Chapter 13. Facing the Elephant
In Hermione's flat, there was a flurry of activity.
"Date! With Harry! With no warning, just out of the blue!"
The distressed witch had worked herself into a right panic, and flew across her bedroom in search of something to wear, yelling as she did so. "Where does he get off presuming…What's gotten into him?" she ranted. "That arrogant…parading around in nothing but a towel!" Hermione yanked open a dresser drawer and flinched at its contents. "Asking witches out dressed like…" Half of her brain was fully engaged in berating Harry, and the other half was frantically hunting for something sexy to wear.
"Not to mention the fact that, for all Harry knows, I'm still dating…"
Hermione strained to recall the name of the wizard she'd last been dating. How could she have forgotten? That towel, she conjectured, was wreaking havoc on her sense of reason. "Oh, right. Theodore," she said, pausing to study a skirt that she had just pulled out of her wardrobe. She frowned and shook her head. "Maybe something a bit more…flirty," she grumbled, "and not so maroon."
Groaning and making faces, Hermione sifted through her collection of similarly styled skirts and blouses. Why hadn't she ever bought something more appropriate for a date with Harry? Hadn't she wanted to impress Benjamin or Theodore in the least? "This'll do," she said after another few minutes and she yanked a black cotton dress from its hangar and tossed it onto the bed. It was a casual dress, Muggle style, but it had a very flattering fit to it. It looked like the sort of thing a witch would wear on a dinner date.
A shiver ran up Hermione's and she sank down onto her bed, staring at the black dress. "A dinner date with my best friend," she mused, feeling the panic rising again. "How am I supposed to act?" She was still speaking out loud, addressing the air in her bedroom as if it would be whispering back advice. "What makes this `date' any different than any of the other times we went out?" Hermione decided that it'd be best to think this one over while she readied herself for the evening. Slipping out of her jeans and tee-shirt, she lifted the dress over her head and let it fall over her curves. "Looks alright," she thought, examining her image in a mirror that leaned against her bedroom wall. "It'll have to do, I suppose, seeing as how this is the only body I've got."
Locking herself in the tiny bathroom of her flat, Hermione spent a good deal of time selecting perfumed lotions, fussing with her hair, and brushing her teeth. She even considered trying Harry's Scourgify spell for an extra level of cleanliness, before thinking better of it. She'd learned long ago that first dates were not a good occasion for experimentation with magical spells. As she accessorized and applied make-up, Hermione reviewed the remarkable events of the past hour in her mind. Now that some time had passed, she was finding that the waves of anger and astonishment had pretty much subsided and she was left feeling rather foolish in their wake. Hadn't she just, after all, appeared right in the middle of a wizard's living room with no forward warning? What had she been thinking? "I hadn't been thinking," she observed, in hindsight.
She struggled to reconstruct the exact conversation that had taken place with Harry, but Hermione was finding the memory to be quite elusive. She had found it extremely arduous, in fact, to focus on whatever it was that Harry was saying at the time - him standing before her, basically naked.
Hermione closed her eyes and pictured her fit friend as he looked when she'd Apparated in. Gone was the skinny boy Hermione remembered. No, Harry was quite grown up now, and was the picture of manliness in that forest green towel - save for the flowery cup, of course. Fortunately though, the visuals that this brought served to refresh her memories and bits and pieces of the exchange came meandering back to the flustered witch.
"Anyone would have been speechless," Hermione reassured herself. "It's just a natural reaction."
She had remembered him asking her to dinner - as a date - and she recalled how she wondered if she was hearing her scantily clad friend properly.
"…doesn't want to go to Muggle bar," she'd echoed inside her head. "Friday nights with me…But, he did say this would be a date, right?"
It had been a lot to process and her mind, in its usual way, had been alight with incongruent thoughts and questions. Rules were being broken…identities were undergoing metamorphoses…Harry was not wearing any…His chest was lightly decorated with dark hair…strong shoulders.
"Were Aurors required to do weight training?" she'd wondered. "Of course," she had deduced, "they must be. Heavy armor would weigh a lot. There would be nothing under that towel, undoubtedly," she had also guessed. "Why would there be? After all, people don't take a bath in boxer shorts…"
Hermione winced as she succumbed to the realization that she'd embarrassed herself immeasurably, and had probably hurt Harry's feelings in the process: she'd stumbled through an acceptance of Harry's date inquiry without the slightest consideration of her friend. But, at the time, her mind had entered into a kind of time-delayed process by which each of Harry's words were being repeated, one by one, and she had sensed herself trying to put them back together in sentences to somehow double-check them. It had taken all of her concentration to regain her bearings. And at least, she observed, she had said "yes", hadn't she? He seemed happy enough when she left. Resigning to do her best to act in a more dignified manner for the rest of the evening, Hermione made an internal promise to make amends to her friend for her previous odd behavior.
A half-hour later, Harry paced back and forth in his living room, flicking his gaze every few seconds to the bright, curvy letters scribed on his wall. "Thirty and nil past the hour of seven," it read. As he paced, Harry was reviewing several scenarios in his head for how he was going to fix the mess he'd created by overstepping his boundaries. He'd really chuffed it up this time, he thought. Hermione's friendship was so much a part of Harry's life that he could barely breathe when he considered how he may have just damaged it. "Blasted instincts," he admonished. As he considered writing a letter for Hedwig to deliver, Harry heard a noise that made his heart skip a beat - a distinctive crackling sound coming from his fireplace. Relieved and excited, Harry shot over to the grate and peered into the fire, an involuntary smile plastered on his face.
"Harry, it's me," said Hermione over the Floo connection. "Is it all right if I come over now?"
Harry laughed. "Yes, it's fine. See, I'm dressed and everything." Harry spread his arms out and tipped his head, showing off his tan trousers and white linen shirt.
Hermione Apparated to a spot in front of the fireplace. "Hello," she said after a moment, not moving but standing at the hearth as if she was cemented to it.
"Hello," said Harry. "You look beautiful. I always loved that dress." He smiled and grabbed the witch's hands, pulling her into the room and offering a seat on the sofa. "You're late," he stated sternly.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I lost track of time!" Hermione let out a nervous breath and took a seat.
This didn't sound plausible to Harry, but he decided to let it go. Harry felt he could very well guess why Hermione was late, and why she looked so apprehensive. He deliberated, briefly, offering her a chance to reconsider, but just as his mouth opened to say, "Would you rather this just be a normal outing?" he shut it tight. No, the idea of a real date, it may have grabbed onto Harry as if his brain had suddenly been possessed, but he'd grown considerably fond of it by now. He just wouldn't be able to let Hermione off so easily, even if it was the gentlemanly thing to do.
Harry smiled again, grabbed Hermione's hands, and pulled her up to face him - disregarding the fact that he had just asked her to sit down. "Why don't we go ahead and leave now, I'm still starved and we should get some food in your stomach. You seem a bit…umm…well, strange," Harry said.
Hermione nodded in agreement, gazing at Harry and giving the impression that she was in a kind of light trance.
"Just give me a second to give Hedwig a treat," Harry added. He summoned a large brown biscuit that was in the shape of a rat and levitated it over to the delighted owl. "That's a good girl," he cooed. "Now don't fall asleep as soon as I leave!" Turning to Hermione, Harry shrugged his shoulders and nodded toward his bird fondly. "She's got her nights and days messed up lately," he said. "I'm trying to keep her up a bit later each night to get her back to normal."
Hermione tipped her head, looking at Hedwig. "He likes birds," she thought affectionately. They both said goodbye to Hedwig again and left straight away for their favorite Italian restaurant. The two old friends walked along the pavement on their way to Main Street, scrutinizing the Victorian houses as they passed them - the flowers, shrubbery…anything to keep their minds occupied.
"We finished the case," Harry said after a while. "The one about the Muggle extortion. We're in the last phases of trial preparations now."
Jumping at the chance to talk, Hermione quickly chimed in. "The one with those Death Eaters? The ones responsible for the mall incident?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Oh, Harry, that's great," she said, looking at Harry as she walked. "You know, I've actually made progress on the spell identification project."
Harry frowned. "Hermione, I meant it when I told you not to worry about all that," he said. "You've been working too hard lately. And anyway, they'll get a number of years in prison from this extortion bit. I was being greedy."
"But it works," Hermione said simply.
"It does?" Harry replied. His eyes were fixed on his friend.
"Yes. I'll show you some of the results back in my flat, after dinner." Hermione shut her eyes tight as she said this. For one careless moment, she'd forgotten that she was on a date, and now she'd just asked Harry over to her place!
They walked on for a few more blocks and finally arrived at their beloved Luigi's. Harry talked a bit more about the case: the arrest, how he'd gotten information from the Order concerning the group's prior Death eater activities, and how he and his unit had spent the better part of a year spying on and interviewing witnesses and convincing terrified Muggles to turn in evidence of the extortion. Hermione reveled in listening to Harry. He so very rarely spoke about his work that it felt like she was being given a special privilege as he gave his very colorful recollection of the past year's activities. It was like being treated to an expensive dessert and she relished every bit of it that she could get, not knowing when Harry would ever again be so generous and forthcoming.
When they arrived at Luigi's, they found it to be fairly well occupied with well-dressed diners, but the friendly hostess was able to find a seat for Harry and Hermione straight away.
"Your waiter will be with you shortly," said the hostess as she offered menus to the pair. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
Harry blanched slightly at the request. "Water is fine for me," he began, but Hermione interrupted him with a dismissive wave.
"We'll have a half-carafe of your house red, please," Hermione told the hostess, giving Harry a chastising grin. "That'll be alright, won't it?" she asked.
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, that'll be good."
When the hostess left, Harry leaned forward on the table. "Well I, for one, haven't the slightest clue how to act," he confessed, laughing again and running a hand through his hair. "How about you?"
Hermione nodded affirmatively.
"I think that we should just get it out there in the open, where we can just laugh at it, rather than us both feeling stupid all evening," Harry said.
Hermione's face lit up. "Harry, that's brilliant!" she gushed. "At work, there is a saying that `There's an elephant in the room' and everyone's ignoring it, pretending it's not there. It's like when everyone is trying to avoid mentioning an uncomfortable subject, no matter how big and obvious it is."
Harry laughed. "You know I hate ministry talk," he said, cringing a bit. As he said this, the waiter arrived with wine and took their orders.
"Excellent, excellent," the waiter said as he collected menus. He smiled politely at the pair and gave a little nod. "I'll take your orders to the chef. Please enjoy each other while you wait," he added in a thick Italian accent. The waiter turned his attentions to another table, and Hermione shot an amused look at Harry, who grinned back.
"I think he meant that we should enjoy each other's company," Harry offered. "I don't think we're meant to eat each other, do you?"
Hermione smiled apprehensively and forced out a dry laugh. "No, I think not," she returned.
Harry picked up a wine glass to toast, but Hermione grabbed his wrist lightly.
"If you say `Hippy', I swear…"
"No!" Harry half-shouted, frowning. "I'm deeply offended," he teased. "What sort of wizard do you take me for? I'm on a date with a very attractive witch and you think I'm about to call her a rude nickname?"
Hermione dropped her hand and relaxed, embarrassed at her unmistakable display of frayed nerves. Letting out a giggle, she finally raised her own glass, looking at Harry and obediently waiting for him to finish his toast.
Harry smiled wide. "To the elephant in the room!" he said.
"To the elephant," Hermione returned, grinning. She clinked her glass with Harry's and took a sip of the lovely red wine, allowing the fact that they both were finding their situation equally amusing to calm her. When Harry excused himself to use the loo, Hermione took the opportunity to sort through her thoughts and organize them. Within seconds, she had become so deeply committed to the analysis that she hadn't even noticed when the waiter came by to serve salads, and by the time Harry returned, Hermione's mind was positively abuzz with questions.
"So, how's this going to go?" she began. "I mean, what if we try this `dating' thing and it doesn't work out?"
"Then we'll go back to being great friends," Harry said, simply.
"What if only one of us thinks it isn't working?" Hermione persisted.
"Then that person will have to say so, won't they?" Harry picked up his fork and began eating his salad.
"What will we tell Ron? My mother?"
Harry stared at her.
"Right, not so big of a deal," Hermione muttered. "But, what if it all seems too weird? We've been friends, after all, for fifteen years." Hermione was beginning to feel herself getting worked up again. A familiar, acid-like anxiety was threatening to take her over.
Harry pointed to Hermione's wine glass. "Perhaps you should take another sip. Your head is going to explode." Harry mimicked Ron's exploding noise and laughed at his own joke.
"Harry, I'm serious!" Hermione whispered strictly, taking a long drink from her wine glass despite her own objection.
"So am I!" Harry said. "For goodness' sake. Just enjoy your meal and let's just see how things go, shall we?" Harry returned to his salad.
"But…you said we should talk about it," Hermione muttered quietly. "The elephant thing." She looked confused and slightly put off.
"I've changed my mind," Harry chuckled. "Now, be a good little witch and eat your dinner, or there won't be any dessert for you."
Hermione sat for a moment, perplexed, and then smiled. Harry was right of course. They'd taken the plunge, there was nothing left to do but see where the currents took them. Heaven knows they'd certainly passed the bounds of normal friendship on several occasions recently, and if she really thought about it, being on a dinner date with Harry really didn't feel so different. It felt rather…normal. It sure felt better than being on a dinner date with Theodore, at any rate. Picking up her fork, Hermione gave a final huff and began eating her salad, smirking at Harry as she did so.
Dinner proceeded comfortably from that point on. They kept the topics of conversation light and familiar as they made their way through the wonderful Italian dishes. Once they'd covered the traditional topics, catching each other up on the week's goings on, Hermione amused Harry with the latest office gossip from the ministry's research department.
"Remember Dr. Hughes, my boss? The one carrying on with the mail witch?" she asked, smirking naughtily.
"Yeah, how's that going?" Harry asked.
"Well, it turns out that he wasn't cheating on his wife after all! It was his wife all along - dressed in robes from the mail department," Hermione said, leaning forward in her chair. She laughed merrily, putting down her wine glass so that Harry could fill it for her.
Harry immediately poured from the carafe. "Why would she do that?" he asked.
"It seems that they were trying to liven up the old marriage. After thirty years, things must have been getting a bit boring, I expect," Hermione snorted.
"Mad," Harry said.
"I think it's cute," said Hermione, giving a pout. "Pretending to be someone else for a while, seeing each other in a slightly different context…it probably helps them to discover new things about each other. You know?"
"Hmm…" said Harry. "Maybe you're not such a prude after all." This comment earned Harry a nasty snarl and a napkin tossed at his face.
The couple dawdled at the dinner table for as long as they could, but finally gave in to the inevitability of the end of their first date, and Harry counted out pound notes and left them on the table. They walked home arm in arm, chatting with much more ease than they had exhibited on the way to the restaurant.
As they strolled, Harry ran an internal dialog, trying to work out the logistics of the last part of their friendship-altering date. It wasn't as if Harry didn't have any experience in this area; he'd been on first dates before. The proper thing to do would be to accompany the witch in question to her door and pause just a bit before bidding goodbye. If the witch asked him inside, he should refuse, asking for another date instead. Now, since Hermione lived in a Muggle apartment that was not close at all to Harry's place, and as the restaurant was just a short walk from his own flat, he knew that they would have to Apparate from Harry's flat directly into Hermione's living room. Technically, he'd already be inside. "Well," Harry rationalized, "I'll just wait for her to ask me to sit down, and then refuse, ask for a date, and Apparate home." Harry had promised himself that he'd ask Hermione out again on the following Friday night - no sooner. He kept flip-flopping, however, on whether or not he should kiss her. It wouldn't be as if it was their first kiss, certainly, but he wasn't sure whether Hermione would want to be reminded of their past intimacies - strange as they were. Finally, Harry settled on playing that one by ear.
"Well, we're here," Hermione said as they entered Harry's building.
"Yes," Harry replied. "I thought I'd Apparate you home from my flat, if that's okay," he added, tightening his grasp on Hermione's elbow and gently leading her toward the stairwell. The couple nervously chatted as they walked up the two flights of stairs to Harry's flat and through the threshold. As soon as they stepped inside Harry's living room, the Auror closed the door, withdrew his wand and popped the pair over to Hermione's.
Dizzy, Hermione spun around, a bit disoriented from the unexpected trip. "Do you…would you like something to drink?" she asked timidly as she balanced herself and smoothed her skirt.
"Elephant!" is what came instantly to Harry's mind as he muttered his response. "No. No, I think I should go. But, I would like to take you out again. Are you, umm, free next Friday?" Harry cringed inwardly. That had sounded extraordinarily silly…as if they'd only just met yesterday.
Hermione stared at Harry. She gave a small chuckle. "Get in here, you dolt!" she chided, pointing toward the middle of her living room. "Have a seat. I'll get us a couple of Extras." Harry looked crestfallen as Hermione swept through her kitchen, gathering bottles of their favorite ale. He'd had this part all worked out before, and now didn't have a clue as to how to proceed.
"We've spent nearly every Saturday together since April," Hermione was saying as she returned into the living room and set the drinks down on the sofa table. "And Sundays too, as of late. Do I only get to see you once a week now?"
Harry sighed and sank down into the sofa, grabbing a bottle and taking a swig. Hermione sat down next to him. "So," Harry offered. "What do we do now?" He looked sideways at his companion and smiled. "You've foiled my great escape." Harry laughed and tossed a pillow at Hermione's head. "Bossy witch!"
"Oof," she let out, tossing the pillow back. She laughed again, watching the pillow miss by a foot as Harry ducked adeptly.
"Well…" Hermione said, studying Harry for a moment. She was making up her mind on how to respond and observed that her date was staring at her knee: her dress had ridden up a bit when she made her pathetic attempt at throwing the pillow. He looked very appealing just now - sitting there, noticing her like that. It filled her with an uncharacteristic confidence. "I don't know about you…" she said, leaning closer to Harry and placing her right hand on his knee, "but I'd like a bit of a goodnight kiss." Hermione leaned in closer yet and captured Harry's mouth before he could possibly utter a refusal.
Harry kissed back warmly. He was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. In her own, peculiar way, Hermione had given the pair exactly what they had needed in order to break through whatever barriers had been set in the past to keep them from truly seeing each other. She had been nervous, overly analytical, talkative, and even a little bit shy during their dinner date, which Harry thought was so completely endearing that he had forgotten to be unsure. And now, just when he had been about to retreat back into himself and leave his companion alone in her flat with no small amount of awkwardness hovering between them, Hermione was the one to provide a show of confidence.
"I love kissing you," he breathed, without thinking, as he pulled back slightly and brushed his lips over Hermione's.
They scooted about and found a comfortable position on the sofa to carry on with a bit more "goodnight kissing". Practical thoughts floated occasionally to the forefront of Hermione's mind, rising through a thick layer of emotion and lust. She wondered how the wireless had gotten turned on, and whether their Butterbeers were getting warm. Then, Harry started gently rubbing large circles on the soft skin on her leg and she forgot to worry about such things. A little while later, Hermione found herself thinking again. How was it possible that she and Harry had such good…chemistry? How could it be that they were so attracted to each other and yet had never gotten together in all those years? Again, the questions slid, unanswered, into the background as Harry nibbled on her ear, reviving one of her favorite memories from the past summer.
"Oh!" Hermione expelled when she by chance caught a glimpse of a package she had left on her mantle. "I forgot! I was going to show you some of my early results."
Harry stared at her.
"My research!" she reminded him.
"We can do that later," Harry whispered, his breath tickling her neck and causing the most wonderful sensations, "I'm busy now."
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