The spring, the summer,
The fruitful autumn,
The angry winter,
Change their wonted liveries.
A Midsummer Night's Dream II.i.114
Chapter 9 "Fluff and Stuff"
The group had decided to eat lunch in the sunny glen just beyond the makeshift Quidditch pitch.
"Lav's in," Ron said as he emerged from the supply shack with their brooms. He'd offered to set up the field for quick game or two, and they were divvying up flags and tags for the players.
"We still need a forth," Draco said as he deftly caught the broom tossed to him.
"Well, Harry's here," Ron motioned towards the willow tree where he'd last seen the distracted Gryffindor.
"Hey Harry!" Ron called.
Harry, however, was too busy being handfed by Hermione to answer. He was lying with his head on her lap, twirling a strand of her long loose hair between his fingers as she popped a grape into his mouth. Harry gazed fondly at her as she traced his features with her fingertips, nuzzling her hand as she stroked his cheek.
"Git," Draco muttered.
"Draco," Lav shook her head. "It's adorable."
Draco gave a sly smile. "Don't know if he'd think it's "adorable" if he knew we were watching. Hey, Loon," he called to Luna, "how about a little Q&A?"
"Sure Draco," Luna said, carefully setting aside her newspaper and rising to join them. She glided over to where they were gathered and easily caught the broom Draco threw to her.
"Think it's safe to leave them alone?" Ron asked, motioning back towards the happy couple as they followed the trail to the field.
Draco arched an eyebrow. "Yeah you're right. Wouldn't want them humping like rabbits in some carriage house. We'll leave that to those other Gryffindors we know and love."
"Hey!" Lav cried. "There was no humping."
"Oh. Really?" Draco said skeptically. "What do you call it then?"
"I…nothing," she said, motioning for Ron to defend her.
"Nothing huh? That must make for some mixed signals." Draco patted Ron on the back.
"Tell me about it…" Ron said sadly before Lav punched him on the arm.
…
"I think we frightened them off." Hermione laughed as she watched the rest of their group head towards the Quidditch pitch. She turned to Harry with an indulgent smile. "You don't have to stay here, you know. You are occasionally allowed to play a non-life-threatening game of Quidditch."
"Nah," he said as he kissed her palm. "I'm like having you to myself. Means I don't have to mind my hands."
She leaned down and playfully nipped at his lips. "Like you do anyways."
He groaned and reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And that Hermione, is exactly why I never take you anywhere."
"Oh really?" She said with a grin. "And here I thought it was because I scared off all your adoring groupies."
"What?" He asked with a wounded expression. "Are you saying you're (gulp) not an adoring groupie?" He pouted a bit and frowned. "Well that's gratitude for you."
"Of course I'm grateful Harry." She patted his cheek "But honestly, I know you. You're much too disappointing to admire from afar."
"Then, I guess it's good thing you're allowed to admire me from not so far then." He paused and reached into his pocket.
"Guess so." She nodded as she began tracing lazy designs on his collar.
"Thank you," he said.
"My pleasure," she said with a mischievous glint.
"No. I mean…I'm sorry. Wait." He brushed away her hands and shook his head.
"Sorry," he apologized again as he sat up, "I mean, I just remembered, I wanted to thank you. For this," he added.
She looked down at his lunch and then back at him, puzzled.
"No. Not for the food. Well, yes the food, but no…I mean for these last weeks," he went on haltingly. "Er, years. Or decade really." He gave a self-depreciating laugh. "Covers a lot of ground, I know…
But I…I want to thank you for the way you've let me…let me care about you and…" he awkwardly reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder. You're blowing it Potter…
"Harry, you don't need to thank me," she said, offering a shy smile as she sat up.
"See, that's the thing." He got to his knees and took her hand. "You don't want a 'thank you.' And now I'm finally saying it, sort of, and you think I'm uncomfortable and so you're even trying to spare me that. Because you never really want anything. You just want me to go on and be happy and such even if you're not here, and I can't do that."
"Can't do what?" She asked, now a little dizzy from trying to follow his halting speech and a little light-headed by what she thought he was (maybe almost perhaps) trying to say.
"Be happy if you're not here," he answered firmly.
"Harry," she insisted. "I'll always be here."
"No. You won't."
"I won't…?" She echoed.
"No. Not really. Not like I want you to be."
"How do you want me to be?"
"Just here. With me." Harry shifted closer to her and reached into his pocket.
"With you…?" She whispered.
"Just…with me."
Hermione glanced at his kneeling position, his earnest face, and the small ring box that had…dear lord…just appeared in his hand.
"Harry," she said fighting back tears. "Harry Potter if those are Quidditch tickets I'm going to kill you."
He smiled and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "If they were Quidditch tickets, do you think I'd be giving them to you?"
-------
So now we leave our happily Harmonious couple to their own ends, and let our own little story do likewise.
No doubt Harry'd tell her about Puck's Potion someday. Before the summer was over in fact, when the days turned cold and she (in theory) couldn't run as fast. Even though his 'she's going to kill me' idea remained just that, an idea, he liked to imagine she'd hate him just a tad for trying to keep her at arms length. It'd justify his own short-lived self-hatred at any rate.
But in the end, Hermione just laughed away his stammering Puck's Potion confession. Being the cleverest witch of her age, she understood that it was just a handful of restless nights when his fear and her own frustration made for unpleasant bedfellows. A handful of nights that started a lifetime of days that would end in their bringing a little light to the darkness of the gathering evenings.
And so, this Sleepwalker's Saga ends with much happiness and goodwill. Hopefully, we've all learned a valuable lesson about needless spells, shoe throwing, and something of the other hundred million miracles that make life worth living.
The End.