Chapter 6. Down on Main Street
As July ended and the suffering heat of August began, Harry and Hermione strolled down Main Street on a blistering Saturday afternoon. Despite Hermione's fears to the contrary, the two had still been spending every Saturday together. Harry joined Hermione for Sunday church services regularly now as well, convincing her to meet for the early one so they could get back to his flat for "the game" - as he always called whatever football or Quidditch match interested him on that particular day. Hermione had complained, but was never really able to turn Harry down. She so enjoyed his company, she thought to herself, that he could ask her to climb a volcano to help collect hot lava samples and she'd happily comply. It was beginning to feel like a sickness to Hermione.
Harry was still "with" his former ex-girlfriend, Tiffany, although Hermione couldn't quite figure out what "with" meant. Tiffany would appear at Harry's flat several times during the week, and they usually went out on one of the weekend nights, but it seemed strange that a couple who'd dated for so long before didn't seem keen to spend every waking moment together. Whatever it was, Hermione had determined that the relationship with Tiffany agreed with Harry; he was as happy and as carefree as ever. Harry even confided that he had made some progress with the "opening up" issue. It was after church services on the Sunday just past. Harry mentioned casually that he had told Tiffany about the day he got his letters from Hogwarts - addressed to the "cupboard under the stairs" and then to a bedroom, and then to a rock in the sea - and how his uncle had tried in vain to keep Harry from receiving them.
"That's great, Harry," Hermione had encouraged. "And, did it make her feel better - that you'd shared such an important moment with her?"
"I guess," was Harry's short reply, and that ended that part of their conversation.
Walking down Main Street on this hot day, the pair was unusually quiet. Neither was in a particularly talkative mood and they were both enjoying the silent spectacle of watching the Muggles interact with one another in this busy tourist section of town. As the sun peaked and drove temperatures even higher, they ducked into a restaurant to escape the heat. Luigi's was a family-run Italian place that stood next to the movie theater, and Hermione had mentioned that she'd always wanted to give it a try.
As they entered the restaurant, Harry eyed the theater with an eager expression and convinced Hermione to stay for a movie after dinner. She agreed, biting her tongue as familiar, Tiffany-related concerns rose to the surface of her thoughts, but she didn't get a chance to mention them as Harry had sprinted immediately over to the theater to check for show times.
"Thanks!" he shouted when he was back in sight and running toward the Romanesque door of Luigi's. "I've wanted to go back to the theater all summer. I'd never been before you and I saw that movie together."
Hermione laughed at her friend's boyish enthusiasm and her heart gave a tiny twinge as a surge of pity washed through her. Harry was not a simple man, she knew, but she wondered at times whether he was even remotely aware of all the things he had been deprived of in his youth. She smiled again as Harry jogged back into the restaurant's lobby just as a pretty blond hostess approached.
"Can I get you a seat?" the hostess asked, handing Harry two menus and smiling broadly at the pair. "I have a lovely, romantic table for two if you'll just follow me, please."
Hermione bristled at the all-too-common assumption that she and Harry were involved, but she'd gotten past the point of calling people on it anymore. Instead, she smiled at the hostess and took her seat politely, telling herself that it was rather a compliment that people automatically assumed her to be Harry's love interest, instead of just a friend or a sister. In some weird way, it was a comfort to know that she and her most cherished friend looked good together.
After placing their food orders and sharing a carafe of fruity table wine, Hermione sat quietly, rubbing the stem of her wine glass and chewing on the inside of her bottom lip.
"Okay, I give," said Harry. "Something's wrong, I can tell."
"No. Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired today, that's all." Hermione smiled and played with the wine glass stem a bit more.
"You're not tired," Harry noted as he smiled back. "You don't really want to go to that movie, is that it?" Harry watched Hermione pull an innocent face and shook his head, laughing. "Why didn't you just say so? We'll Apparate home from that alleyway right after eating." He pulled his napkin free of its intricate folds and placed it his lap. "Please don't feel obligated to spend your whole evening with me or anything like that," he added quietly.
"No, I want to go. A movie sounds…nice," Hermione insisted as the waiter arrived and distributed salads. She fiddled with her salad, carving it intricately into bite-sized chunks and sipping happily on her wine before finally giving in to her apprehension. A little sigh escaped Hermione's mouth, earning another appraising look from Harry.
"Okay, okay!" Hermione relented. "No, Harry, it isn't that I don't want to go to a movie with you - you know that!" She paused and sorted her thoughts before continuing. This could be taken the wrong way if she wasn't careful. "Harry," she began, leaning in toward her dinner partner and speaking quietly, "I'm worried that the stripper will have a cow if she found out that we are out together on a Saturday, at an Italian restaurant, making plans to go to a darkened movie theater." Hermione winced at the way this sounded, even to her own ears.
She took in a deep breath and elaborated, "I know that you really, really want to settle down with a nice witch someday. Maybe with Tiffany. And, Harry, I know that you would love to have little witches and wizards of your own to teach how to ride their first little broomsticks and ruffle their messy black hair." Hermione was teasing, but she couldn't help smiling at the image of toddler Harry's playing with their floppy-haired dad just the same.
"Harry, it's not my place, and it's against my own best interests, really…but I'm worried that we," she paused, "that we are getting the way of you and your strip…um…girlfriend."
Harry leaned in and grabbed Hermione's hand, surprising her, but he held tightly. He took a breath and chuckled. "Yeah," he said, "that's come up. Tiffany's not your biggest fan these days."
Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped.
"She may come around," Harry said and he laughed again. Hermione silently wondered whether Harry had been drinking before they met that afternoon. He was taking this subject a bit lightly from her perspective.
"It's just that…" Harry continued, speaking casually, "I don't want to give up my time with you. Just like you said before, I'm happy now that we're closer. I don't want to give it up."
Harry settled in to his salad and Hermione closed her mouth, shook her head slightly and turned to her own food. They ate the rest of their meal, engaging in much loftier conversations: Hermione's near-date with a fellow student - six years her junior, the Chudley Cannons' new acquisition, and various stories about their much-missed friend, Ron. Hermione filled Harry in on the big drama at her research laboratory in which her boss, Dr. Hughes, was caught in an embarrassing situation with the mail witch. They laughed at each other's stories and finished off a second carafe of wine before deciding it was time to pay up and walk over to the theater.
As they took the short walk down the strip of quaint connected buildings of the shopping district, Harry shook his head and began laughing again. "Harry, I'm worried that the stripper will have a cow!" he said in a high voice, laughing harder once he spotted Hermione's expression.
"Harry! Don't you mock me. I was concerned for the girl!" Hermione said, smiling and then laughing. Out of the blue, she hummed the melody to "It's a Celebate Life for Me" and Harry joined in. They hooked hands and exchanged Muggle money for tickets, humming and laughing and once again ignoring the whispering Muggles in line with them.
The film wasn't at all to Hermione's taste. She cringed and hid her eyes during each of the many violent scenes. Harry, by contrast, rather enjoyed himself. He loved watching other people engage in dangerous stunts, and he laughed at his fellow Griffindor, who was currently digging her nails into his bicep - her face buried in his shoulder. She too seemed to be feeling more than a little foggy from all the wine they had consumed. Harry knew that she was having trouble following the complex story, and it was probably driving her mad.
"Honestly, Hermione!" Harry chided, speaking into her ear so as not to bother the other moviegoers. "You fought Voldemort! How can this bother you?"
"That was real," Hermione's replied.
She laughed and shook her head, and turned to speak into Harry's ear. "I know it doesn't make sense, but somehow knowing that this is fake … that it doesn't actually have to happen …it makes it worse to me."
"Your mind works in wondrous ways," Harry whispered back, shivering suddenly. Hermione's whisperings had sent chills up the back of his neck. Although he knew that it was unintentional, the fact that a witch was blowing warm breath in Harry's ear was causing some not-so-platonic feelings all of a sudden.
"Yeah, I've heard that before," Hermione continued, speaking softly about an inch from Harry's ear now, oblivious to her friend's heightened sensibility. "Only people usually don't say `wondrous.'"
Harry didn't hear her. He was lost in guilty pleasure. The testosterone-filled movie, his mind swimming from the effects of alcohol, hot breath in his ear, and (for some reason) the fact that Hermione still had her nails pinching deeply into his arm muscles were all at once vying for his attention.
"Huh?" he asked, leaning closer and speaking into Hermione's ear again, his eyes falling closed.
Hermione repeated her last sentence and froze at the predicament she now found herself in. Harry had leaned in, as if to speak again. But, he didn't speak. Nope, Hermione was now wrestling with her senses as her closest friend was now nibbling on her earlobe, mumbling something about how lovely she smelled.
"Has he lost his mind?" she thought. A hand brushed against her cheek and Hermione felt her hair being smoothed back off her face, presumably to get it out of the way of Harry's ministrations.
"Right. I should stop…stop this." Hermione opened her mouth to speak but, not entirely sober herself, she wasn't exactly sure how to proceed.
Harry bent his head down and took Hermione's mouth.
"He's lost his mind! Completely lost it!" Hermione thought, desperately fishing about inside her head for control. She needed her brain to tell her muscles to pull back, push away, anything. But instead, she gave up thinking entirely about her poor, lost friend and enjoyed the kiss she was receiving. Harry was stroking her cheek lightly while his tongue worked its magic on Hermione's newly risen libido. It felt warm and wet and wonderful to be kissed and caressed like this again. He was a strange one - her Harry friend, Hermione thought, but he was a good kisser. Hermione looked up at the screen when the kiss ended and Harry looked up too, just in time to see that the film stars had become engaged in some steamy behavior. Very steamy.
"Oh!" Hermione laughed. "Too weird!" She looked at Harry and he looked back, leaning in toward her again.
And so Harry and Hermione spent the duration of the movie snogging under a wine-induced haze. They stopped for a while when someone from several seats behind them uttered a small "Tuh!" but resumed again after what they thought must have been an appropriate amount of time.
In all the years the two of them had been friends, Harry and Hermione had never done this. They had been great childhood mates - kid friends. They had been close yet somewhat estranged friends for long periods as they'd entered the stage of new adulthood: when Hermione was away at University, when Harry went to Auror training, or when one of them was heavily involved in a relationship. Recently, they had become great friends again - even closer than when in school because it was now just the two of them.
Here in the dark but crowded movie theater, it seemed that they were inventing a new kind of friendship for themselves: friends who drink too much and snog. Neither was too bothered by the new development at the moment, although each rather felt that they should be. As the movie ended and credits were rolling, the couple continued to kiss until Harry felt someone brush his knee when they shuffled past him. Harry stood up and took Hermione's hand, helping her up. They left the theater and walked up the street a bit more, neither feeling a particular need to chat.
Hermione awoke the next morning to a brightly lit room. The sun was streaming in cruelly from the two windows at either side of her bed, and the light was making her head feel like it was going to explode.
"Right. Where's my wand?" she muttered, rolling over on her stomach and slapping her hand on the side table until she felt the woody handle. She tapped her head and relaxed, allowing the Healing charm to take affect. Healing charms never quite alleviated all pain, but they took enough of the edge off for one to get on with the day.
In no hurry to begin studying yet, Hermione decided to take a bath. She lay soaking in the tub and allowed her body to relax, trying to put off her review of last night's activities for as long as possible. A funny feeling kept creeping into her mind that she would soon be filled with anxiety about something or other, and she wasn't keen to remember its source. It took only a minute. Lying in her tub feeling warm from the bath, Hermione slowly began to recall a sense of warmth derived from a different source entirely. She closed her eyes and saw an image float to the forefront that instantly brought on that anxiety she'd been worried about.
"Oh, yes," she said, as a very close-up picture of her handsome friend bobbed into view, "I remember now."
The image zoomed in on Harry's red, swollen lips parting slightly, his tongue gliding quickly across his sexy teeth.
"Right. Okay," Hermione said, feeling her face flush and shaking her head to clear her thoughts.
Hermione had to warm the bath water twice, using her wand. She didn't want to get out of the tub until she had figured out what to do about…the thing. Just how does one go about their day after having been thoroughly snogged by their best friend of fifteen years?
In near-panic, she decided to review the evening's activities again in her mind to see if there was anything else to be worried about.
"There was wine. Lots of wine," she recalled. "That takes the edge off of it a bit."
Hermione swirled her hand in the warm bath water, willing her nerves to calm down.
"I would even go so far as to say we were drunk. We had been talking about the stripper….I sang the stupid celibacy song…must have put ideas into our heads."
Hermione sank down deeper into the tub, basking in the comfort of letting her reasoning abilities take over her emotions. She could feel a sense of relief already as her mind continued to probe hazy memories, sifting through the facts and pushing aside her feelings.
"…naked actors didn't help," she thought. "We're both young…I'm reasonably good looking and Harry's…well, Harry's sexy as Hell if one were being honest with oneself…"
Finally Hermione had convinced herself that, given the circumstances, it'd be more astonishing if she and Harry hadn't spent the duration of the movie kissing. She drained the tub and got dressed, ready to leave her cocoon of a bath and venture out into the kitchen for some toast and tea.
Once Hermione had eaten her toast, read the Daily Prophet, and edited her weekend planner, she found herself going over her night with Harry again. Sipping on luke-warm tea, she forced herself to smile. There was, after all, some humor to be found in this predicament, wasn't there? Well, she thought after further consideration, maybe not if things were taken from Harry's perspective. He was, she reminded herself, involved a serious relationship.
Somehow, considering things from Harry's point of view gave Hermione an unexpected jolt of relief standing out among all of the currents of remorse and regret. She imagined that Harry must feel awful for cheating on Tiffany. But, the realization that their little movie snog session was so out of synch with the rest of Harry's life washed over Hermione like a cool wave on a hot day. It meant that the kissing was nothing more than a byproduct of alcohol. It was as simple as that.
"That's just what a witch and a wizard do when they've gulped down a vat of wine," she thought happily.
Everything thusly simplified in Hermione's less troubled mind, she allowed herself to remember some of the more pleasant aspects of their unholy evening. A deep flush crept across her face as she basked in more imagery - Harry's dark eyelashes fluttering over closed eyes, Harry's tongue darting out to lick his lips, Harry's neck. Had she kissed his neck?
She could remember his skillful hands; they were moving softly along her jawbone, pressing on her back, running along the hem of her skirt as they kissed. She heard faint echoes of a few gently muttered phrases - "You have such beautiful legs," and "Mmm, I can taste wine," and "Shh, just relax." Heat was radiating through Hermione as she realized just how intimate the two had gotten - two platonic friends in a public place!
"My, though, that boy can kiss," Hermione sighed aloud, smiling into her flowery teacup. "I'd wager he could get a witch to do just about anything…" Sitting up suddenly, Hermione shook her head and attempted to remove the grin from her face by switching her focus to her studying requirements for the weekend. Fortunately, she had a full load of revising and would have plenty of work to keep her mind occupied on more wholesome subjects.
Hermione's morning analysis had so thoroughly calmed her emotions that she only barely felt the briefest of twinges when Harry appeared over the Floo network in the early afternoon. A not-so-confident voice sounded from her living room fireplace.
"Hermione?" it squeaked.
Smiling, Hermione took up a seat on her sofa, calmly facing her fire-y friend. She did her best to ease his trepidation with a nonchalant attitude and warm smiles as he mumbled his way through an apology. She wanted to let Harry know that even if he was in the dog house with the stripper, she and he were going to be just fine. Theirs was a friendship that could survive trauma, adventure, separation, and even the dullness of sharing everyday activities with each other. It could certainly survive a little lust, she was sure of it.
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