in the morning.” And Hermione stood frozen in place as Ridley said goodbye and as he left.

* * * *

Harry paced his flat until Ron walked out of his bedroom and spoke to him.

“What's going on?” Ron asked. Then, taking in Harry's disheveled appearance and yesterday's clothes, he asked, “Did you go to bed?”

“No,” Harry said. His eyes were bloodshot.

“Something wrong?” Ron asked.

“I…” he started but stopped. He had been on the verge of saying he had almost kissed Hermione, but he had a feeling Ron would overreact and possibly punch him in the face. Another idea sparked in his mind. “I'm going to see Beth.”

“Oh-kay,” Ron said. “And you're not sleeping because?”

“She's in Paris,” Harry said. He kicked off his shoes and took off his dirty shirt.

“She's always in Paris,” Ron said. “What does that have to do with you not sleeping?”

“Nothing,” Harry said. He rushed into his bedroom and magicked a change of clothes and a few toiletries into a suitcase.

“Where are you going?”

“Paris,” Harry said.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Everything okay?” Ron asked.

Harry pulled a clean shirt over his head, changed into a pair of jeans, and snatched his suitcase off the bed. “I don't know,” Harry said. “I hope so.”

“Hey, mate,” Ron said. “You don't look so good.”

“I don't feel so good.” Harry tied his trainers and stood up, suitcase in hand.

“When are you coming home?” Ron wondered.

“When everything is fixed and back to normal.”

“Did something happen?” Ron asked. He hadn't seen Harry so antsy in a long while.

“No.” Nothing happened. Nothing bloody happened…but I wish it had. Harry groaned and Apparated away.

* * * *

“You're going where?” Ginny asked.

“To Spain,” Hermione answered. She dropped two sugar cubes in a cup of tea she had no desire to drink. She stirred until the sugar dissolved.

“With Ridley?”

“Yes.”

Ginny leaned back in her chair. “Wow,” she said. “I'm surprised.”

“Surprised that I'm going or surprised that he asked.”

“Don't do that,” Ginny said. “Don't act like I think it's a shock that someone thinks you're attractive.”

Hermione sighed. “I'm sorry, Gin,” she said. “I'm not mad at you. I'm just…”

“Frustrated?”

“To say the least.”

“You'll have a great time,” Ginny said. She tried to smile but Hermione's face was sullen and weary.

“Spain is lovely.”

“And Ridley is a great guy.”

Hermione looked up at Ginny. “He is, isn't he?”

“Yes,” Ginny agreed. “And he thinks you're wonderful.”

“I know,” Hermione whispered.

“You deserve someone who thinks you're wonderful,” Ginny said. “Because you are.”

Hermione nodded, and she tried not to get overly emotional again. She was tired of crying, and her bloody head ached.

“You need to move on,” Ginny said. Hermione looked up at her in question. “You'll get over these feelings for Harry. What better way to do that than by going on a romantic vacation with a man who thinks your beautiful and sexy and intelligent?”

Hermione nodded again. “You're right.”

“Of course I'm right,” Ginny said. “And I'm jealous.”

“Spain is lovely,” Hermione said.

“You've said that already.”

“I'm trying to pump myself up,” Hermione sighed.

“Why?” Ginny asked. “Not much pumping up to do. You're going to be lying in the sun next to a super hot half naked man. And he might even try to get you undressed.”

Hermione cracked a smile. “Yeah,” she said. “Doesn't sound so bad, does it?”

“Bad?” Ginny laughed. “Are you kidding me? I'd kill to have that.” She looked at Hermione and they shared a sad but hopeful smile.

* * * *

Harry Apparated to the hotel in Paris where Beth was staying. He crossed the lobby and stopped at the check-in desk.

“May I help you?” the woman asked in French.

“Er…” Harry said, not knowing any word other than bonjour. “Hi, I'm looking for Beth Jordan.”

“Oui, oui,” she answered.

“I'm her fiancé,” he added, “Harry Potter.”

The woman glanced down and smiled. She slid a room key onto the countertop and Harry reached for it. “Yes, I know. Miss Jordan is in room 491. Fourth floor,” she said. She glanced at Harry wistfully. “The elevators are over there.” Harry's eyes followed her finger, and he thanked her as he rushed off.

While riding the elevator, Harry thought of all the things he could possibly say to Beth. He felt he owed her an apology. He had almost kissed another woman. But not just any woman. Hermione. Guilt scratched at his insides. His skin itched.

The elevator doors opened. Harry hurried out and when he reached Room 491, he paused and tried to collect his thoughts. Would he tell Beth the truth? Or would he simply go to her and hold her and hope he could forgive himself? After all, nothing had actually happened. He hadn't kissed Hermione. So what if he wanted to kiss her? That didn't count, did it?

Harry slid the key into the lock and pushed open the door. The doors to the balcony were open and a breeze floated the curtains through the air like smoke. Harry let the door swing closed and he stepped through the foyer and into the bedchamber.

Beth sat up in bed, naked from the waist up—and from the waist down, Harry imagined. She jerked the sheets up to her neck. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smeared, and her eyes were wide and stunned. And she wasn't alone.

A man, blonde and muscular gaped at Harry. He reached for his wand on the end table. Harry could practically smell the man's fear, but Harry was momentarily dumbstruck. When reality caught up with him, Harry dropped his suitcase on the floor. The room key fell from his hand. He backed out of the room, and as he snatched open the door, he could hear Beth calling out to him, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He could hardly breathe.

He wanted to get away, but his hands were shaking so badly that he was afraid to Apparate for his own safety. He stumbled into the elevator, rode it down to the lobby, and wandered blindly out onto the busy streets of Paris.

Hours later when the sun had finally set, Harry was still in Paris. He slouched in a chair outside a small café. He felt numb. Betrayed. Regret. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Hermione's face swam into focus in his mind's eye and for the first time all day, he wanted to cry.

-->

AM I TOO LATE

Desperation

Chapter Fifteen

Ginny cracked an eye open. Her heart pounded. Something had startled her. She looked at the alarm clock on her night stand. It was too early to be jolted awake. She listened and heard it again. Someone was pounding on her door.

Ginny rolled out of bed, cursed under her breath and wrenched open her bedroom door. The pounding continued. She gripped her wand in her hand, set her face in a frown and opened the door.

Harry rushed into her flat. Ginny barely registered who was storming into her living room. She closed the door and turned around.

“It's seven o'clock in the morning, Harry,” Ginny grumbled.

“She's not home,” he said.

“What?”

“Hermione,” he said. “She's not home.”

“You win,” Ginny said. “I'm home. Game's over. Now leave.”

Harry shoved his hands into his hair. “Ginny, this is serious. Where's Hermione?”

“Maybe she didn't answer the door,” Ginny said as she shuffled into her kitchen. She pulled down a glass and filled it with water from the tap. She drank it down in one long gulp. “It is a bit early for house calls.”

“I have a key,” Harry said.

Ginny glanced at him. He looked like he hadn't slept in a while. His shirt was untucked and wrinkled. His eyes were bloodshot. “You have a key?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Hermione made it for me,” he said. “A while back. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Ginny wondered.

“Just in case, okay?” Harry snapped. “Merlin. Do you know where she is or not?”

Ginny rubbed her eyes and her memory returned. “Oh, that's right,” she said.

“What?” Harry asked quickly.

“She's in Spain.”

Harry's mouth dropped open. Ginny could tell he was trying to process the information but the ideas weren't cohering. “Spain?”

“Yes,” Ginny said as she put her glass back in the cabinet.

Harry shook his head. “Why would Hermione be in Spain?”

“She took a holiday,” Ginny said.

“Alone?” Harry asked, clearly shocked.

“No,” Ginny answered. “With Ridley.”

All the color that was left in Harry's face drained. He dropped down onto the couch. “You're kidding,” he whispered.

“I wouldn't joke about such things,” Ginny said. “She deserves it.”

“Deserves what?” Harry asked. “A holiday? I agree.”

“A man who adores her,” Ginny said through narrowed eyes.

Harry looked accosted. “I adore her.”

“You're too late,” Ginny said. “Besides, you're getting married.”

“Not anymore,” he said.

Now it was Ginny's turn to stumble over a reply. “What—how—when—what do you mean not anymore?” She walked over to Harry.

“Beth,” he said. He stared down at his shoelaces. “I went to see her in Paris.”

“To break it off?” Ginny asked.

“To see her,” Harry replied. He looked up at Ginny and sighed. “She wasn't alone.”

Realization spread across Ginny's face. She sat down beside Harry. “I'm sorry,” she said.

“Are you?” he asked.

“Of course,” Ginny said. “I don't want you hurt. I can't believe she would do that to you.”

“Makes it easy to leave,” he said.

“It's never easy to leave,” Ginny said.

Harry nodded his head and sighed again. “No, it's not.”

“And the guy?” Ginny asked. “I'm almost afraid to ask.”

“I didn't kill him if that's what you mean,” Harry said.

Ginny sighed in relief. “That's good to hear.”

“Not that I didn't think about it,” Harry said. “But…I'm not sure it would be worth it. Two wasted years. Can you believe it? I feel like such a jackass, like I should have seen it. Two years. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

Ginny nodded. “Why are you looking for Hermione?”

Harry looked at her. “You know why.”

Ginny stood up and cocked her hands on her hips. “Oh, no you don't. I'm sorry to hear about Beth the Wonder Bitch, but I am not going to let you do this. No way, no how!”

“What?”

“You are not going to spoil Hermione's holiday because you were too stupid to know you loved her.”

“I've always known I've loved her,” Harry argued.

Ginny shook her head. “No, you didn't,” she disagreed. “You only thought you loved her like a friend. But you were wrong, and now it's too late. Ridley is a great guy. He's not you, but at the moment, he's better than you because he's not too stupid to see how great Hermione is!”

“I see how great Hermione is!” Harry yelled and he stood up and glared at Ginny.

“Too late!”

“It's not too late!”

“Don't you dare spoil her holiday, Harry Potter!”

“I just want to talk to her!”

“Yeah right,” Ginny scoffed. “Tell that lie to somebody else.”

Harry groaned and stormed across the living room. He gripped the doorknob in his hand and paused. His head dropped. He turned around to look at Ginny. She had an expression as fierce as any he had ever seen on Molly Weasley's face.

“I screwed up, Ginny,” he admitted.

“You sure did.”

“I just need to tell her,” Harry begged.

“You don't need to tell her anything.”

“Don't you think she deserves to know the truth?”

“I think she deserves someone better than you.”

Harry sighed. “Don't you think I know that?”

“I think Hermione has suffered enough,” Ginny said. “You made her plan your freaking wedding, for chrissake.”

“I didn't know she felt that way about me,” Harry said.

“Because you're an idiot.”

“Okay!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “I'm an idiot! Is that what you want me to say? That I'm a bloody idiot?!”

Ginny nodded. “It's definitely a start.”

“Please, Ginny,” Harry asked.

Ginny could see desperation in Harry's eyes. She sighed. “I told you she's in Spain.”

“Where?” Harry asked. “I know she told you where.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because Hermione would never go out of town without telling someone how to reach her.”

Ginny scoffed. “You think you know her so well, don't you?” she asked sarcastically.

“I know she would have told you,” Harry said. “She probably owled you when she got there, too.”

“You're right,” Ginny admitted. “What are you going to give me if I tell you?”

“Anything.”

“Careful.”

“Okay, anything within reason.”

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to go,” she said.

“Ginny.”

“You have to promise.”

“I can't promise that,” he said.

“Then, I can't tell you.”

“Okay,” he said in exasperation. “Okay, I promise.”

“They're staying at the Palace de la Mar in Valencia.” Harry nodded his thanks and opened the door. “Tell her I said hello and to please don't be mad at me for telling you.”

Harry looked at Ginny over his shoulder. “I'm not going,” he said.

“Of course you aren't. You might want to shower and change your clothes first. You stink.”

Harry grinned and walked out the door.

-->

AM I TOO LATE

The Ugly Truth

Chapter Sixteen

The sun shone blissfully warm. After an hour of soaking up the heat and listening to the crashing waves, Hermione had finally begun to relax. A shadow cast across her face, stretched over her towel and onto the white sandy beach. She opened her eyes.

Ridley smiled down at her before kneeling in the sand. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” she said honestly.

“I had room service deliver us lunch,” he said. “Hungry?”

Hermione placed a hand on her stomach before propping up on her elbows. “You know, I think I am.”

“Great,” he said with a smile.

Ridley pulled Hermione to her feet and they strolled to their hotel. Ridley had reserved a room on the bottom floor so they had easy access to the pool and beach area. Tropical plants magicked to bloom and flourish all year shaded the boardwalk.

“It's so beautiful here,” Hermione said wistfully as Ridley opened the french doors on their balcony. He followed her inside their room.

“You're beautiful,” he said. Hermione glanced at Ridley and blushed.

“Thank you,” she responded quietly. She noticed fruit spread out across a pewter tray. Two domed lids covered something that smelled incredibly appetizing. Before Hermione could walk toward the table, Ridley reached for her hand.

He tugged her close to him and she didn't protest. He leaned down close to her lips and whispered, “You are so beautiful.” He kissed her softly and waited to see how she would respond.

Hermione's initial response was hesitation. Her body felt rigid and she wanted to pull away, but she knew she could no longer allow her lingering feelings for Harry to disrupt a perfectly good opportunity with Ridley.

She slid her hands up his chest and felt her shoulders relax. Ridley deepened the kiss, and in a matter of moments, he had moved them to the bed. He leaned over her body, and Hermione's heart pounded fiercely, but she seemed unable to stop. Perhaps some part of her didn't want to stop…only wanted to bury her sadness in rushed kisses and groping hands.

Ridley's hands were all over her, and she was unable to catch her gasping breath…that was until he kissed down the sensitive skin of her neck and two simple words popped into her head. Oh Harry.

Hermione eyes jerked open and she pushed her hands hard against Ridley's chest. He panted and looked confused.

“What's wrong?” he asked breathlessly. “Did I hurt you?”

Hermione continued to push Ridley away until she could swing her legs off the bed. She covered her face in her hands.

“Oh, God, oh God, oh God,” she muttered.

Ridley placed a hesitant hand on her back. “Hermione,” he said cautiously, “what's wrong?” He rubbed his hand down her spine. “I'm sorry if I was moving too fast. I didn't mean to—“

“—it's not you, Ridley,” she said.

“Then…what is it?”

“It's me,” she said. Hermione rose from the bed and walked to the french doors. She could hear the ocean rolling into shore. “It's me.” Tears prickled her eyes.

Ridley didn't move from the bed. He sat and stared at her back, waiting.

She turned to him and swiped at her tears. “You are so wonderful to me,” she said. “You make me feel so good, so attractive. Merlin, knows you're sexy and your kisses are amazing.”

“Then…” he paused and pushed a hand through his hair, “what's the problem?”

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She wrestled with the truth, with revealing such an earth-shattering truth to someone she barely knew. The complications of telling Ridley seemed worse than lying, but like Harry had always told her, she was a terrible liar. Hermione sighed.

“I'm in love,” she said. Her shoulders sagged forward.

Ridley looked dumbstruck. “I don't understand.”

“With Harry,” she whispered and wiped at more tears.

“Potter?”

Hermione nodded.

“But he's getting married.”

More tears spilled down Hermione's cheeks. “I know.”

“Does he know?”

Hermione shrugged. “Possibly, but we've never talked about it,” she said. “I am so sorry, Ridley. I am. I sincerely care for you, and I…I…”

“Wanted to give me a chance?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes,” she said honestly.

“But you have nothing left to give?”

“Not at the moment.”

Ridley nodded. “I understand.”

“You do?” Hermione asked in shock.

“Sure,” Ridley said. “How can I compete with The Bloody Boy Who Lived?”

“Ridley,” Hermione breathed.

“Don't,” he said. “Let me wallow in my bitterness for a moment.”

Hermione covered her face and began to cry. Everything felt so completely unraveled and hopeless. Ridley wrapped his arms around her.

“Don't cry, love,” he whispered as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“How can you be so nice to me?” she asked.

“What would you prefer?” he said gently. “That I stomp around and make you feel worse than you already do?”

“Yes,” she said. “I would deserve that.”

“You deserve a man who knows how amazing you are,” he said seriously.

Hermione pulled away from Ridley. “You're right,” she said sadly. “I know you're right, but…but I'm foolish.”

“You're not foolish,” Ridley said. “Harry's the fool.” When Hermione shook her head in disagreement, Ridley smoothed his fingertips down her wet cheeks. “Beth pales in comparison to you, Hermione. You are everything she will never be.”

Hermione sighed. “You don't hate me?”

Ridley grinned. “Never,” he said. “I only have one regret.”

“What's that?”

“That you didn't wait a few minutes longer. You were so close to charming my pants off.”

Hermione blushed furiously and Ridley's sincere laughter pulled a smile from her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You should eat before you go,” he said and motioned toward the untouched platter of food.

“If I wasn't in love with Harry, I would have no qualms about charming your pants off,” she said boldly and then blushed as Ridley's eyebrows rose up his forehead.

* * * *

Harry marched up to the front desk of Palace de la Mar in Valencia. The witch behind the desk smiled at him as her eyes passed up to his scar and back to his focused green eyes.

“I'm looking for Ridley Todd,” Harry said firmly. The witch nodded but said nothing. “I need his room number.”

“I'm sorry,” she said apologetically, “but we are not allowed to give out our guest's room numbers.”

Harry had never used his fame as a weapon, but he was desperate. “Do you know who I am?”

Her eyes passed once more up to his scar and she nodded faintly.

“Listen,” Harry said, leaning forward on the desk, “I don't want to cause any trouble here. The truth is that Ridley Todd is here with my best friend, Hermione Granger, and it's imperative that I speak with her. Can you understand that? I'm not a troublemaker. Surely you know that.”

The witch blushed and nodded her head in understanding. She leaned close to Harry and whispered conspiratorially, her English heavily accented, “It will be our secret. They are in room 115.”

“I owe you one,” Harry said as he dashed off.

* * * *

“Come in,” shouted Ridley and Harry pushed open the door of room 115. A balmy ocean breeze caught him in the face.

Harry noticed two plates of eaten food and the green tips of nibbled strawberries piled on the edge of a pewter plate of fruit. Ridley lay back on the pillows of a King-size bed. The sheets were crumpled and a half full wine glass sat on an end table while Ridley cradled the bottle of wine in his hands. Harry didn't even want to focus on the messy bed sheets or the wine glass, but his imagination surged forth uncontrolled.

“Potter,” Ridley said slowly, “what a surprise.”

“I need to see Hermione,” Harry said, glancing around the room and not seeing her anywhere.

Ridley cast his eyes over to the adjacent pillow and then to the wine glass on the end table. Harry followed his gaze. He glanced back at Harry.

“You're too late,” he slurred.

“Too late for what?” Harry asked curiously, noticing the glazed look in Ridley's blue eyes.

“Too late to have her.”

Harry assumed Ridley meant he and Hermione had already had something happen in the bed, and his stomach dropped and puddled around his trainers.

“Are you drunk?”

“Does that matter?”

“Where's Hermione?” Harry demanded as Ridley pushed himself up on the pillow. Wine spilled on the white linens.

“You're too late, Potter,” Ridley spat bitterly. “Didn't you hear me?”

“Where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Gone where?”

“Back,” Ridley said. “She left. Went back home.”

“But…why?” Harry asked, surprised.

Ridley glared at him. “Isn't it obvious?”

“No,” Harry said honestly.

“Bloody hell, Potter,” Ridley said, “are you really that thick?”

Harry's temper flared. He gripped his wand tightly. Ridley shook his head and tried three times to prop the wine bottle on the table before he succeeded.

“Don't you know, Potter?” Ridley asked. “Didn't anybody tell you that it's wrong to make girls fall in love with you if you're engaged?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Harry said, watching Ridley closely as the drunken Seeker stumbled around the edge of the bed.

“Sure you do,” Ridley said. “Hermione. Let's talk about Hermione. I'm crazy about her. She's crazy about you—“

“—me?”

“And you're engaged,” Ridley said, ignoring Harry. “Doesn't that seem a bit wrong to you, Potter?”

“Why did Hermione leave?” Harry asked quietly.

Ridley stared at him, his blue eyes distant and sad. “Because she's in love with an idiot.”

A tiny shred of hope bloomed in Harry's chest. “Me?”

Ridley sighed and reached for a slice of apple. “Of course,” he answered. “Now get out of here so I can hate you in peace.”

Harry nodded, said nothing, and Apparated.

-->

AM I TOO LATE

To Catch a Train

Chapter Seventeen

Ginny plopped down on her sofa and spooned a mouthful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. Someone banged on her door. She moaned as the cold sweetness melted on her tongue. Glancing at the door, she had no intentions of getting up. Whoever it was, well, could go away.

The knocking grew persistent and louder. Ginny spooned in another mouthful and carefully licked the spoon.

“Ginny!” a female voice shouted from behind her door. “Ginny! It's Hermione! Open up!”

Ginny almost coughed up her ice cream. She shoved the spoon into its dish and jumped from the sofa, but not before she had a moment of panic.

“Coming!”

“What are you doing?” Hermione demanded. “Open up!”

Ginny flung the door open and Hermione rushed inside, a whirl of color and bushy brown hair. “Listen, Hermione, I know you're mad at me but—“

“—it was a complete disaster,” Hermione wailed. “Complete disaster. I could have crawled into a hole and died.” Hermione dropped onto the couch and eyed the dish of chocolate ice cream.

Ginny stood with her hand still on the doorknob, staring at Hermione. She was confused.

“Uh…what happened?”

Hermione looked imploringly at Ginny. “Ridley is such a great kisser. He is,” she said as she stood again and paced the floor in front of the kitchen table. “And truth be told, I didn't want him to stop, but he had to stop because there I was really getting into this…this thing we've got going. And he's lying on top of me and any minute now, I know he's going to…well…never mind that. But things are escalating and suddenly all I want to shout out is Harry's name—“

“—oh Merlin, you didn't, did you?”

Hermione glared at Ginny. “Of course I didn't!”

“Then, what happened?” Ginny asked, realizing that if Harry had intended to find Hermione in Spain, he had not…unless, there was more to the story.

“I made him stop,” Hermione said. “It didn't seem right. It didn't feel right. For Merlin's sake, I shouldn't be thinking of another man while Ridley is trying to get my knickers off—“

“—did he get your knickers off?” Ginny giggled.

“This is serious, Ginny.”

“Sorry,” she apologized. “Did he?”

Hermione groaned.

“Okay, what happened?” Ginny asked. “What made it such a complete disaster? Obviously you opted to come home early.”

“I told Ridley the truth.”

Ginny gasped. “What did you tell him?”

“That I'm in love with Harry, and it just isn't fair to him.”

“And what did he say?”

“That he understood,” Hermione said as she crossed back to the sofa and sat down. She dug Ginny's spoon into the ice cream and helped herself. “Oh,” she added through a mouthful, “he also said Harry is an idiot.”

“Well,” Ginny nodded, “he is.”

Hermione sighed and swallowed down the chocolate mouthful. “Ridley is a great guy,” she said. “He was so nice and understanding I wanted to hex myself to make things right. Too bad I had to fall for my idiot best friend.”

Ginny cleared her throat. “So…did you run into anyone else while you were in Spain?”

“No…why?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ginny shrugged. “Just curious.”

“That's an odd question.”

Ginny waved her hand dismissively. “You never know. Small world and all.” She sat down beside Hermione. “What are you going to do now?”

Hermione sighed again and closed her eyes. “I've always wanted to visit Ireland, to see the cliffs and coastline.”

“Haven't you been before?”

“Years ago,” Hermione said. “But I think I'm going to use the remainder of my vacation and go by myself. Settle things in my head.”

“Alone?” Ginny asked. “Why don't you wait until my vacation starts in a few weeks and we can go together?”

Hermione shook her head. “I really need some time alone—“

“—won't that make you more depressed?”

Hermione smiled sadly. “I'm not depressed. Not exactly. I mean, I still love Harry, but at some point I'll need to except that things have changed and he will never see me as anything other than a friend.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that,” Ginny said, eating her ice cream again.

“What do you mean? He's getting married,” Hermione replied.

“You never know what life has in store,” Ginny said nonchalantly. “Things change.”

“Starting with me,” Hermione said. She stood and rolled her shoulders. “I'm going home to pack. I'll owl you when I get there.”

“What are you going to do? Where will you stay?” Ginny asked. “Have you even thought this out? It's not like you not to have things planned.”

“I'll manage.”

“But this is so unlike you,” Ginny continued. “You're always so…so…”

“Dependable? Prepared?”

“Well…yeah.”

“Boring? Dull? Predictable?” Hermione asked and Ginny recognized Hermione's change in tone immediately.

“Hermione,” Ginny said gently, “that's not what I meant.”

“Sure it is,” Hermione said in irritation. “That's what everyone thinks. Good ol' Hermione Granger, we can count on her to do just what we expect her to. Well, you know what, Ginny? I'm bloody tired of being predictable. Of being boring and overlooked. I'm tired of being me.”

Ginny slid her spoon back into the ice cream dish. “Hermione, you're not boring. So you like to be prepared, so what? It doesn't mean you don't know how to let loose, to have a little fun sometimes.” Hermione's scowl softened. “Besides, Ridley definitely didn't think you were a hopeless case. And even if he did, he was still trying to get your knickers off. You aren't overlooked. You're one of the greatest people I know.”

Hermione sighed. “I'm frustrated. And I want a real vacation where I can relax and be alone. I need to regroup.”

“I'm just not used to you acting spontaneously.”

Hermione smiled and shrugged. “You said it yourself. Things change. I'm going to go out for lunch, order cake, go home and pack, catch a train to the coast and maybe ride a ferry to Ireland.”

“A Muggle train?” Ginny asked in surprise.

“Why not?”

“It would be easier to Apparate.”

“But less of an adventure,” Hermione said. “I need a change of scenery.” She hugged Ginny and walked to the door. “I'll owl you when I get there. Thanks for being such a great friend.”

“Sure…” Ginny said, but Hermione was already out the door.

* * * *

Harry beat on Hermione's door. He grew impatient when no one answered. Where would she have gone? Surely, she would have left Spain and gone back to her own flat. He unlocked the door and shouted for her. No answer.

He did the only other thing he could think of. He Apparated to Ginny's flat.

“I'm coming,” Ginny said in exasperation. “What's a girl got to do to relax?” She opened the door and was unable to hide her expression of surprise as she looked out at Harry.

He barged in without being invited.

“Where' Hermione?” he asked.

Ginny frowned. “Haven't we played this game before?”

Harry turned to her. “I went to Spain. She left Ridley.”

“Oh,” Ginny said in a voice she hoped sounded convincing, as though she hadn't heard it all before.

“Where is she, Ginny?”

“I told you what I knew.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You're lying.”

“I did tell you what I knew.”

Harry nodded. “You're not telling me all you know.”

“Harry, if you are reading my mind, I swear I will curse your ears onto the bottoms of your feet.”

Harry winced then hardened his expression. “Tell me.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I believe you threatened me.”

Ginny groaned. “Merlin, Harry, when are you going to get your shite together? Hermione isn't here, okay? She's gone.”

“That's what Ridley said.”

“Then why are you harassing me?”

“She's come back home only she's not at home, and I know she would have told you what her plans were.”

“Maybe she didn't have plans.”

“Hermione always has plans,” Harry said with a half smile.

“She's not that predictable.”

“She's predictably predictable.”

“Well, that doesn't make her boring!” Ginny yelled defensively.

Harry looked taken aback. “What's gotten in to you? I never said Hermione was boring.”

Ginny plopped down onto her sofa. “Why are you doing this, Harry? What are you trying to prove?”

“I l-love her, Ginny…and I want to tell her,” he stammered, “to tell her that I love her and I'm sorry.”

“She's moving on,” Ginny said finally, but not daring to look up into Harry's green eyes, “without you.”

“But I don't want her to.”

“That's life,” Ginny said harshly. “It's not all sunshine and daisies, Harry.”

“Don't you think I know that?” Harry asked as his frustration mounted so high his shoulders tensed. “I can't just let her go.”

“You already let her go.”

“I never wanted to let her go!” Harry yelled. “I was a complete idiot and assumed that I would have Hermione forever, that she'd never go away, that nothing would ever change.”

Ginny scoffed under her breath. “Wishful thinking.”

“I would catch Beth a million times over and suffer that feeling of empty betrayal again and again if it meant you would give me one last chance to talk to Hermione…before it's too late.”

Ginny sighed and rubbed her temples. “Merlin, Harry. You really know how to turn my insides to marshmallows.”

“Please, Ginny.”

“She went to lunch, somewhere. I don't know. She didn't tell me where, but then she's going home to pack.”

“Where is she going?” Harry asked.

“To catch a train.”

“Where?”

“It doesn't mater where, Harry. She's running away.”

“Do you think it's too late?” Harry asked, not sure if he wanted Ginny's honesty.

“Not if you leave now.”

Harry thanked her and Apparated straight away.

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Author Notes:

Dear reviewers: Thank you for your patience and for your reviews. I appreciate all the feedback you leave for me, and I thank you for reading.

Because there have been large gaps in posting, I thought I would give you a short summary of why (in the hopes you can understand). First off, when I started this story, I worked full-time and attended school full-time. Of course at the same time, I worked as a freelance songwriter (I own a publishing co.), and I traveled as a professional singer. I completed another musical project, and I wrote my first Young Adult novel (84K words, which is now in the editing stage of the publishing process), and hopefully it will visit a bookstore near you in the not too distant future. Finally, I graduated from college with my second degree.

So, I say all that to let you know that I have never forgotten this story. In fact, I have loved writing it, but there has not always been time for this story to receive any of my focus.

However, this is the last chapter, although I will probably add an Epilogue in the next few days (after I formulate a good enough plan for everyone). Again, I thank you for reading and reviewing—you are the ones who made me want to really try to keep this story moving along. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have!

Read on…

AM I TOO LATE

An Unstoppable Force

Chapter Eighteen

Hermione stood in the living room of her flat and hugged her arms around her chest. Her eyes had been larger than her stomach—the mountainous chocolate cake had barely been touched. She had spent most of her lunch in a state of cycling nostalgia.

One minute she and Harry had been flying on Buckbeak and she was terrified. The next minute she was meeting Harry on the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Then she was trapped in the bathroom with a disgusting troll. Then she was gripping Harry's hand in the Forbidden Forest. Then she was screaming his name during a Quidditch Final. Then they were cuddled on her couch watching her favorite movie for the zillionth time. Then…then…then…

Then he was leaning close to her. She could feel his breath on her cheek, on her lips. Then…he was pulling away. She had shoved her cake away from her by that point and shuffled her way back to her flat.

Now the idea of a life with Harry absent weighed heavily on her shoulders. How would she ever pick apart his life from hers when they had crossed so long ago? When they were practically fused together? Did she even have memories that lacked Harry?

She needed to leave. She needed a vacation, a respite, time away from everything familiar. Gathering her spirit and her assurance, she packed a suitcase and shut it just as a knock sounded on the door.

Hermione peered out into the living room from her bedroom. Someone knocked again. Before she could reach her door, it swung open and Harry stood in the doorway, obviously startled to see her standing there.

“W-what are you doing here?” he blurted.

“I live here,” she answered as smoothly as possible. She pressed a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm her pounding heart.

“I knocked.”

“I heard.”

“I didn't think you were home,” he said sheepishly.

“So, you were going to what? Lounge around and wait for me?” she asked. A slip of anger eased its way inside her mind.

Harry shrugged. “That was the plan.”

Then, she noticed how crestfallen he looked, how dark the circles under his eyes had become. She could feel her resolute will crumble ever so slightly. She had never been good at watching Harry hurt and saying nothing. “What's wrong?”

Harry laughed. It was a mirthless sound. “That list has gotten a bit long.”

Hermione dropped her suitcase and motioned for him to sit, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I have to get this out. There are things, I-I need to say to you.”

Hermione's stomach knotted. She smoothed her hands down her thighs, bit her bottom lip.

“Beth and I aren't getting married,” he said.

Hermione swayed on her feet and reached for the chair to steady herself. Of all the things she thought Harry would say, those string of words had never entered her mind.

“W-why?”

“You.”

“Me?” Hermione squeaked, sounding decidedly a lot like Winky, the late Bartemius Crouch's freed house-elf. “Why?”

“I didn't know, Hermione,” Harry admitted quietly. He stared at his hands. “I knew we were friends, and I knew I cared about you…but I didn't know how I cared about you.”

“How do you care about me?”

“Everything got so complicated at once,” Harry continued without looking up at her. She stared at the top of his dark hair. “We've been…us for so long.” He finally glanced up and watched her with his piercing green-eyed stare. “I didn't know.”

“You didn't know what?” she asked, trying to control the urge to move closer to him.

“I didn't know I loved you,” he said, and Hermione's heartbeat faltered. She squeezed the back of the chair until her knuckles were white. “I knew I loved you. But it's different now.”

“What are you saying?” she said in barely more than a whisper.

“I'm…I'm in l-love with you, Hermione.”

Her knees buckled and without realizing it, she had crossed the room and flung her arms around him. She trembled in his arms.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed against his neck.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't understand. Not truly until I caught Beth with that guy.”

Hermione pulled away and stared blankly at Harry's face. “What?”

“I went to see Beth,” Harry replied. “And I found her with another man. In bed.”

Hermione's soaring heart stopped and tumbled back down. “You realized your feelings for me after you found Beth cheating on you?”

Harry's attuned hearing picked up on something sharp and edgy about Hermione's words, but he blubbered on, “Well, yeah. I wanted to talk to her about…about what almost happened with you that night. And there she was…all this time with someone else.”

Hermione stepped away from Harry. She shook her head and mumbled, “Second fiddle.”

“What?” he asked, screwing up his face. One second Hermione had been hanging on to him for dear life, and now she was inching across the room from him. He had no idea what was going on.

“Second string, second pick, second choice!” Her voice rose as she spoke. “No thank you, Harry Potter!” she screeched.

“What is wrong with you?” Harry asked and crossed the room to her. As far as he could tell, she was having some sort of fit. “What are you talking about?”

“I won't play second fiddle to anyone!” Hermione yelled indignantly. “You only realized you wanted me after your precious china doll wanted someone else—“

Harry grabbed Hermione's arms to stop her from moving. “—I have wanted you my whole life!” he yelled in return. “Only I was too bloody stupid to know that's what it was. You were always there. Always. And I never thought you'd leave—“

“—well, imagine that!” she argued. “Having your cake and eating it, too!”

“Stop it!” he yelled at her. “Merlin, Hermione. I was a kid. What the bloody hell did I know?”

“You are not a child anymore, Harry Potter!”

“I know that. Don't you think I know that?” Harry said impatiently. He wondered if this is what Ron felt like when he crashed headfirst into the wall that was Hermione Granger's stubbornness. “You're right, okay? On some level, I took you for granted. I thought you would always be there—“

Hermione huffed and tried to yank out of his grasp. He pulled her firmly toward him.

“Will you listen to me for a minute?” he asked in exasperation. She momentarily quit fighting him. “I didn't know until I realized that at any moment you could leave, you could walk away, marry some bloke and let him whisk you halfway across the world, and then…then I would have lost the most important person in my life….”

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She stared at Harry, thunderstruck.

“It's always been you, Hermione,” he said gently. “Always you. And I-I don't want that to change.”

Hermione closed her mouth and stared at Harry's chest. A knot had lodged itself halfway up her throat, and she was afraid if she spoke, she could cry.

“Tell me, Hermione,” he said. “Tell me I'm not too late.” He lifted her chin with his fingers. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as she looked into his clear eyes. “I'm not, am I?”

“I…I don't kn—“

Harry didn't wait for her to answer. He kissed her, easy and slow. It caught Hermione so off guard she opened her mouth and gasped. Harry took this opportunity to deepen the kiss. He pressed her body into his and slid one hand up her back and beneath her hair. He cradled the back of her neck in his hand.

Hermione melted into him. She tingled. Every sane thought escaped and she could think nothing other than, Oh, God, oh Harry, oh, God, oh Harry. She must have let her inner moans escape because Harry released a guttural sound and lifted her from the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he moved swiftly to the couch.

The passion between them erupted and Hermione didn't know if such a force could ever be stopped. Harry pulled away from the kiss long enough to pant and ask, “The bed-bedroom?”

“W-what?” she stuttered, trying to gather her scattered wits. The heat in her stomach, seeping down to her toes, was a bit distracting.

He kissed down her neck, licked across her collarbone, nibbled at her earlobe. Hermione moaned. And with his lips against her cheek he asked again, “Would you rather be in the bedroom?”

“Oh, Merlin, I don't care…”

Harry grinned against her lips. “That's my kind of girl.”

He swept Hermione up from the couch long enough to allow them to shed a few layers of clothing, and though Hermione had always assumed she would be modest around Harry, she tossed aside her clothes fervently. And fortunately, she remembered to cast a Silencing Charm on all the walls in her flat—they definitely needed it.

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