Chapter Five
CHARMS: Every Little Thing She Does is Magic
It was difficult to be caught in the middle like I was, which was why I was very grateful to Luna who seemed to have a tendency to show up at the Happy Gryff exactly before or while Ron was there to tell me his woes, his failed relationship with Hermione, and why they were so awful as a couple.
Ron is my best friend, but I could only stand to listen to the same thing for so long, so I was quite glad that Luna was there to listen, often stirring him to talk of other things, and actually making him laugh.
Hermione dropped by at the Happy Gryff often but less spontaneously. She always flooed before coming, asking if Ron was there, and fortunately, she always came around dinner, whereas Ron liked coming by around lunch or early afternoon. I was always glad to have her, and she often stayed until closing.
My hostess always gave her the nice table for two at the corner, a private place where she can read or do some take-home work. Then when the dinner crowd had settled, I'd join her. We'd always have wine, and we'd talk about anything and everything except Ron, which was fine by me, because I truly did miss having this closeness with her.
Since she started going out with Ron six months ago, I did notice that Hermione had cut our time together in half. Whether she did this to spare Ron of his latent jealousies of our very close friendship or whether she really did like spending more time with Ron, I never asked, and she never told. So now that she and Ron were broken up, she was at the Happy Gryff almost every day, and we had loads of things to talk about, as if to make up for all that lost time.
I love to watch her talk. Always did. And making her laugh is a true delight. I understand now that time spent with Hermione was always special, and looking back on everything we went through during the war and everything she's done for me, I simply couldn't fathom how and why I ever took her for granted, because I did, especially in school when I was trying not to trip over myself going after Cho, or snogging the heck out of Ginny. And then after the war, there was no short supply of women who promised me life and love.
It was distracting, but I am so very glad I came to my senses, even if it was because Ron and Hermione started dating.
Oy, everyone needs a slap to the head every once in a while to realize the more important things.
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"Harry, I'm going to go gift shopping. Want to come with?" Hermione asked from the floo.
"Sure," was my automatic reply. I didn't even think twice. I didn't bother to ask her where she was going, or for whom she was shopping for. She asked and therefore I would go.
This was exactly the kind of mentality that always got me into trouble.
So I flooed to her mum's house (connected to the floo network, thank you very much). She had joined her mum that morning for breakfast, which she often did even when she used to live with Ron.
I waited at her mother's foyer and spent several minutes stammering and blushing at Grace's oblique questions about my love life. This seemed to be one of her many amusements, and I was always a prime target, and it was probably why she loves me to death.
Hermione, of course, looked positively lovely for shopping in the open market by the Thames. I was instantly smitten, but I figured being in a public place full of people would be perfect for someone like me who happened to be with the woman I deeply cared for-so I didn't have to worry about being beset by an uncontrollable urge to snog her.
Ron would definitely beat the living daylights out of you, I thought resolutely and with what I perceived to be an objective conclusion. Ron is my best friend, too. He's my first friend, and we're both blokes. Blokes have certain rules concerning ex-girlfriends-and fancying your best friend's ex-girlfriend…
It doesn't mean that the rules can't feel like cruel and unusual punishment, though.
When the scent of her shampoo perfumes the air around me and the soft press of her hand sends unholy tingles through my spine, I feel that the Gods are against me and the cosmos is conspiring to make me mad with desire.
When the things she says makes me laugh in a good way and the things she does makes me want to kiss that delectable patch of skin just beneath her ear, I just know that fate is being unkind, unforgiving, and that I'm being punished for wanting what I'm not supposed to want.
When all I want to do is put my arms around her and tell her I love her in words and ways without caring about the hundreds of folks who would see and stare at the spectacle, I just can't help but believe that the heavens would strike me dead for trespassing on the sacred guidelines.
Still… when I suddenly care nothing about the cosmos, and punishment, and bolts of lightning because she's smiling at me and idly caressing my arm, I have to wonder if the blokes who put up the laws ever really knew what it was like to love a woman.
We were now having Battenburg with our tea.
I shifted my gaze briefly to the elegant scrapbook kit she had gotten her friend at work for her birthday. Hermione gave the best gifts, but she hadn't labored over putting this gift together. She finished her gift shopping thirty minutes through the trip, and the rest of it we'd spent together just walking and talking, stopping once for lunch, and now tea.
I was perfectly aware of the position of our feet under the small table. I knew how close her sandaled foot was to my pants leg. I needn't make extensive calculations to know that if I leaned over the table just so, I could take her hand. It was maddening and bittersweet.
A flower vendor walked by, fresh flowers in a basket on her arm. She smiled at us, offering to sell us some, her eyes shifting between me and Hermione, as if to tell me, "Aren't you going to buy your lady friend a nice bouquet?"
What's a bloke like me to do? I stifled a sigh and smiled, taking the offered flowers and paying for them. When the vendor left, I handed the flowers over to Hermione who appeared to be blushing like crazy.
"The vase in your mum's sitting room needs replenishing," I said somewhat bashfully.
She nodded. "It does." She took the flowers and admired them for a bit before setting them aside. "They're lovely. Thank you."
You are so very welcome.
"I missed having afternoons like this with you, Harry," she said after a moment of silence. "We used to have them all the time, yeah?"
Before she started dating Ron, of course. And back then, I didn't quite feel like jumping her senseless. I didn't know, foolish sod that I was.
"We got quite distracted," I said.
She nodded. "Yes. Very distracted."
So I suppose that's what we were going to call her relationship with Ron now. A distraction.
I stifled a sigh. I felt guilty. Shouldn't I be saying, "Well, now, doesn't Ron deserve more than being called a distraction?" After all, I'd often told Ron, "Don't call her names, mate. I won't have it, yeah?" But it was difficult, especially since calling Ron a "distraction" was like making Hermione's history with him disappear for a brief, blessed moment-a moment that I was really enjoying with her.
This is a train wreck waiting to happen.
After tea, I offered to take her back to her flat, and of course she was glad to have my company.
The walk from the Apparating point to her front steps was made in comfortable silence.
We reached the steps, and she smiled up at me. "Care to come in?"
I shoved my hands into my pockets and shook my head. "I have to get back to the restaurant anyway. Give my regards to your mum, won't you?"
"I will. Thanks for accompanying me. It was sweet of you not to complain."
"I won't ever complain about being with you."
These pesky words just tumble out of me. Bugger my faulty brain-mouth connection.
She reddened. I reddened. It was a red situation.
"I'll see you soon, then," she said quietly, tiptoeing to kiss my cheek.
I turned my face a bit. I must have been possessed. It was the only explanation, and her lips landed on mine.
We froze, our lips pressed together, then she pulled away slowly, staring up at me with unveiled wonder. We were both a bit shocked, even if I had vaguely known what I was doing.
That split heartbeat touching of lips brought a tidal wave of promise. I had taken that moment and remembered it like it had lasted a wonderful eternity, wanting more with unbridled certainty.
I would have grabbed her. Given another second of uninterrupted staring and I'd have had her in my arms, tossing caution, rules, and laws to the wind. I was good at that sort of thing, anyway.
But then she widened the gap between us, shaking her head "No," because I know she read it in my eyes. We were really good at that sort of thing, and all I can really do was watch her get away from me. She fled, waving goodbye awkwardly over her shoulder, maybe in some effort at normalcy, as she hastened into her flat.
And I wanted her, was bespelled by her. The magic that was her was powerful enough to make me forget about consequences and the "distraction" that was the reason for my predicament.
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A/N: I sincerely apologize for the UST.
Well, maybe I'm not that sorry.