Disclaimer: See Act 1.
Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, who's read and reviewed this fic so far! I appreciate all the feedback, even if I don't have time to respond to everyone's comments. I hope you all enjoy this next part and the beginning of Denial!Harry. ;-) Act 3 of 6.
Playing a Part
Act 3: The Show Must Go On?
Harry's first indication that his plan had developed an unforeseen complication was when he opened the Daily Prophet the next morning to see a picture of himself and Hermione on the front page.
The rest of the ball yesterday evening had continued on in much the same fashion. He'd been accosted by several more of his fangirls, each of whom had tried to insinuate themselves between him and Hermione and imply somewhat less-than-subtly that Harry arriving with Hermione was purely out of friendship. He had entered into the spirit of his little plot and enjoyed himself surprisingly. It helped that his instinct to defend Hermione from the veiled insults of his fans was quite natural and hardly needed any acting and, in the other times, when he and Hermione were walking and talking together, it had been easy to fall into the usual rhythm of their friendship and camaraderie.
Really, all he'd needed to do was make a point of touching her, little platonic touches on her arm or her shoulder or her back more often than he normally would and he'd also kissed her cheek once. All things he'd done before and none of them requiring all that much thought or effort.
The evening had really been very pleasant. He'd spent most of it with Hermione and talking to Ron and other people whom he would have wanted to talk to anyway, like Mr. Weasley and Bill and Fleur.
He had thought that his plan, insane as it might sound, was actually working out to be quite a success.
Until he opened the Daily Prophet.
He choked on his pumpkin juice at the headline that trumpeted, Romance for Harry Potter?
The picture was, rather surprisingly, not of one of the more overtly-romantic gestures from the evening of him kissing Hermione's hand or of him kissing her cheek, but was, simply of him looking at Hermione and them laughing together over something. But on looking at it, he could see why they had chosen that picture and that moment. He couldn't identify exactly when in the evening the picture had been taken because he and Hermione had spent what seemed like the better part of the evening smiling and laughing together. He couldn't help but think, as he studied the picture, that if he didn't know better, if the picture had been of any other two people, he would have thought they were romantically involved too. He wasn't even sure exactly what it was about the picture that struck him that way; maybe it was the atmosphere of intimacy, of understanding, that was somehow exuded from the snapshot of shared humor. Hermione's smile was bright and her expression one of unselfconscious and completely sincere enjoyment in his company while his was much the same.
Of course it was just a sign of how close they were as friends and how well they got along together. Hermione was his best friend; of course he would enjoy her company and naturally, he'd rather spend the evening with her than fending off his persistent fangirls, none of whom, he was willing to bet, really cared about him as a person but cared more about his fame and his wealth and his status as the so-called Savior of the Wizarding World.
He turned his attention to the article beneath the picture.
It looks like Harry Potter has found love with his long-time best friend Hermione Granger.
It appears that Harry Potter is not as available as every young witch would like him to be. He was accompanied to the Victory Ball held at the Russian Embassy last evening by none other than Hermione Granger, who has long been known as one of his best friends, along with Ron Weasley.
Mr. Potter spent the entire evening with Miss Granger and from all appearances, they are definitely a couple, from the obvious enjoyment they took in each other's company. Mr. Potter was seen holding her hand and kissing it and he also kissed her cheek.
It is sad news for all those young witches who have been eagerly anticipating the chance to meet and dance with Mr. Potter, who was named the Most Eligible Bachelor in the latest issue of Witch Weekly, as well as winning the Most Charming Smile award.
One is left to wonder just when the romantic relationship between Mr. Potter and Miss Granger began but we, at the Daily Prophet, can only imagine it has been some time, as Mr. Potter and Miss Granger's obvious close-ness over the years would suggest.
The article went on to relate his previous relationships with Cho and with Ginny (clearly, the Daily Prophet had spoken to someone from Hogwarts) as well as mentioning Hermione's relationship with Viktor Krum and mentioning the rumors about her and Ron.
Harry grimaced a little as he pushed the paper away from him and then started, looking up as Hermione came out of her bedroom.
"Morning, Harry," she greeted him with a smile.
"You should probably take a look at this," he said instead, forgoing a more traditional greeting.
"What is it?"
He heard her make a small sound in her throat as she skimmed the article and looked at the picture and he hastened to speak. "I'm sorry about this." He knew she disliked being mentioned in the papers as much as he did, all the more because she hadn't had enough time to become inured to it as he had. It had only been in the past few months since the final battle that she and Ron had become nearly as famous as he was for their roles in helping him defeat Voldemort. And this article was worse than usual because it was entirely focused on their private lives. "I forgot the endless fascination people seem to have with my private life," he continued apologetically. "If you want, we can just forget this whole plot and make a public denial that we're anything more than friends. I'll survive the next two balls on my own," he added, trying to keep his instinctive dread at the thought out of his voice.
He knew he hadn't succeeded when she threw him a brief, rather doubtful look. He supposed he should have known better than to think he could lie to her; she had always had that ability (the rather inconvenient ability, at this moment) to see through any pretenses and she had heard him grumble about his fans and his fame often enough to know just how much he detested the spotlight.
Her gaze lowered to look at the picture again and in a motion so natural he was almost sure it was unconscious, she reached out with one finger to brush it against the picture, the pad of her finger brushing over his pictured face with a touch as light as a butterfly's wing.
And that was when it happened.
He was never sure afterwards exactly why it happened or what caused it but somehow, something about seeing her finger move over that picture of himself in such a light caress, something about how his gaze and his attention had suddenly been riveted to her hand and the unconscious grace of her fingers, made him react. For a fleeting moment- to his own horror- he couldn't help but wonder what her fingers would feel like moving in such a delicate caress over-his skin or, more specifically, something else-that part of his body that was suddenly making itself known-and he felt a stab of desire, the muscles in his body tensing.
Good God.
He automatically recoiled, slamming a mental door on the wayward thoughts and shut his eyes for a minute as he fought to regain control of his own renegade body.
It hadn't happened. It hadn't happened. It couldn't have happened. He had not just experienced a moment of- of lust-for Hermione. He had not. It hadn't happened, could not happen, should not happen.
It would never happen. Could not happen. Again, that is.
He made a face of instinctive dismay-and then in the next moment, he nearly leaped out of his own skin when he felt a gentle touch on his hand. It took every ounce of control he possessed not to flinch away from her touch and he was immensely thankful when she took her hand away.
His eyes flew open to see the half-amused, half-sympathetic smile on Hermione's face. "Don't look like that, Harry. It's okay; I won't abandon you to your fan-girls."
For a fleeting moment, he just stared at her, having completely lost track of what she was talking about and then realized. She must have thought that the face he'd made had been at the thought of having to face his fan-girls without the help of his little scheme and she'd agreed to continue it.
"Are you sure?" he blurted out, suddenly not at all sure that going on with his plan was the smart thing to do. "You know the press isn't going to leave you alone."
For a moment, doubt flickered across her face but then she smiled. "And what kind of best friend would I be if I just left you to fend off your crazy fans alone?"
"Maybe a sane one," he couldn't help but mutter.
She laughed and something about the very familiarity of it helped him relax.
After all, that insane moment earlier had just been a fluke. It must have been a fluke. He'd been upset and not thinking clearly. That was all it was. A fluke. And it wouldn't happen again.
This was Hermione after all; he'd never felt that way about Hermione. It was partly why he'd felt able to suggest they pretend to be dating; it would have been too awkward, too odd, to play a role if he'd ever imagined that the act might become real. (Although, a small part of his mind reminded him, this sort of rational thought had had nothing to do with his asking Hermione to play this part; really, it had been the combination of alcohol and frustration and irritation and tiredness.)
But he managed to return her smile and pushed that one odd moment away, slamming a mental door on it.
It was going to be fine.
~
He should have known better than to feel complacent about his plan once the media got involved.
He should also have guessed, somehow, that the press and the public would never be satisfied to leave him alone, especially not with something as important as his first (supposed) adult relationship and with both him, Hermione and Ron maintaining a discreet silence about it, refusing to comment. He should have guessed that a lack of news would drive them to inventing some by feeding speculation and rumors.
After all, Rita Skeeter wasn't exactly unique.
He ignored the stories indulging in speculation and gossip about him, had even grown accustomed to ignoring most things that were said about him, so he shrugged off the suggestion that he might have pressured Hermione into dating him-and more than that-through using his status and his magical power to intimidate her. (The very idea of it made him laugh, although Hermione had been quite irate. Him intimidate Hermione-- as if he really could! When Hermione was the only person he'd ever met who seemed completely uncaring of the fact that he was famous and had never let it stop her from telling him when she thought he was being a prat or making a mistake! When Hermione was just as powerful, magically, as he was, if not more so, simply because of how clever she was! Half the time, he rather suspected that if it ever came down to it, she could probably defeat him in a real duel and Merlin knew that she could be downright intimidating herself when she was truly angry about something-although fortunately, he had yet to experience having that rather awesome anger of hers directed at him. Never mind the fact that he'd sooner cut off his own hand than frighten or hurt Hermione in any way.)
He laughed off that story (and appeased Hermione's automatic, defensive anger on his behalf in doing so) and he ignored the other stories. That was easier because the stories attacking him weren't picked up by any of the more reputable newspapers. He was protected, at the moment, because of how fresh his defeat of Voldemort was in people's minds. No one was about to believe anything bad about him. As far as the wizarding world, at large, was concerned (from what he could tell) he had all the wisdom and power of Dumbledore and more, the nobility and purity of character of a saint, and more charm than Gilderoy Lockhart without the vanity.
But then the stories started in on Hermione.
At first, it was a somewhat innocent editorial speculating on what Hermione had done to attract him-it was only the underlying insinuations that had really been mean-spirited but one couldn't exactly disagree with what had only been implied. Then it escalated into interviews from various people-some of whom Harry could swear had never even met Hermione-all talking about how Hermione was really known for being unscrupulous when it came to what she wanted and how she was quite plain and she must have used a Love Potion to trick him into fancying her and wanting to date her.
And it was Hermione's turn to shrug off the stories with a cool laugh and his to feel a violent urge to hex anyone involved in those stories into the next century.
But the real problem, when it happened, was entirely his fault.
He'd been way-laid outside their flat, the reporters cornering him until the only way to really break free would have been to hex them all and he didn't relish that idea.
"Mr. Potter-Harry-how can you explain why you've passed over so many beautiful girls in favor of Hermione Granger?"
"Harry, do you have any comment on the accusations that Hermione made a Love Potion to attract you?"
"Mr. Potter! How can you trust Miss Granger when she's said to have used a Love Potion or a spell of some kind to trap you?"
"Mr. Potter, do you really feel safe sharing a flat with Miss Granger after everything she's done?"
And that question was what really pushed him over the edge.
Pure, simple, unmitigated fury rose up inside his mind, clouding his thoughts and making him forget everything about his plan or that he'd sworn never to comment or that anything he said would only feed the fire and all he could think of was that these vultures were attacking Hermione, insinuating terrible things about her and making her out to be the most cold-blooded witch in the history of the wizarding world. Hermione, of all people!
"Shut up!" he burst out, glaring at the reporter who'd asked that last question.
Immediately, they all quieted, watching him with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness and surprise.
"Hermione has never done anything that would make me not trust her. As if she'd even need Love Potions or spells to make any fellow fancy her! She's beautiful and kind and clever and I count myself lucky just to know her and be able to call her my friend. And that's final."
He pushed his way through the crowd and, now that they'd finally gotten some actual material, they let him go.
His sense of satisfaction at having so effectively shut them up lasted until the next morning.
His little outburst had put him back on the front page of the Daily Prophet and this time the headline read, Harry Potter Confirms Romantic Relationship with Hermione Granger.
He choked on air. What? He hadn't! He hadn't said a word about their supposed relationship and he certainly hadn't lied outright.
Yesterday afternoon, Harry Potter finally spoke about his relationship with his long-time best friend and current love interest, Hermione Granger, confirming the news of their relationship.
When questioned with the latest speculation about Miss Granger's dabbling in Love Potions, he defended Miss Granger with a passion that clearly revealed the strength of their relationship.
According to Mr. Potter, Miss Granger would never need any unnatural magical methods of attraction. As he said, "She's beautiful and kind and clever and I count myself lucky just to know her and be able to call her my friend."
Mr. Potter has never spoken so openly about his feelings and that he did so now only proves just how strong his attachment to Miss Granger is.
It appears that anyone who criticizes Miss Granger does so at the risk of angering Mr. Potter. And never did any witch have a more able champion.
Harry stared. Had he really said all that? He had hardly been aware of what he was saying, so angry had he been at the time, and he didn't remember all his words, only knew that he'd blurted out his thoughts without pretense.
She's beautiful and kind and clever…
Well, of course, she was. He never really bothered to put it into words; after all, why would he list all the ways he would describe Hermione when she was always there? He had barely even realized he thought all those things, that he did think he was lucky-the luckiest-to have her as a friend. But there it was, all he'd ever thought about Hermione, laid out on paper.
But really, how did that constitute a confirmation of a romantic relationship?
Hermione was his best friend. Of course he would defend her; of course he would be angry at anyone spreading lies about her like that. So what if he'd broken his own rule about never commenting on his personal life, if he could help it? It was Hermione-what else could he do but defend her?
He read that quote from him again, trying to consider it objectively. He supposed that to anyone else, his fervor would sound very much like a man defending the woman he loved but really, that was ridiculous.
She was his best friend and the person he cared about the most, along with Ron. That was all it was.
He waited rather tensely as Hermione skimmed through the article that morning.
"I'm sorry. I know we agreed not to comment on any of the stories but I- er- lost my temper at the questions those blasted reporters were asking." He studied her but couldn't read her expression as she stared down at the paper. "Are you mad at me?"
Now she looked up at him and he let out his breath when he saw her smile. "Mad? Don't be silly, Harry. How could I possibly be mad at you when you were defending me and for saying such sweet things?"
He shrugged it off. "I know this is just complicating this whole plan even more but I just got angry at them. And I only told the truth. They just twisted it, as usual."
She looked back down at the newspaper, seeming to study it, and then asked, quietly, not looking up at him, "You really think I'm beautiful? You meant all of what you said?"
For a moment, he wanted to make some sort of light remark, tease away the hint of vulnerability in her voice, but somehow he couldn't do that. For the first time, he wondered if she was really as indifferent to all the hurtful rumors that had been going around about her as she'd seemed to be. He felt a stab of renewed anger at all those who'd dared print such lies about Hermione. If they had even caused her one moment of self-doubt… "I meant every word," he said quietly with utter sincerity.
She looked up at him with a smile that could have lit up the entire room. "Oh, Harry…"
And before he even realized what she was going to do, she gave him a quick hug and brushed her lips against his cheek. "Thank you," she said softly, her breath warm against his ear.
"It was nothing," he managed to get out in spite of the fact that every nerve in his body suddenly seemed to be supremely conscious of the warmth of hers and the light, subtle scent of her.
But then the moment-if it had really been a moment signifying anything-passed as Hermione busied herself with making toast and tea for herself.
And he was left to wonder why he could still feel the tingling on that spot of his cheek which she'd kissed.
~To be continued…