Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Just this arrangement of words. Harry Potter, sadly, belongs to Ms. Rowling, the WB Corporate Juggernaut, and anyone else who has a slice of the proverbial pie.
There was something about this time of year that Harry loved. It wasn't so much the lingering heat of the Indian
summer they'd experienced, or the fact that they had a day off lessons for Hogsmeade (which, incidentally, suited
his fourth-period schedule of Potions perfectly), but it was the transition between seasons he liked. The gentle
browning of the leaves, the crispness of the mornings and the almost languid, warm afternoons.
He would have appreciated it a lot more, however, if he didn't feel as if he were condemned to some awful, unspeakable fate.
DEAD MAN WALKING ON THE MILE!
Yeah, something like that. He idly kicked a pebble out of his path before stuffing his hands into his pockets. They were nearing the village now, its clustered streets seeming more and more foreboding with every step he took towards them. His only comfort was the conclusion he'd drawn from the events of the last couple of days, through berating himself heavily for ever being talked into this fool's errand.
Ronald Weasley must die.
And die he would. Slowly. Somehow involving many sharp and rusty implements.
"You okay?" A voice came from beside him, snapping him out his funk as he followed its direction.
"Yeah," He smiled unreassuringly at his best friend, watching how the sun gently played across her face, the shadows of her slight frown highlighted by its soft car...
Stop it.
Harry sighed as another pebble met the toe of his shoe, skipping along the dusty road and into the grass that lined it.
"Sure?" She asked, placing a soothing hand on his back. He looked up at her again, giving her a warmer grin this time that belied the turmoil inside his mind.
Knives are too quick, maybe some sort of band saw.
"Yeah, just re-assessing my plans for today." He grumbled. Hermione threw an equally dark look towards the village that mirrored his.
"Tell me about it." She murmured, before turning back to him as they ambled slowly into the high street.
"What are you up to?" He asked, having not seen her since that fateful day on the Quidditch field. She seemed to have gotten over her earlier annoyance, and much to his delight, she'd left her book bag at home.
"Don't even ask." She replied shortly. "You?"
"Same." He grunted in reply.
A fork. A serrated fork. A spork! That'd do the trick.
They passed the rest of the distance to Sallusand's in companionable silence, looking at each other curiously as they both stopped outside.
"Well…" they started at the same time, before smiling and looking away. Harry could have sworn the faintest trace of a blush marked her cheeks as he did so.
Trick of the light. Now think. Some sort of chisel perhaps? That'd hurt.
"I have to…" She trailed off resignedly, glancing at the coffee shop with a look that Harry couldn't quite place.
"Yeah…" Harry replied, equally distantly. They both reached for the door handle at the same time, hands jerking back as they made contact.
"You're going here?!" They both nearly shrieked simultaneously, voices higher than they should have been.
Ron fucking Weasley, you are going down.
Harry sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose before resetting them.
"Yeah, Ron seems to have this idea that I need to unwind." He explained, chuckling slightly when Hermione snorted.
"Let me guess, blind date?" She asked distastefully, glancing further up the hill. They spied their friend making his way down, still a good quarter of a mile off, his shock of bright red hair reflecting the light on the hill.
"Got it in one." Harry grumbled. "And I've got a sneaking suspicion I know who it is." He finished this sentence with a glare towards the head of the street, where Ginny was making her way down, talking animatedly to Dean and Seamus, as well as a sixth-year Hufflepuff whose name he couldn't quite place.
"He wouldn't!" Hermione said in shock, obviously following his train of thought. Harry turned his head and gave her a lazy look.
"It's Ron." He said simply, Hermione harrumphing in response. A few moments passed, before Harry made a move to go towards the door.
"I guess we'd better…" He started, before she grabbed his hand, pulling him back towards her.
"No, we don't." She smiled wickedly. "Come on." Ignoring the (admittedly quiet) noises of protest Harry made, she dragged him towards the alleyway next door to the coffee shop, pulling him into it until they were obscured from view by the street. He became aware of the uncomfortably cramped nature of the gap almost immediately, what with Hermione being pressed flush against him in order for the two of them to fit in. With a sharp intake of breath, he realised that she had also, glancing away whilst (Harry assumed) blushing horribly.
"This is…cosy…" he remarked after a few moments. Hermione glared at him.
"Don't let me halt your whirlwind arranged romance, if that's what you want." She replied snarkily, the raised eyebrow letting him know she wasn't really being serious.
"No, no…" He began, fighting the urge to smile. "Here is good."
And it was. Merlin, it really was. Maybe he should buy Ron some flowers.
"Okay," She replied, inadvertently fidgeting against Harry's body. "I reckon, we wait until he goes past, then we can go out the back there and end up near the Broomsticks?"
"Miss Granger!" Harry exclaimed in mock surprise. "Are you suggesting we ditch?" Hermione simply smiled, laying her hands palm down on his chest.
"Unless you have a better idea, Mr. Potter?" She asked with a wink, which caused any number of chills to run up the back of his neck.
Stop. It.
"Couldn't think of anything I'd rather do." He replied, tucking an errant curl behind his best friend's ear.
Your best friend, who you may as well be having sex standing up with at the moment.
Harry ignored the voice, as Hermione turned slightly, causing her…more feminine qualities to press against him firmly as she struggled to look out the mouth of the alley. He cleared his throat both noisily and nervously, earning him an eye roll from the girl.
"Honestly Harry." She sighed, the amusement behind her eyes apparent, as she none-too-subtly pressed further forward. To get a better view, you see. After a few more moments in which Harry grew steadily more agitated, struggling to keep any noises or movements from escaping his treacherous body as she leaned into him, she finally fell slightly backwards.
"All clear." She smiled, as she placed a hand on his (still tender) upper arm and pushed him gently in the other direction. "Come on, Harry. You have the pleasure of being my date for the day."
Did she have to say that?
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
The plan was working perfectly, Ron thought to himself as he noticed a brown-haired girl and a black haired boy reach the door of Sallusand's.
Ron Weasley, you sir, are a fucking genius.
"Ronald?" The light, airy voice called to him, causing him to shake his head back into reality.
"Sorry, Luna," He apologised, flashing her his best cheeky grin. She returned it with a small smile, gesturing towards the row of shops they were rapidly approaching.
"I said, where would you like to go first?" He thought for a moment, before his eyes danced with delight.
"Quality Quidditch Supplies just got the latest kee…" He started, and then quickly changed tack as he noticed the girl's face fall slightly. "But actually, I heard Eeylop's opened a new branch in Hogsmeade recently. Maybe we could go there?" He felt a satisfied glow rise up inside him as the girl's face lit up again.
"Ooh," She cooed, excitedly looping her arm through his. "Perfect. I've been meaning to replace my stock of Nargle Vanishing Powder this week. It'll save poor Jinks a flight." Ron smiled indulgently down at his date, and then spared another glance towards Sallusand's.
Genius.
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
Several pints of butterbeer, and several hours later, Harry and Hermione reclined lazily in the Three Broomsticks, having managed to arrive early on and snag one of the sofas in the corner, an unnecessarily roaring and hot fireplace just in front of their table.
"Haha, it was just ridiculous." Hermione giggled, taking a brief sip of her tankard before setting it back down on the table. Harry smiled at her, noticing the brief glint of gold under the neckline of her shirt. For her birthday this year, he'd given her a solid gold replica (non-functional, of course) of the time turner she'd used in their third year, the image of a Hippogriff embossed on the rims of the device.
And she wore it! He thought triumphantly to himself, his mind snapping back to attention as she continued
"Him actually thinking I hadn't organised my books. Doesn't he know me at all by now?"
"Apparently not." Harry laughed with her, also lifting his butterbeer to his lips briefly. "What amuses me more is that he thought that it'd actually work. I mean, him getting back with you like this, and me getting back with Ginny, of all people." He chuckled softly, cradling his mug in his hands like a precious item as he looked down into the foamy surface.
"I know we've never really talked about it, Harry." Hermione suddenly spoke up, her voice more subdued than their last exchange as he looked back up at her amiably. "But I mean…why did you break up with Ginny?" Harry sighed; he'd been expecting this a lot earlier from her. Whereas Ron, Fred, George, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and everyone else…even the Creevey brothers for Christ's sake…had asked him incessantly about it, she'd stayed quiet. He couldn't tell her how much he appreciated her simply accepting it, being there to comfort him like a true friend should. He sighed before beginning his explanation.
"It wasn't safe for h…" He started, then immediately ceased as Hermione shot him a 'don't-give-your-best-friend-of-seven-years-that-crap look.
"Why did you really break up?" She asked softly, giving him an understanding, small smile.
"I just…I dunno." He said noncommittally. "Last year was such a mess…we weren't acting ourselves at all." Hermione gave an almost imperceptible nod, but Harry caught it anyway. "I guess…it was the easy way out. She was there, I needed that, I went for it. It was only afterwards that I found out my feelings for her were just that. Superficial. Skin deep." Hermione started to speak, but Harry waved her off. "No, I care about Ginny. It's just…she's Ron's sister. She's Fred and George's, Bill and Charlie's sister. Molly and Arthur's daughter. I felt like I was breaking the law or something. It was…"
"…a little bit too weird." Hermione finished, understanding in her eyes. And because the girl I really wanted was taken, he added silently to himself. "I know the feeling." Harry started chuckling, to Hermione's confusion. "What?"
"It's nothing," he said, in between laughs. "I was…heh…"
"Come on Harry, tell me!" She demanded jovially, shifting herself up on the sofa, moving their discarded jumpers to one side. Mirth danced behind her eyes as she focused on him.
"I remember one time…in the broom closet on the third floor." At the rolling of her eyes, he quickly added, "Yes! A broom closet! To my eternal shame. Anyway, we were kissing…just kissing, mind…and the only thing that I had going through my head was Mad-Eye Moody and Dumbledore's voices telling me to choose between what was easy and what was right." Hermione was silent for a few moments, looking at him quizzically, before suddenly bursting into a peal of laughter.
"You mean to tell me…" She gasped for air, wiping a tear that had escaped her eye, "That the whole time you were fumbling around in a broom closet with our best friend's sister, you could only think about your Headmaster and a grizzled old Auror calling your girlfriend easy?"
"Kissing!" Harry emphasised, to a renewed bout of laughter.
"That's so terrible!" Hermione proclaimed amusedly, after her shakes had died down. "Oh Harry…" He smirked, playfully punching her on the arm.
"Come on, don't tell me you didn't think any of that at all with Ron." He prayed the hopeful note in his voice wasn't too apparent. Hermione chuckled one last time, before glancing up at him.
"Sometimes…" She trailed off, looking away again.
"But?" He pressed, inching slightly closer to her, his arm resting behind him, just shy of her shoulder.
"Ever get the feeling you were with the wrong person?" She said finally, her eyes meeting his as his heartbeat began to race.
"All the time." He whispered, feeling immediately embarrassed at the husky quality of his voice and the subsequent blush from his drinking partner.
Way to go, Harry. Bet she loves porn style seduction.
"I've been wondering something." She said, glancing his way with an almost shy smile.
"What's that?" He asked, his voice back to normal levels, although the obstruction in his throat was still present. Making itself known.
"It's stupid." She grimaced, before placing her tankard back onto the table. Harry hadn't even noticed she'd picked it up.
"Tell me." He asked softly, almost pleadingly. She smiled again, locking contact between their eyes.
"I'm just wondering…" She bit her bottom lip quickly, as if mulling over how to phrase something. With a barely noticeable exhalation, she continued. "I was wondering if there actually were any other blind dates for us earlier." Her words sent a hundred, a thousand, fuck it, hundreds of thousands of butterflies swarming through his insides as he struggled to find the words to respond.
Oh for god's sake. His internal monologue took over. Let me.
"Would…would that be such a bad thing?" He asked shyly, the words falling unbidden but steadily from his mouth. Her eyes became glassy, and Harry immediately began kicking himself as he looked back down into his butterbeer.
That is the last time, and I mean the last time you ever get to drive.
As he glanced sombrely into his drink, mind racing with how the hell he was going to get himself out of this one, it began to move. Not of it's own accord, but by a small, feminine hand lifting it out of his lap and onto the table. He dared to glance up, finding the girl…no…the woman that occupied his thoughts sitting close to him. Dangerously close. He prepared himself for the inevitable bruising of his cheek, hoping that she made it quick. What he wasn't expecting was the soft caress of her fingertips trailing across it as she levelled his gaze with hers.
"I don't think so." She said quietly. As one they moved together, closing the distance between their lips slowly as they met for a long, languorous meeting. Eyes fluttered closed, hands stayed perfectly still as Harry saw stars, and Hermione saw comets.
I'll buy him flowers; I'll buy him his own Firebolt. Hell, I'll buy him his own damn Quidditch team! After I punch his lights out.
The world stopped for them, the wry smiles of several of their Housemates ignored as galleons and pints were exchanged whilst the scene before them unfolded. One fifth-year Gryffindor began to clap, before a sharp blow to the back of the head from Madam Rosmerta silenced him.
After an eternity, they broke apart, staring breathlessly at each other.
"Wow." Harry whispered; it being the only word he could muster the cognisance to utter.
"Wow." Hermione echoed, before she leant in again, whispering to herself. "I guess that's why they're called dreams."
Author's Note:
Hope you enjoyed it. Just the ending to go now, and we'll see if Ron gets what's coming to him ;) Thank you to all my reviewers, you've made my day today with all your kind words :)
<shameless plug> Of course, if you enjoyed MM, check out my other fics ;) </shameless plug>
*ahem* I'll get my coat…
- Castledown