Thinking Too Much

kyc639

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 13/04/2006
Last Updated: 13/04/2006
Status: completed

Many stories have been written about Hermione's insecurities about being good enough for Harry...in this story, Harry realizes that perhaps he's not good enough for her. One-shot.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

Author’s Note: My biggest and most heartfelt apologies for effectively disappearing from the face of fandom for…oh my, has it really been that long? My excuses are work (lots of year-end responsibilities), a three-week vacation overseas (from which I’m still jetlagged), and just a little lack of inspiration caused by HBP.

I hope to eventually get back to the open stories, but perhaps you’ll take this in the meantime. This little one-shot takes place post-Hogwarts, the now-grown kids are in stereotypical jobs (Harry’s an auror, Ron’s a Quidditch player, and Hermione’s a brilliant researcher or healer or something), and Ron and Hermione never dated because I said so.

I’ve read many a story (and likely written one or two) that focus on Hermione’s insecurities about being good enough for Harry. Time to turn the tables…

Too Much Thinking

I’ve never been one for parties, and it doesn’t take long to figure out why. When I was little, I was rarely ever invited to them after the Dursley’s warned the other parents that I could become irrationally violent or lose control of my bowel functions at any moment. And the times I had been invited to a party, it was only because my cousin wanted to boost his popularity by beating on me while everyone watched.

Parties at Hogwarts were better, though only marginally so. The only formal party we had was the Yule Ball, and the best part about the Yule Ball was that it ended. Of course, we had House parties after Quidditch wins but, oddly enough, I always seemed to be recovering from an injury during those. Besides, it wasn’t like those were real parties – it was me and my housemates having fun.

There were, of course, many, many, many parties thrown after Voldemort’s defeat, and seeing as how I saved the world and all, I was obligated to go to many of them. These are what I consider “real” parties: me, very few people I actually know, and dozens of complete strangers telling me how great I am.

Now, while most people would no doubt love to hear how great they are, praise always makes me feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s because of those parties I had with Dudley:

Dudley: “Hey Harry?”

Me: “Yeah Dudley?”

Dudley: “Have I ever told you how great you are?”

Me: “No…”

Dudley: “Well, you are great…as a punching bag!” WHOMP!

Which might explain the instinctive flinching that happens whenever someone tells me how great I am.

Besides, I can’t help wonder where all these admirers were when the Daily Prophet was raking me across the coals. So, I think it’s understandable why I was never a huge partier. My two best friends seemed to accept that about me and were quite supportive. Although sometimes Ron would drag me to parties so he could choose amongst my leftovers (which, since I never…um…ate anything, consisted of a pretty large buffet), I could always count on Hermione to be sensitive towards my feelings.

Which is probably why I so easily fell into Hermione’s cunning trap and now found myself at what possibly is the most boring party in all of wizarding history. In fact, the word “party” is so inappropriate to describe this gathering, I’ve actually considered arresting the hosts for fraud.

Hermione was, typically, very clever about it. She first made sure that Ron and I had nothing planned for the night. She invited us out for dinner, and then pulled the old switcheroo at the end. We protested valiantly, but to no avail as she easily guilted us into submission, reminding us how we wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for her (specifically me) or would still be struggling to understand the difference between a Banishing spell and a Vanishing spell (specifically Ron).

At least there was no pretense of fun. This was a gathering of her work friends – which meant healers, researchers, and all the other wild and crazy people who work in the hallowed halls of St. Mungo’s. When I heard who would be there, I was a little afraid that someone would have a little too much alcohol, and huge fight would break out over the advantages and disadvantages of fluxweed over knotgrass in assessing the residual amounts of aconite remaining after an application of scurvy-grass to a patient suffering from the dreaded lurgy. I could only imagine the carnage! (And no, I have no idea what any of that meant.)

So there I stood, a drink in one hand and my best mate by my side. Interestingly enough, even though the place was as dull as a Deathday party, I was actually fairly busy making sure that Ron behaved himself.

“I’m sooooo bored,” Ron complained.

“M-hmm,” I said absently, having heard this complaint uttered at least one ka-jillion times before.

Seeing that he’d get no sympathy from me, Ron said, “Yeah, so…I’ll be right back,” and started edging towards the punch bowl.

“Um, no,” I said, reaching out one arm to grab him by the collar.

“What? Why not? I just want to get drink!”

I shook my head. “And why exactly do you need a canister of Fred & George’s Parrot Powder to get a drink?” I asked, nodding towards the unopened can he held clenched in one hand.

“Erm, well,” he stammered, blushing slightly as he tried to come up with an explanation. Obviously failing to come up with something convincing, he grew defensive. “It’s not like it’s permanent!” he grumbled. “And besides, this party is absolutely dead! It needs a few people turning into birds!”

While in good conscience I couldn’t argue with that – a bunch of blabbing eggheads turning into parrots had a sort of poetic justice – I shook my head again. “Ron, you can’t do anything to-”

“-embarrass Hermione, I know,” he finished for me. “But it’s so boring! I can’t even pick up any witches - I don’t think anyone here has even heard of Quidditch, much less would know who I am!”

I chuckled at Ron’s indignant pose, as he was obviously scandalized by the fact that he couldn’t use his fame as the Kestrels’ starting Keeper to score a few points with the witches. “Easy there, Gilderoy. I’m sure you can do with one day of rest.”

“C’mon Harry, let’s get out of here,” Ron pleaded.

“We can’t leave, Ron. We just got here.”

“We’ve been here for almost three hours, Harry! I think that’s long enough.”

“Ron,” I said slowly, “it’s only be 40 minutes.”

“What?!?!” he screeched, causing a few people to look at him curiously.

“Shh!” I hissed. “Keep your voice down!”

“Only 40 minutes?!” he said in a shouting whisper, throwing his arms up in the air. “Gah! Merlin save us!”

“Ron, it’s not that bad…it’s actually quite fun,” I said, only slightly gagging as I finished the sentence.

“Right, fun,” Ron replied, snorting. “About as fun as listening to my dad tell me about the birds and the bees.” We both shivered uncontrollably. “Besides,” Ron continued resentfully, “it’s not like she’d miss us if we left. See?”

I looked over to where Hermione stood and once again, I couldn’t disagree with Ron. She was talking animatedly at the moment, a literal crowd of people hanging on to her every word. If I didn’t know any better, it looked as if she were telling the most interesting story ever known. Of course, I did know better, so she was probably talking about Abyssinian shrivelfig or something equally compelling.

I frowned slightly, though I wasn’t sure why. There was something that bothered me, but I couldn’t place it. Then there was a sudden eruption of laughter from the crowd, with Hermione smiling merrily in the middle of all the fun.

“Pfft,” Ron said disgustingly. “You can’t tell me that something not wrong here.”

“You can feel it too?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Yeah! There’s Hermione, in the middle of the crowd and having fun while we’re off to the side like a bunch of wallflowers! This never happens!”

“Except for the Yule Ball,” I pointed out.

He gave me a sideways look and sighed. “Why must you always bring that up?”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, let’s get out of here,” Ron repeated, tugging at my elbow.

I relented. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I was suddenly uncomfortable at the moment and wanted to leave too. “All right, fine. But we have to tell Hermione first.”

“Good luck getting to her, mate.”

Ron was right - there was no way I could fight through that crowd without resorting to a few banishing spells, which I’m sure Hermione wouldn’t appreciate despite the obvious humor involved. I looked around and spotted two young-looking witches staring at Hermione with the same kind of adoration that I was used to receiving. “Come on,” I said to Ron, leading him over to the two witches.

Ron perked up when he saw where we were heading. “Oh! Good thinking! Maybe we can salvage something from this party after all.”

“We’re not going to try and pick them up – we’re just going to ask them if they could let Hermione know that we’ve left.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ron said, eagerly rubbing the palms of his hands together.

Finally we got next to them. “Excuse me?” I said, startling them a bit. “I was wondering-”

“-great party, huh? So how are you girls doing tonight?” Ron interrupted smoothly, handing them each a drink that he somehow managed to procure sometime during the past two seconds.

“Um…good?” one of the witches, the blonde one, said a bit hesitantly as they took the offered drinks.

“Great! My name’s Ron. Ron Weasley…”

The shorter, brunette witch smiled. “I’m Hope, and this is Samantha.”

Ron nodded. “Right, right…anyway, that’s Weasley – Ron Weasley,” he said, smiling expectantly.

The witches traded slightly confused looks. “Okay…”

“You know…Weasley?”

“Um…sorry?” asked Hope.

“Ron Weasley? You don’t recognize the name?”

Hope and Samantha traded looks again – the looks that clearly told me that they thought they were dealing with a lunatic, which of course they were. “I’m sorry, should we have?” asked Hope in the calm tones that one uses to speak with a small child on the verge of a tantrum.

“Kenmare Kestrals? I play Keeper?” Ron said, his frustration escalating as the two witches just gave him blank stares. “Quidditch?! For Merlin’s sake, it’s only the most popular sport in the world!”

“Oh sure! Quidditch!” said the blond witch – Samantha. “That’s the game where everyone flies around until someone catches the Stitch, right?”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Hope, turning to her friend. “Remember when Justin explained it to us? Kind of silly really, to have all those players and none them matter because the Stitch -”

“ARGH!” cried Ron, and we all took an involuntary step backwards. “First, it’s called the Snitch, not the Stitch! And second, it’s not just the Seeker that matters! The Keeper is pretty damn important too!” And with that glorious display, Ron stormed off.

The three of us watched as he tromped away. “You’re friend is a bit high-strung,” observed Samantha.

“Yes, he is,” I agreed as I nodded sadly. “So…I’m Harry,” I said, introducing myself. “And we were wondering if you could do us a favor.”

Samantha looked skeptical. “A favor?”

“You see that witch over there?” I asked, pointing at Hermione.

“Dr. Granger? Of course we know Dr. Granger! She perfected the Golpalott algorithm!”

“Er, right. Exactly.” I, of course, knew that she did something really impressive with the Golpalott thingie, but I couldn’t for the life of me explain what exactly she did. Honestly, I did try to understand when she told me about it, but she started talking and then the words got bigger and stranger-sounding and there was an important Quidditch match on the wireless…anyway, we did go out and celebrate her accomplishment, whatever it was. “We would really appreciate it if you could tell her that her friends Harry and Ron left.”

Hope’s eyebrows sprang up. “You – you know Dr. Granger?” she asked, a bit of awe in her voice.

“Of course we know Hermione,” Ron said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and causing me to yelp quietly. “We’re her very best friends in the whole world. We went to Hogwarts together,” he added, as he put his arm around Hope.

“Really?” Samantha asked. “What was she like?”

“Omigod! You’re so lucky! Is she really as nice as everyone says?” gushed Hope.

Ron was back on solid ground as he extolled the virtues of Hermione, explaining how he personally helped Hermione with her homework and study for tests. But when he started telling them about the time Hermione begged him for help with an Arithmancy problem, I’d had enough.

“So,” I said loudly, interrupting Ron. “Do you think you can you tell her for us?”

Hope smiled excitedly, clearly happy to have a reason to talk to Hermione. “Of course! That’s Harry,” – she pointed at me, and then she looked at Ron - “and your name was…?”

“Ron!” Samantha said quickly, interrupting her friend in a near panic. “Ron Weasley, of course we remember your name,” she said in a soothing voice, throwing Hope a pointed look. “You’re the keeper for the Thestrals.”

“KESTRALS!”

“Whatever.”

I stifled my grin. “And I’m…” - I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it; the words came out before I could stop them - “…Harry Potter.”

It took a second for realization to dawn. The scar had faded somewhat now that it wasn’t an active link to Voldemort, and the new glasses also helped to obscure my identity, but soon enough it sunk in.

“Oh my God!” Hope said.

“You’re Harry Potter. The Harry Potter!” Samantha squealed.

“ARGH!” Ron cried, and then stomped off again while I grinned.

“I’d love to stay and chat,” I said, “but I’m afraid my friend is having another one of his episodes.”

They nodded sympathetically and helpfully suggested different potions and medications that he might try. I said goodbye and found Ron waiting for me by the door.

We stared at each other for a moment before he remarked, “You’re a right bastard, you know that?”

I laughed as we left the building.

*********

“Merlin, this has been an awful night,” Ron observed as the speared a potato with his fork. We were sitting in one of the booths in the Leaky Cauldron, eating a late dinner.

“You know, we could’ve stayed at that last club if you wanted,” I said innocently. “I’m sure you’d be having a great time right now.”

“Um, no. I didn’t like it there. It was too…crowded.”

“Oh right, crowded. Are you sure it wasn’t because Lavender Brown’s throwing a party there?”

“Oh, was Lavender there? I hadn’t noticed,” Ron tried to say in a normal voice. He was getting better at it, but the pinkness at the tips of his ears gave him away.

“For the love of - it’s been seven years! I think she’s over it by now.”

Ron shook his head fearfully. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But you can never know with witches. I mean, she didn’t even invite us!”

I coughed softly, deciding not to mention that Hermione and I got our invitations a few weeks ago. Instead, I shook my head in disgust. “We can’t go to half of the bars and restaurants in Diagon Alley because you’re too afraid of talking to your ex-girlfriends.”

“That’s a complete and utter lie,” Ron said. “There are only four places we can’t go to.”

“Right, and there’s only eight places altogether,” I pointed out.

“Is that so? Hmm…interesting. So, how’s your pot roast?”

I grinned. “Nice change of subject. The pot roast is good, thank you for asking.” We ate in silence for a moment, which gave my mind the opportunity to think about the party tonight and my feelings of discomfort. “Hey Ron, you remember at the party tonight-”

“Stop! I’m trying to repress those memories, if you don’t mind.”

I chuckled. “Seriously, did you notice how Hermione seemed so at ease there?”

Ron shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

“Well, did you ever wonder…” I trailed off, debating whether or not I should even bring this up with Ron – no need to plant thoughts into his head, though there was plenty of room for them – but I really wanted to talk about it. “Did you ever wonder if she really belongs with people like that, rather than with people like us?”

I knew I must’ve sounded like an idiot after hearing the question come out of my own mouth, so I tried to think of another way to ask the question. Turns out I didn’t have to.

“Oh sure,” Ron said as he took another bite of his dinner. “All the time.”

To say I was shocked would be an understatement. “What?!”

He looked at me. “What what? You never thought about it?”

I shook my head.

He rolled his eyes. “Jeez Harry, it’s kinda obvious. She’s much too smart to be hanging out with the likes of us, you know. Sometimes I fear she’s getting dumber just by being near us.”

I sat there, my mouth open in shock. “I can’t believe…why didn’t you say anything before?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, I thought it was obvious. I mean, look at the pair of us. What were we doing seven years ago? You were fighting evil, and I was playing Quidditch. What are we doing today? You’re fighting evil, and I’m playing Quidditch. What will be doing seven years from now? You’ll be fighting evil, and I’ll be playing Quidditch, right?”

“Probably.”

“Right. So look at Hermione. Since leaving Hogwarts, she’s gone on to bigger and better things, like that Golpet thing.”

“Golpalott,” I said absently.

“Exactly! You know, when she tried to explain the Gulplet-”

“-Golpalott.”

“-whatever, I pretty much stopped listening and just nodded in the right places. She should probably be hanging out with people who can actually understand more than half of the things she says. And she’s so smart that in seven years, she’ll probably have invented or discovered a ton more things that neither of us will understand.”

“Oh.” I leaned back, trying to process this new revelation while Ron continued eating. “And this doesn’t bother you?”

He looked up. “Does what bother me?”

“Are you kidding? What have been talking about?” He looked blank. “Hermione!”

“Oh! That!”

“Yes that! Doesn’t it bother you?”

He shrugged. “Eh.”

“Eh?”

“Eh.”

I was getting frustrated. “What does ‘eh’ mean?”

“Well, I figure it’s one of two ways. Either she really likes to spend time with us – must be hard talking about smart things all the time – or she feels sorry for us and sooner or later she’ll chuck us.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?!”

“Of course it bothers me, but what am I going to do? Get smarter? We both know that isn’t going to work.” He looked at me closely. “Look, Harry, I’ve had quite a bit of time to think about this. I’ve come to terms with it.”

“Well I haven’t!” I said, somewhat grumpily. I sat back with my arms crossed in front of me as dozens of thoughts swirled in mind. Did she really feel sorry for us? Did she just like us because she didn’t have to be smart around us? I couldn’t help remember how she looked at the party, so relaxed and at the center of attention. At Hogwarts, much as I hate to say it, if Ron or I weren’t there, she was usually an outsider in normal social situations. But in her world of healers and researchers, she was the most popular kid in school.

Ron was right, Hermione’s got a bright future in front of her, and the two of us…well, we’re treading water - me especially. I’ve pretty much hit the pinnacle of my accomplishments when I defeated Voldemort at age seventeen. It all goes downhill from there; arresting magical counterfeiters just doesn’t have the same glamour as saving the world from a dark menace.

Then a disturbing thought entered my mind: what if we were actually holding her back? Maybe if she’d spent all of her time around brainiacs, she’d have made even more discoveries by now. We’ve been friends since we were eleven, but maybe she’s outgrown us…

“Hey mate, you done thinking yet?”

“No,” I said irritably. “But what’s up?”

“Well, I was thinking…want to go to the new coffee shop down the street?”

“The coffee shop? Since when do you like coffee?” I was a little surprised; this time of night, Ron’s usual beverage of choice is a bit stronger. But then I remembered something, which brought a smile to my lips.

“Well,” he said, “I thought it’d be nice to change things up once and a while.”

“Of course, of course,” I said. “You just want a change of pace.”

“Yes.”

“Try something new.”

“Exactly.”

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that Luna’s father owns the store, and she’ll probably be there tonight?”

“Oh, really?” he asked, looking mildly interested. “Her dad owns that coffee shop?”

“You mean the one next door to the Quibbler office that’s called Coffee to Quibble Over? Yes, he owns that coffee store.”

“Oh, well, that’s news to me.”

He almost looked genuine, but his ears would always give him away. “You go ahead. I think I’m done for the night.”

“C’mon Harry, it’ll be fun.”

I shook my head. “I’m exhausted from that party. You go have fun.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later.” After he left, the waitress came and cleared his empty plates. I stared at my half-eaten dinner, but couldn’t muster the appetite to finish it. I leaned back and closed my eyes, thinking about Hermione.

“Ah ha! Found you! Though you could escape, eh?”

My eyes flew open, and I was startled to see Hermione sitting down across from me. For a moment, I briefly wondered if I had done accidental magic and summoned her or something. “What are you doing here?” I stammered.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You ditched me!” she accused.

“I didn’t ditch you,” I protested automatically.

“Oh really? And what would you call it?”

“Erm…”

“You. Ditched. Me.”

“Sorry,” I said apologetically.

Hermione glared at me for a second before she broke into a smile. “That’s okay. I would have ditched too. It must’ve been terribly boring for you.” She reached over and grabbed a chip from my plate.

What normally would have been an innocent comment now had all kinds of dark and foreboding undertones – was she just being understanding, or was she implying that Ron and I weren’t intelligent enough to participate in conversation and thus have fun? My worries must’ve shown on my face, as Hermione asked in-between bites, “Harry? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little tired.” I tried to smile. “So, how’d you know I’d be here?” I added quickly, hoping to change the subject away from me.

She waved her wand and summoned a menu from the stack on the bar. As she perused the contents, she said, “I first checked the Eagles’ Den – which I maintain is the most idiotic name ever fashioned! You’d think a Ravenclaw would have more sense – but I saw Lavender, so I knew Ron wouldn’t be caught dead there. And knowing how Ron won’t go to any of the other bars nearby, I came here.”

I nodded absently, still preoccupied with the idea of Hermione leaving me and Ron behind. Fortunately the waitress came by at that point, or else surely Hermione would’ve noticed my lack of response. Hermione gave her order with an accompanying, “I’m famished,” and then smiled brightly at me.

I casted about for a topic of conversation. “So…uh…did you have fun at the party?”

“Well…”

And she went on and on. I wasn’t really paying attention, and instead focused on how enthusiastic she was as she talked about this or that. It began to depress me a little, as she rarely gets so animated when she talks (unless she’s angry), and it reinforced the idea that she didn’t really belong with me and Ron. She was brilliant and had a bright future ahead of her…Ron and I didn’t have anything more to offer her.

Now I was definitely depressed by the idea, and my old “people-saving thing” kicked in. It was time again for me to be noble and self-sacrificing and all that crap – I had to let Hermione go. She was probably only with us out of habit, or some sense of obligation, but she belonged not to us, but to the greater good. Hermione had entered our lives for but a brief moment, and we are the better for it, but we cannot keep her to ourselves as much as we would like it so. Hermione had spent over ten years making my life better; it was time for her to make the rest of the world better.

Generally when I got all noble, I also got rather melodramatic and somewhat poetic as well. It’s a hard habit to break.

So, as she talked, I took a deep breath to prepare myself for what would be the hardest conversation of my life – the ending of our friendship.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!” I blurted, instantly horrified.

The entire room went silent as my face turned the color of Ron’s hair.

“What?” Hermione asked, utterly confused.

“Erm…nothing. What were you saying again?”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. What was that all about? Why would I leave you?”

I sighed heavily. With a heavy heart, I explained everything that I had been thinking about since I left the party. I told her what Ron said and how I agree with him, how she’d be better off without us. I told her that while she probably felt some sort of obligation to stay friends with us, Ron and I knew we were weighing her down. I spoke non-stop for quite some while as Hermione listened silently, and I could tell that she was thinking deeply about what I was saying. I had no doubt that she would agree.

“So,” she said, once I had finished. “That’s what you and Ron think?”

I nodded, my chin falling to my chest.

“You know, Harry, this is the exact reason why I do the thinking around here – you’re too damn noble for your own good, and Ron’s just an idiot.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Honestly Harry, did you hear a word of what I said about the party?”

“Sure,” I said, since I had indeed heard a word or two – just not complete sentences.

She gave me a dubious look. “Right,” she said, clearly not believing. “Well, if you had listened, you would have heard me say how completely bored I was, and that I was glad when you left since it gave me an excuse to leave as well.”

I frowned. “What? But…but…everyone loves you there!”

She shook her head. “I know some people like to talk about their work all the time, but I’m not one of them. Take you, for example: do you talk about your cases when you get home?”

“Well…no.”

“And why not?”

“Well, I guess because I get enough of work while I’m at work, so when I’m not working I’d rather talk about more interesting and relaxing things.”

“Exactly!” she said. “Harry, if I didn’t have you and Ron to talk with, I’d go out of my mind with boredom! Incidentally, it’s all your fault!”

“My fault?”

“If we weren’t friends, and if I never went off with you on one escapade after another, I’m sure I’d love talking about work all day long. But I can’t do it; I need some excitement in my life - I need you in my life. Do you understand?”

“Yeah…I guess.”

“Good. Harry, I’d never leave you. Honestly, the very idea that I’d ever... you think too much!” she said with mock sternness, wagging a finger in my face.

She stood up and motioned for me to do the same. Once I did, she gave me a bone-crushing hug, and I couldn’t help but smile as relief flooded through me. In fact, I was so relieved and happy that I felt a little light-headed, which was probably a contributing factor to what happened next.

We pulled apart and she looked at me, a huge smile on her face. I smiled happily back, and without a single thought in my head, I kissed her on the lips.

As soon as rational thought returned, I pulled away immediately, aghast at my actions. She had a very puzzled look on her face. I was too afraid to say anything, and after a moment she cleared her throat. “Um…why…why did you do that?” she asked.

I started shaking my head, my voice panicky. “I-I-I don’t know! We were hugging and I was happy and it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time!”

“Okay,” she said, and then sat down. I immediately took my seat, scared stiff about what would happen next. I could tell she was deep in thought. “Harry?” she said finally. “Do you…do you think I’m pretty?”

I straightened, clearly not expecting her to ask me that. “Of course,” I said immediately.

“Are you – have you ever been attracted to me?”

I paused a moment, since this was a very different question. To me, there’s a big difference between thinking someone is pretty and being attracted to that person – from pictures, I think my mom was pretty, but I’m certainly not attracted to her. I sensed my answer would impact our relationship permanently, and since I didn’t know what the right answer was, I figured I had to be honest. “Yes,” I said, and then waited.

“How about – how about right now?”

My face burned because I did indeed find Hermione incredibly attractive. At Hogwarts I always though her to be a pretty witch, and I knew she could look even better if she wanted to (as the Yule Ball had proven). In the post-Voldemort, post-school world, she’d gained a certain degree of…carefree-ness that comes with not having to worry about a madman killing you or your best friends. She smiles more, laughs more, but is still the same witch that I considered my best friend for seven years. Without a doubt I was attracted to her. I had to clear my throat a few times, but eventually I managed to say, “Yes, even right now.”

Hermione just nodded slowly, eyes unfocused as she was still deep in thought. Then she shook her head quickly and looked at me. “Want to go Lavender’s party at the Eagle’s Den?”

Once again, something completely unexpected – did she not want to talk about the kiss? It took me a second to recover. “Lavender’s…? But Ron won’t go there, remember? Actually, he’s over at the Lovegood’s new coffee shop.”

She smiled as she stood up. “I never said anything about Ron. In fact, I chose the Eagles’ Den because Ron wouldn’t be there. So, would you like to go?”

“I guess…I mean…but…” I was very confused, not only from the sudden change in subject but also by her suggestion; we’ve never gone to a party when it’s just the two of us.

She reached to take my hand and pulled me to my feet. I started to say something, but she covered my mouth with her fingers. “Harry, what did I tell you before? You think too much.” She leaned forward and gently kissed me on the lips. While I stood there with my brain utterly paralyzed, she collected her purse and headed towards the exit. She stopped, looked over her shoulder at me, and asked, “Coming?”

My brain kicked into gear and I practically sprinted to catch up to her. I beat her to the door and held it open for her, smiling as she went through. She took my hand as we walked towards the Eagle’s Den, and for the first time in my life I was actually looking forward to going to a party.