The Way You Want It

The Way You Want It
By: pottersweetie

Author’s Note: This is the sequel to My Best Friend’s Wedding. I’m going to try to see what I can do with this story, but if it ends up totally ruining the whole idea I’m going to give up on it all together. Hope you like the story! I want to know what you all think, good and bad. It’s in Hermione’s point of view again. Enjoy, Read, Review!

Chapter One
You Had Something to Ask Me?

“What do you buy a kid that has everything he could ever need or want?” I ask Robbie, picking up a rattle and shaking it a little.

He pushes a button on a little light up piano and it starts blaring Mary Had A Little Lamb, little plastic music notes light up above the keys and a few people look over.

“This, buy him this,” he says, pointing to the piano.

I laugh a little, “Ron would kill me.”

“Hmmmmm,” he hits the piano to make it shut up. “Why don’t you just get him a savings bond or something, or a college scholarship.”

“I want it to be more personal than that, this is my godson after all.”

A tinny, static-filled version of ‘I’m Too Sexy For My Shirt’ reverberates from Robbie’s pocket and he pulls out his phone, he smiles and answers.

“Hello love,” he coos.

I smile, rolling my eyes a little.

I walk down the aisle a bit, looking at all the baby toys and clothes and furniture. This should be easy. Why isn’t this easy? He’s only one year old! If I gave him a piece of tinfoil for his birthday he’d think I was the coolest godmother in the entire world. Although, now that I think about it, that wouldn’t be too safe.

And then it hits me.

Although Ron and Luna have a tendency to shower their son, Ioan, with gifts, they rarely buy him books. I’ll buy him a book!

Brilliant!

I see Robbie get off the phone and I walk over to him, “What do you think about a book?”

“Depends, what book?” he replies.

“I don’t know yet. Something with a lesson in it, you know? Maybe a really nice book of fairy tales.”

He looks at me funny, “Um I’m not one to put down fairy tales doll, but I rather read about firefighters-”

“Not for you!” I hit him on the back of the head. “For Ioan, you dolt!”

“Oh!” he says. “No, I still don’t like the fairy tale idea.”

I bite my lip, “Maybe you’re right. Fables?”

He scrunches up his face, “I don’t know.”

I tap my chin lightly, thinking furiously. Why is this so hard?

“Nursery rhymes! Every baby needs nursery rhymes!”

He shrugs, “If you say so.”

I turn on my heel and head toward the front of the store, planning to go to a large bookstore where I can find a nice, expensive book of nursery rhymes.... Maybe even one with gold-edged pages!

But I’m stopped by a display of blankets.

They’re all really cute, different colors, with different lucky charm symbols at the bottom left corner. There’s a blue one, with a shooting star on it, and a red one with a gold horse shoe on it, and a white one with a red balloon on it, and a green one with a dark four-leaf clover on it.

They’re made of the softest material, silky and thick and warm.

I pick up a green one and examine the little silk shamrock sewn onto it. Ron and Luna would love this, it’s so soft and warm. And Ron just told me yesterday that Ioan dropped his old blanket in the toilet and they’ve been meaning to get a new one, but they haven’t had time. And it matches his room.

Bingo, we have a winner.
______________________________________________________________________________

“Harry! Hermione!” Ron shouts over the loud party sounds emitting from the inside of the house, he’s holding a large tray of cookies in one hand as he opens the door for us.

“Baking, Ron?” Harry says, raising his eyebrows.

Ron smirks at him, “Push off, Luna’s about to have a nervous breakdown because none of the food is ready on schedule.”

“Luna? Luna is having a nervous breakdown?” I ask. “The same woman who was more quiet than you were while birthing your child?”

He nods, “That’s what I thought.”

“Where is she?”

“Kitchen,” he says, handing me the tray. “I have to go hose down some toddlers, I’m pretty sure they got into some perfume or something,” and he hurries away.

Harry and I make our way to the kitchen through the busy living room and find Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Fleur, and a rather frantic Luna.

“Hermione! Cookies! Where’d you get those?” Luna asks.

“Ron,” I say.

She takes them from me and places them on the counter, pulling a spatula from a drawer, she begins to place them all on a different plate. I look at Ginny who is widening her eyes at me as if to say, ‘The woman has gone mad!’

“Can I help you with anything Luna?”

“No, please! I have a system!” she nearly screams.

I move towards the table where they’re all sitting, “Mrs. Weasley, how are you?” I ask, giving her a hug.

“Oh very good dear, how are you two?” she asks, letting go of me and pinching Harry’s cheek affectionately.

“Good, very good, thanks,” he replies, smiling back at her.

There’s a loud crash from somewhere in the house, “Aw, damn!” we here Ron shout. “Help, please,” he calls.

Harry laughs, “I’ll go.”

I sit down at the table, next to Fleur and across from Ginny.

“So,” she whispers. “How are you and Harry?”

I smile, “Great.”

“’ow long ‘as it been now? A year and a ‘alf or somezhing?” Fleur asks.

I nod.

“After all the drama you guys went through,” Ginny sighs, shaking her head. “I’m glad you two are finally together.”

I smile, resisting the urge to laugh, “I know, me too.”

They laugh a little.

Then I ask, “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend these days?”

“No,” she says quickly, pink rising up from her neck. She laughs nervously, “Sadly.”

“The homo has entered the building!” I hear Robbie shout as he walks into the house.

I laugh to myself, wondering if it’s a good thing that Robbie and Ron turned out to be some odd form of friends.

“I’m gonna go say hello to Ioan, and the nut case that just walked in,” I say, standing up and leaving the kitchen.

I find Ioan sitting on the floor in the family room with a few other little kids. Fleur and Bill’s two daughters, Madeleine and Patrice, and a few other little boys and girls, the offspring of our friends.

“Happy birthday Ioan!” I say, sitting down next to him on the floor where he’s examining a block.

He looks and smiles brightly at me, “Hermeany!” he squeals, standing up and jumping against me, his arms encircling my neck.

“Are you having fun?” I ask him, laughing as he settles into my lap, holding the block again.

He nods, hitting the block against the floor. His light red hair is soft and wavy on his head and his eyes are big and dreamy as he tries to figure out the blocks purpose.

It’s not too long before Robbie comes over and sits down on the floor next to me, he’s absolutely bubbly and smiling ridiculously. He pokes me in the arm, “I know something you don’t know.”

“What?” I ask as Ioan climbs off of me and runs across the room to Ron and Harry who just walked in from the dining room.

He shakes his head at me, “I’m not telling you!”

“Robbie, you loser! What is it?”

“I can’t tell, let’s just say, you’re gonna like it!” he nearly shrieks.

I groan a little, “I don’t like surprises.”

“You’re gonna like this one!” he practically bounces up and down.

“If you say so.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

At dinner I caught Ron looking at me oddly several times.

I worried I had food stuck in my teeth or maybe my eyes were falling out and I didn’t know it, but he was smiling so I don’t know. And Harry seemed nervous, fidgeting and shaking at random. I wanted to know what the hell was up with everyone, but I figured it had to do with my surprise.

So I let it all go.

After dinner when Luna was serving birthday cake I was going to try and wriggle the details of the surprise out of Robbie but he had disappeared outside and was arguing with his boyfriend over the phone in the drive.

That was when Harry came up to me and held my hand, he was nervous again and I knotted my eyebrows.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting a little weird,” I said.

He swallowed, “Have I?”

I nodded.

“Well, it’s just that I had something to ask-”

“Hermione!” I hear Robbie shriek from the front door.

I turned and looked in his direction, he was waving me over, a desperate look on his face. I turned again to Harry, “I’ll be right back.”

But it took half an hour for Robbie to explain the fight he had gotten into with his boyfriend and to give him advice on what to do. When he called him back and they started arguing again I retreated inside.

And now Ioan’s opening his gifts.

He’s already opened several presents, baby clothes and a train set, and some coloring books, a toy transfiguration set, and a collection of broken iPods from Mr. Weasley.

I find Harry sitting on an armchair, watching as Ioan hands Luna a large piece of crumpled up wrapping paper. I sit on the arm of the chair and he looks at me, smiling.

“You had something to ask me?”

“Yeah-”

“Hermeany!” Ioan shouts, ripping back the paper of my gift. The kid’s gonna be disappointed to find a blanket and a book, but he’ll appreciate it when he’s older.

When it’s opened he shakes out the blanket and runs his little hands over the shamrock.

“GREEN!” he shouts.

“That’s so perfect, it’ll match his room,” Luna says lightly, restored to her normal dreamy self.

Ioan drops the blanket to the floor, “BOOOOOOOOK!” he shouts, opening the book and flipping through the pages as if he can actually read.

“What do you say Ioan?” Ron says.

“Tank you, Hermeany!”

My godson is going to be a genius.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone’s leaving when I get to really talk to Harry again. We’ve already said our goodbyes and we’re heading down the drive when I ask, “You had something to ask me, right?”

He takes a shaky breath, “Oh yeah.”

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Maybe you could come over to my flat tonight, so we could talk-”

He’s cut off by a very distraught Robbie, “Hermione, I need you.”

I look at him, something in his voice is not right and he’s near tears.

“Robbie? What’s wrong?”

“He broke up with me,” he says.

“Oh Rob-”

“Please sleep over I don’t want to be alone,” he pleads.

I hate seeing Robbie so upset, I’m not used to it and I want to help him. I look at Harry who looks worried about Robbie’s behavior.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Are you sure, Harry?” I ask.

He nods, “Call me if you can.”

“Okay, I love you,” I say, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you too,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze before we walk in separate directions.

Author’s Note: Chapter one, hope you like it! Please review!

Chapter Two
Strike Two

Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for those review, I love them to pieces!

“I hate men.”

I stare sadly at Robbie, watching as he gulps a glass of champagne, curled up in the fetal position. Normally, I’d correct him and point out that he’s a man himself but right now I bite my tongue.

I move across the room and sit down next to him, putting an arm around his slumped shoulders and rest his head on my lap. I rub his back comfortingly, dreading what pain he’ll have to endure tonight because of this break up.

After leaving Ron and Luna’s I drove Robbie back to his flat in his car. He managed to give me an almost incoherent description of the fight he had gotten into with his boyfriend, David. Apparently David thought Robbie is being an ass towards him all the time now. David happened to call Robbie when he was in the middle of helping Ron transport all the fragile items from the dining room where the little kids had decided to make a fort. Unfortunately when Robbie picked up the phone he had to give David a curt, ‘Can I call you back in a minute?’

Moving everything took longer than they thought and David called back twenty minutes later, furious.

He started screaming at Robbie about how he is so rude to him and he never pays him any attention. Which isn’t true at all because Robbie takes up most of the space in his attention deficit addled brain thinking about David.

Long story short, David called Robbie a selfish bitch who needed to get his priorities straight. Robbie retorted with, ‘If I get my priorities straight, I wouldn’t be dating you at all!’

When I heard this I laughed out loud but Robbie just looked at me.

After they argued for a short time Robbie demanded, “If I’m so selfish then why are you going out with me?’

To which David replied, ‘Good question,’ and then hung up on Robbie.

Robbie’s been trying to call him back all night, but David’s ignoring all of those calls. No matter how many desperate messages he leaves on the guy’s machine, and no matter how many sorry’s he says through text message the guy is set on being broken up. And the fight sprouted from this guy’s random accusation that came out of nowhere.

I’d say he was PMSing but, that doesn’t quite make sense.

“Robbie, you’re better off.”

He shakes his head, “No I’m not. I screwed up and I-”

“You didn’t do anything!” I nearly shout. “David was overreacting.”

“He’s never going to take me back,” he says.

This is when he starts crying.

I’m rendered speechless for a minute. As long as I’ve known Robbie he’s been the one comforting me, the one drying my tears and rubbing my back. I’ve never seen him cry, I’ve never even seen him sad. Every other time he’s broken up with someone he would always say, ‘It’s only an opportunity to meet someone better and hotter.’ And now he’s crying because of this jerk’s reaction?

“Oh Robbie,” I say.

He sits up and I hug him tightly.

“It’ll be okay,” I tell him as his whole body shakes against mine. “You just have to let him cool off, talk to him tomorrow and explain everything to him, he’ll understand.”

Robbie swallows, “What if he doesn’t?”

“He will, I’ll make him.”

He laughs a little, “Are you sure?”

“Robert, I’m never wrong.”

He looks at me and smiles sadly, wiping his face on the blanket settled around him.

“Thanks Granger, no one’s ever listened to me cry to them before.”

“You’ve done it enough for me,” I squeeze his hand. “I owed you the favor.”

He smiles.

“I know what will cheer you up,” I say.

“What?”

I grab his car keys and gesture towards the door.

______________________________________________________________________________

It’s two thirty in the morning when Robbie finally falls asleep on the couch. I cover him in the blanket tangled around his ankles and he squirms around for a minute, squeezing the pink CareBear we bought him at a corner toy store only a few hours ago.

I pick up the carton of melted ice cream on the coffee table and the two nearly empty bottles of champagne and tuck them under my arm, grabbing the bag of gummie bears and the empty popcorn bowl and the heart shaped box that was filled with chocolate truffles only four hours ago and go into the kitchen. After cleaning up the rest of the room I take my mobile phone and go into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I punch in Harry’s number and wait as it rings.

I wait for the voicemail but am surprised to find Harry answering, groggy and a little disoriented.

“Harry!” I whisper. “I didn’t expect you to answer, I was going to leave you a message. Did I wake you up?”

He coughs, “Yes, but I’m glad you did,” he yawns and I smile to myself. “How’s Robbie?”

“Horrible. It took me two and a half chick flicks a whole carton of chocolate ice cream, gummie bears, chocolate truffles, caramel popcorn, and a pink Carebear to get him to finally stop crying long enough to go to sleep,” I tell him.

Harry coughs again, “Poor guy.”

“I know,” I look around the dark bathroom, bathed in pale moonlight. “You had something to ask me?” I remember.

“Oh-um,” he doesn’t sound so tired anymore. “It can wait.”

I knot my eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“All right,” I say. “Well I’m going to crash here so I can see how Robbie is in the morning, go back to bed sleepy.”

He laughs, “All right, call me tomorrow.”

“Just give me a ring when you wake up tomorrow,” I say.

“What?” he says, almost shocked.

I knot my eyebrows again, “Call me tomorrow?”

He laughs nervously, “Oh right, I will.”

I laugh, because I don’t know what else to do, “Goodnight.”

______________________________________________________________________________

When I wake up the flat smells like pancakes, onions, burnt toast, coffee, and tea.

I find Robbie in the kitchen, dressed and showered, making a five course breakfast. He’s singing Respect by Aretha Franklin and dancing around the kitchen as he cooks some bacon in a pan.

“What are you doing?” I blurt out.

He looks up and smiles brightly, “Morning sunshine! Want some breakfast?”

I don’t even have time to answer, he’s immediately handing me a plate heaped with food. I sit down at the breakfast counter and he hands me a fork. I stare at him as if he’s a ticking-time-bomb while I chew slowly on some scrambled eggs. I want to ask him why he’s dancing around his kitchen making breakfast when last night he was crying hysterically, demanding why every guy can’t be like Matthew McConaughey. But I don’t say anything, if I mention it he might become depressed again.

“Um, Robbie, are you okay?”

He stops dancing and puts his hands on his hips, “If you’re referring to what’s-his-name, I’ve decided if he wants to be irrational then he can be,” he shrugs. “I’m not going to waste my time on him.”

I wonder if I should believe him, if he’s just hiding his sadness. Like maybe he realized he actually showed his feelings last night and proved that he was human, and this morning he’s decided he can’t do that and is back to making everyone else happy.

“Good for you!” I say, raising my glass of orange juice to him, silently agreeing to watch him closely if this argument doesn’t blow over soon.

“So,” he says. “What are you doing today?”

I sigh, “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll hang out with Harry a little, he’s not supposed to be working today.”

“Ooooooh,” he says.

“He was acting really weird yesterday,” I say, worry nipping at my brain. “Do you think there’s something wrong?”

Robbie shakes his head, a knowing glint reveals itself in his eye, “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he smirks before he can hide it.

“It is something!” I say. “You know something Robbie! It’s that bloody surprise, what is it?!”

“Nothing!” he shouts. “Nothing at all.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

After going home, showering and getting dressed I drive over to Harry’s flat. As I’m walking up to the building he walks out.

“Harry!” I say.

When he sees me his face brightens, “Hermione! What a surprise,” he gives me a quick kiss.

“Can we talk now?” I ask, wanting desperately to find out what this surprise is.

His face falls, “I really wish I could, I have to go to work though.”

I frown, “Do you know when you’ll be done?”

He shakes his head, “No idea,” he sighs. “I promise I’ll call you when I get home and we’ll talk then, okay?”

I smile, batting my eyelashes, “You sure I can’t convince you to take a sickie?”

He laughs, “Damn I wish I could,” he puts his hands on my waist. “I’ll get back as soon as I can, all right?”

I nod, even though I can’t wait much longer to find out what the hell is going on!

Author’s Note: This was a filler chapter, no doubt about it. The question will be asked during the next chapter, don’t worry!

Chapter Three
And It’s About Time

Author’s Note: Those reviews are the best! And here is chapter three!

I lay in bed waiting for Harry to get out of work. It’s become difficult to stifle the yawns escaping my mouth. My eyes are tired, pained and heavy as they fight to stay open. The television is on pretty loud, blaring canned laughter at me as an attempt to keep me awake. My bed is so comfortable though and my whole body is tired and lazy and I just want to sleep.

But I want to stay awake and talk to Harry when he’s done with work.

I get out of bed and walk to the kitchen in my flannel bottoms and long-sleeved thermal top. It may be summer outside, but my flat is freezing.

I shiver as I look at the clock; 1:06.

Oh God, where the hell is he?

I pull the elastic band off my wrist and pull my wild hair into a messy bun. Then I reach into the refrigerator for a huge, liter of soda. If I’m going to stay awake I might as well do it right.

About half a liter of root beer and two and a half slices of cold, leftover pizza later I’m still drowsy. Still half-asleep, now with an upset stomach.

I walk around the flat for awhile, trying to wake myself up. I do stretches, I dance, I watch scary movies, action movies that should keep me at the edge of my seat. But nothing seems to work. I come to the conclusion that if I just lay in my bed and rest a little more I’ll be more awake for when Harry does call.

I’m passed out within five minutes.
______________________________________________________________________________

I wake up to Harry crawling into bed next to me. He’s still dressed in his jeans, but he’s taken his shirt and shoes off.

“Harry?” I say quite groggily, turning my head round to see him pulling the quilt over him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I shake my head, rubbing my eyes a little, “No, that’s f-fine,” I reply. “Did you just get here? What time is it?”

“Almost two.”

“God, what did they have you doing for that long?”

He groans, rubbing his neck a little in the dim light of the bed-side lamp. “They thought the Minister of Magic’s niece had been kidnapped. Turns out she was playing hide-and-seek with her imaginary friend, Jasper.”

I laugh a little, “Aw, you poor thing.”

He shakes his head, “Turns out Jasper just forgot to find her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him. “Do you want me to make some tea?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he says. “I much rather just lay here with you,” he circles his arms around my waist and nuzzles my shoulder with his nose.

I settle into his embrace, “Hmmmm.”

After we lay here in silence for a few minutes Harry says, “Hermione, I wanted to talk to you.”

“What is it?” I murmur, my eyes closing heavily.

He takes a deep breath and when he exhales the sigh is shaky. His fingers fumble, moving around as if slow motion along my waist. I can tell he’s nervous about something, but I’m so tired right now I don’t even open my eyes. I knot my eyebrows though.

“Harry, what is it?”

He clears his throat, “It’s just- I’m-”

“You’re beginning to scare me,” I mutter.

He laughs nervously, and then stays quiet.

“Wh-What-” I yawn. “Sorry. What is it you need to talk about?”

“You sound exhausted,” he says.

I sigh, “I am, but I want to walk to you.”

“Really? You want to walk to me?” he jokes.

I laugh, “I meant, I want to talk to you.”

He laughs as well, “Aw, Hermione you’re too tired,” he whispers, kissing my neck. “Go to sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

I’m too tired to even object, “Hmmmm.”
______________________________________________________________________________

I wake up with the bright, morning sunlight falling across my face. I stretch in my bed and smile as the light warms my body. The window is open a few inches and a nice, cool breeze is pushing through my room. I smile to myself as I yawn contentedly. What a perfect way to wake up.

Just as I’m staring at the white ceiling, contentment crawling to my very fingertips, Harry walks into the room.

“Hello, sleeping beauty,” he says, leaning over the bed, kissing my cheek.

“Hello cornball,” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down onto the bed.

He laughs, “Have a nice sleep?”

I think about last night before I fell asleep, Harry had that thing he wanted to talk about, I wince, and I fell asleep before he could talk about it. Should I bring it up now? or should I wait?

“Yes, very nice,” I take a deep breath. “Hey, you smell good,” I poke his stomach.

“I do, don’t I?” he jokes.

I roll my eyes with a smile, “Did you shower?”

“Yeah, and I found some clothes that I’d left here that were mysteriously clean.”

I shake my head as if he’s impossible to deal with, “You know I clean your clothes when you leave them here.... I even clean your clothes when you don’t leave them here.”

He laughs, “That is very true.”

We lay there in silence for a few seconds.

I can hear the traffic outside, not as loud as it could be, somehow subdued. It’s a nice background noise with no screaming sirens or random beeps. It’s just the sweet sound of rolling traffic, people of the outside living a hectic life, on their way to work, or dropping their kids off somewhere. Chaos may reign inside their lives right now, and they’re not even thinking about Harry and me here, who are filled with perfect bliss at the moment. They don’t even register the fact that there are people in the world who are calm and serene, lounging lazily in bed as they rush past. I love the feeling of being able to think about everyone else’s chaos while I’m perfectly content.

Harry wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. I lean into his embrace and snuggle up against him. He smells like my soap and his body spray. I smile to myself and close my eyes for a minute.

“I love you,” he whispers into my hair.

My smile widens, “I love you too.”

“Hey, do you want breakfast?” he asks softly.

I don’t open my eyes or move, only ask: “Do you plan on cooking for me?”

He laughs a little, “Me? Not today. We’ll go out.”

I groan, “I don’t want to go out.”

“Sure you do, we’ll go to Markie’s,” he says, shaking me teasingly.

“Nooooo, Harry, their food is so greasy, it’s not good for you,” I whine.

He laughs at my voice, “It’s perfect!” he pats my bum. “Get up, get ready,” and then he gets up.

I groan again, reaching out for him to lay back down, but instead, he grabs my hand and pulls me up and out of bed.

“You suck,” I say.

He nods, “I know, but you love me,” he gives me a sloppy kiss.

And with that, I shake my head and walk toward the shower. After taking a quick, hot shower I wrap a towel around myself and brush my teeth. I open the door a foot or so and ask Harry what the weather’s like. After he tells me it’s really, very warm, I mentally plan out what I want to wear.

After brushing my teeth I put a fair amount of mousse in my hair so the wild curls will be manageable. Then I get dressed in my favorite pair of bright, plaid linen shorts and a light, white button-up shirt. I grab a pair of flip-flops and my bag and Harry and I are out the door within minutes.

______________________________________________________________________________

Markie’s is a small little pub-type restaurant only a few blocks away. At night it’s teeming with people, especially on the weekends. The bar is open all the time really, but it’s lined with people at night, you can’t even get to it sometimes on the weekends. During the day people usually stop in for breakfast or coffee, kids from university, parents with their kids, or workmen to grab a quick lunch.

When Harry and I arrive though, there’s many people inside. We walk up to the bar, and the man behind it smiles at us. He’s older, tall, with a round stomach. His hair is thin and whitish gray and his eyes are a friendly blue.

“What can I get you guys?” he asks.

Harry looks at me, waiting for me to answer the man.

“Can I just have some toast, with strawberry jelly,” I think for a minute. “And some coffee, please.”

The man nods, jotting it down, looking up at Harry as he does so.

“I’ll have the scrambled eggs and sausage,” he says. “Coffee too, please.”

“Right-o,” the man says. “For here or to go?”

Harry responds with: “Here.”

“All right, if you folks would like to take a seat I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”

We say thank you and make our way to a small, empty table by the window. Around us are many different people. There’s a man with his children, scolding them as they dip their pancakes into their juice. I see a woman with a slightly older man, they’re arguing about politics over coffee and danishes. I smile as a group of guys, only a few years younger than Harry and I, tell animated stories, making large gesticulations with their hands. One of them knocks over his orange juice onto his friends laps and gets a smack on the head. There’s a woman at the far corner of the room, skinny and disgusted, sitting with a man who’s rolling his eyes as she dabs the grease off here scrambled eggs.

The man from behind the bar brings us our coffee and a little pitcher of milk, telling us our food will be ready shortly. When he’s gone Harry looks out the window, his expression is heavy with thought. He lets out a shaky sigh and starts to fiddle with the silverware on the table. He clears his throat.

After he avoids my gaze for a good long minute I ask: “Harry? Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” he echoes, slightly startled. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

I knot my eyebrows, “Then what is it?”

He nods, “See, Hermione it’s just-”

He’s about to answer when a loud, raucous bout of laughter and voices erupts from the door and a group of older teenagers go over to the table filled with university kids. They’re so loud and distracting that everyone in the entire place stares at them for at least a minute. When they’ve quieted down Harry and I look at each other again and I wait patiently. He takes a sip of his coffee.

“You were saying?” I prompt.

“Right. Erm-Hermione, do you think- I mean,” he clears his throat. “We’ve been going out now for.... awhile.... And we’ve known each other forever, right?”

Before I can even answer, a waitress brings us our food. After she’s gone I start to spread the butter on my toasted bread, glancing at Harry tentatively. He doesn’t touch his food, he doesn’t even pick up his knife. I put my knife down and wipe my hands clean on a napkin. I take Harry’s hand in mine and he finally looks at me.

“We’ve known each other forever.... Go on,” I tell him.

He looks at his surroundings, “Maybe we should go somewhere else, this place is so-”

“Harry, just- talk to me.”

He nods, clearing his throat, “We’ve known each other forever. And I think-I think maybe it’s time,” he looks away, wiping his other hand nervously on his pants.

I smile at him, “Harry, why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not good at these kinds of things,” he says, mostly to himself.

If we weren’t already going out I’d think he was asking me out. I watch him intently, my eyes tearing into his face. I give his hand a squeeze, trying to show him that I’m here for him, for whatever he has to tell me. Unless he wants to break up. Then I might cry. Okay, I’d definitely cry. A kind of fears rips through me, is that what this is? Is that the surprise? No, Robbie wouldn’t tell me that I would like it if it was that.

Oh God, Harry just tell me what it is! I think to myself.

He looks up then, his eyes finding mine instantly.

His hand stops its subtle shaking.

“Oh sod it, I know what I want to do,” he says, taking both my hands in his. “Hermione, I love you so much, will you-”

“’arry! ‘ermione! What a wunderrful surrpreeze!”

I look up to see Fleur, Bill, their daughters, Ron, Luna, Ioan and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walking into Markie’s. Harry covers his face in frustration and they all walk over to us.

“Hello!” I say cheerfully. “How are you all?”

They all say good and fine.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Well, Dad wanted us to take him to a muggle restaurant,” Ron says quietly. “Harry and I always go to Markie’s so I thought I’d take him here. And Mum and Fleur were going to go shopping in Hogsmeade today so everyone just decided to go to breakfast.”

I nod an understanding.

“Harry, mate, how’s it going?” Ron says to Harry who’s still covering his face.

Harry waves at Ron with one hand, still covering his face with the other. I look at him strangely but he doesn’t see it.

“Mama,” little Patrice says, her strawberry blonde hair in tiny pigtails. “Are we going to eat the crepes?”

Fleur laughs charmingly, picking up her daughter, “Not today, ma belle.”

“Harry dear, Hermione, what are you two up to today?” Mrs. Weasley asks.

I look at Harry who looks as if he wants to punch the wall, “Um, I don’t think we’re doing anything today,” I reply.

“Oh, why don’t you both come with us to the puppet show in Hogsmeade?” she offers.

“Oh, zhat would be wunderrfull!” Fleur smiles.

Harry shakes his head, “No, we can’t go to puppet show.”

“Why not?” I ask him.

“Do you have to go to work, then?” Mr. Weasley asks.

“No, I don’t have work today,” Harry replies.

“Then why can’t we go? It sounds like fun-”

“Because.”

Everyone begins offering reasons why he wouldnt be able to go, hoping to find the reason. I narrow my eyes at him, why is he being so odd?

“Because, why-”

“Because, I’m just trying to ask you to marry me!” he shouts, standing up, pushing his chair backward.

Everyone in Markie’s turns silent. Everyone is staring at Harry. My eyes widen, my heart speeds up. I hear little Patrice make a questioning noise. Harry looks around him, as if he’s realizing what he’s done.

I stand up and walk over to his side of the table, “Is that what you’ve been trying to do? Ask me to marry you?” I manage to say.

He sighs, smiling sadly at me, “Yes, oh God, I’ve wanted to ask you for so long,” he takes my hands again and kisses them, shaking his head a little. “I didn’t want to ask you like this, not here, not now, I wanted it to be perfect.”

I laugh, finding his current state positively adorable. Oh I love him so much, “As far as I’m concerned it is perfect,” I throw my hands around his neck and kiss him fiercely.

When we break apart we’re smiling, and everything around us is silent.

“So, what’s your answer?” one of the university kids questions loudly.

Harry and I laugh and I look at him again, “My answer is yes, a million times yes!”

“Yeah?”

I nod, the smile still on my face, “Yes!”

He leans in and kisses me again, and the whole of Markie’s erupts in applause.

“Hermeany and Harry are getting married?” Ioan asks Ron.

“Yes,” he answers. “And it’s about bloody time.”

Author’s Note: So there you go! Sorry it’s taken so long to update! Hope you liked the chapter! I know I didn’t write an uber-corny proposal like I usually do, but I thought this would be cute too! Next chapter coming sooner I promise!

Chapter Four
Announcements

Author’s Note: Thank you all for reading (and thank you even more if you reviewed!) I’m sorry it took so long to update the last chapter, hope this finds everyone sooner! Everything starts to get crazy soon, so be prepared everyone! Strap on those seat belts, the drama is about to hit the fan and fly across the room!

Harry turns the car down my old street and I squeeze the side of my seat. My mood is bordering on excited and nervous. I can hardly wait to tell my parents that Harry and I are getting married, but I’m worried that they’ll take it badly. I already know my whole family loves Harry, and he can survive their craziness, but what if they change their mind, or what if they’ve secretly hated him forever.

I snap myself out of my negative thoughts and smile as we pass my old neighbor, Mrs. Manher’s house. She’s outside watering her plants in a bathrobe.

Yesterday, after I said I would definitely marry Harry, he pulled out a black, gold-trimmed box and opened it to reveal my engagement ring. It was silver, with a shining, smooth band, and large (but not too large) emerald cut diamond. I had gasped upon seeing it, because it was better than I thought I deserved. I accepted it though, of course.

All the Weasleys gave us our congratulations. Mrs. Weasley even started crying a little. Ron nearly crushed me in a bear-hug, whispering into my ear, “Look how far you two have come.”

I smiled brightly at him and kissed him on the cheek.

After leaving Markie’s we strolled quietly down the street. Holding hands and basking in our own happiness. And then we brought up when we were going to tell everyone and who we were going to tell first. I called Robbie, partly because I just couldn’t wait to tell him, after all, he had helped in Harry and I going out, and also because I hadn’t spoken to him in quite awhile.

He seemed so happy on the phone, so excited for me. I asked him how he was doing concerning David and he said, and I quote, “The piece of shit hasn’t called back, but I’m scouting boy toys as we speak.”

Something about his voice seemed almost false and I knew I still had to look out for him.

Harry and I then decided that we would tell my family at Sunday dinner, coincidentally the next day. Everyone went to Sunday dinner at my parents’ house, my aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins, everyone. Even if it meant driving quite awhile, Harry and I almost always went. We also decided we’d tell everyone else that day as well, if they hadn’t already heard from the Weasleys.

We finally slow down in front of the house and Harry parks along the grass. The areas in the street around our house and our drive is filled with the cars of our family members.

There’s an anxious excitement filtering through my veins and I can’t keep still. A goofy smile is plastered to my face as Harry takes the key out of the ignition he looks over to me and laughs, “If you keep this appearance up your family will definitely know something is up.”

I laugh too, “I’m sorry, I’m just so excited.”

He cups my lower cheek in his hand and strokes the spot right below my ear and leans in, the leather seat groans under the motion, but I nearly sigh as his lips meet mine.

After a minute or so we pull apart and smile again at each other, “Ready?” he asks me.

I nod.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“That boyfriend of yours is quite the catch,” Aunt Olivia says to me.

I look at Harry across the living room and into the kitchen where he’s talking animatedly with my Dad and cousin. I smile to myself, feeling my heart lift just looking at him.

“He is, isn’t he?”

Aunt Olivia’s oldest daughter, Judy, smiles too, “It’s hard to believe someone can be so gorgeous, sweet, funny, and manage to get along with our whole family.”

They all laugh and I continue to watch him from afar, realizing how lucky I am. After having run away from him and losing his love, to having to win him back, I’m lucky we’re now engaged. I pat my pocket where my ring sits, nestled against my thigh.

“We’re glad she found him,” Mum says.

After managing to get away from all of my relatives, I sneak upstairs and into my old bedroom. I close the door behind me and sigh as the loud voices of my family and the music from the downstairs and outside area are muffled considerably.

I then sit down on my small, iron sleigh bed and enjoy the familiar feel of the soft, pink quilt underneath me. I take a deep breath, loving the smell of old, weathered and plenty of new books that come from my old book shelf at the wall to the left of my bed.

I stare across the room, toward my own reflection in the mirror that rests on top of my dark wooden dresser.

How many nights have I spent in this room? Before Hogwarts, dreaming of a magical prince that would one day take me away. I had always kept to myself, hiding myself in books and facts that no one even cared about. I didn’t want anyone to see my true self, although I dreamed myself silly alone in my room.

And then, once I started attending Hogwarts, how many nights had I stayed awake at school, wanting so badly to be in my own bed at home? How many summers had I stayed awake wanting to be in my bed at school? How often had I fallen asleep recalling the adventures I had had with my best friends? How many tears had I shed when I realized how scared I knew I was for Harry and his once intense battle with Voldemort?

I marvel at how I had once been afraid of the future. I had once been scared of leaving Hogwarts, of getting a job, and of getting married one day. But now it’s all before me, and I feel more than ready. I feel like if I didn’t have this right now, I would feel hollow, empty without my life and without Harry.

I hear a soft knock at the door and it opens, revealing Harry himself.

I smile at him.

“I thought I saw you come in here,” he says, coming inside and closing the door behind him. “What’s up?”

I shrug, “Nothing, just sitting and thinking.”

“You want me to go?” he offers.

“No,” I reply. “Come sit with me.”

He does so, sitting beside me on the creaky bed, “What’re you thinking about?”

“Hogwarts,” I say slowly. “Life in general.”

“All the good stuff,” he nods.

I laugh, “Exactly.”

We fall silent for a few minutes, listening only to the sound of my family downstairs. I’m looking at my walls, admiring some of the pictures hanging on them, but I can feel Harry’s eyes on me.

“Hermione,” he says softly. I look at him as he continues, “You’re not having second thoughts about this, none at all?” he asks.

I shake my head, “Why would you think that?”

He shrugs now, “I don’t know, it’s just- I’ve wanted to do this- God- forever.... But I don’t want to- I won’t do it if you’re not one hundred percent sure you want to.”

“Harry, you don’t have to worry,” I twirl of piece of his hair around my finger and smile. “I’ve never wanted to do something more in my life.”

He smiles, taking my wrist and holding my hand in his, “Really?”

“Really.”

He takes a deep breath, as if he’s extremely relieved.

I put my free hand on his neck, it’s extremely smooth and I’m sure it smells delicious, I rub it a little and lick my lips, “You know I love you.”

“I know,” he tells me. “But- You’re sure you want to marry me, right?”

I laugh, “Don’t ask me again or I might change my mind.”

He’s about to say something but I cut him off, kissing him fiercely. At first he’s kind of taken off guard, but then, when I snake my hands around his neck he circles his arms around my waist. I push him backward and he falls against my pillows. He laughs against my lips and I find myself playing with his hair, enjoying the soft, sweet feel of the strands between my fingers.

He breaks away for a second, “Mrs. Potter....”

I smile brightly, “Not just yet, Mr. Potter,” and I kiss him again.

After what seems like only seconds I hear my mother call from the kitchen, “Dinner!”

Harry and I break apart and look at each other, both thinking the same thing. We get up and go to the door, holding hands as we go.

Just before he opens the door, with his hand on the knob, Harry takes a deep breath along with me, saying, “Show time.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Throughout dinner I find myself hardly eating. It’s not that I feel sick from nervousness or anything, which is what I would have expected. No, I just can’t even focus on eating when I’m so excited to tell everyone the news. I manage to eat a little bit though, not wanting anyone to think I’m acting too odd.

After dessert, when all the plates are cleared and everyone is left sitting around the table, drinking their coffee and talking happily I take my ring out of my pocket and put it on under the table. Harry looks at me meaningfully, as if asking ‘Now?’ I nod.

Once the current conversation ends I speak up before another one can start, “Everyone,” I begin, feeling the heat creep up my face as everyone turns to look at me. “Harry and I have an announcement.”

Everyone looks at us expectedly, as if they can almost guess what I’m about to say.

I grab Harry’s hand on top of the table and squeeze it, “We’re getting married.”

At first everyone’s quiet, and for a moment I’m scared.

Then, all once it seems, everyone begins to congratulate us. There are hugs and kisses and handshakes and pats on the back.

I can see Mum tearing, smiling brightly all the same. All of my female cousins keep asking me questions about my dress and when the planning is going to start. I notice Dad has a sort of sad, but proud smile on his face and he keeps patting Harry on the back at least twelve times.

The same words are passed around for the remainder of the night.

“Welcome to the family Harry!”

“When’s it going to be?”

“Can I see the ring?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter!”

“You kids are gonna have to kick the neighbors out and buy the house next door!”

The same words that we just can’t get over hearing.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After everyone has left I finish helping Mum clean.

“All right Mum, if you’re think we’re finished I think we better head home-”

“Actually I was hoping I could take Harry to the pub for a quick drink,” Dad says.

Mom smiles, “That sounds wonderful, Hermione and I will have a nice cup of tea.”

I nod, “All right,” and give Harry a quick kiss before he heads for the door.

Author’s Note: There you go, hope you all liked it!

Chapter Five
The Awkward, The Sweet,
And Everything In Between

Author’s Note: Okay, let me clarify something that I knew was going to come up. Ron and Luna’s son’s name is a spelled weird but it’s really a form of Ian. That first letter of his name is not a lower case L, it’s an ‘I.’ As in EYE. EYE-OH-AY-EN. Everybody clear? Good! Here’s chapter five, idea stolen from an old fan fiction of mine that I discontinued. Hope everyone likes it!

I sit down at the kitchen table as Mum puts a kettle on the stove to boil. Harry and Dad have only just walked out the door and I’m already worried for them. I run my palm along the surface of the familiar kitchen table, the table I had eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner at so many times. The table that had endured spills, coloring, crying, and some yelling. The table that I sit at now, and would chat with my mother about marriage in a matter of seconds.

She sits down across from me, her shoulder-length curly hair is half up and she’s wearing a soft green jumper and tan pants. Her hazel eyes are twinkling as she smiles proudly at me, “Engaged, huh?” she says.

I nod, grinning, “It was quite funny actually,” I say. “He sort of blurted it rather loudly at Markie’s, with all the Weasley’s there.”

Mum smiles, “After all you two have been through, it’s amazing it’s all come to this.”

“I know,” I sigh. “He was almost going to marry that horrible Natalie,” I shake my head in disgust. “Good thing we both came to our senses.”

She gets up and pours the already warm water into two mugs, where two tea bags begin to drift soggily. I stir the water just after she hands it to me and blow on it thoughtfully. My stomach twists almost guiltily, I don’t want to tear myself away from my Mum and Dad, I always want to be their little girl.... But, I want to marry Harry, there’s no question about that.

“Hermione,” Mum begins, swirling the water in the mug around slowly with a spoon. “I want to have a talk with you before the wedding, and now seems a good time-”

For a minute I panic, “Mum, we’ve already had this talk, remember, when I was-

“No!” she laughs. “Not that talk!”

“Oh,” I laugh too, extremely relieved. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

She pauses for a minute, “You’re going to be a bride now.... There’s going to be a lot of planning from now on and quite a bit of pressure will be put upon you.”

I look at her, I hadn’t even thought about planning the wedding.

“I don’t want it to become too overwhelming for you,” she says, sipping the tea in front of her.

I shake my head, “It won’t be a problem,” I reply with a smile. “You know how organized I am, it’ll be a breeze.”

Mum nearly giggles, “That’s what you think darling.”

I knot my eyebrows but shrug, she doesn’t know how easy I’ll make it for myself. I’ve watched Bridezillas, I know what not to do!

A question pops into my brain, a question I’ve wanted to ask since I told my parents about the engagement. I’m almost hesitant to ask it. I don’t want to receive the wrong answer, even though I’m pretty sure I know what she’ll say.
I ask it anyway.

“Mum?”

“Yes, dear?”

I pause, then say, “Do you- Do you and Dad like Harry?”

She looks surprised, “Of course we do, Hermione you know that.”

“But, do you think he’s right for me? The right person to spend the rest of my life with?” I ask, my eyes wide with questioning.

Mum takes her hands off her mug and takes my hand on top of the table surface, “Do you think he’s the right one for you?”

I nod.

She smiles, giving my cheek a light pat, “That’s what we’ve known from the start.”

I smile brightly at her, “Really?”

She nods, “Really.”

Just then she gets up and moves to the cabinet, retrieving a box of biscuits.

“Now, if he can survive what your father has planned for him right now, we’ll know he’s a real keeper,” she jokes.

I swallow, what is my dad going to possibly say to him? I know my Dad’s been protective of me in the past but he wouldn’t say anything to scare Harry, would be?

I stand up, “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” she asks as I walk out of the kitchen.

“To -uh- visit a friend,” I say, walking through the entrance hall.

Mum sighs, “Hermione, if you’re going to spy on them you might want to have a disguise!”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There’s only pub in our town, and that’s Sammy’s. It’s small and smokey, dim and friendly. There’s a pool table in the back and a couple of dart boards against the wall. The drinks aren’t exactly the best and the only waitress who works there is Maureen, Sammy’s wife. But everyone there is friendly and you can guarantee no creeps will start trouble so that’s where everyone goes.

When I walk into the pub it’s darker inside than it is outside right now. I spot Harry and my father sitting side by side at the bar and I sit only four stools away from them. It’s risky, seeing as my disguise of dad’s old Oxford sweat top, mom’s bleached cotton pants that she cleans in, and an ancient newsboy cap that I found buried in the hall closet that shadows my face, isn’t exactly the best at disguising.

The minute I sit down Sammy asks me what I want to drink, he looks at me funny as I half-grunt, half-cough, ‘Just a ginger-ale!’ without even looking up, but he sets about getting it for me.

When the drink sits in front of me I settle in and strain my ears, listening closely to what Dad and Harry are saying.

“So wait,” Dad says. “You’re telling me you were eleven when you made the quickditch team?”

I smile to myself.

Harry laughs a little, “Quidditch, yeah.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, sir,” is Harry’s reply.

There’s silence between them for several long seconds and I wonder if they’ll talk about anything worth eavesdropping over. Maybe I should leave. Dad sighs, as if resigning over something and I wait, hardly breathing, for fear I won’t hear whatever either will say.

Dad begins, “Harry, I didn’t bring you here to talk about sports.”

I look out of the corner of my eye and see Harry waiting, a hand on his sweating glass.

“Now, I don’t want to pressure you or scare you or anything of the sort, boy,” Dad continues. “But you’re marrying my only daughter, my little girl.”

A sad smile twitches at my lips as I feel my heart tug guiltily.

“Can I tell you the truth Harry?”

“Of course,” Harry replies.

Dad looks down, into his glass, and then up, “I remember hearing all about you when Hermione was in school. She was in awe of you, really.”

I see Harry smile to himself and I do too.

“Everything you did was amazing to her,” Dad confesses. “She told us all about the little adventures you guys had.... We heard all about you both and Ron saving each other.”

Harry laughs a little to himself.

Dad looks at him and says, “We were scared for her life when we heard about your problems with- you know- and we didn’t want her to be friends with you at all. She didn’t even want to tell us about some of the things she went through with you, because she knew we didn’t like her being friends with you.”

I take a deep breath, everything he says is true, and I’m waiting for more.

Dad takes a sip of his drink, swallows, and then says, “Her mother and I didn’t like the idea of you, you sounded heroic, but we just thought you were dangerous and all you could do for Hermione was put her in trouble.”

Harry frowns a little.

“And then when we found out about that war- Hermione kept it from us as best she could but she finally had to tell us,” he sighs. “We tried to stop her from going with you.”

I look at the wood of the bar as there’s silence between them for a short minute.

“You did?” Harry asks, it’s more of a statement than a question though.

Dad nods, “We forbid her from doing it. We knew there was a chance she could have gotten killed and we didn’t give a damn how it made you feel if she wasn’t there for you.”

A tense silence follows as I remember the day, clear in my mind.

“But for the first time in her life, she didn’t listen to us.” I hold my breath as he goes on. “She told us she wasn’t asking our permission to go, she was just letting us know because it was our right as her parents to know.... But she would go whether we allowed her to or not.”

A faint smile tugs at Harry’s lips and I look away, if they realize I’m staring at them I could be found out.

Dad scratches the side of his head, a short laugh escapes his throat and he continues, “We physically wouldn’t let her go, I had to grab hold of her to prevent her from leaving the front door. She clawed at me and her mother, slapped us, screamed, cried, carried on something awful.”

“Hermione? Hermione slapped you?” Harry asked, clearly surprised.

He chuckles a little, “Yes, unbelievable right? But she did, for a good, solid hour,” he shakes his head. “And then she collapsed on the living room floor, crying and crying.”

I swallow, closing my eyes as the memory remains vivid and sharp in my mind, replaying as Dad reveals it to Harry.

“She kept saying she would never speak to us again, never forgive us if we didn’t let her go. We told her she could die and we wouldn’t permit her to do that,” he tuts. “But she sprang up off the ground, all guns firing, ‘I love him and I will be by his side for this!’ she said to us.”

Almost word for word. That was when I realized I loved Harry, crying on the floor that day. Oh God, I had felt so desperate when they told me I couldn’t go. And it only took a few minutes to realize I wanted to- needed to be by his side, to fight with him. What if he needed help? What if he was all alone and needed someone? I knew I loved him then, I denied it to myself no longer.

“She said that?” Harry asks quietly.

Dad nods, “She did. And her mother and I looked at each other, we knew we couldn’t do anything after that,” he smiles. “Then she said she was leaving, that she loved us, and that she was sorry, but it was something she had to do, and she left.”

They’re silent and I look at Harry, he swallows hard and sighs a little.

“You didn’t know about that, did you?”

Harry shakes his head, “No.”

I lift my hand to my mouth and chew on my thumbnail, letting his words roll around in my head a little.

“She never explained to us in full detail why she detached herself from the magical world years ago. She did tell her mother that you had asked her along with you to fight evil wizards,” he says softly. “I was glad she didn’t go, to tell you the truth.”

I look and see Harry’s looking down, his eyes downcast as the horridness of that time is presented to him again.

Dad shakes his head, “And then when you came back and that whole horrible fiasco with that other woman and Hermione moving back with us....” he trails off. “I was glad when you two finally made up and everything fell into place but I was always wary.”

“Hmmmm.”

“But you two would always come and visit us and come for dinner and I started to see how much you truly care about her and respect her,” he says. “I saw why she left to be with you during the war, you make her happy, Harry.”

I smile to myself.

“I didn’t take long for me to realize you were the one she was going to end up with.”

“Really?”

Dad nods.

He continues, “But I’m glad it’s you. If you can keep her safe through evil wizards and trolls-what have you-then I know you can keep her safe and happy through anything.”

They’re quiet and I release a breath, staring into my untouched ginger ale.

“But Harry, I want you to be sure about this,” Dad says. “Marriage isn’t something that one can change their mind about easily. And I understand how someone who’s been through a lot of life-threatening events could want to-”

“Mr. Granger, I love Hermione more than anything,” Harry says, cutting him off. “You don’t have to worry about me being sure, I don’t want anyone else but her.”

I smile, looking at him. Dad smiles too, “Good,” he says. “And if you ever need anything you know you can always come to me and Mrs. Granger.”

Harry nods, “Thank you, Mr. Granger.”

“Please, call me John.”

“John, thanks.”

Dad drains the contents of his glass and I realize I should probably leave before they do. I gulp my drink and then put some money on the bar, leaving quickly.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Harry and Dad arrive back home Mum and I are sitting on the couch, watching TV. I’ve disposed of my disguise and smile at them, “How was the pub?”

Mum subtly nudges me and I try not to laugh.

“It was great,” Dad says as Mum and I stand up.

“That’s good,” I say, then look at Harry. “Ready to go?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

I hug Mum goodbye and then Dad, who takes my hand and puts something in it. Mum and Harry are saying goodbye and don’t see what’s inside my fist as I open my palm, money? I look up at Dad and he winks at me. I don’t understand.

“You don’t have to worry, I paid for your drink at the pub.”

My mouth falls open and I stare at him.

He nods, “I hope you put my shirt back where you found it.”

I laugh, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “I did. And thank you Dad, for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Minnie,” he smiles, using my nickname from when I was toddler. “He’s a good man, don’t give him too much trouble,” he whispers with a smile.

I nod, “I’ll try.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I pull the door shut and wait for Harry to start the engine. He sits for a minute, staring at his keys, not even moving to put them in the ignition.

“Harry? Are you okay?”

He nods, “I’m fine.”

“Did my Dad say anything to scare you?” I joke.

“No,” he shakes his head, looking up and out of the windshield. “Not at all.”

I cock my head to the side, “Then what’s wrong?”

He looks at me, his eyes deeply set on mine. He looks at me so intensely that I feel the bottom of my stomach drop and every cell in my body stands on end. He’s staring at me with such a passion and such a longing that I need to remind myself to breathe. He’s quiet for a minute, just looking at me.

“Thank you,” he finally says. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

I smile at him, “Harry you know I-”

“No, you’ve put yourself in danger for me and I never- I never properly thanked you for all of it.”

I see my Dad’s talk really left an impression on him.

“You have thanked me properly.... You proposed, remember?”

He smiles, his eyes glowing with appreciation, and he leans in and kisses me softly.

Author’s Note: Chapter five! Hope you all liked it. I know it’s been awhile between updates so I hope this makes up for it. Leave me some reviews so my Monday won’t seem so horribly far from Friday!

Chapter Six
Setting Dates, Charming Muggles

Author’s Note: I was hoping Ms.Rowling would provide a little more insight into a magical wedding in DH, but since she didn’t, I’ll be making up a little. Anybody else mad at her? I know I am. I hope you like chapter six! Please review!

“October first.”

“September first?

“August first.”

“No, July first.”

“June?”

“Right now,” Harry replies, rolling over so that he’s hovering above me.

I laugh, “You want to elope now?”

He shrugs, “Why not.”

“We can’t, Mrs. Weasley would kill us,” I say.

“You’re right,” he nods, moving so that he’s sitting on the bed.

I sit up too and put an arm around his back, resting my cheek against his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head and then says, “It’s May now, how long do you suppose it takes to plan a wedding?”

“Well, let’s see,” I sit back. “The last time I planned my wedding it only took a week.”

He looks at me and narrows his eyes, “Funny.”

“Six months, at the least.”

He nods, “The end of October?”

I get up and find my bag on the floor, after rummaging through it for a minute I find my planner and flip a few pages to October. I flop down on the bed with the planner in my hands and Harry leans close to look at it.

“October thirtieth is on a Saturday,” I offer.

He looks at me and I look at him.

“October thirtieth it is.”
______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Hermione! Ooh! Hermione, let’s go in here!” Robbie pulls me into the tiny, little shop.

“What are you? Two?” I ask when he lets me go.

I look around and I realize we’re in a bridal boutique.

“Robbie,” I say beratingly, rolling my eyes, even though the vision of wedding and bridesmaids dresses have been dancing in my head since Harry proposed. “I’ve only just gotten engaged.”

“So?” he bobs his shoulders as means of a shrug. “It’ll be fun.”

“Robbie, we’re meeting Ron for lunch. Do you remember, or has your attention deficit addled brain made you forget where we were going?”

Robbie wheels on me and points in my face, “You know,” he says, meaning to be threatening but he’s laughing behind his front, “You could be a little more sensitive to me. I just got dumped- AND- I did have a little ADD problem when I was younger.”

I laugh, giving him a hug, “All right, I’ll be nice.”

“Good, ya bitch.”

“And when I do pick out my dress, I promise you’ll be there.”

He nods, “Damn right.”

“But right now, we really have to meet Ron for lunch.”

It only takes us five minutes to reach Jumpin’ Jack’s, a muggle-born wizard-owned restaurant that is popular in both the muggle and magical world. When wizards enter and they want to be treated like wizards they ask to be seated in the W section, it’s that simple. They go into a separate part of the restaurant where they can talk and eat without worrying about muggle’s hearing them. But they’re still in the same environment they prefer. All the staff is muggle-born or very muggle conscious witches and wizards.

Ron is already seated in a booth by one of the windows, he smiles and stands up when we get to the table. He kisses me on the cheek and gives Robbie one of those quick, manly hugs and we sit down.

“How’s work today?” he asks.

“Horrible!” Robbie instantly puts in.

I look at him and shake my head, “It wasn’t that bad, I helped a teenager who’s been doing serious drugs for almost two years reconnect with her parents and agree to go to rehab.”

“Ah the job of a social worker,” Ron sighs.

“No,” Robbie cuts in again. “It was horrible, really. Except the embarrassingly enormous bouquet of flowers Hermione got in the middle of the day.”

Ron smiles, “Harry?”

I nod.

It’s true, Harry sent me a large bouquet of red roses and white calla lilies to my desk today. The card read

158 More Days....
Are You As Excited As I Am?

in his slanted, scrawled handwriting.

It had made me smile, and it’s still making me smile, it was so sweet of him to think of. Robbie, though, makes a gagging sound. I playfully hit his shoulder and he ducks away from me just as a young witch walks up to our table and takes our drink order. When she walks away we begin to scan the menu for the rest of our lunch and Ron speaks up again.

“So what is this lunch about?” he asks. “Hermione, you said you had a question for me.”

I look at him over my menu and say, “Well, yes. Seeing as Harry and I were both raised in muggle households and we’ve only been to a few magical weddings..... Well, we’re not exactly sure how to go about it.”

He nods, “Well, you want to have a magical ceremony, right?”

“Yes.”

“Luna actually has a friend, Amber Deyn, she was born into a magical family but she’s a consultant for magical weddings,” he tells me. “You know, she helps couples who were muggle-born or are marrying a muggle- you know, any circumstance.”

I nod in interest, “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure Luna could get you guys an appointment with her if you want.”

“She’s not like a wedding planner, is she?” I ask.

He shakes his head, “No, she’s only there for questions and any help you might need.”

“Oh! Sounds great!”
______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It only took a few days for Luna to arrange an appointment for Harry and I to speak with Ms. Deyn.

She sent us a very friendly letter, via owl, giving us her address, and saying that she was looking forward to meeting us. She also mentioned that we could reach her house via the floo-network if we liked.

So, this is how Harry and I find ourselves, since we much prefer the muggle way of things sometimes, parking along the sidewalk and looking up at the flat building that houses Amber Deyn. It’s a nice building, situated in Fulham, made of white bricks, with a small garden along the building, and a sort of shiny black door in the front.

“What if she’s a little loopy?”

I laugh a little, “She’s not permanently attaching herself to our lives, she’s just here for help whenever we need it.”

Harry shrugs with a suspicious look, “Whatever you say.”

We get out of the car, making our way to the front door. Harry opens the front door and we enter into a small vestibule. Along the wall are mailboxes and a bell system with names and numbers under a small speaker. Deyn is the first name, number 4B. We press the button beside her name and a low growl of a buzz sounds behind it. A second or two later a chipper voice is resounding through the speaker.

“’ello?”

Harry and I exchange a look before I reply, “Er- Hello. This is Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, we have an appointment for two-thirty.”

“Oh yes! Right on time!” the voice says back. “I’ll meet you on the landing.”

A buzz sounds again and I look at the second door in front of us, opening this one next. Harry and I walk up the four short flights of stairs and meet Ms. Deyn at the top of the four set of steps. She smiles down at us, friendly and bright. She has a sort of square face, creamy skin with a nice rosy blush to her dimpled cheeks. Her hair is blonde, with brown on the underside of it. I think I would have normally disliked this effect on some people, but on Amber Deyn I think it’s very pretty. She’s sort of big, tall and wide, but she’s as pretty as any super model I’ve ever seen. She’s dressed in a belted, purple blouse and nice pleated pants, with black square glasses and a cheerful smile.

“Sorry about the steps,” she says when we’re all standing on the landing. “I usually like the extra exercise, visitors tend to feel differently.”

I smile at her and shake my head, “It’s fine.”

She leads us down a hall, towards a door at the end of the corridor, talking as she goes, “It’s so nice to meet you both, Luna talks so fondly of you.”

Harry puts a hand on a the small of my back as Amber leads us into her apartment. This is a habit he’s picked up, I’ve noticed, to touch me in some way when we enter an unfamiliar or closed building, as if by keeping this contact he can protect me from any evil that might be lurking there.

“It’s great to meet you as well, I’ve heard wonderful things about you,” I reply, taking in the flat around me.

We’re in a nice, clean kitchen with gleaming granite counters and white cabinets. She walks us through it, offering us refreshments which we decline, and into a nice living room. There are book shelves rising up to the ceiling, filled with books and plants and little figurines. A beautiful picture window sits at the far wall, looking over the street below, with gauzy white curtains fluttering in the breeze. She beckons us to sit on a comfortable gray suede couch and she sits opposite us in a matching armchair.

“Now, tell me a little about your engagement,” she says, a pen poised over a pad in her lap.

Harry and I exchange a quick glance before he begins speaking, “Well, we’ve both been raised in muggle households- before Hogwarts- but we both want a magical ceremony.”

Amber nods, scribbling on her notebook.

“But we need something that is muggle-friendly, I have to be able to invite my parents friends and my relatives that don’t know about me being a witch,” I add.

“That’s simple,” says Amber. “A simple memory charm will fix that.”

“But,” I start, “I don’t want my relatives having a warped memory of our wedding!” I nearly cry.

She smiles sympathetically, “Don’t worry, they’ll only forget anything magic-related, they’ll remember the rest.”

Something within me disagrees with this, a little tug at the bottom of my stomach. The idea of charming my relatives and muggle friends without them knowing sets my mind slightly reeling. Guilt seeps under my skin. But maybe I’m being paranoid. I don’t have much choice either, do I?

Author’s Note: I know, I know, I haven’t updated in so long and that was fairly short, but next chapter longer and will be up sooner!

Chapter Seven
The Comeback of Detached Relations

Author’s Note: Thanks for the reviews! Hope you like chapter seven, it’s kind of unromantic, but still very important for the story! Harry Potter DVD out tomorrow in the States? Who’s going to get it? I know I am. Enjoy.

“Hello, Hermione Granger.”

“Hermione! Dear!”

My eyes widen, mouth falls open, fingers stop typing at the computer in front of me. I recognize that voice. I’d recognize that smoke-damaged voice anywhere. This voice that belongs to a woman, just a little over eighty years old, only 5”4’ with a severe face and lifted eyes. This voice that goes hand-in-hand with the pressed dress-suits and the hair-sprayed bob of whitish-blonde hair. This voice floods my brain and I nearly have a nervous break down.

I clear my throat, finding my voice, “Grandmother?”

“How are you Hermione?”

“I’m fine, how are you?”

She makes a little exasperated noise, “I’m wonderful darling, a little disappointed I must say.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you, my dear, are engaged!” she trills. “And why, pray tell, did you not tell me yourself?”

I feel as if I’ve been smacked in the face by a overall-clad hippo, that’s how confused I feel.

I stare at my computer screen for several long seconds, my eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, frozen. Robbie looks over at me from his desk and gives me a quizzical look, but I’m so dumbfounded I can’t even react to his gesture. He walks over to my desk and I put a hand to my lips.

Finally, I say, “Grandmother, we haven’t spoken in years.”

She scoffs, “And that’s reason to isolate me from your life completely?” she pauses. “Honestly Hermione, I thought you were better than that.”

“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I mean- I don’t want to isolate you from my life.... I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I should have.”

Over the phone I can almost see her satisfied expression, “Well, I forgive you.”

Robbie makes a face as if to ask me what is going on, I wave at him, signaling that I can’t talk about it right now. He doesn’t budge though, only stands in front of my desk making faces at me because I’m neglecting him. Normally I’d laugh at his insanity, but right now I’m too shocked to even feel humor.

I’m not sure what to say to my grandmother next, that is, until she speaks first, “Hermione, I’d love to have you over for tea this afternoon.”

“But Grandmother, I don’t think I can make it over to-”

“I’m in London for the month, I’ve been working on the Brown Ivy Committee.”

As if I know what that is, “Oh.”

Silence.

“Will you join me for tea this afternoon?”

I bite my lip hard and feel torn. I should feel obligated to tell this woman to shove off and hang up on her right now. I shouldn’t feel guilty about it either. The woman who’s neglected me as her granddaughter for nearly twelve years. Why should I have tea with her? Why should I have told her about my engagement either? She hasn’t cared about my life, she hasn’t worried about birthdays or holidays, she ignored me for benefits and balls in the English countryside. She’s the one who missed out on my departure for Hogwarts because she was busy tra-la-la-ing in Paris.

If this is the case though, why do I feel as if I’m obligated to have tea with her?

As I scratch my forehead I wonder if Mum and Dad would be angry if I did go.

It’s just tea though, it can’t hurt anyone.

“Yes Grandmother, I’ll go to your house for tea.”

“Wonderful!” she replies. “I’ll have my driver, Patrick, pick you up at four, all right?”

I nod to myself, “Okay.”

“What’s your address?”

I give it to her and, eventually, we hang up.

Robbie now sits on a filing cabinet as I fold my arms and hide my face from view in the crook of my elbows on the cool surface of my desk.

He asks, “What was that about?”

“Kill me.”

“All right,” he says. “Would you like to be pressed to death? or how about I dazzle you to death with my good looks?” he bats his eyelashes at me.

I look up at him, “Pressed to death? Where did that come from?”

“My theater group is doing The Crucible, I’m Proctor, the hottie adulterer!” he says, delighted with himself.

I say, completely stoic, “I’m so proud of you.”

“So what’ll it be?” he asks. “I think being dazzled to death would be easier, no mess.”

“Oh it doesn’t matter anyway! I’ll be tortured to death by grandmother in about four hours anyway,” I groan, hiding my face again.

Robbie is silent, and then he says, “Hmph. Psychotic granny?” he nods. “Sounds like it would make a good play.”

“ROBBIE!”

He puts his hands up in defense, “All right, I’m sorry!” he taps me on the head. “Explain why psychotic granny wants to torture you to death.”

I groan again, “You don’t want to know.”

“Of course I do!” he shoves me with his toe. “Spill.”

And, of course, I do.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

My grandmother’s car is a sleek black Mercedes with beige interior. I was actually expecting a limo, but I’m grateful it’s not. Patrick, my grandmother’s driver, is a young, good-looking man, with a toothy grin, chauffeur’s uniform and matching hat. When he pulled up I instinctively slid into the back seat, remembering grandmother’s rules from way back when.

The air-conditioner is keeping the car moderately cool and the radio is playing classical music, turned down low. I lean against the door and watch the scenery of the city pass me by. I clench my fists, feeling as if I’m eleven again. What have I gotten myself into?

The story of my grandmother’s and my relationship is a complicated one. One I attempted to explain to Robbie in under five minutes.

Up until I was eleven, my grandmother had treated me perfectly fine. She would tell me to sit up straight or quiet down every once in awhile, but she also showered me with gifts and made sure my parents provided me with the best.

Grandmother was wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, just as my father would have been, had he taken on my late grandfather’s business of owning law firms all across England. But, my Dad chose, instead, to be a dentist. Well, Grandmother and Grandfather weren’t too pleased with that, so they cut him off from his inheritance money. He didn’t care though, he wanted to be a dentist. And it was in school, studying for this field, that he met my Mum, and he married her, much to my grandmother’s chagrin.

There’s always been tension between my parents and my dad’s parents, but she had always been involved with my life. She detested the fact that my parents weren’t filthy rich, but she treated me just the same. I admired her, although she terrified me. She was always so well dressed and perfect, like a doll, and I wanted to make her happy. We were perfectly fine with one another. That is, until my Hogwarts letter came.

Finally, an explanation for all the strange things that would happen when I was angry or upset or scared. Discovering I was a witch felt right, it made sense. I wanted to tell the world, I longed to scream it at the top of my lungs, but at the same time, that seemed wrong and almost illegal. Little did I know, I was pretty spot on.

After visiting Diagon Alley and buying all my school supplies we told Grandmother I would be going to boarding school. This, of course, did not sit well with her.

“What boarding school?” she demanded. “What school?”

No one had responded to that.

Grandmother was beyond furious, “Do you think I need to be so isolated from your child that I shouldn’t know she’s being sent away, to some horrible school!?”

“Oh no, Grandmother,” I had replied brightly. “This school is magical.”

Not understanding my saying this literally, she demanded, “What school, John?”

Dad had suddenly looked tired, and he shook his head, “Mother, you wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”

She looked from my mother, to my father, to me, back and forth, waiting for an answer to be given.

“Hermione, maybe you better go upstairs-” my mother began, but was cut off.

“That’s not necessary,” Grandmother snapped. “John, explain to me what is going on.”

Dad looked so miserable when he had finally told Grandmother the truth, but he did it anyway. He brought up all the strange things that could happen around me depending on my emotions, and for a brief moment I think Grandmother expected they were sending me away to a school for the mentally unstable, but she was soon proved wrong. He showed her the letter and told her it would be a great opportunity for me, that they refused to suppress my natural abilities, and that I would always continue my normal studies. For about an hour he babbled on, talking himself in circles. Mom looked as if she was worried for me, wringing her hands and fidgeting. I, on the other hand, smiled proudly, waiting for Grandmother to say how proud she was of me, waiting for her to ask me all I had learned so far about the magical world.

But that’s not what she did.

“John Theodore Granger!” she had shrieked. “How dare you!”

I jumped, even more terrified of her.

“How dare you take me for some kind of fool!” she began to pace, shaking her head, trembling with rage. “Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?”

“Grandmother,” I had squeaked. “It’s true!”

She looked like she pitied me, “And you have your daughter in on it too?” she clicked her tongue. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull over me, but this is disgraceful!”

She headed for the door, but before she left she turned around and eyed all three of us. I stood, frozen, terrified and wounded. I was so excited for my grandmother to ask me questions about magic, and for me to be able to show off all I had learned to her. Why hadn’t she been as excited as my parents? Why hadn’t she even believed me?

“Witches and wizards?” she had scoffed. “You, John Granger, are despicable! And as far as I’m concerned, none of you are my family any longer,” and she had left.

On some level I think Grandmother knew we were telling the truth. I figure she just couldn’t bring herself to believe it. Can I really blame her? If it hadn’t happened to me I wouldn’t believe someone telling me they were a witch. But we had all that proof, we’re her family, I was only eleven, couldn’t she have humored me? Did she really have to detach herself from me forever? I was only a little girl.

All of a sudden I feel regret and anger boiling inside me.

She didn’t even try to contact me all those years. She could have called and said happy birthday, written a small card on Christmas? Nothing. And now she wants me to come see her now, when she finds out I’m engaged? Why now? Because I’m getting married? Why does she care about me now? Why not when I was thirteen? or seventeen? How come she skipped my whole childhood and wants to have tea now? When I don’t even need her anymore?

What would she have done if I had told her to sod off? What would she have done if I had just hung up? Or what if I gave her a false address? Maybe I should have told Patrick the driver I was sick and couldn’t go? For a moment I contemplate telling him to turn around and take me home, that I just can’t do this. Or maybe he can just pull over and I’ll walk. But, to my surprise, we’ve stopped in front of an elegant town house.

“We’re here Miss Granger.”

Great.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The second I walk into the entrance hall I’m attacked by several Pomeranians and pugs, all in assorted colors. The butler who let me in, a tall, stoic guy straight from Clue, ushers me through the hall and towards the winding staircase across from the door. Walking from point A to point B proves to be quite difficult, as the small, yipping dogs are trying to bite my ankles and I don’t want to crush any of them. I try to shoo them away, sliding my feet across the floor as I go, but that proves to be pointless. Finally, the butler helps me.

“Away!” he shouts, and the dogs scatter.

I give him a grateful smile and follow him up the stairs.

The house is very beautiful and sophisticated. It’s decorated, but not cluttered; bright, but not cozy. And it smells of Grandmother. I inhale the familiar mix of Chanel No. 5 and peppermint, with a trace of cigarette smoke. It makes me sick, bringing back all those memories of Grandmother, feeling like I had done something wrong to push her away. But I’m a grown woman now, and I know it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault at all. I can’t help feeling nervous as I reach the top of the stairs though.

“Mipsy, down!”

My heart stops and I freeze, my feet planted to the ground. I feel my stomach dropping to my feet, and I’m surprised to find I can’t swallow past the lump in my throat.

Grandmother is here, that was her voice.

I mentally slap myself.

No shit she’s here, it’s her house, she invited you over for tea, what’d you think you were going to chill with a hologram?

“Miss Granger?” the butler waits for me, standing outside of an open doorway. “Is something wrong?”

I swallow hard and shake my head, reaching his side. Looking into the doorway I see Grandmother shooing one of her pomeranians off the cream-colored couch. She looks the same, nothing has changed in ten years, not a thing. Her hair is pinned back and she’s wearing a black turtleneck, with an Hermes scarf around her neck. This is paired with a tastefully tailored, red skirt and classic black stockings. Her lipstick is bright and caked on her lips, her eyes rimmed in mascara and eyeliner. She’s also wearing chunky gold earrings I remember she wore to my tenth birthday.

Looking up, she smiles brightly and stands up, striding over to me. I resist the urge to flinch as she lightly embraces me, giving me a double cheek-to-cheek kiss.

“Hermione, my dear, you have grown into quite the beautiful young woman,” she nods, satisfied.

I smile politely, “Thank you Grandmother.”

She gestures toward the cream couch, “Come, sit with me.”

I do as she says and we sit beside each other, a good few inches apart, and smile. After she commands the butler to serve the tea I’m enjoying a cup of the steaming hot liquid, feeling a little easier about the whole situation.

It’s just tea.

“So Hermione, tell me what you’ve been doing for these past few years,” she urges. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

What have I been doing? Well, let’s see, I helped my best friend defeat the most evil wizard of all time. I nearly died a few times. I endured the single most brilliant man I’ve ever met dying. I went through a war. I watched the Ministry of Magic become corrupted and fall. I fell in love with my best friend. I ran away from him like an idiot. I tried to break up his previous engagement. I succeeded? I am now getting married to him.... And here you are Grandmother, I am now having tea with you.

I say, “Well, after I finished school I got a job as a social worker-”

“That’s wonderful!”

She only thinks it’s wonderful because it’s not magic.

“And I’m now engaged to my best friend, Harry Potter.”

She smiles, “Tell me about Harry!”

I clear my throat, “He’s great- Really kind, intelligent-”

“And what do his parents do?” she asks, sipping her tea.

“Oh-uh- his parents actually died when he was a baby,” I explain, not presenting the complete details. “He was raised by his aunt and uncle.”

She frowns, “The poor boy.”

I nod.

“And where did you meet him?”

I hesitate, “School.”

She pauses.

“The school you left because of?” I offer.

Frowning, she looks down, nodding, “Hermione, I’m terribly sorry for that. Really, it was unfair of me.”

I only nod as she looks up.

“I do want to make it up to you,” she says.

I shrug, “It’s fine Grandmother, really.”

She hesitates, changing the subject, “Now, what does Harry do for a living?”

Oh God.

“Um- well, there’s a profession in the magical world,” I say softly. “It’s called an auror, it’s basically like a wizarding policeman or detective.”

Except about a hundred times more intense- After all, these guys have wands to fight with.

She looks a little unimpressed, but she nods and continues smiling.

I’m about to ask her what she’s been doing, but the butler comes in and says, “Excuse me Mrs. Granger, but Miss Colthart is here.”

Grandmother stands up, excited, going over to the door, “Wonderful! Send her in!”

Who is Miss Colthart?

A tall, skinny woman with pin-straight black hair and large blue eyes walks into the room. She’s wearing tasteful, black, straight-leg jeans, glossy red pumps, and a fitted, white button-up shirt. She’s very pretty and very well put-together. In her hand is a gray portfolio and a beautiful designer handbag. She smiles at me and shakes Grandmother’s hand.

“Hermione, this is Megan Colthart,” she introduces us. “Megan, this is my granddaughter, Hermione.”

Megan reaches over and shakes my hand and I smile, “Ah, the Bride-To-Be!” she says.

Excuse me?

How does this woman know I’m getting married?

I continue to smile, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hermione,” Grandmother puts a hand on Megan’s shoulder, “Megan is the finest wedding planner in London!”

I freeze.

What?

“Wedding planner?” I reiterate.

Grandmother nods excitedly.

I clear my throat, “Wow, that’s great!”

Megan nods encouragingly.

I don’t know what to say next, and before I know it I’m being swept up in ideas and photographs. Megan suggests a theme, Grandmother suggests a location. What is going on? I don’t think I ever agreed to a wedding planner? I feel so dizzy and confused that I only sit back and smile, listening and nodding, making no promises on any suggestion.

“Maybe you’ll like this-” Megan rifles through her folders. “It’s a beautiful little church, right here in London-” she cuts herself off. “Now where is that photo.” She searches for a moment, “I believe I left it in my car-” she stands up. “I’ll only be a moment!”

And she leaves the room.

Grandmother begins to sip her tea again but I turn on her, “Grandmother, why would you get me a wedding planner?”

“Why not dear?”

I shake my head, “I don’t want one!”

“It’ll make everything so much easier though-”

“But I’ve already decided I don’t want one! I want to do this myself!”

She smiles, “Megan can help you plan any wedding you’d like- And I’m paying for the whole thing.”

“Grandmother I can’t accept-”

“Of course you can! This is my way of making everything up to you!” she looks so happy, so sincere and excited that I don’t have the heart to disagree with her. “Listen, darling, we’ll just discuss some ideas with Megan now, and then you can go home and have a nice long talk with Harry about the wedding and the planning, okay?”

I guess that seems fair.

I nod, “Okay, but Grandmother, I can’t promise I’ll use this wedding planner.”

She shrugs, “That’s fine.”

“Found it!” Megan calls, coming back into the room with a picture of a beautiful, grand church somewhere in London.

As I’m whisked away again by the wedding suggestions I mentally kick myself over and over.

Just tea?

Yeah right.

Author’s Note: Hope that was nice and long for everyone! The drama will be unfolding shortly! Reviews are always appreciated! Thank you for reading!

Chapter Eight
Nothing’s Perfect

Author’s Note: I’m sorry the updates are so few and far apart. School is rough and inspiration for my Harry Potter fan fictions has been dwindling. But those who are still reading need not fear, I will not abandon! I’ve been rereading my favorite Sophie Kinsella books, and for those of you who know her writing, you’ll understand why it provides inspiration for this story. Hope you all like chapter eight!
______________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________

The more I think about it, the more I like the idea.

Don’t get me wrong, I do want a magical wedding- magic is such a big part of my life- but I am a muggle, born and raised.

I’m sitting at my kitchen table, a bunch of wedding magazine clippings, photographs, brochures, and lists scattered in front of me. I sigh, dazzled by all the beautiful ideas, thrown into a strange vertigo. I can’t tell this wedding planner, Megan, that I want to incorporate magic into my wedding. What would she say to that? Suggest a fairy and unicorn theme? Oh bloody hell, what am I going to do? Team Megan and Amber Deyn up and see what happens?

Taking a deep breath, I decide to sort out the facts.

I know I want a magical wedding. But I also want a wedding that my muggle family and friends can attend. I don’t want them to be charmed to forget the magical parts, though. I also want something that doesn’t have to be too difficult- you know, concerning keeping the guests away from each other so the wizards don’t ask why the muggles aren’t wearing robes or something.

There’s a half-knock at my door and it opens. Harry walks in, looking slightly disheveled and tired. He coughs as he enters, running a hand through his hair.

“Hermione?” he walks into the kitchen, looks at all the wedding rubbish in front of me and smirks a little. “What’s all this?”

I roll my eyes, “Don’t ask.”

“Are you about ready to leave?” he asks.

I nod, standing up to retrieve my bag near the couch, as we leave the flat and stand in the lift Harry sighs a little.

I turn to look at him, seeing just how tired he looks, “Are you okay? How was work?”

“Wretched,” he grumbles. “I’m being screwed over, I know it,” he shakes his head.

“What do you mean?” I ask, and I’m about to start up another sentence before he cuts me off.

He shakes his head, “Let’s just not talk about it, okay?”

Clearly he’s had a really crap day, so I’m not going to press it. Besides, we’re on our way to Ron’s for a nice dinner with all of our friends and I don’t want to spoil the evening. When we get there Harry will relax and start to have a good time with his friends, then tomorrow, after he’s gone without thinking about work for awhile, maybe then we’ll talk about it. If he wants to. Gosh, he really does look tired and stressed.
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The table is filled with all of our friends. Ron is sitting at the head of the table, playing host and laughing loudly, helping Luna every once in awhile. Neville is here, sitting with his girlfriend, Michelle, laughing quietly while sipping his water. Bill and Fleur are sitting close together, with his arm slung around the back of her chair, their daughter, Patrice, in Fleur’s lap. Charlie is here with his kids as well, but his wife, Margot, is away on business in Albania. Fred is here with one of his girlfriends, cracking jokes and insisting everyone have ‘just one more’ glass of Firewhiskey. And George is here with his wife, Lucy, as well, teasing everyone and discreetly talking business with Fred. The only person who hasn’t arrived yet is Ginny.

“That’s not how it happened!” Ron shouts as he places a basket of rolls on the table for Luna. “I did not turn my pants completely into chocolate, maybe just one leg!”

Bill laughs, “We were all so proud though- despite the cocopants- because we knew Ron was not magically deficient!”

Fleur is giggling but she reproachfully slaps Bill’s knee.

The whole table is actually in stitches over Bill’s story of Ron’s late-magic problem. Apparently he had no magical occurrences before he was six, leading his parents to believe he wouldn’t be able to do magic at all. That is, until his seventh birthday when he begged his mum for some extra chocolate, on top of his eating the majority of his birthday cake. When she refused him he grew so angry that, apparently, he turned his trousers into a chocolate mess. I find the story hilarious, it’s so essentially Ron that I’m nearly crying in hysterics. I turn to see if Harry is laughing as hard as I am, but I see he’s only sitting there, smiling politely, pinching the material of his napkin.

As Ron and Bill break into a joking argument over the whole scenario I discreetly lean toward Harry, put my hand on his knee and whisper, “Are you all right?”

He looks as if he’s realizing himself and says, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “You don’t seem-”

“Dinner!”

Our conversation breaks off as Luna starts serving dinner. As we all begin eating and chatting again, Harry loosens up a little and starts to act more like himself. He and Ron tell an amusing story about the conversation they had when Luna told Ron she was pregnant with Ioan. Ron reveals that he and Harry had a conversation about what kind of kids they wanted when they were bored in fifth year. We’re all having such a good time that I’m sure Harry’s forgotten all about work, but then I see him grow quiet every few minutes, and I’m also sickly reminded of Grandmother and the dilemma I’m finding myself in.

Suddenly, the front door opens and Ginny rushes in.

“Sorry guys!” she says quickly, pulling out her chair and taking a seat between Neville and me. She looks flustered and wide-eyed. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are bright, she’s a little out of breath and her lip gloss is smeared all around her mouth. “I got tied up at.... What?” she trails off and asks, when she notices we’ve all gone quiet and we’re staring at her awkwardly.

Ron, of course, breaks the silence, “Gin, you have lipstick all over your mouth.”

Her eyebrows crease in confusion for a moment and then she realizes, puts a hand to her mouth and wipes it all away.

“I had a-a-an apple on the w-way here,” she says, tingeing pink. “I guess it got a little messy.”

Fred and George snicker and Bill says, “Uh-huh, sure you did.”

Luna takes a sip of her pumpkin juice and graciously changes the subject for poor Ginny, “Oh Hermione, Harry, I forgot to ask you guys how your meeting with Amber went.”

I look at Harry as he says, “It went really well.”

“She’s very nice, and quite insightful.... Only, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with charming the muggles at our wedding.”

Fred interjects, “Why not?”

“I don’t want them to have an altered perception of our wedding,” I say uncomfortably. “It just seems strange to me.”

Fleur daintily sips her wine, and then asks, “But you are still ‘aving a magical wedding, yes?”

“I want to,” I nod. “But I wish it was less complicated.”

“Just don’t have muggles there,” George offers.

I look at him, appalled, “We’re talking about my family here!”

“You can’t have a true magical ceremony with muggles there without having them charmed,” Bill tells us. “It’s impossible.”

This makes my heart sink and deflate sickeningly.

Harry speaks up now, “We’re definitely having a magical ceremony though.”

“But I want my family there, without stupid charms on all of them!” I say, growing desperate.

“Some of your family knows your a witch, invite them,” Neville says, trying his best to help.

I shake my head, “I couldn’t do that, what would I tell my other family members? And my muggle friends?”

“That you eloped,” Fred puts in, as if it’s all too obvious.

“I want them to see me get married.”

Ron puts an extra roll on Ioan’s plate, saying, “I talked to Seamus about his wedding, he said he and his wife didn’t invite anyone except the best man and the maid of honor. Said it was the best decision they’ve ever made,” he nods toward us. “He said the magical ceremony was so great, that it was so worth it to not have anyone there at all.”

Don’t they understand that would mean not inviting my cousins and my aunts and uncles, the people I want there! And what about Grandmother? What am I supposed to do about her and her wedding planner? Maybe Harry will be able to figure it out. I can’t bring it up now though, not in front of everyone.

“Oh, you can’t do without having a magical ceremony,” Luna tells us confidently. “It goes deeper than any muggle wedding could go. Your souls feel like they’re being connected,” a severely dreamy look clouds her face and she takes hold of Ron’s hands.

Geez.

I’m about to speak when Harry says, “There’s no doubt we’re having a magical wedding.”

“Well, I don’t know,” I say. “No matter what anyone says about magical ceremonies, I grew up muggle, and so did Harry, a muggle ceremony would be just fine-”

Harry looks angry, he cuts me off, “Hermione, our lives are based in the magical world. We can’t not have a magical ceremo-”

“Harry, our lives have always been based in both worlds.”

“Well,” he says, sounding peeved. “The muggle world hasn’t always done me right, and I don’t know if I want to be married the muggle way.”

I feel stung.

I clear my throat, “Harry, I am muggle-born,” I shake my head, feeling so confused and hurt. “It’s my life.”

“Your life is also in the magical world, you can’t expect to always live in both,” he says heatedly.

I look around the table and see everyone looks baffled and a little tense. No one wants to watch two people argue or fight, especially over such a private topic, but they’re all being subjected to it. Feeling my face burn with anger and slight embarrassment, I clear my throat. Why is Harry being so mean? We both discussed it and said we wanted a muggle-friendly but also magical wedding. Now, all of a sudden he’s turning his back on the muggle part, the part that matters almost more than the magical part does to me. I grew up a muggle, I am muggle-born, it’s my childhood, it’s my family, I can’t have that part of me excommunicated from my life. But we can’t argue over this now, we’ll have to figure it out later.

I shake my head, “It’ll all work itself out somehow.”

I look up and meet Ron’s eyes. I shoot him a ‘help me!’ look.

“So, Gin, tell us about that rendezvous you had with that apple,” he says, steering the conversation clear away from Harry and I.

I shoot him a grateful smile and he discreetly winks at me.
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The car ride back to my flat has been tense and silent. I can tell Harry’s still a little angry about work and the argument we had on top of that, so he hasn’t spoken. I’ve thought about it, and I understand that his childhood was horrible because of muggles, but it’s not fair to take away any chance of my family and friends going to our wedding because it’s magical. It’s all so confusing.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Harry, I know your muggle life wasn’t exactly idyllic because of muggles, but I want my family and friends at our wedding.”

“The magical world saved my life, Hermione,” he says curtly. “It’s who I am and I’m not going to get married any other way.”

It’s like a slap to the face, his being this angry.

“Well, the muggle-world is my life and I’m not going to ignore that!” I shout, feeling my anger rise. “Why are you changing your mind all of a sudden? We discussed all of this already!”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s my wedding too, Hermione, I’m allowed to make some decisions as well!”

“Yeah but you’re not making one this big alone!” I turn my whole body so I’m facing him in the passenger seat. “It’s not fair!”

He shakes his head, “What’s wrong with charming the muggles?”

“Harry!” I hiss, disgusted. “It’s my family, I don’t want to lie to them that way-”

“You’re already lying to them about being a witch,” he says acidly. “What’s the difference?”

I swallow, “That’s different.”

“No it’s not,” he yells. “You can’t be so demonstrative when it comes to something so difficult to figure out.”

“Demonstrative?” I ask, incredulous. “I’m being demonstrative because I want my family at my wedding without putting a spell on them?”

He doesn’t say anything.

I sit back in my seat, staring ahead, “You’re just being bloody ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” he rolls his eyes. “I’m being realistic! You’re being difficult and-”

“You’re being selfish!”

He looks at me and then sets his eyes back on the road, “Sure I am,” he replies sarcastically.

I shake my head, disbelievingly, “You are! You’re not thinking of me, of the fact that my family and friends mean a lot to me and I want them there, uncharmed!” I’m breathing hard with rage and I say, “You’re only thinking of the three muggles you knew who were horrible. They don’t have to be there, it’s just the muggle ceremony I’d like-”

“So you just want to disregard the magic ceremony completely,” he pulls up in front of my apartment building and turns to me with a harsh look in his eyes. “Is that what you’re saying?”

I shrink away from his gaze for a moment but then sit up straighter, more defiant, “That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it-”

He cuts me off, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in surrender, “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Harry, this is just a-”

“Can you please get out?” he says curtly. “I’d like to go home.”

My mouth falls open in shock.

He glances at me and I fumble for the handle, gulping down my hurt. I swiftly get out of the car and sort of slam the door shut, stepping onto the sidewalk. He pulls away quickly and I find myself shaking with adrenaline and anger. I make my way inside and into the lift, and as it moves up I’m hitting the heel of my palm against the side of my leg, twitching and fidgeting the whole way up. Of course Harry and I have fought and argued before, but not over something so big. Is this going to jeopardize the whole wedding, because we don’t know what kind of wedding to have? If it was a fight about anything else I wouldn’t even think about this, but because it’s about the wedding itself I’m not sure. I find myself cringing and biting my lip, scared and confused.

Why does everything always have to be so complicated?

Author’s Note: I know, not very romantic, but it’s realistic, and I don’t want their relationship to be all ridiculous sunshine and roses. Granted, Harry was a little mean, but, if you haven’t figured out why, that’ll be explained in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! Sorry the update took so long to post!