A/N: I forgot to mention that the song Hermione was singing in the shower is called "Hole in the Head" by the Sugababes. I've ignored a slight continuity problem-the song was released in October of 2003, but the story is set a little bit before that. And I'm sorry for the delay in updating but I'm sure you don't want to hear (read) any excuses…
The Littlest Things
Chapter 3: Catching Up To Do
A week later I started to notice some other changes around the flat, but while these changes were just as seemingly unwelcome as the introduction of the pink razor in the shower, they were of quite another nature. Hermione's things started disappearing from the common areas of the flat. Oh, the Prophet was still in its usual place on the coffee table, but the cloaks and shoes she had usually deposited near the door had been relocated to her room. One by one her hair potions vanished from the loo and I saw fewer and fewer of her books lying around the living room. It didn't take long to dawn on me that moving her possessions to her own room could only mean one thing: she was preparing to move out. How else could one explain her behavior?
Even I couldn't deny that there had been some kind of shift in our interaction after our discussion about Connor and the black velvet box. It was becoming harder for me to talk to her, knowing that I had been instrumental in bringing her more pain, and I secretly felt that she was blaming me for it. With such an air of discomfort over the flat, maybe it would be better for her to move out. Unfortunately I wouldn't allow myself to just accept that; Hermione and I had weathered worse than this, maybe it would time to just talk to her about it.
With a small measure of reservation-I did not often broach serious topics, let alone ones that were practically unidentifiable-I sought her out first in her room. When my knock went unanswered, I headed toward the living room, where I found her resting her head on the arm of the couch, asleep.
She had certainly changed from the girl that plopped down in front of me on our first trip to Hogwarts or the young woman that dueled Death Eaters by my side for years. I saw that despite her being far away in the land of slumber her face had that crease between her eyebrows that I had so often seen while she was awake. It struck me that perhaps that subject of her dream was created with my own words, perhaps she was dreaming about that which has no end-a band of gold.
I felt a leaden weight in the pit of my stomach at the thought that perhaps Hermione was still not free from the memory of Connor, despite all that he had done to her. I tried to convince myself that the force of this painful blow was for the sake of a hurt friend and nothing more, but the longer I tried to tell myself this the more of a lie it became. Hermione was more than just a friend to me-she had been with me for more years than she hadn't, she was the voice of reason, one of the few people to really stand up to me, she had been with me during the loss of Sirius, Dumbledore, and countless others, she was the one I wanted to see first in the morning and last at night. Like the final bolt of lightning in a storm, it hit me: I loved Hermione.
As I stared in shock at her sleeping face, I knew it was true at once. Hermione had been in my heart for longer than I could have known.
She stirred a little in her sleep and I could see her eyes fluttering beneath her eyelids. She made that funny contented smacking sound with her lips before they settled into a small smile. I gazed at her, hardly able to keep from mirroring her happily sleepy expression, and knew that there was no way I could ever tell her of my recent discovery. Clearly, she was still recovering from a relationship in which she had obviously already had a lot emotionally invested. This would not be the time to mix her up by adding in my feelings, she might feel obligated to return them and I didn't think that I could handle the humiliation of a rejection. No, it would be much better to keep silent and let her work everything out in peace.
Plus, I was terrified out of my mind and it would have probably taken a message from beyond to make me spill the beans to my best friend.
I tore my eyes from her sleeping face and forced myself to head to bed myself. For the next few days, Hermione's possessions continued to disappear from around the flat while an internal struggle between calling her on it and staying quiet raged within me. Finally, on the day marking one month since she had moved in, I decided enough was enough. I would innocently bring up the topic of Hermione's great escape during an evening out, with the hope that the high spirits brought on by good food and maybe a film would overcome any potential arising awkwardness.
Nonetheless it was with great trepidation that I dressed and met Hermione in the hall of the flat. She was already waiting for me, wearing a nice pair of jeans and a lilac colored blouse with the sleeves halfway rolled up. The small wistful smile that she was wearing slipped from her face when she noticed my approach. I couldn't help feeling a pang of dejection.
"Ready to go?" I asked with a forced interjection of casualness in my tone.
Without looking at me, she rummaged in her bag and replied, "Sure. Where to first?"
Showing her through the front door and locking it behind me, I said, "Do you want to eat and then see a movie or the other way `round?" I stuck my keys into my jacket pocket and made sure that my wand was there also.
"Let's do dinner then a movie, that way we're not starving all throughout the film," said Hermione with a shrug.
"Sounds good to me," I agreed. We walked in silence, I at least was searching for some neutral topic of conversation, wondering when it had become so hard to talk to Hermione.
For her part, Hermione seemed to be feeling just as uncomfortable, but this did nothing to alleviate my unease. "So, er, when is Ron going to be in town next?" she asked with feigned indifference.
I winced inwardly, interpreting her question to be an act of grasping for an excuse to vacate Ron's bedroom before his arrival. "I think he has some time off after his next game. But you know there's no rush to move out of the flat, right?" There, I said it. Well, sort of.
"Yeah, I know," she replied, still not meeting my eyes.
We reached the usual pub where Ron, Hermione, and I usually have dinner when Ron is around and sat at our regular booth. The waitress came by and took our orders, smiling at the pair of us in recognition. On a whim, I ordered a bottle of wine in partial celebration of our one-month anniversary as flatmates, but more because I thought it would calm my nerves a little bit. Hermione raised an eye brow when I made the request but did not question it.
After I had poured our glasses and made a toast to the improvement of the flat since she had moved in, earning the first laugh from Hermione all evening. A half hour later, the wine had taken hold and Hermione broached the topic of our flat sharing.
"Harry," she said, leaning forward with an uncertain expression on her face, "Is it really all right that I'm staying in the flat so long?"
The answer to her question was so obvious that I almost laughed out loud. But since I didn't think she would appreciate it, I said, "Of course, Hermione, you know you're welcome for as long as you'd like. Is that why all your stuff is disappearing, because you think I want you out of the flat?"
Although she didn't say anything, her intense stare at the wood grain in the table was answer enough. Before I had had a chance to consider my actions, I reached across the table for her hand and said, "I lo-like having you in the flat, Hermione. You're a much better flatmate than Ron, you know, and it's nice to have you around." I winced a little. That had come out lamer than I had intended but I wasn't exactly coherent.
"Even with all of my…girly stuff lying around?" she asked doubtfully.
I squeezed her hand, feeling heat rush to my cheeks from the wine. "Yes, even with all the girly stuff as you call it," I said seriously.
A small grew on her face and I was hopeful that I had erased her worry. "Yeah, I had sort of fell like we were, for lack of a better phrase, drifting apart before I moved in, what with school and everything else," she said with a barely detectable slur.
I took "everything else" to mean "Connor," and I could barely keep the frown from my face, but luckily Hermione was glancing at her watch and didn't seem to notice.
"Oh, I think we'd better go, or we'll miss the previews!" she announced. That was another thing about Hermione: every time she, Ron, and I went to the cinema, she was ridiculously adamant about getting a seat before the lights dimmed for the previews.
We made it to the theater with minutes to spare and left a few hours later in improved spirits, our little discussion seemed to have dispelled whatever unspoken obstacle had laid between us. We walked leisurely back to the flat, pausing to laugh over the more humorous portions of the film that we had just seen, and my stomach flipped like it had when I was a teenager when Hermione accepted the offer of my jacket.
"I just think that Yoda should have at least inflicted some injury on Count Dooku," Hermione was saying as we approached the door to the building.
I laughed. "Is Hermione Granger advocating violence-what's the matter?"
She had stopped in her tracks, staring straight ahead with her mouth open in unconcealed shock. I followed her gaze toward the entrance to our building and saw Connor there leaning nonchalantly against the pole for a streetlamp. He caught sight of us, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the sight of Hermione's arm hooked through mine.
"Connor," she breathed, her voice betraying her shock. Without seeming to know what she was doing, she pulled her arm from mine and began to approach the Jerk. "What do you want?" She said this without the anger I had been expecting.
"We need to talk," said Connor, coming closer to Hermione and ignoring me altogether. I nearly groaned at the use of The Four Words, and what was worse was that Hermione seemed to be getting sucked in. I opened my mouth to suggest to Connor where he could go when Hermione turned to me and said a little breathlessly, "Harry, do you think you could excuse us?" She gave me the `I'll be all right' smile and handed me back my jacket, leaving me no choice but to leave them to their talk.
With much grumbling I stomped my way up the stairs and into the living room of my flat. This is it, I thought, this is where Hermione goes back with The Jerk and I'm left all alone in the flat again. It felt as though I had swallowed a large fishing weight and that I would be rooted to that spot on the couch for all eternity. I had only just figured out how I felt about Hermione and because I had hesitated, thinking she still needed time to get over her break-up with Connor, I didn't say anything.
But what if I had said something? That wouldn't have guaranteed that Hermione felt the same way about me. In fact there was nothing in her behavior towards me in all of our friendship that would have indicated that she felt anything more than a sisterly affection towards me. Hadn't I walked past her room several times as she cried over Connor into her pillow? How could I have even thought for a second that I had a chance with the most brilliant witch I had ever met?
As I sat pondering these things, driving myself into a deeper and deeper state of depression, I heard the sound of Hermione and Connor's voices becoming louder and louder as they came up the stairs and down the hall to flat. My heart leapt a little at the familiar sound of Hermione's annoyed huff-the two seemed to be arguing. A moment later and Hermione had come in, throwing open the front door and storming past me and down the hall without a word.
I stood up at once, addressing Connor in the most intimidating tone I could. "What did you say to her? Why is she upset?"
Connor rolled eyes, obviously not knowing whom he was dealing with. "Relax, Fido, I just asked for some of my stuff back."
"They were gifts, Connor!" Hermione shouted, returning with a small box filled with bottles of expensive perfume that I hadn't realized were presents. She thrust the box at Connor angrily and said in an undertone as though I couldn't hear, "I can't believe you're being so petty about all of this."
Connor's mouth thinned into a line and he said, "Well I tried to be understanding about the things you might be going through, just as I've tried to ignore how you never confided in me about it but instead went straight to him." He jerked his finger at me in irritation.
Again the words escaped me before I had the chance to really consider my actions. "Well why don't you try not being such a bloody git and see how that works for you? You had the most talented and wonderful woman as yours for years and you completely botched it! If I had someone even half as beautiful and intelligent and loyal as Hermione I'd never let her go." The tirade was finished, my body seemed to deflate and I was breathing hard.
Connor, whose face had become stormier with each impassioned word from my mouth, ground out through his teeth, "Then I guess you're lucky I did. It appears you've benefited from this most of all."
He might have gone on but Hermione gripped his shoulder and escorted him out the door where their dialogue was slightly muffled by the door. The Jerk was probably fortunate that he was taken from the room when he was because I'm not sure how much longer the International Statute of Secrecy would have held as an excuse as to why I hadn't removed a few of the Jerk's body parts so that it would be difficult for him to procreate and spread his Jerkiness further into the world.
From Hermione's patient and calming tone I gathered that she and Conner were trying to resolve something. Unbidden snippets of my little speech flashed through my mind. What had I done? I'd basically just confessed my feelings for my best friend in front of none other that her boyfriend. Great, just great Harry, I said to myself, moving to the couch and burying my face in my hands as though blocking out the images of the coffee table and entertainment center could also erase my embarrassment. My ears perked toward the door, but I couldn't make anything out through the door. What could they be doing if they weren't talking? "They're probably kissing, you dolt,' said a voice in my head that, oddly enough, sounded a little like Ginny. I let out an audible groan.
"Harry?"
I jumped up and faced Hermione who had just come inside. She looked nervously around and shifted her weight from foot to foot. My heart fell, she had bad news, I knew it. "I'm sorry about all that, I didn't mean to spoil your evening," she said quietly.
"You're going home with him, aren't you?" I said dismally, ignoring her apology.
She was silent for a few moments and I could practically feel her gaze burning into me. With a sigh she moved to one of the arm chairs and plopped down as though exhausted. "No, Harry, I'm not. I've just asked him to leave. I'd thought of the flat that I shared with him as home, but somehow it always seemed temporary."
I looked up at her, hardly daring to believe she was implying anything. "But I thought…I mean, you seemed like you weren't over him," I stammered confusedly.
Again she was silent as she appeared to be choosing a reply. "Connor was my first foray into the land of adult relationships, and there were times when I thought we loved each other," she began as though she were talking to herself. "But…it was an illusion-as much as the film we saw tonight."
I had nothing to say that I thought hadn't already been harped on enough. But I couldn't help torturing myself. "Why did you stay with him then?"
At this Hermione issued a self-deprecating laugh. "You of all people should understand the extreme that people will go to to feel normal, Harry. I kept telling myself that it was what I wanted, that he was what I needed. But I was wrong. I was wrong about one of the most important things of my life…" Her voice trailed off but our eyes stayed locked on one another.
"You and me both," I agreed, hoping that would ask my meaning and yet dreading it all the same.
She was gazing at me in that way that made me feel like she was trying to read me like a book. "Did you mean what you said?" she asked, and I thought I imagined the trace of hope in her voice.
I looked away, still embarrassed that I had let so much out in my defensive speech about her. "When?" I said, deliberately misunderstanding.
"What you told Connor. About me. Did you mean it?" she said impatiently.
I knew there was no choice but to answer. "Of course I meant it, Hermione, you're the most important woman in my life-you shouldn't have to put up with jerks like him."
"Oh Harry." Hermione put her hands to her mouth but restrained herself from hugging me.
I shrugged. "Well it's the truth."
She sprang forward off the chair and hugged me tightly. "You're the most important man in my life. And apparently I'm not the only one to think so," she said into my shirt. At my quizzical expression she continued. "Connor came to try and patch things up, which I'm sure you guessed, but I told him I wasn't interested. He wasn't all that surprised since he could clearly see-now, how did he say it?-oh, how well you and I are `getting on.'"
"Er, what does that mean?" I was somewhat distracted by the feel of her in my arms.
She pulled back and stared up into my face. "Oh Harry. Sweet, daft, dense Harry. When things between Connor and I turned sour, I thought it was only natural that my friend should be so effective at taking my mind off of it, only natural that I should start to compare him to Connor, only natural that I should think of him first thing in the morning and dream of him at night. On second thought," she said after a pause of reflection, "maybe I'm the dense one in all of this."
My mouth went dry. Was she saying what I thought she was saying? "What are you trying to tell me here, Hermione? Wait, why were you crying that one time I came to talk to you if not because you were still hung up on Connor?" I needed her to tell it to me straight before I could even allow myself to hope.
She looked down and addressed the buttons on my shirt. "Oh Harry, I was confused, I didn't think that I was supposed to be feeling that way about you. I thought if I said anything, it would just complicate everything and I was just feeling indebted towards you for letting me stay here. Then she looked up and brought her face closer to mine. My heart started to beat so fast that I thought she might be able to feel it through my shirt. "I'm telling you that these past few weeks have been some of the happiest in my life. I'm telling you that I've never felt so at home with anyone else. I'm telling you, Harry, that the only thing that could make me happier at this moment would be if my feelings were returned."
My mind went blank, there were so many emotions seizing me that couldn't settle on one. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," I blurted.
Her face fell and she seemed to sag a little.
I realized that she had taken my words to mean almost the opposite of the way that I had meant them. Instantly I attempted to put it right. I stepped closer and returned her embrace. "I'm sorry that I didn't do this sooner," I clarified. In slow motion I brought my lips down to hers. Her eyelids fluttered shut right before our lips met and suddenly I was kissing my best friend gently but insistently. Mingled in with promises of the future were sighs of relief and complete shock that this had been what we were missing….
Moments later, Hermione pulled away and said in a rush, "Oh, Harry, for a moment there I thought you didn't-we've been so stupid, wasted so much time-"
I stopped her with a well-timed kiss. "What matters is that we're here now," I replied, possibly the wisest thing I'd ever said.
Hermione smiled warmly at me and I couldn't help but respond in kind. "Yes, and we've got plenty of catching up to do," she whispered, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
A/N: Thanks for coming along for the ride, everybody! And thanks to all of the really great reviews some of you left. I'm sorry I didn't get back to all of them, but just know that they were appreciated. For those complaining of the format of chapter 2, let me just say that I don't have anything to do with that. I uploaded normally and it just happened. I even tried re-uploading it several times to fix it, but all to no avail. I'm not very techo-savvy but I did my best and I am sorry that you had to press the scroll button more than you wanted. But anyway, it's been a good ride and I hope to see you all around again!
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