Chapter 13
Admitting
It's half past eleven. I've been at work for three hours, twelve minutes, and...twenty-three seconds. I've re-alphabetized my address book, assorted the pens in my top drawer by ink color, purpose, and brand, and have assembled possibly the world's longest paper clip chain, which, at the moment, consists of exactly nine hundred and fifty-six of the metal wonders. I have not, however, started to do anything that may be the slightest bit productive, and it's all because of what is sitting at the far left corner of my desk - a white napkin covered in muffin crumbs.
I finished the muffin when I fled the house within five minutes after I got to the office. The remnants of said muffin are now taunting me from next to my day-by-day calendar. If I close my eyes, I can still taste the gooey white-chocolate chips and soft cranberries...
Only the good Lord knows the lengths I would go to for another one. Just one; even half of one would suffice.
I suppose I could just Floo Harry and ask him to owl me the leftovers...
I look to my window, and find myself heavily irritated to find that it is mimicking the rainy day about three stories above. Well, that plan crashed and burned. There's nothing worse than soggy muffins.
He could always bring them over himself, couldn't he?
Nope. That wouldn't work either. It would completely ruin the whole Ignoring Harry thing I have going. He's on call, anyway. He may have been dispatched to the hospital for something, so he may not even be at home. Which means that the muffins are just sitting there in the kitchen, alone and unprotected...
Maybe I could sneak back to the house and get one...
Another futile idea. Apparating or traveling by Floo inside of my office would make the security charms on and around it go haywire. No need to make a spectacle, and passing my secretary to get to the Apparation Center is out of the question. I've already been in and out of my office four times to get more paper clips from the storage room. Last time, she told me that if I go back out there, she'll have me committed.
Perhaps Ron can bring them...what day is it...?
Oh yes, Monday. Ron's day to have the sport's section first. Also the National Quidditch League's "Recruiting Day" for the England national team; meaning that Ron will be out drinking until the wee hours of the morning, unless, of course, he gets picked for the national team. Upon selection, the players for the England team are required to undergo a sobriety charm, which automatically alerts League officials to alcohol consumption. If even a trace is found in their blood, the team member is immediately expelled and replaced. So, really, there's no point in disturbing him.
Which leaves me sitting in the middle of a mile-long rope of paperclips with a perfectly organized pen collection, an immaculately alphabetized address book, and no muffins.
I sigh in exasperation and slide another paper clip onto my chain.
Nine hundred and fifty-seven.
This is ridiculous, really. I mean, if I want another muffin badly enough, I should shelve my pride and ask Harry to bring them over.
Nine hundred and fifty-eight.
Budge up, girl! Where's that old Gryffindor courage?
Nine hundred and fifty-nine.
C'mon! It's just Harry...
Nine hundred and-
My hand hesitates.
That's it; just good old Harry. You know, the one whose bones you almost jumped this morning.
-sixty.
Ugh. This is getting me nowhere fast. Just pop your head in for just a moment, tell him to bring the muffins, and leave it at that.
With steeled resolve, I push away my clip creation and stride to my fireplace, where I toss a handful of greenish-blue powder into the flames and state clearly, "Harry's flat."
I lean my head into the flames, and Harry's common room comes into stark focus. There he is, sleeping on the couch. Typical male. It's his one day off, and he's snoozing it away.
"Harry!"
He groans at the sudden noise and shifts on the couch so that his back is to me. He's still wearing those blasted jeans.
"HARRY!"
In an instant, he's up and alert with his wand drawn. I guess old habits die hard.
"Hermes?"
"Yeah. Listen, do you have any of those muffins left?"
He tilts his head a bit in thought.
"I think so. Unless Ron took some before he-"
"GREAT! Look, I'm in a bit of a pinch and can't waste any time outside of the office, so could you bring the rest of them to me?" I spit out so rapidly that I'm surprised he absorbed any of it.
"I guess I can. Hey, are you alri-"
"Thanks! Bye!" I reply, promptly jerking my head from the fire and cutting the connection.
"Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter is here to see you," Malia's voice rings over the magical speaker as I lower myself back into my chair.
Wow. If only pizza delivery was this fast.
"Send him in, Malia," I answer, trying to look as if I'm busy doing important paperwork instead of hoping I have enough paper clips to make it to one thousand.
The customary blue light shines from under my door, and I hear Harry hiss in pain as the laser sensor reads his fingerprints. Within seconds, my door is flung open and Harry is standing in the middle of my office, looking a bit disheveled in untied trainers, a rumpled smoke gray t-shirt, and those stupid blue jeans.
"What's wrong?"
The question startles me.
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me, Hermione."
"I'm not lying to you."
"Yes you are. Something's up and it's got you all out of whack."
I scoff at this very accurate accusation.
"Quit trying to psychoanalyze me, Harry. Nothing is wrong. I`m just very busy at the moment."
For a moment, he holds my gaze, and just as I open my mouth to speak again, I feel an almost imperceptible shift in my mind. Like a random jumble of thoughts that morphs into a soft...presence.
"Stop it," I growl, trying my best to block my mind to his Legimency. "You know I hate it when you do that."
The foreign feeling in my mind increases, and the beginnings of memories skim through my consciousness, as if someone is riffling through a filing cabinet.
"I said STOP!" I shout, pushing with all the power I can manage. I feel the presence recede, but for some reason, the feeling doesn't stop there. It's as if my thoughts are carried with it back to its host, and suddenly, I'm seeing flashes of Harry's memories instead of mine.
Harry showing us the deed to the house.
Ron's elated face when he was accepted to the Cannon's.
A pair of gloved and bloody hands pulling a sheet over someone's head.
I will my mind to slow down, and the memories seem to last a few seconds longer.
Allie and I sitting under the Christmas tree, her eyes lighting up with glee at the golden, winged ball that Harry had gotten her hovering just above her head.
"It's like magic, isn't it, Doc?"
Harry smiling back, "Yeah. It is."
It switches again.
Harry and my mum chopping vegetables for dinner, laughing at something or another.
"Thank heavens you can cook, Harry. My little girl may be brilliant, but she's incompetent in the kitchen! It's good to know that you're there to save her."
Harry chuckles, "Always, Mrs. Granger. Always."
And again.
Ron saying earnestly, "It's Hermione, mate. Face it. If she's so blind that she hasn't caught on by now, she's not going to. At least not with a little help-"
"Help? I've been dropping hints for the past four years, Ron! What will it take, huh? Me waltzing up to her and telling her that I-"
"ENOUGH!" Harry bellows, and I feel myself being violently pushed from his thoughts.
But his words are still echoing in my mind.
I've been dropping hints for the past four years...
My head starts to spin and I take a few deep breaths to steady myself.
What will it take, huh?
"What is it that I haven't caught on to?" I ask, my words coming out dangerously quiet and slow.
"It's nothing important," Harry replies in the same tone, his face turned away from me.
"Not important?" I question, rising from my chair and rounding my desk to stand behind him, "If it's something big enough to keep from me, I'd think it was something very important."
My comment is met with silence, and I can't help that my next words come out snidely.
"What are you going to have to `waltz up to me' and tell me, Harry? Because obviously I`ve been `so blind' that I haven't noticed it before."
He turns, his shoulders and demeanor sagging. He almost looks...defeated. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but sighs, as if he's at a loss for words. This action sends my brain into automatic overdrive.
Oh my God. He's about to tell me something horrible, like Voldemort has somehow come back. Or he's got some sort of terminal disease. Or that he's been leading a double life as a Swedish trapeze artist named Sven Googlheim. Or something equally disturbing.
His hand reaches out to slide against my jaw as he closes the distance between us. The amount of heat I can feel just through this small amount of contact is unbelievable, though it holds no comparison to my previous experiences. He leans down so that his lips just barely brush against mine as he breathes out,
"I love you."
Whoa. Love? As in something not platonic? Like I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-forever-with-you kind of love?
His hands run down my arms to clasp mine. The heat he generated into me dulls, probably because my blood seems to have run cold. What am I supposed to do? To say?
His lips capture mine in a kiss I don't return, regardless of my body's insistence that I do. Instead, I pull my hands away from his and lay them on his chest, pushing him back.
"Harry, I...I don't think that we should...I mean, this is a bit sudden," I stumble.
"Sudden! Hermione, I`ve lov-"
"Don't, please," I choke out, "Don't say it again."
I only let my eyes rest on his face for a second, but it's long enough for me to register the crestfallen expression on it before he throws up an emotional wall, making it impossible to read him. He turns on his heel, facing me just as he gets to the door and snarls,
"You can get your own damn muffins."
A/N:::: Ah!! There it is, a bit longer than I expected (though I'm sure you all don't mind!). Thanks a million to Mabel, my terrific beta. This chapter was positively RIDDLED with grammar mistakes, so thanks for having my back! Thanks also go to my regular reviewers (I luv you guys!) and to my bestest chica, Kate, who helped my come up with the whole muffin idea for this chapter! Read and review, my peoples!!! I'm hoping to break 500!!!
Much love,
Mandy
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