The Importance of Buying Books

Title: The Importance of Buying Books

Disclaimer: The usual. Not mine. Obviously. No profit, blah, blah, blah.

A/N: This is so fluffy it should be illegal. You've been warned.

For Victoria Tonks, who urged me to post this to PK. Honey, you don't get nearly enough fluff. Thanks for all your support, encouragement and feedback. *hugs*

Willow: You could ask him for coffee some night. It's the non-relationship drink of choice. It's not a date, it's a caffeinated beverage. Okay, sure, it's hot and bitter like a relationship that way, but...

-Buffy `Reptile Boy'

***

Harry wasn't sure what made him do it.

Stupidity—that was it. Plain stupidity.

That was the only explanation.

Because if he had been in his right mind, if he had been thinking properly, he would have known better—a million times better—than to ask Ron for advice.

And not just any kind of advice, but this kind of advice.

Stupid.

Normally, if he wanted advice he would go to Hermione. It was no secret that Ron wasn't exactly well renowned for his abilities to think and analyze a situation.

Unfortunately, this was one of the few things that he couldn't go to Hermione with.

But if Ron didn't wipe that stupid smirk off his face, Harry was going to hex him into next year.

“What?” he demanded. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ron's smirk merely grew. “You're in love with Hermione! You're in love with Hermione!”

Ron said all this in a loud high-pitched voice.

Harry wanted to kill him.

“I am n—”

Harry stopped his knee-jerk denial at the last-second, his mind vaguely realizing that it would be a ridiculous thing to deny, considering that was the reason he'd come to talk to Ron in the first place.

“Shut up,” he said, instead.

“You're in love with—”

“I swear to Merlin, Ron, if you don't shut your hole, I will shut it for you!”

Ron shut up—much to Harry's relief.

“Okay, obviously, this was a bad idea—look, you just forget I said anything, and I'll just…”

“What?” Ron said, grinning. “Go back to staring at her when you don't think she's looking? Go back to looking all wounded when she talks to another bloke? I don't know—join the dating scene?”

“Err—yes, actually,” Harry said, after thinking about it. “That sounds like a rather good idea.”

Ron looked mildly disgusted. “You're pathetic.”

“Thanks.”

“No, you are,” Ron said, without sympathy. “How long have you been in love with Hermione?”

Harry blinked. “Err…”

Ron leaned forward. “Yeah?”

“… I dunno…”

It was true. Harry couldn't say when he first realized he was in love with Hermione. Only that he had been, for a very long time, and an even longer time before that without realizing it. Being in love with Hermione was just part of who he was, something that he'd been carrying around for years. Like his wand—it was a part of him he couldn't imagine himself without.

“Pathetic,” Ron said again. “And how long has it been since you finally defeated Voldemort?”

“Six months,” Harry answered promptly. “And… err… two days.”

Ron stared. “Right, then. So I can certainly understand why, now with all the obstacles out of the way, you're being a complete coward about this entire thing.”

Stupid telling Ron.

Stupid.

“Look, Ron,” he said crossly, irritated, as always, when someone insulted his bravery. “You don't know anything about it.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, I've been watching you two dance around this thing for years. Frankly, I'm getting tired of it.”

Harry considered him for a moment. “Hang on—you think it might be possible that Hermione might… err... I don't mean to say—”

“Want to take you home, have her way with you, and have babies which you'll raise together in your nice, little wizarding house on the edge of town?” Ron leaned back and considered. “Yeah, I'd say it's possible.”

“Really?”

“You really are completely daft, you know that?”

Harry ignored him. “But—but it's so hard to tell with Hermione, you know? She could fancy anyone. Remember that bloke she was flirting with last week? Stu... Stuart… Stuey?”

Ron heaved a sigh. “Harry, can I ask you something?”

Harry stared at him suspiciously. “That depends.”

“Alright—here's the thing. Who knows you better than anyone in the world, better than me, better than your bloody fan base?”

“Err… Hermione.”

“Yeah. That's a fucking coincidence, isn't it? How about this one—who does Hermione go to when she needs help? When she's worried?”

“Err… me.”

“Yeah. And who does Hermione grab onto when she's scared?”

“Me.”

“Who throws a fit every time you do something like scrape your knee?”

“Alright,” Harry cut in sharply. “I get it. Thank you.”

Ron looked proud of himself. “Just suck it up and ask her if she wants to spend the rest of her life with you. I'm sure she won't take issue with it.”

“Erm… right…” Harry said, beginning to feel uncomfortable. He studied Ron for a moment. “You don't mind, do you? I know back at school, you used to fancy—”

Ron waved a hand. “Don't worry about it. That was ages ago. Besides I—unlike you—managed to summon up the courage to ask Luna out on a date. So what I'm saying, Harry…” Ron made a face. “ Is that you, an attention-seeking, self-sacrificing prat can have our anal-retentive, slightly neurotic best friend. And I'm sure you'll both be very happy together.”

Harry glared.

Stupid. So very stupid.

“Thanks, Ron.”

“No problem.”

***

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

“Don't you think that maybe you have enough books here?”

Harry heard her make a noise of disgust and he tried to shift the large stack of books he was carrying in order to see her face. Arching his neck, he could just make out a few strands of bushy hair.

“Harry, how many times do I have to tell you? There is no such thing as too many books.”

Following that announcement, she dropped another book on the pile he was carrying. Harry toppled a little under the weight, but grit his teeth.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Do you think I should get that one in hardcover? It's so much more durable that way.”

“Hermione!”

“Oh, hush up,” she said lightly. “You offered to come book shopping with me. You're brave and strong.”

Harry snorted—nearly dropping all of Hermione's books in the process.

“Well, honestly, Harry. If you can't even hold onto any of them… books are very important, you know…”

“Yeah, Hermione. I know.”

Ten minutes later, Harry stumbled over to the cashier and gratefully deposited all of the books to be rung up. Arms feeling rather numb, he eyed the pile unenthusiastically.

“Err, Hermione? How are you planning on paying for all of these, exactly?”

“I'm not,” she said airily. “It's an early birthday present from you, Ron, and my parents.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “That's… interesting.”

“Isn't it?” she said, smiling at the cashier. “I decided I'm tired of people buying me things that I don't like—so I thought it was time to do something about it.”

“You don't like the things I buy you?” Harry said.

She cast him a look. “I didn't say that. I just want these books. Practically speaking, this was the most rational way to go about it.”

“All for you, dear?” the cashier said, eyeing Hermione's pile of books wearily

“Yes—they are,” she said, still smiling. “Let's see… can you split this up three ways? I need you to charge here, here, and he—”

“You know what?” Harry interrupted. “Forget it. I'll get it, alright?”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous,” Hermione said huffily. “You can't pay for all of these books. You're rich, Harry, but you're not—”

“So I won't get you anything for Christmas,” he said, shrugging. “Big deal.”

Hermione stared at him suspiciously.

“What?” he said.

She let out a breath. “Oh, it's nothing. You've just been a little… different today.”

“Huh,” Harry said, ringing up the purchase—and nearly keeling over. “Merlin, Hermione, what are you trying to do here… bankrupt me?”

“You offered,” she said.

“Well, I didn't know it was going to be that much! Can you imagine what Ron would do if he saw the price? Even if it was split up three ways?”

“Well…” Hermione went a little pink. “I was planning on charging most of it to you, anyway.”

Harry felt himself brighten. “Really?”

“It's just… you do have more money than… and I thought you'd be less likely to mind than Ron… and, it's you so…”

Hermione quickly closed her mouth and shifted her eyes to the ground.

Harry grabbed the bags of book and chanced a sideways glance at her. “Hermione?”

“Mmhhmm?” she said vaguely, still finding the ground to be intensely interesting.

“Do you—since I just gave up most of my inheritance on your books… do you want to go for coffee with me?” Harry took a breath and added, in a strangled voice, “And could you pay for it?”

Hermione's eyes widened. “Coffee?”

“Coffee.”

“Because—because…” she waved her arms, as if searching for a particularly elusive answer. “You're… thirsty?”

“Err…” Harry shifted. “Yeah. And, um… perhaps, it would be a good way to—to test the bounds of … our friendship.”

Hermione's jaw dropped. “Did you… you did… you mean like—like a—”

“Date?” Harry offered. “Yeah, I was thinking. See, here's the thing… I'm in love with you and I really think you love me too—or, at least, you could learn to love me—so I just thought that it was time for me to ask you on… on a date. And possibly afterwards we could live happily together for the rest of our lives.” Harry blinked. “No—no, that's getting ahead of ourselves…and err… so what do you… will you say something?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I would love to.”

“Date?” Harry asked, a little bit desperate. “Or all that other stuff I was babbling about?”

“All of it,” she said waving her hand, and red in the face. “The—all of it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So you'll pay?”

Hermione chuckled. “So I'll pay.”

The End

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A/N: And now there's a sequel. It happens. So here it is, probably even more pointless and rambly than the first part, which I wasn't sure was possible. And unbetaed. That also happens when I post these things first on my livejournal, I never get around to having them looked over.

Just Coffee

Things didn't get much easier than coffee.

Harry figured he'd have to do something really stupid—really, really stupid—to bugger up coffee.

Still, with his track record, he was certain there was something he could do to mess everything up.

So far, she was still sitting across from him, sipping her mug of coffee, cheeks slightly rosy and eyes wide and bright.

He was choosing to take that as a good sign.

He had yet to lose or misplace the books he'd bought her earlier, something he was rather proud of. He hadn't slopped coffee down his front. He'd even managed to resist his rather large impulse to quickly Apparate over to Ron's flat for advice.

He was toying around with the idea of taking her hand and asking if she wanted to come back to his place when his good luck shattered.

He should have known it was inevitable.

“Herm-own-ninny!”

Harry choked on his coffee.

“Oh, my! Viktor!”

Hermione grinned and jumped out of her seat, launching herself at the surly looking man who'd interrupted them.

They hugged for a good half-minute, causing other people in the café to look over in interest.

Harry cleared his throat.

They broke apart, still grinning.

“Harry, you remember Viktor, don't you?” Hermione positively beamed. “Oh, you must join us, Viktor. It's been ages since I last saw you.”

Hermione dragged a chair over to the table and pushed Viktor Krum into it. She sat back down, before turning eagerly to face him.

“Oh, how are you? You told me in your last letter you were taking a break from Quidditch? Are you really? What are you doing?”

Krum leaned toward her, completely ignoring Harry. “I haff been traveling. Since You-Know-Who vos vanquished, it haff been much safer for travel.”

“Imagine that,” Harry muttered.

“Traveling!” Hermione said. “Where did you go? What did you see? Did you—Oh, Viktor, did you get to go to Paris? It's a beautiful city, isn't it?”

“I haff been to Paris, Venice, Berlin, New York…”

Hermione sighed in envy. “Please, tell me you took photos.”

“Of course.” Krum smiled, causing his eyebrows to crinkle together. “Ve should go for coffee some day. I could show them to you.”

Harry spat coffee onto the table.

Krum and Hermione both turned to look at him, as if just noticing he was there.

“Coffee?” Harry croaked.

“Vhy, yes,” Krum said, frowning. “Vat is, if you'd like, Herm-own-ninny.”

Hermione hesitated, catching Harry's eye.

“So, what are you doing back here?” she said brightly. “I can't imagine why you'd want to come back to little old Diagon Alley.”

“Works for me,” Harry said loudly. “I think it's a great spot. You know, for starting a family.”

“Exactly!” Krum said excitedly. “He is right, you know. I vant to settle down.”

Harry wanted to smack himself.

“Really?” Hermione said. “Well—I could help. I know there are some nice houses in the area up for sale.”

“Oh, I don't vant to be any trouble.”

“Nonsense!” Hermione said briskly. “It won't be any trouble at all. Especially not for an old friend.”

“Yeah, old friend,” Harry said. “You must be getting on now in years, Victor, don't you think? You're, what, nearly thirty now?”

“Harry!”

“Well, he is,” Harry said defensively.

Krum looked confused. “Vat does it matter how old I am?”

“Well, it's just… Hermione likes to date wizards more around her age, you know?”

Hermione glared at him. Krum looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione as if just realizing something.

“I see,” he said slowly. “Vell, I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I can go, if you vant.”

“Don't be silly, Viktor. Harry's just being….” Hermione trailed off, obviously not quite sure how to describe Harry's behaviour. “Stay. It's wonderful seeing you again.”

Harry got up so suddenly that his chair scraped back across the floor.

“Yeah, Viktor, why don't you stay. You and Hermione can have coffee. You can show her all your little photos. Hermione, you can help Viktor move into his house—perhaps, settle down.” Harry gathered up all of Hermione's books. “And I'll—be outside!”

With that spectacular announcement, Harry stomped his way outdoors, slamming the door to the café behind him.

If possible, he felt even worse outside. He exhaled, feeling his stomach flood with disappointment.

He had been so close.

It was just supposed to be coffee. Just coffee. And even that he'd managed to mess up.

He sat on a bench across the street, setting the books next to him. Happily chatting people walked past him, barely shooting him a second glance.

He stared at the café across the street, wondering if he'd lost his chance with Hermione forever. Instead of acting on his jealousy, he should have waited it out. She'd said she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, Harry, not some big-shot Bulgarian Seeker.

But now… well, he'd all but given them his blessing. He could see them in his mind, slowly leaning closer and closer to each other. Making plans to meet again. Looking at photographs together. Going house buying together.

There was a loud crack and Harry yelped, nearly cascading off the bench.

Hermione had Apparated next to him, somehow managing to land precisely next to him.

“Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!” she said immediately.

Harry stared, still trying to recover from the near heart attack he'd suffered when she'd appeared next to him. “Really?” he croaked.

She nodded profusely, looking near tears. “I told Viktor I'd talk to him later. I know it wasn't right for me to ignore you. I didn't mean to make you feel as though I didn't want to be in there with you. I was terrified when I saw you walk out! I should have stopped you—I know I should've, but I could hardly believe any of this—us, I mean, it's real, isn't it?”

Harry never got a chance to answer, Hermione took a deep breath before continuing again.

“I guess…I guess I just wasn't thinking! I forgot that I wasn't there with just my best friend Harry, but my—my—but with you Harry! It was awful what I did, Harry! Really, it was! I don't feel that way about Viktor, really I don't. Can you—can you forgive me?”

Harry was so relieved that it wasn't him that had messed up that he could do nothing but nod.

Hermione let out a loud, tearful sniffle. “You're not angry with me?”

Harry shook his head.

Hermione slumped in relief. She glanced at the bag of books lying next to him on the bench and frowned.

“You brought all my books out with you?”

Harry gave her a weak smile. “I guess I thought that if I had the books… you'd eventually have to come back for them.”

Hermione smiled and they lapsed into a companionable silence. After a moment, Hermione surprised him when she cuddled up next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. She laced her fingers through his, their entwined hands resting on Harry's knee. Harry's heart started thumping.

“This is nice,” she whispered, as they watched the multitude of shoppers pass in front of them.

Harry swallowed. “Hermione?”

“Mmm?”

“You really don't think of Krum in that way?”

“Of course not, silly,” she huffed. “I think of you in that way.”

Harry was so relieved that he momentarily felt lightheaded.

“Err… Hermione?”

“Mmm?”

“D'you, er… want to….” Harry trailed off, blushing. “D'you want to come back to my… flat… with me?”

“Your flat?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Er… if you want.”

“Okay,” she said.

”Really?”

“Honestly, Harry. Stop acting so surprised. Yes, let's go.”

Despite the fact that his heart was hammering in his chest, Harry somehow managed to Apparate into his flat without splinching himself. Hermione arrived at the same time he did and he was surprised to see that their hands were still entwined.

The bag of books dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Harry's mouth was very dry.

“Do you… want something?” he asked, letting go of her hand and going into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and stared blankly at its contents. “I have… Butterbeer.”

“Not thirsty,” Hermione said, coming into the kitchen behind him. “We just had coffee, remember?”

“Right,” Harry said. “Well, something to eat, then?”

“I'm fine—”

“Don't think I have much here. Living alone, you know. I could Owl Out for delivery if you wanted.”

“No, that's­—”

“Let's see, I could check the freezer. Might be some pizza in there.”

“Harry, I'm not hungry.”

Her voice was deathly calm.

Harry turned around, startled to find that she was right behind him. He was quickly losing his ability to think straight.

“Are you always this nervous when you bring girls home?”

He let out a shaky breath. “Not exactly something I'm in the habit of doing.”

She took another step towards him, tilting her head up to study him. Her eyes searched his face, as if she was looking for something terribly important.

“It's just me,” she whispered. “There's nothing you have to fear. It's just me.”

“I'm nervous because it's you,” he said honestly.

“Don't be,” she said. “This… we're in this together. It's new and exciting and so very right. You know that, don't you?”

“Of course,” Harry said.

He reached out to cup her cheek, his fingers getting tangled in the soft mess of her hair. Hermione closed her eyes, as if savouring his touch.

When he leaned down to kiss her, his nervousness seemed to fade away at the touch of his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, gentle, a sealing of a promise between them.

He pulled away and Hermione reached out to take off his glasses. Folding them with one hand, she placed them on the kitchen counter before turning back to him, her eyes settling on his lips.

He kissed her again. She let out a soft sigh, her hands tangling in his hair. She pressed against him, her breasts pushing against his chest. He muffled a gasp at the sensations coursing through him.

A powerful mix of feelings and emotions rose in him—desire, want, need, love.

His lips trailed down her neck. Her skin was soft and sweet under his mouth. She arched her neck, emitting a sigh of pleasure.

“Harry…” she breathed.

Hearing his name uttered like that—barely a whisper, sent his system rocking.

He pressed a kiss on her jaw, lips just below her ear.

“I love you, Hermione,” he whispered.

He pulled away slightly to see her face—even though his entire body was screaming at him to take more.

She framed his face with her hands, her fingers brushing over his cheek. She kissed him, her tongue demanding entrance into his mouth. His hands slid down her backside, resting at the base of her shirt.

Somehow, stumbling and gasping, mouths fused together, hands fisted in and under shirts, they made it to the bedroom.

He wanted to ask her if this was okay—if she was alright with the step they were taking—if she loved him—if this was something she'd regret in the morning.

But she felt so good and he was incapable of doing anything but kiss her harder, hands slipping under her shirt to explore her skin. She tasted like coffee and sugar and he couldn't find the strength in himself to pull away.

She touched him back—her hands warm and caressing as they moved over his skin. She met him kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust.

And he realized.

She didn't need to say anything.

He already knew.

The End

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