Chapter 18: Vive le France!
Harry felt a strange mixture of emotions as he prepared to board the Hogwarts Express the next morning. It was an odd sensation that greeted the gleaming scarlet steam engine as it pulled into Hogsmeade station; usually Harry's overriding feelings would be ones of dread and despair, due to the trip away marking the end of another Hogwarts year, isolation from his friends for weeks and, perhaps worst of all, the return to the Dursleys. This time, however, was different.
This time he was going towards something that he couldn't anticipate or prepare himself for. What exactly would greet him at Kings Cross Station in a few hours time? Of course, the main cause of Harry's anxiety was the state of Mr and Mrs Grangers thinking. When he had left the Grangers in the summer they had all been on great terms; indeed, Hermione had termed her parents regard for Harry as `love'. But now? Harry had the feeling it wouldn't be the same.
After all, there was every chance that Dumbledore's recommendation of Harry had fallen on deaf ears. That the real reason for their cave in was Hermione's fury, which Harry suspected could be quite forceful. She had a tendency to become quite passionate even if she spent most her time being reserved. Her parents did, after all, ask her to stop seeing Harry, much like Percy had advised Ron to last year. They had also thought Malfoy a more suitable suitor than he; this more than anything cut to his very heart. It was an insult akin to Hermione being called a Mudblood for sheer hurtfulness.
Ron was amiable on the return trip, something Harry found curiously suspicious. He was positively glowing in his endorsement of the holiday and was full of encouragement for Harry and Hermione as a couple.
`Don't forget now,' he said, `France is supposed to be a very romantic country so don't get too carried away.'
`What's that supposed to mean?' Harry smirked.
`Well,' replied Ron, `Don't want Hermione getting, well…into trouble do we?'
Harry was a little startled by this, but even more so as Ron continued talking.
`I mean,' said Ron, `If Hermione suddenly becomes baby-laden things will be sticky for you. What with exams and stuff coming up. And we need you, Harry. Got to have our strongest Quidditch team out if we want to come back from that humiliation against Slytherin. Yes, I think its best that if you do start eating for two, Hermione, I'll have to send someone round to your parents. Hey! Maybe we could get Malfoy to do it, not got much else on has he? That'd really scare you off!'
Ron was laughing, his tone demonstrating that he thought this a raucous joke. Harry laughed hollowly, encouraging Hermione to do the same. The look on her face said, though, that she was thinking along the same lines as Harry. There was something fishy about what Ron had said.
They had decided not to tell him what Dumbledore had told them in his office, or to tell him about the letter Hermione's parents had sent to her. So, the only question was how Ron knew about this. Was it coincidence? Could Ron really have guessed that Hermione's parents would be, or were, concerned about the possibility of her getting pregnant? And that bit about Malfoy? Harry's head was hurting with the paranoia. He desperately wanted to discuss it with Hermione, but that didn't seem possible. A solution presented itself from most unlikely source.
`Hello, Ronald.'
The compartment doors had slid open and a dreamy, vague voice came wafting through the crack in the glass. It was Luna.
`Oh, hi,' said Ron, going an unsightly tinge of red and ruffling his hair, `can I help you with something?'
`Actually, you can!' she said delightedly, as happily as if Ron had just offered her half the gold in Gringotts, `I want to show you something.'
She beckoned him out with her figure and disappeared out of sight down the corridor. Ron followed her silently like a lapdog. Hermione got up, looked down the corridor and closed the door.
`Did you tell him?' she asked slightly angrily as she sat down.
`No,' retorted Harry, `I was hoping you did. It'd make this much less weird.'
`Yeah, that's what I was hoping,' said Hermione anxiously.
`Do you think he was just guessing?'
`I don't know,' said Hermione thoughtfully, `could have been. But we haven't discussed Malfoy for ages, why bring him up now? And the other thing, well, that's a pretty vague thing to guess. Maybe he was listening to us last night. He does like to eavesdrop you know.'
`Does he?' Harry asked uncertainly.
`Oh yes, how do you think everyone knew about every detail of our little kiss after the ball? Ron told Dean and Seamus, in the strictest confidence of course. That's why it was all over the school before breakfast.'
`Git,' said Harry sourly, `nevermind. This is more important. You don't think he could be in touch with Malfoy do you? I mean, after all that talking in his sleep he used to do. They could be connected.'
`I doubt it,' said Hermione, `Ron hates Malfoy. No, I think he was just guessing. It's the only explanation.'
Harry wasn't convinced. He thought there was more to this that met the eye but he couldn't voice these concerns to Hermione, as she clearly wasn't going to buy them. Harry thought he was becoming too suspicious for his own good. He'd be bewitching dustbins to protect him before long. If this was the life of an Auror, constant suspicion of everyone and everything, then maybe it wasn't the life for him. That Department of Mysteries job was looking more appealing by the day.
The rest of the journey was pretty quiet. Ron never returned after Luna ushered him away so Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the journey playing exploding snap and eating a mountain of unhealthy food from the trolley (Hermione said getting sweet snacks past her parents was about as easy as trying to hide a dragon); they also played numerous games of wizard's chess, both marvelling at how bad they were at the game.
`I'm glad Ron's good at this,' said Harry wearily as he sent his rook into a stupid position, where it was promptly taken by Hermione's bishop, `We'd have never got to the Philosophers Stone if he wasn't.'
`We've done so many great things, haven't we?' Hermione speculated happily, `After the stone there was the Chamber of Secrets, the all that stuff with Sirius, then the Triwizard Tournament, then last year. Exciting life, really. Thank you, Harry.'
`For what?' Harry asked somewhat puzzled.
`For letting me be part of your life, it'd all be so much duller if you hadn't.'
`You're thanking me for putting your life in mortal danger for the past five years? You're mad.'
`That'd explain a lot,' said Hermione with a coy smile. Harry thought it best not to answer.
When the train finally pulled into Kings Cross Station it was already dark. Harry tried to find Ron to say goodbye but couldn't see him anywhere. He hauled his trunk through the barrier and into the Muggle world, Hermione close behind. They found her parents looking slightly unsure standing next to a trolley rack; Harry wasn't sure if they were afraid Hermione would start yelling at them or if they were as unsure of Harry's reaction as he was of theirs.
`Hi honey!' beamed Mrs Granger as she drew Hermione into a hug.
`Good to see you Harry,' smiled Mr Granger as he held out his hand for Harry, who took it graciously, `could I have a word, Harry?'
Harry felt his body shrink into the floor; he cast a glance at Hermione who looked terrified for him. Harry allowed Mr Granger to usher him on ahead as Hermione was kept behind by her mother.
`I just wanted to apologise, Harry,' said Mr Granger solemnly.
`For what?' Harry asked, unable to disguise the relief in his voice.
`The letter we sent…I know Hermione must have shown it to you. We are mortified by what we said. We had no idea…this Malfoy character…he seemed so polite when he came to us. We were a little naïve I'm afraid. But we are parents. You'll understand when you are one.'
He seemed to think he'd said the wrong thing, looking embarrassed and awkward.
`Anyway, Harry, just wanted to say that I hope you don't think badly of us. We do only have Hermione's best interests at heart. She's our only child and we can be a little over protective at times. Its only because we care.'
Harry nodded to show he understood.
`I just hope,' continued Mr Granger, `that this hasn't soured out relationship with you, or put a strain on your relationship with Hermione. She is quite taken with you, after all, and we're more than happy for her to keep that up. I just hope you don't despise us too much.'
`Not at all,' said Harry politely, `I just want you to understand that I also have Hermione's best interests in mind. I'm not out to take advantage of her or anything. The stuff that's happened to our relationship over the last year or so has come as much of a surprise to me as anyone.'
`As long as you have good intentions towards her,' grinned Mr Granger, `then everything is fine with her mother and I. Now, Harry, have you ever been skiing before…'
Harry and Mr Granger chatted about skiing all the way to the car and by the end of it Harry was quite sure he and Hermione would soon share another thing in common; skiing wouldn't be his thing either. Hermione pulled Harry around to the front of the car as her dad loaded the trunks into the boot and her mum got in the passenger seat.
`What did he say? Did you get a lecture too?' Hermione asked looking nervous.
`No,' smirked Harry, `just wanted to make sure I planned to make an honest woman out of you.'
`Oh, good,' smiled Hermione, the tension lifting from her shoulders, `mum was right on at me. Told me the little birds and bees chat was coming up. That should be fun.'
`Can I listen?' Harry asked enthusiastically, `I could do with a laugh!'
They drove for a little while until they reached the airport. Harry was a little surprised by this, expecting that they would have gone to Hermione's house first. She had obviously thought the same.
`Aren't we going home first?' she asked.
`No,' Mr Granger answered, `we've already dropped our luggage off in lockers at the airport. Mr Dumbledore sent some things for Harry and they're there too. We've got a late flight so there didn't seem much point in going home.'
The flight was indeed late but when they took off at around 10:30 Harry didn't mind a bit. It was his first time on an aeroplane but he wasn't entirely comfortable; he much preferred broomstick flying where you were, by and large, in charge of your own fate. Still, it was a new experience and a fairly interesting one. Hermione didn't seem too happy.
`Don't like flying much,' she said looking rather green, `its not really my thing either. It's why I don't fly on broomsticks. I much prefer being on the ground.'
After about ten minutes the stewardesses came around offering drinks and selling headphone sets for the in-flight movie. Harry bought himself and Hermione a pair, though was quite put out at the price.
`£3.50 for a pair of crappy earphones? What a rip off!' he hissed as the stewardess buzzed around trying to sell more sets, `She must be on commission.'
His mood didn't improve when the movie came on.
`MR. BEAN!' Harry cried as the movie started, `You've got to be joking! He doesn't even speak! Do you reckon I could get a refund on the headphones?'
He stood up and looked around, trying to find the stewardess to haggle for his money back as Hermione tried to pull him back down. The stewardess, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Hermione didn't speak much for most of the journey. She looked decidedly unwell and kept a firm grip on the small paper bag in her hand. She cheered up considerably as the plane touched down, though Harry thought the turbulence on the descent would have made her puke if anything did. They took a minibus to their resort, which turned out to be less than half an hour from the airport.
The resort was pretty and idyllic, set high in the mountains and made of logs. Harry assumed it was a romantic look, due to the way Hermione grabbed onto his arm and beamed at him and the surroundings. It did have a picture postcard look to it, not that Harry looked at it much. He was too captivated by Hermione who looked really cute with pink, flushed cheeks and snow in her hair, the cold making her eyes bright and shiny.
Once inside their cabins, Harry and Hermione had separate ones, Harry opened the small trunk that Dumbledore had sent to the Grangers. It was packed full of skiing clothes, including a huge red outfit that looked like a boiler suit. Harry thought he'd look stupid in it, and promptly found he was right when he put it on. He looked puffy and out of proportion but, by looking out of his window, he could see other people wearing similar things so knew he wouldn't be alone in looking silly.
`Aww, Harry! You look cute!' Hermione squealed as she opened the door. Her outfit wasn't so bad; it was blue and slightly better fitting, offset by fury white boots. `Just came in to say goodnight,' she continued, `I just wanted to see you in your skiing gear.'
`Why d'you put yours on for?' Harry asked, glowing with shame at his reflection.
`Wanted to make sure it still fits,' she said brightly, `It's been a while since I wore it.'
`You haven't grown that much in a year, have you?'
`In some places,' she said absently, `Night, Harry.'
And he hopped out leaving Harry feeling very glad that Ron couldn't see him dressed like this.
The next day, Harry discovered that he could comfortably add skiing to golf, divination and knitting as things he was totally useless at. He fell down so many times that by the end of the day he wasn't sure who was more wet; him, for falling down, or Hermione from crying through so much laughter. Still, it did have one advantage as every time he fell down Hermione would rub the part of his leg he hurt the most, which was doing more for him than he let on.
By the end of the evening he was in some pain. Dinner was lovely, if a little small, and the resort had some nice paths next to the pistes that Hermione dragged Harry along. The walked silently for a little until, without warning, Hermione took Harry's hand. She said nothing, just looked at the stars and blushed in the moonlight. It was still a little awkward and unnatural doing these things, but they made the blood pump in Harry's veins all the same. He decided to be brave.
He unlatched his hand from Hermione's, again they said nothing, but he removed his glove and put in his pocket. He took Hermione's hand and pulled her glove off as well. She looked a little confused, still not looking at him, but her eyes popped wide as Harry held her hand again. The touch of her skin was electric and when she squeezed his hand it sent a rush of emotion through him so powerful that he felt giddy.
The small light cast a hazy hue across the snow, lit up and shining in the moonlight. Still, they walked in silence, the smile on Hermione's face and the snow melting in her hair more than making up for her lack of words. It was she who made the next move; slipping her hand out of Harry's, she brushed her hair behind her ears, Harry swore he saw her take a steadying breath, then she arced in to stand closer to him, curling her arm around him as she did. Harry could see her biting her lip, unsure of how he would respond. He swung his arm around her shoulders and she smiled as she placed her head onto Harry's shoulder, the silence ringing dull in his ears and his heartbeat now in his throat.
Harry was trembling so much, though he wasn't remotely cold. This was new territory for him; he had faced Voldemort, won Quidditch matches, dealt with the whole school disliking him on numerous occasions but never anything like this. They were outside school, rules were relaxed and options available. But what in the name of Merlin was he supposed to do?
Whether she knew what she was doing or not, it was Hermione who kept making the next moves. The one that signalled the end of their walk was one that Harry knew he'd remember all his life. They had reached the end of the walkway they had been treading; the snow was getting heavier and the clocks ticking on. There was a small alcove cut into the wall of the cabin complex and as they passed it Hermione, quite to Harry's shock, pulled them both into it.
`Don't speak, Harry,' she said huskily as he made to ask what she was up to.
He didn't have much chance to speak after that. Hermione's arms were soon around his neck and she drew him in. Harry felt her forcefulness was a violation, but his fears, concerns and all else in the world faded away as she embraced him. Her kisses were warm and tender and lasted so long that Harry thought he should come up for air, not that he needed to breathe anymore. He was lost, somewhere between joy and euphoria, a place where all that mattered was that he kept kissing Hermione, for terrible things would happen if he stopped.
How long they stayed in the alcove Harry didn't know, but after a long while Hermione drew her lips from his, hugging him gently for an equal length of time. Distant footsteps echoing from the wooden path caused them both to jump out of the alcove and straighten up. They walked back along the path, their hands slipping naturally into each other's this time, and they walked until they reached their rooms. Harry felt a pang of pain as Hermione turned away from him.
`See you in the morning,' she said sweetly as she opened her door.
`I won't sleep tonight, you know,' said Harry.
`Me neither,' smiled Hermione, `same time tomorrow?'
Harry could only nod spastically as Hermione giggled and closed the door, blushing madly. This, he thought, is going to be the best Christmas ever.
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