The importance of tea

Thanks to Cinnamon_Kisses for Beta reading this

Harry watched the scenery whiz by as the train he and Hermione were traveling on headed towards Cornwall. Hermione had her nose buried in a Muggle guide to the area. Harry looked out of the window and felt his shoulders relax. Voldemort was dead and had been for over a year; nothing was shadowing his footsteps. He could be a normal eighteen-year-old boy enjoying his first summer holiday, but it still felt strange just being normal. Harry let out another breath, and Hermione looked up from her book.

“You okay, Harry?” she asked.

“Just doing a bit of wool-gathering.”

“Find any black sheep?” she asked.

“Just the one,” he replied, knowing what she meant by ‘black sheep.’ Hermione slowly nodded and then closed her book.

“You excited about this holiday?” she said, changing the subject.

“Can’t wait, shame Ron has to miss it. I’m sure he would find Muggle Cornwall lots of fun.”

“I agree, but I think it’s better for him to be at home having a family holiday. Mrs. Weasley was saying it was six years ago the last time she had her whole family at the burrow.”

“Do you miss family holidays?” Harry asked.

“Yes and no. It would have been nice to spend this month with my mother and father, but then again, I’m nineteen in a few months time, so it’s nice having a ‘no parent holiday.’ I’m sure we can go on holiday once my dad’s leg heals.”

“’Til then you’re stuck with me for a whole month,” Harry said with a grin, and Hermione smiled back.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

Harry was wool gathering again. Hermione had nodded off an hour ago and Harry let her; the past twelve months had been difficult for the both of them.

Both he and Hermione had spent nearly three months recovering from the final battle. Ron had spent three weeks there himself, but unlike Hermione, Ron hadn’t been there to face Voldemort.

Yes, the battle had been between Harry and Voldemort, but Hermione had been there in the background, feeding Harry with the energy and power that he needed. She had come up with a spell that would ‘lend’ Harry another witch or wizard’s power. Everyone in the Order had agreed that without this power, Harry might not win the battle, but also knew that this wizard or witch would have to be as powerful magically as Harry, which only Hermione happened to be.

Upon hearing this, Harry had refused point blank to allow Hermione to put herself in danger for him, but Hermione wouldn’t listen or take no for an answer. Harry remembered the night he faced Voldemort.

The Dark Mark lit up the night sky. Harry looked at it and then turned away, glancing over to the gravestone where he knew Hermione was hidden under his Invisibility Cloak.

Voldemort stood about 200 metres away from Harry, his wand held in his hand.

“So it finally comes down to this, Harry, just the two of us, no one to witness the fall of the Boy-Who-Lived,” Voldemort said with a sneer.

Harry stood his ground. “You won‘t defeat me, Tom,” he said, using the name Voldemort hated.

“Shall we find out?” Voldemort said, raising his wand, sending a Cruciatus Curse towards Harry, who threw up his own wand, casting a Shield Charm off which the curse bounced harmlessly. The battle had started.

They threw curse after curse at each other. Harry didn’t know how long the battle went on for, but as he dropped to his knees for what seemed the hundredth time, with a Cruciatus Curse still ringing his ears, he felt his energy draining.

“Giving up already, Potter? Am I too much for you?” Voldemort mocked him.

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as he got to his knees, sending a Stunning Spell towards Voldemort, but the Dark Lord swept it aside with a flick of his wand.

“Tiring, are you, Harry? Want to take a little ’tea break?’” Voldemort sneered, pointing his wand down at Harry.

“So this how it ends.” Harry tried to get to his feet, but his strength failed him.

“Not if I can help it,” Harry said, sending a blue light from his wand. It was a signal to Hermione. Latin words seemed to fill the night.

“Donapotestas.” The Invisibility Cloak was lifted from Hermione’s shoulders.

She was bathed in a soft golden light. She lifted her hands and directed the light to Harry, and as it enveloped him, he felt his strength return tenfold and his body seemed to hum with power.

He sent a curse towards Voldemort. The spell slammed into the Dark Lord, knocking him to the ground.

Harry turned to Hermione, only to see that she had fallen to her knees, her body still bathed in the golden light, but she seemed to be breathing hard and a trickle of blood fell from her nose. Harry went to take a step towards her, but she shook her head.

“Do it, Harry.” Harry nodded and turned back to Voldemort, who had gotten back to his feet, although he seemed to be swaying slightly.

“You won’t win, Harry,” he said coldly. “I’ll kill your mudblood friend first and then kill you.”

Voldemort went to raise his wand, but Harry got there first. He raised his own wand and sent a green light towards Voldemort. It hit with the force of a sonic boom, knocking him back down on the ground.

This time he didn’t get back to his feet. Harry walked over to where the body was. Voldemort was on his back, eyes open in a sightless stare, his wand lying beside his hand. Picking it up, Harry snapped it two.

He had done it, he had defeated Voldemort.

Suddenly, Harry felt his strength drain away, and he stumbled to the ground, feeling incredibly debilitated. The grass in front of him swam before his eyes, and he was no longer bathed in the golden light.

“Hermione,” he gasped before the darkness took him.

Harry came around to feel a warm hand holding his, and his first thoughts were that it was Hermione holding his hand.

“Hermione,” he croaked and tried to squeeze her hand in return, only to hear a startled gasp as the hand released his, and then it came all flooding back. The battle, Voldemort’s death, and Hermione kneeling in pain. Harry’s eyes snapped open and he tried to sit up.

“Hermione?” he said, noticing Ginny sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Ginny, where is Hermione?” he asked, feeling panic thread its way though his veins. Ginny stood up and backed away from the bed.

“I should get Remus, he wanted to see you the minute you came around.” Harry tried to sit up.

“No, tell me where Hermione is first,” he said, trying to get out of the bed, but his legs didn’t want to move. Ginny took another step away from the bed, giving Harry a view of the bed across from his.

“Hermione,” he gasped, feeling his blood turn to ice. She lay in the bed as still as death and as pale as snow.

“What happened?” he asked Ginny.

“She’s been like that since you were both brought in. We found you both in the graveyard.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing really, the healers are saying the spell she used drained her of her magical powers, so she’s just resting, regaining her powers. You were doing the same.”

“What?” Harry asked, feeling a little confused.

“Harry, you’ve been asleep for three weeks.”

Harry was pulled from his thoughts to hear the refreshment trolley being pushed by a Muggle train worker rattle by. He saw that it too had woken Hermione, and she blinked at him in a very owlish way.

“How long have I been napping for?” she asked, hiding a yawn behind her hand. She stretched.

“About two hours. The refreshments trolley just went by, did you want anything?”

Hermione shook her head. “Somehow I don’t think they have butterbeer or pumpkin pasties.”

A/N:

Thanks to everyone who reviewed my first chapter. I have no idea how I came across the idea for the ‘perfect tea’ it might have been a conversation between me and Cinnamon_kisses.

Chapter 2

Harry, Hermione and their luggage finally arrived at the holiday cottage late in the afternoon. Harry lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun to get a better look at 'Rose Cottage.' It was a small, two-story stone cottage with a dark green front door and four shuttered windows. Hermione came to stand by a white gate with the words 'Rose Cottage' painted in pale pink.

"Oh, this place is divine," she said, looking up at the cottage with a smile on her face.

"You can see why they call it Rose Cottage," she said, pointing out the roses that climbed their way up one side of the cottage. Hermione giggled and Harry couldn't help but smile.

"I can't wait to start the holiday, come on!" she said, tugging on his arm. Harry let her drag him through the open gate, pulling their suitcases behind him. Her touch was warm on his arm and he missed it as she let go to open the front door.

After a quick exploration of the cottage, Harry and Hermione met back at the kitchen. Hermione took a seat at the kitchen table with Harry taking a seat opposite her. He looked at his watch.

"Its 5:40, what did you want to do?” he asked.

"Well, I think that most of the shops in the village will be closed for the day, and we still need to firecall Mrs.Weasley. Remus said that he would set up at connection for the duration of our stay, so why don't we do that first, then maybe we can unpack and see if we can find something to eat?" Hermione suggested.

"Sounds good to me."

"Okay," Hermione said and, standing up, she brought a small travel pouch full of floo powder from her pocket and threw a handful of it into the kitchen fireplace.

"The Burrow," she spoke clearly. Bright green flames shot up, and a few seconds later, Mrs. Weasley's head appeared in the flames.

"Hermione, good to see you have arrived safe and sound. I'll owl your parents to let them know that you made it," Mrs. Weasley said as she reached forward though the flames to kiss Hermione on the cheek.

"Harry too?" she asked.

"I made it safe too," Harry said, waving to her over Hermione's shoulder.

"How is everyone?" Hermione asked.

"Fine, just fine, dear. Bill and Fleur arrived early this morning; the bump seems to be getting bigger by the day, not long now," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. Fleur was eight months pregnant with the first Weasley grandchild. Harry came to stand next to Hermione.

"Hello, Harry dear."

"How's Ron?" he asked.

"Still in a bit of a huff," Mrs. Weasley said with a hint of a grin.

"No, I'm not, Mum." Ron's head appeared in the fire and Mrs. Weasley moved away.

"Hey, you two," he said.

"Hello, Ron, we do really wish you were here," Hermione said sincerely. Ron nodded.

"How was the train journey?"

"Fine, but it was strange not having someone scoff the lunch twenty minutesinto the journey," Harry joked.

"Ha, bloody ha, so have you been kurfing yet?" he asked, and Hermione laughed, amused.

"It's called surfing, Ron, and no, we haven't, but we might do in a few days’ time."

"Still sounds barmy to me, going up and down on the sea on one of those ironing board things."

"Each to their own, Ron," Hermione said before Mrs. Weasley's head appeared back in the flames.

"Sorry to break this up, but Charles is due in any moment. Hermione nodded and went to step away from the fire place.

"Before you go, here's a little food parcel to tide you over ‘til you go to one of those Muggle supermarkets," she said, pushing a wicker basket though the flames.

"Thank you," Harry said, taking a hold of it. He placed it on the table.

"You two have a great time. The twins are saying don't do anything they wouldn't do," Ron said.

"Which isn't much," Harry said, laughing.

"We heard that," Fred or George's voice called. Ron just shook his head.

"Anyways, I'll see you guys later. Don't forget to buy me a souvenir or two."

"We won't, you enjoy yourself, too, and tell everyone we send our love," Hermione nodded. The flames were now dying down and Ron pulled his head away when suddenly Harry and Hermione heard Ginny's voice call though the weak flames.

"But I wanted to talk to Harry."

"It’s too late, Ginny," Ron's voice said before the flames died.

Feeling a little perplexed, Harry turned to the wicker food basket. He opened it and started pulling out the food.

"Homemade sausage rolls, cheese and onion flan, pies and cold chicken," he said, listing the items.

"Yummy," Hermione said, opening the kitchen to find some plates. She eventually found them after the third cupboard and set them down on the table. Harry had nearly emptied the basket.

"I'm sure there is enough food here to feed the whole town," he said, lifting out a delicious looking chocolate cake.

"We are not sharing that with the town."

"Duly noted," Harry said as his hands closed around the last item in the basket. He lifted it out and smirked.

"Somehow I don't think it was Mrs. Weasley who put this in," he said, turning the bottle of fire whiskey over in his hands.

"No doubt the twins wanting us to have a 'good time,’” Hermione said, taking the bottle from Harry.

"You're not going to throw it away, are you?" Harry asked, worried.

"Of course not," she said, opening the fridge, and she placed the bottle inside.

"However, I'm very temped to have a slice of cake first," she said, looking at the cake.

"Well, why not? After all, we are on holiday," Harry suggested, and with a cheeky grin Hermione cut into the cake.

"How about some coffee?" Harry inquired.

"Is there any tea?”

"Yes."

A few minutes later, Harry placed a steaming mug of tea in front of Hermione. She raised it to her lips, blew on it to cool it, and took a sip. Seconds later her eyes closed and she let out a little moan.

"Don't you like it? Did I get it wrong?" Harry asked, afraid that he had messed up her mug of tea. Hermione opened her eyes and grinned.

"This is perfect, Harry, the best cup of tea I have had for a while, but how did you know?"

"Know what?" Harry asked.

"How I like my tea, everyone gets it wrong, even my dad gets it wrong. I like my tea -"

"Very strong with a dash of milk and no sugar?" Harry inquired. Hermione's jaw dropped.

"That's right, but how did you know?" she asked again. Harry shrugged his shoulders. Hermione took another sip and grinned happily.

"I don't know, I guess I just know if you know what I mean," Harry said.

"Yes, but I never remember you making me a cup of tea," Hermione said.

"Do you know the way I like my tea?" Harry asked.

"Let’s find out," Hermione said, standing up and moving to the kettle. Harry watched as she made his mug of tea. A few minutes later, she placed the mug in front Harry and waited. He lifted the mug to his lips and took a small sip.

"How is it?" Hermione asked, nervously biting her lip.

"It’s…perfect." He smiled at Hermione and she grinned back.

"Lots of milk and two sugars?" she questioned. Harry nodded and they both burst out laughing.

"It’s strange how we both know how we take our tea. I can’t even begin to think how Ron likes his tea."

The Importance of Tea

Chapter 3

Flashback

The next time Harry came around, Ginny was no longer next to his bed and he found that he still couldn’t move his legs. Still concerned about Hermione, Harry sat up to look across the room and with a heavy heart saw that her situation still hadn’t changed; she still lay in the bed as if made from glass. Slumping back against the bed, Harry heard the ward door open and turned to see Lupin and Tonks walking in. They made straight for Harry’s bedside. Tonks gave him a bone crushing hug and Lupin patted him on the shoulder.

“Any news on Hermione?” Harry asked before they had a chance to sit down.

“I just talked to her healer and she said that they are just waiting for her to regain her strength and magical powers. Harry, you shouldn’t worry too much about Hermione; you’re still recovering yourself,” Lupin said, knowing that Harry bore the weight of Hermione’s condition on his shoulders.

“I can’t help it, it’s my fault that she’s like that.” Remus shook his head.

“Harry, it is no-one’s fault. Hermione chose to be the one to transfer her powers to you.” Harry shook his head.

“That’s why I didn’t want her to go through with the spell. I knew something like this would happen.” Lupin sighed softly.

“Harry, Hermione was the only magical person who could match you magic-wise. If it had been any other witch or wizard, they would have died; Hermione is a very lucky witch.” Harry looked across the room to where Hermione lay and then looked back at his former professor.

“You call that lucky?” Harry snapped back. The doors to the ward opened again and this time Hermione’s parents walked though. Harry watched them as they made their way to their daughter’s bed. Mr. Granger stood by the end of the bed while Mrs. Granger kissed Hermione on the forehead; she then sat down and took her daughter’s hand in hers.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Lupin said, standing up and walking across to the Grangers.

“Do they blame me?” Harry asked Tonks.

“What?” she asked, puzzled.

“Do Hermione’s parents blame me for what happened to her?” Tonks sighed and shook her head.

“No Harry they don’t blame you.”

End of flashback

Harry was awoken the next day by the sun streaming through the blind. He yawned, put on his glasses and stretched. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table; it was 6:30 am. Knowing that he couldn’t get back to sleep, Harry pulled himself out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. He found Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, book in hand and a cup of coffee next to her.

“Morning, Hermione,” he said as he switched on the kettle to make himself a cup of coffee. Hermione looked up from her book.

“Oh, morning, Harry, sleep well?”

“Like a log,” he said, moving to the table, steaming cup of coffee in his hands.

“Must be the Cornwall sea air,” Hermione said, closing her book as Harry sat across from her.

“Sea air?” Harry questioned. Hermione smirked.

“My Grandmother always used to say that the sea air is always good for a better night’s sleep.” Harry nodded and sipped at his coffee.

“How about yourself, how did you sleep?”

“Perfectly,” Hermione said with a smile.

“So, plans for today?” Harry asked

“I was thinking about spending a day building sandcastles.”

A few hours later

Harry and Hermione made their way across the beach. Hermione had taken off her shoes and socks and now walked barefoot across the sand.

“I think here will do,” she said, and she helped Harry spread out the picnic blanket that they had found in the cottage. They had also brought the rest of the food Mrs. Weasley had given them. Harry plopped himself down on the blanket and Hermione sat down next to him. She lifted her face to the sun.

“I forgot how nice the Cornwall coast is,” she said, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun.

“This isn’t your first time here?” Harry asked her.

“No, I used to come down to Cornwall every summer with my parents, well, until I started Hogwarts.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was, but it’s nice with you as well.”

“Thanks, so how about these sandcastles then?” Harry inquired.

“Oh,” Hermione said suddenly.

“Oh, what?”

“We don’t have any buckets or spades,” she said.

“Does that really matter? Can’t we just use magic? There aren’t that many muggles about,” Harry asked. Hermione gasped at him.

“Use magic to make sandcastles! Where is the fun in that? No, we need to have buckets and spades.” With that, Hermione stood up and dashed barefoot across the sand in the direction of a small line of shops. Harry didn’t have long to wait. Hermione came speeding back with a plastic carrier bag. She sat down on the rug, a little out of breath, and she handed the bag to Harry.

“For you,” she said with a beam. Harry looked inside at a red plastic bucket and spade; there was also a pink bucket and spade which he guessed were Hermione’s. Harry pulled out the red bucket and spade and glanced at Hermione with a bemused expression.

“You said you’ve never been to the beach before, so I’m guessing you’ve never built sandcastles before,” she said softly, blushing slightly.

“The Durleys weren’t much for beaches. Vernon used to complain that the sand would go everywhere; the only time I ever got close to sand was when Dudley threw me in the sandpit at nursery,” Harry said, turning the bucket over in his hands. Hermione looked at him sadly, tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry, we don’t have to build sandcastles if you don’t want to.” Harry shook his head.

“I’m not letting the Durley’s spoil anything more.” Hermione nodded.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to build the best sandcastle.”

Harry dipped his bucket into the sea collecting water and then walked back to Hermione.

“Where do you want this?” he asked. Hermione looked up from the small pile of sand she was kneeling next to.

“Pour some of it onto this pile of sand.” Harry did as he was told and then waited for further instructions.

“Sand has to be a little damp for sandcastle making.”

“Yes, Professor Granger,” Harry said with a smirk on his face.

“Hey!” Hermione said

“If Ron was here, he would be complaining that you’re making this more like work than fun,” he said, smiling at her. Hermione knew he was joking.

“I’ll put you in detention if we don’t manage to make the best sandcastle on this stretch of beach,” she said, her eyes alight with mischief.

“Will you?” Harry said dipping his fingers into the bucket half filled with sea water. Hermione watched him.

“Will I be put in detention if I do this?” he said, spraying her with water.

“HARRY!” Hermione squealed in response; Harry just grinned at her.

“No, but I will do this!” Hermione said, grabbing the bucket and throwing the rest of the water over Harry. It soaked his hair and t-shirt.

“This means war,” he mock-growled as Hermione scrabbled to her feet. He jumped up.

“I’ll give you a five second head start,” he said grinning mischievously, and Hermione didn’t need a second warning. She reached off, Harry quickly counted to five, and then he chased after her. He caught up with her just at the shore’s edge. Hermione scooped up a handful of the sea and splashed Harry; he returned the favour and a full blown water fight started. Ten minutes later, both soaking wet, Harry and Hermione made their way back to their spot on the beach.

“So much for building sandcastles,” Harry said, dropping down onto the blanket. He pulled at his rather wet t-shirt as Hermione sat next to him.

“We have all week,” Hermione said as she pulled a out a towel and started to dry her hair. Harry meanwhile dug into the basket for something to eat. As he munched on a cold sausage roll, he watched the other holiday makers on the beach. Two young children nearby were burying what looked like their older brother, but then his attention was drawn away from them as Hermione pulled off her damp t-shirt. Underneath she was wearing a plain black bikini top which in itself was quite simple but did nothing to hide the fact that Hermione was a young woman, and Harry found himself staring. He smiled goofily and something else was getting happy.

“Harry!” He barely heard Hermione calling his name.

“Huh,” he grunted.

“Harry, you’re staring,” Hermione said harshly, but her cheeks were glowing.

“Sorry,” Harry said, feeling very embarrassed. He blushed and looked away to find that the older brother was free.

“Ice cream?” he heard Hermione say, he turned and forced himself to look her in the face.

“Do you want to get some ice cream, we passed a shop on the way to the beach this morning, we could go there?”

“Ice cream sounds nice.”

Harry dropped his wet towel onto the kitchen table and ran a hand though his damp hair and down. He could hear Hermione heading towards her room. Harry still couldn’t get the image of Hermione in the bikini from his mind; it was a very nice thought which made his blood pound in his ears and his trousers tighten, but Hermione was his friend and while it felt nice having those type of thoughts about Hermione, it still felt slightly wrong. Shaking his head free of the thoughts, Harry stood and opened the fridge and pulled out the bottle of fire whiskey. He took a drink straight from the bottle and immediately started to cough, but as he got his breath back a warm pleasant feeling was making it way down his chest. He took a longer sip but didn’t cough this time.

“Started the party without me?” came a voice from the staircase. Hermione stood there dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt.

“I was just having a taste,” Harry mumbled, putting the lid back on the bottle.

“Let me have a taste?” she said holding her hand out for the bottle. Harry passed it to her and watched while she took a sip.

“Nice,” she said, licking her lips. She moved to the cupboard and brought down two glasses. Harry looked at her, bewildered, as she poured out some of the fire whiskey.

“I thought you wanted to get some ice cream,” he said.

“We can later.”

A little later

“Mrs. Weasley’s -hic- won’t be peased that we drank most of this,” Harry said, picking up the bottle and looking at it.

“Pfft, stuff Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said, a little merry due to the fire whiskey.

“Hermione Jane Granger, it looks like fire -hic- whiskey seems to have loosened your tongue,” he said with a grin, “which I think I like.” Hermione smiled, her eyes sparkling.

“Ri- I mean, ice cream?” she suggested, and Harry nodded.

Hermione stumbled to her feet and swayed on the spot.

“Either I’m spinning or the room is.” Harry grabbed her arm.

“Room stopped spinning now?” he asked; she nodded, linking hands with him.

Together they staggered to the ice cream shop. Hermione let go of Harry’s hand and pressed her face against the shop window, looking like a small child.

“Mmm, ice cream, lots of ice cream,” she said.

“Let’s go in before it all sells out,” Harry said, dragging Hermione away from the window. Once again she linked hands with him, which he didn’t mind.

“What would you two like?” the lady behind the counter asked.

“Chocolate, please,” Hermione said, her words still slightly slurred; the woman raised an eyebrow but still filled a wafer cone with the chosen ice cream flavour. Hermione smiled and took it from her.

“Thank you,” she said before waiting while Harry got his own and paid.

“Let’s walk along the pier,” Hermione said once they were out of the shop. She surprised Harry by taking his hand again. Her hand was soft and warm in his and he found himself linking his fingers though hers. She looked down at their joined hands and smiled and gave his hand a quick squeeze. Harry decided that he liked a merry Hermione. She was more relaxed and carefree, and as if to state the point, Hermione started to swing their joined hands. Together they made their way up the pier. It was late afternoon and the pier was full of activity. Harry and Hermione finished their ice creams as they reached the end of the walkway. Harry leaned up against the fence. Hermione wiped her hands and face with a napkin.

“I think you missed a spot,” Harry said, leaning close to her, and dabbed away a smudge of ice cream from the corner of her mouth.

“Thanks,” she said softly, her face close to his. She wrapped her arms around him and looked up at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, catching her gaze, and he felt the sudden urge to kiss her, but a little voice at the back of his mind warned him that it could easily spoil their friendship - but there was another saying that he would never find out if he never tried. Taking a deep breath and not speaking a word, Harry leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Hermione returned the kiss. Standing on tiptoes, she captured his lips. She tasted of chocolate ice cream and whiskey and Harry slid his hand into her hair, bringing her closer to deepen the kiss. He felt her sigh softly against his lips and her grip tighten around him as she pressed her own harder against his. A drop of water touched Harry on the cheek, and for a moment he thought Hermione was crying. He pulled away to apologize for stepping over the ’friendship’ boundary, only to find that it had started to rain.

“Its raining,” he said to Hermione, who was looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“I know,” came Hermione’s reply, her voice slightly hoarse.

“We’ll get wet.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to head back to the cottage? We could watch TV if you want,” he asked, but he really wanted to say, we can kiss more. Hermione dropped his gaze and stepped away from him.

“Well, if you want to do that,” she said a little harshly. Harry nodded in agreement and went to take Hermione’s hand, but she stepped away from him and started to walk. When they arrived back at the cottage, Hermione complained that she had a headache and went to her room. Harry watched as she headed up to her bedroom, his heart heavy. Once he heard her door close, he slumped down on the sofa and cupped his face in his hands.

“Idiot,” he whispered to himself. The voice at the back of his head was telling him that he had overstepped the friendship boundary and that Hermione was most likely packing up her stuff to head back home. The other voice was telling him that it would be alright, that Hermione needed time to think. Harry groaned into his palms and then picking up the TV remote, he switched on the TV and tried to drown out the two voices.