Author's Note
A couple of reviewers got the impression that when Harry opened the door at the end of Chapter 17, he was going to find … well, I won't speculate on exactly what they were thinking Harry might find because they didn't actually say *grins* but I'll bet it wasn't Hermione, fully dressed and looking demure and ready to leave for work! Lol!! Sorry to disappoint you guys, it was just a very happy Harry entering Hermione's flat as "now-much-more-than-a-friend" for the very first time! I hope Harry and Hermione's first date in this chapter will make up for it - Janie xoxo
PS To my dear friend Kirsti: how can I thank you enough??? Your help is priceless. Love & hugs dear.
PPS Holly - hope this brightens your day sweetie! xoxo
SORCERERS' NOOK
By JanieB
EIGHTH INTERLUDE
The night air was chilly and enveloped the two, black-cloaked figures in a bitterly damp and icy shroud as they stood in a pool of darkness between two street lamps somewhere in London.
`Why the hell do we have to meet here?' asked the shorter of the two, his voice disgruntled.
`I have instructions for you,' rasped the taller figure, not deigning to reply to the other's question.
`What instructions?' The shorter one's voice now held petulance.
As the taller wizard spoke, the whole body of the listener tensed, then seemed to become diminished, shrinking into itself. The speaker sensed fear emanating from the listener and he made a sound of disgust.
`What's the matter?' he sneered, `are you frightened?'
Dread and horror were clear in the shorter wizard's voice as he asked in a cracked whisper, `Are you sure of my target?'
`Afraid of a girl?' The derision in the speaker's voice forced a reflexive, abrupt, `No!' from the other.
`Then next Friday, at the farewell gathering, you will complete your first assignment and prove yourself worthy.'
`What happens if something goes wrong? What if I can't do it?'
The taller figure laughed; it was an extremely unpleasant sound and chilled the blood of the listener. `The Dark One has suffered failure once already and the Muggle who failed him is now dead. You fail, my friend, and you'll wish you were dead, too.
*
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In which Dean and Neville sleep in, Dean has an unexpected visitor at lunchtime and Verity surprises Harry and Hermione. Also, Harry and Hermione are disappointed by the contents of a letter from Dean while Dean, on the other hand, is anything but disappointed. Harry and Hermione put aside their disappointment and go out for dinner…which turns out to be anything but disappointing…
Dean slept in Thursday morning as a result of being up so late talking to Neville the previous night. He'd rolled over and peered sleepily at the old alarm clock on his bedside table, his eyes flying open in shock when he saw what time it was. He leapt from bed with a hoarse expletive, threw on his clothes, grabbed his wand and cloak and headed for the door, forced to forego his usual morning shower and breakfast. Luckily, the note Hermione had slipped under his door earlier that morning on her way downstairs was in a bright blue envelope, or Dean would almost certainly have missed it. As it was, the blue of the envelope sitting on the floor just inside his front door caught his eye and he scooped it up on his way out. As he pulled the door shut behind him, Neville's door, opposite, opened and Neville appeared, looking equally dishevelled. Slamming the door behind him, Neville half ran towards the top of the stairs, grinning and waving at Dean.
`You slept in too?' he asked.
Dean groaned and nodded, shoving the blue envelope into his back pocket as he followed Neville.
`Remind me,' said Dean, as they clattered down the stairs, `never to drink either Ogden's or coffee after dinner and stay up so damn late on a week night!'
They both made it to their respective places of work a few minutes short of being late.
Dean forgot about the envelope in his back pocket until lunchtime when he went fishing in his pockets for his wallet. He paid for his lunch and left the sandwich shop, heading for his usual spot on a bench in a small, nearby park. He'd bought four sandwiches, two pieces of fruit and a large slice of chocolate cake and was so hungry after skipping breakfast that he quickly ate two of the sandwiches before opening the note.
Dear Dean,
Harry and I need to talk to you quite urgently about the Book of Records we are using for our research. Would you be able to come and see us tonight, at my place, at around 8 o'clock? If you're unable to make it, please let either Harry or I know.
Thanks,
Hermione
Dean sat with a puzzled frown creasing his forehead as he finished his lunch, wondering why on earth they'd want to speak to him urgently about what he thought sounded like a rather frightening book. A little while later as he brushed the crumbs of his cake from his knees, he decided that since there was no point in speculating, he'd not worry about it until he saw Harry and Hermione that evening. He was walking back to the offices of the Daily Prophet when he heard his name called. Turning to find the source, he was delighted to see Ginny hurrying towards him.
`Ginny, hi! It's good to see you,' he said with a huge grin.
Ginny didn't return the smile, however and Dean's grin vanished as he saw that Ginny had been crying.
`I've just quit my job,' she whispered, then burst out crying again, covering her mouth with one hand as she looked up at Dean, her eyes showing the shock and upset she felt.
People walking past them were looking at them curiously; Dean put his arm around Ginny's shoulders and drew her to him.
`Come with me,' he said, as he resumed walking, Ginny falling into step with him. `I have a small office - and I mean small - but at least it'll give us some privacy. You can tell me all about it then.'
*
That evening, Harry and Hermione made their way home just after five o'clock, both feeling great frustration at the lack of progress they'd made that day.
`We're missing something, but I don't know what!' fumed Hermione, the second Harry stepped out of the fireplace at the Nook seconds after she'd arrived.
`And don't I know it,' murmured Harry, although he was smiling at her.
Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed. `Oh, Harry! I'm really sorry! You've been so patient today and I've been so out of sorts over our lack of progress - thank you!'
`Evening Harry, evening Hermione.'
They both turned and looked up at the painting.
`Hi, Emrys,' they replied in unison. `Hi, Verity.'
Verity nodded graciously. `So I take it,' she said, `that your research today hasn't been as enlightening as you'd wish?' She was much more pleasant since Harry and Hermione had spent some time that morning explaining everything to them before Flooing to the Ministry. The grey-haired couple had accepted what they were told quite calmly and had thanked Harry and Hermione for taking the time to talk to them.
Hermione groaned and shook her head. `We just can't seem to find a way to get into some parts of the book, either to read them or view them. It's as though there's a - a -'
`A lock?' offered Verity.
Hermione frowned as she peered at the old lady. `Sort of, although not a lock in the normal sense. More like a barrier.'
`Perhaps you should speak to Dean Thomas,' said Verity calmly. Emrys's eyes widened in shock and he stared at his wife.
Hermione pounced. `Why?' she demanded, aware of Harry saying exactly the same thing at the same time.
`Because, as I don't doubt you both now know, Dean is the rightful owner of that book.'
`How did you come by that book, Verity?' asked Harry quietly.
Verity sniffed; Emrys was still staring at her as though she'd grown an extra nose.
`Alexander Riley asked me to safeguard it, just before he died and he, of course, is Dean's real father.'
Harry and Hermione both nodded. `We know that,' said Hermione, `and we're actually going to be speaking with Dean later tonight. What else do you know about all this, Verity?'
Emrys suddenly began to cough and Verity shot him a scathing glance before replying to Hermione.
`I'm not sure exactly what you mean by "all this". Are you asking why Alexander left his wife? How and where he died? Or perhaps the truth about the murder of Hugo Wilkes? Then yes, I do know more, about all of those things.'
Hermione and Harry looked at each other in bewilderment.
`So why haven't you said something before now?' demanded Harry.
`It had to be told at the right time, Harry.'
`And is this the right time?' asked Hermione, doing her best not to sound completely exasperated.
`I think that it may be,' said Verity calmly. `After you've spoken with Dean and explained to him about his ownership of the book, perhaps the three of you could come down here and I will answer as many of your questions as I am able.'
*
Half an hour later, after Harry had spent some time in his own flat having a shower and seeing Hedwig off on her nightly hunt, he crossed the hall to Hermione's flat to find her sitting at the table with a tea tray, reading what he presumed to be a letter.
Harry joined Hermione at the table, picking up the teapot as he shot an inquiring glance at Hermione.
`It's from Dean. He can't come tonight.' Hermione's voice was flat with disappointment.
Harry put the teapot down with a dull clunk without having poured any.
`What? Why not?' He sounded as disappointed as Hermione.
Without saying anything, Hermione handed him the letter, then picked up the teapot herself and poured them each a cup. Propping her elbows on the table, Hermione held her tea cup with both hands, sipping cautiously at the hot liquid while she watched Harry read Dean's letter.
Dear Hermione,
I received your note and fully intended to be there tonight. However, while I was at lunch today, I received a surprise visit from Ginny. She was very upset, having just quit her job. She'd literally walked out after a run-in with that foul git, Blakely. I took her back to my office and after I finished work, I took her home. I'm still at the Burrow as Mrs Weasley invited me for dinner. (Harry's eyes paused for a second as he felt a peculiar pang realising that not that long ago, it would've been him that Ginny would've turned to and him that Mrs Weasley would've invited to stay for dinner. And yet, he felt no sense of loss; it was as though he was remembering someone else's life.) I'm really sorry I couldn't let you know earlier that I can't make it, but I didn't know myself until we arrived here. I told Pigwidgeon not to worry about waiting for a reply as I'll be home tomorrow night and I'll be able to come and see you then (same time, eight o'clock). Just put another note under my door if that's not all right for you and I'll see you on Saturday.
Dean
Harry sighed as he put Dean's letter down and picked up the tea Hermione had poured him. `Not much we can do about it, I'm afraid. And while Ginny said she loved her job, d'you know, I don't think she's been happy there for some time now, she just didn't realise it. I reckon her leaving'll probably be the best thing in the long run; that Blakely was always a thorn in her side.'
`Oh and how I know,' replied Hermione, shaking her head at the memory of many nights listening to Ginny complain about Oscar Blakely. `I think you're right about it being best she leaves. Especially this year, she's just about done nothing else but talk about how she's always arguing or being angry with Blakely.' Hermione sighed. `But it's really disappointing and frustrating having to wait to speak to Dean.'
Harry nodded in agreement, then a slow smile spread across his face. `I have an idea,' he said. `Since we have an unexpected free night, why don't we go out for dinner?'
Without thinking, Hermione automatically began to shake her head, then stopped. Returning her cup to its saucer, she sat back and gazed at him for a second.
"Thank you, Harry; I'd love to go out for dinner.'
*
Hermione hustled Harry off to get changed and smilingly suggested he take at least forty minutes to do so. She also asked him to `think of somewhere really nice we can go, please; I feel like getting dressed up'.
Having already showered, it took Harry less than ten minutes to change into his favourite black suit with a deep green silk shirt; he rolled up a tie and pushed it into his jacket pocket before walking back to the kitchen to get a glass of water as his throat felt quite dry. This is our first date! he thought to himself, immediately increasing by tenfold the sense of nervous excitement already pervading his body. His first thought had been to take Hermione to the Dragon's Lair, which Neville had recommended to him and which he knew from experience would meet Hermione's criteria of being "really nice". He grinned to himself. He was sure it was because it was their first date that Hermione wanted it to be "really nice" - just like he did. His grin faded as he thought about the Dragon's Lair being the last restaurant he'd taken Ginny to, and while it didn't bother him, he wondered whether it would bother Hermione. Staring at Hedwig's still empty perch, he took barely a minute to conclude that he knew Hermione better than that, and that such a thing surely wouldn't worry her.
Finishing his water, Harry glanced at his watch as he put his glass in the sink. There was almost half an hour remaining before Hermione would be ready and in that instant, he made up his mind and headed downstairs.
*
Sitting around the kitchen table at the Burrow, Dean was gently urging Ginny to eat "just a little more" of her dinner.
Putting down her knife and fork, Ginny sat back in her chair and sighed. `I really don't feel terribly hungry,' she said miserably.
`Not surprising,' said her father. `That fool Blakely attacking you out of the blue like that would upset anyone enough to turn them off their food!'
Ginny waved her hands helplessly. `I just don't understand! I know we've never hit it off, but he's never before lost it the way he did today!'
`Are you sure nothing happened this morning Ginny, some little thing perhaps?' queried her mother.
Ginny shook her head. `I've gone over and over it. I was just sitting at my desk, proof-reading an article Ida had written for this week's edition about her retirement - I still don't entirely trust those Spell-Checking Quills - when Blakely marched up and said he wanted to see me in his office. I told him I'd be there in a minute or so, I just wanted to finish my proof-reading and he made it obvious he wasn't happy about that.'
`And so you took even longer to finish reading I'll bet!' put in Dean.
Ginny flashed him a quick smile. `You bet I did!'
They shared a laugh, then Ginny continued, `When I went into his office, the door slammed itself shut behind me and he just started yelling! I don't think I've remembered everything yet, he said so much. Firstly he told me off for making him wait, told me I was rude and arrogant; then he basically told me my work was rubbish and once he was Chief Editor he'd make sure I either "shaped up or shipped out" as he put it.' Ginny sighed and shook her head again. `It doesn't really matter what else he said. There's no way I could work for that man and while he sat there and yelled at me, I knew; I knew it wasn't a matter of whether or not I left, it was when I left. I just looked at him, said, "I quit", and walked out. He was still yelling.'
`What about Ida?' asked Dean, `Did you go and see her?'
Ginny nodded. `I explained everything to her and she understood. She was sad for me but she can't do anything about it. The only problem is, I won't be able to go to her retirement party on Friday night now that I'm no longer working there. But she did say she'll owl me next week and we'll have lunch or something.'
`Sweetheart, I think you did the right thing,' said Molly firmly, and Arthur nodded. `You'll have no problem getting another job,' he assured her.
`I'm going to check at work tomorrow,' said Dean, `see if there are any positions vacant.'
Ginny looked at Dean. `Thank you,' she said quietly, then she smiled across the table at her parents. `And thank you both, as well. I know I've done the right thing, but it has been a pretty awful day. Both of you - and you, too, of course -' she glanced gratefully at Dean, `have all helped to make me feel much better.'
Dean couldn't prevent a happy, foolish grin spreading across his face as he looked down at Ginny, a look that had Arthur and Molly exchanging a knowing glance.
After dinner, the mood was much lighter as they all helped to clean up and when they'd finished, Dean, eager to be with Ginny, suggested they go for a walk. Ginny agreed. `I think some fresh air is just what the healer ordered,' she told him.
Despite the season, it had become cool outside and both Ginny and Dean put on light jumpers before setting out. They left by the back door, walking through the garden and out the gate, past the sole surviving Flutterby bush from Bill and Fleur's wedding. As they skirted the small lake and headed up the hill, Ginny hooked her arm through Dean's and smiled up at him.
`I know I've already said thank you for helping me today, Dean, but I'd like to say it again, so: thank you.'
Dean, already happy he'd been the one Ginny had turned to that day, felt his heart lighten further.
`If it means getting that smile from you each time, you just go right on thanking me whenever it takes your fancy, Ginny.'
`I'll remember that,' she told him light-heartedly.
They reached the outskirts of the orchard and walked through to the small clearing where Bill and Fleur's wedding had taken place. An old iron and wood bench, originally from the garden behind the house, had been brought up for the wedding and never taken back; it sat, forgotten, the polish it had been given for the wedding having worn off long ago. In silent agreement, Ginny and Dean crossed to the old bench and sat down, admiring the myriad glowing colours thrown across the sky and strewn through the trees by the approaching sunset. A last few fat, fuzzy honey bees flew by lazily, heading for their hive and they could hear birds settling down for the night in the branches of the surrounding trees.
They sat closely, though without touching; Ginny's legs were crossed, her linked hands resting in her lap. Dean sat with his arms loosely folded over his stomach, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Dean watched Ginny's foot swinging idly to and fro; the peace of day's end seemed to permeate the very air they were breathing, lulling them into a quiet, contemplative state.
Ginny broke the serene silence first, her voice revealing a slight note of regret at doing so. `There's something I'd like to talk about. Something I never expected. Something - well, it's just that I need to talk about it I suppose, and I can't think of anyone else besides you that I'd be able to talk it over with.'
Dean felt a warm thrill spread through his whole body at Ginny's words.
`I'm all ears,' he said, keeping his voice calm.
Ginny took a deep breath. `When Harry broke up with me, I naturally wanted to know why. He told me he'd fallen out of love with me…'
Ginny hesitated and Dean could hear the pain in her voice; he fought back the impulse to put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her; he somehow knew that the time wasn't right for such a gesture.
`…and that he'd fallen in love without someone else.'
Dean tensed. Someone else? I'll bet my wand that someone else is Hermione after what I saw the other night! Holy Merlin - Hermione - Ginny's best friend! I can't tell her that!
Ginny's low, sad voice broke into his thoughts.
`It took a little while, but I worked out who it was. What's horribly ironic is that she doesn't know.'
Dean shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat nervously. She knows it's Hermione?
Despite her preoccupation with painful memories, Ginny noticed and looked up at Dean; Dean kept his eyes focused on his own feet.
`What's wrong?' Ginny ventured, frowning.
`When you say you worked out who it was, does Harry know?'
`Oh yes! It was while we were talking - Harry wouldn't tell me, he insisted it didn't matter and that she didn't know. That she didn't love him.' Ginny's voice dropped almost to a whisper, the anguish in her voice pulling at Dean's heart strings, `It's Hermione.'
Dean groaned as he pulled his legs in, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands.
Ginny was torn between being perplexed and being annoyed.
`Dean, would you please tell me what's going on with you?'
Knowing any possible future with Ginny could well be at stake, Dean sat up, his clenched fists resting on his knees as he looked at Ginny.
`Let me just get this straight: You've known since the night you and Harry broke up that he loves Hermione?'
Ginny nodded.
`But according to Harry, Hermione doesn't know?'
`That's right. And I spoke with Hermione a couple of times after that - which wasn't easy, I have to say, although it's not her fault. She has no idea. I know Hermione; she couldn't - wouldn't - put on that sort of front.' The picture of Harry asleep with his head in Hermione's lap flashed into her mind, followed by the memory of how easy and comfortable Hermione had been with her when she'd made an appearance - surely only possible if she was unaware of Harry's feelings for her.
`That may have changed.' Dean spoke softly, as though that would lessen the impact of his words.
Ginny tensed.
`What do you mean?'
Dean turned and looked at her.
`Last night, after the meeting, Neville and I went up to see if Harry and Hermione were still awake and whether they wanted to join us for coffee. I have to admit we had an ulterior motive - finding out more about this whole Dark One thing.' Dean paused, wondering how she would take what he was about to tell her.
`And?'
`We were nearly at the top of the stairs and we heard a sound so we turned and looked and…' Dean paused again, uncertain of what to say.
`And?' repeated Ginny, more forcefully this time.
Holding her gaze, Dean took a deep breath and continued, speaking quickly as though that would make his words less painful. `We saw Harry and Hermione kissing - and I mean really kissing.'
Ginny stared at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her eyes unreadable.
Dean plunged on, illogically hoping that perhaps if he gave her more time to think she'd be less upset. `Neville and I went back to my place and we were talking about it. He says that nothing happened between them until after you and he split up. But he said he had noticed little things before last night. And he said he noticed because -'
`Because he fancies Hermione, too,' broke in Ginny, her voice flat. `I know. Seems Hermione's the flavour of the month, doesn't it?'
`Not with me,' said Dean gently.
Ginny gave him a sad smile. `That's a nice thing to say, thank you. But you know, I'm not really surprised about Harry and Hermione. I was only thinking last night when we were at Hogwarts that it would probably only be a matter of time before something happened between them. After all, Harry is - well, Harry…'
Dean felt a stab of jealousy that he resolutely put aside.
`Are you all right?' he asked tenderly, wanting terribly to take her hand to comfort her, to show his concern.
He saw tears form in her eyes and it was too much. He reached out and took her hand.
`Ginny, he doesn't deserve you. He's not the one for you.' I am! he wanted to cry out, but of course he didn't. `I do have some idea of the heartache you're going through at the moment,' since I went through something similar when you broke up with me and took up with Harry, `and since I know how strong you are, I know that you will be all right. Even so, I want you to know you can rely on me anytime, for anything you need, all right?'
Ginny nodded as two tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.
`Thank you,' she whispered, before leaning forwards and resting her head against his chest; Dean put his other arm around her shoulders and held her while she silently cried. After a few minutes, Ginny sat back, pulling a hankie from her pocket to wipe her eyes.
`I'm sorry,' she told Dean with a watery smile.
`Any thing, any time, remember?' he said lightly.
Ginny chuckled weakly. `I remember. I will remember.'
`Good.'
`It's getting dark,' said Ginny, suddenly noticing the sun was almost gone.
`And colder,' said Dean. `We'd better head back.'
As they walked, Dean felt Ginny's hand slip into his and his heart skipped with delight. He squeezed it very gently and smiled down at her as they continued walking and Ginny smiled back in the dim light.
It was as they made their way back towards the Burrow, that Ginny realised something: while she was upset and hurt by the painful thought of Harry with Hermione, of Harry kissing Hermione as he'd once kissed her, she wasn't completely shattered by it. And she realised, too, that this was no doubt in part thanks to the man whose warm, firm hand currently held hers…
*
At a quarter to seven on the dot, Harry knocked on Hermione's door and waited, deciding this particular evening called for a little more decorum than his usual brief knock, enter and cry of `Hermione!'
He could hear the faint tapping of high heels on the wooden floor as Hermione approached the door. When they stopped, he watched as the door handle turned and suddenly felt as though his heart and stomach were battling over which of them would take up residence in his throat. Did I ever feel like this with Ginny? If I did, I don't remember it… Then Hermione came into view as the door opened. She was smiling at him, a smile she'd never given him before, a smile that held nervousness, confidence, anticipation and wonder, all at the same time. Harry's smile widened as he looked into her eyes, but then he couldn't prevent his gaze travelling from her beautifully - although lightly - made-up face framed by soft, curling tendrils falling from the swirling chignon high on the back of her head, down to her feet and back again. Harry didn't know that what Hermione was wearing would be described as a black, crepe maxi dress with twisted straps and an encircling band of pale gold sequins just under the bust. What he did know was that she looked stunning and that he would need to employ a lot of self discipline to keep his eyes from constantly wandering to the soft swell of her breasts left visible by the deep v-neck.
Despite every desire to be "calm, cool and collected", all he could manage was a rather hoarse, `Wow.'
Hermione's smiled widened. `Thank you,' she said softly, `and you look pretty "wow", yourself. Except, hmmm…'
As Hermione's head tilted slightly to one side, a small frown appeared between Harry's eyes.
`Except what?' he asked, perplexed.
Hermione held his gaze, smiling, as she reached out and put her hand in his jacket pocket; when she drew it out, she was holding his tie.
`Still need help putting on your tie, Mr Potter?'
Harry chuckled. `As always, Miss Granger,' he replied.
`My wand's in my purse, on the table,' said Hermione, but before she'd barely turned her head and lifted her arm towards the table where it lay, Harry raised his left hand and Hermione's evening purse, with a pale gold clasp and made of the same material as her dress, flew smoothly from the table to Harry's waiting hand. He handed it to Hermione, who in turn placed his still rolled up tie on his flattened palm, then drew her wand out, twirling it as she murmured, `Adstringo tersus', Harry's tie rose smoothly and slid around his neck to lie straight and perfectly knotted.
As Hermione returned her wand to her purse, Harry closed the door then held out his right arm. `Let's go then, shall we?'
Hermione felt as though her stomach was doing somersaults and the look in Harry's eyes did nothing towards calming her; she put her hand through Harry's arm and as they walked around to head down the stairs, they kept glancing at each other, their smiles not leaving their faces. When they reached the fireplace in the small sitting room, they didn't even notice the knowing look exchanged by Verity and Emrys, nor their smiles that bordered on smirks as they gazed down at the oblivious couple.
After they'd gone, Verity sighed and gave Emrys a smile he hadn't seen in quite a while.
`Young love,' she murmured, `is such a beautiful thing.'
And that young Hermione is a beautiful thing, thought Emrys, looking down at where she and Harry had been standing a second before. He knew better than to state this fact aloud, of course. That Harry is a lucky, lucky wizard. Then his gaze moved up to his wife's face and his eyes softened. `And you, my dear, were a very beautiful thing when I first met you, and d'you know, you still are.'
*
As they stepped out of the fireplace and into the Arrival Room of the Dragon's Lair, Harry and Hermione were met with effusive greetings and low bows from Mr Madomo, the restaurant's maitre d'; Harry had been there earlier, while Hermione was getting ready, to make their booking.
`Welcome back, Mr Potter,' he said with a flourish of his hand, indicating the open double doorway to his left. `I trust you and Miss Granger will have a wonderful evening. If there is anything, anything at all that we can help you with, please do not hesitate to ask. I would be honoured to show you to your table myself, if that is agreeable, unless you would prefer a pre-dinner drink in the Dragon's Nest?'
Harry looked down at Hermione, suddenly aware that her eyes were much closer to being on a level with his now that she was wearing high heels. `What would you like to do?' he asked her.
`Let's just go to our table,' she replied. `We could have a drink there first, couldn't we?'
`But of course, Miss Granger!' exclaimed the maitre d' enthusiastically. `And it would be my pleasure and honour to provide you with complimentary champagne!'
So it was that a short while later Harry and Hermione were sitting at their table, screened from the rest of the night's diners by the "Dragon Wall", a bronze partition that housed a two-dimensional sculptured rendering of one of each of the ten known species of dragons. Hermione looked along the length of the wall in amazement while Harry's eyes were automatically drawn to the image of the Hungarian Horntail at the very end. Their beautifully set table was round, the damask linen a pristine white, the silver service sparkling in the candlelight, outshone only by the crystal stemware. Everything carried an almost inconspicuous Chinese Fireball Dragon logo, so subtly engraved or stitched as to be missed if not looked for.
Sitting in front of them, before an intricately folded white linen serviette, was a feather light replica of the "Dragon Wall" itself, upon which was engraved the menu in glistening letters. The waiter informed them that if they touched the dragon's egg symbol in the lower right hand corner, the menu would display the next page. To return to a previous page, they simply need to press the dragon's egg symbol in the lower left hand corner. He then pointed out a small figurine of a Chinese Fireball Dragon placed in the centre of the table and told them they simply needed to place a hand over it and he would then know to return to take their order.
After thanking their waiter, whom Mr Madomo had introduced to them and who had already placed a champagne cocktail in front of each of them, Harry and Hermione took appreciative sips of their drinks. A short, expectant silence followed in which Harry was looking at Hermione - and still fighting his natural inclination to drop his gaze to Hermione's enticing cleavage - and she was looking back, wondering how it was that Harry had become such an incredibly sexy man and she - Hermione-notice-everything-Granger - hadn't noticed!
`Harry, this is perfect. Thank you.'
`Thank you, Hermione,' Harry replied. Then he grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows. `I don't know what I would've done if you'd said no.'
Hermione laughed. `I almost did, because I was basically thinking about getting to bed early and getting back to that wretched book tomorrow.'
Harry reached across the table and gently removed Hermione's fingers from the stem of her glass, entwining them with his own. At the first touch of his fingers on Hermione's, Harry had felt something akin to an electrical charge flood his entire body.
`Well, I'm glad you didn't,' he said, his expression serious, his voice low and warm. Hermione's fingers tightened around his. `Me too,' she whispered.
They didn't let go of each other's hand and they all but forgot their drinks as they began talking (which Harry was relieved to find made it much easier to concentrate on Hermione's face and not her beguiling cleavage). After agreeing it was the perfect first date, their conversation continued in a light hearted, warm and amusing vein, interrupted only when their waitress returned, ostensibly to check that their "call" dragon was in working order, because she pointed out very respectfully that they would need to place their order shortly as it was getting late. They both apologised before glancing quickly at the menu and choosing meals they would not remember eating afterwards.
When their waitress had placed two cups of hot, fragrant coffee in front of them an hour later, Hermione sighed.
`We'll have to go, soon,' she said regretfully.
`The sensible thing to do is get to bed at a reasonable hour since we have to get up early.'
Hermione looked at Harry quizzically. `You don't sound as though you particularly want to be sensible,' she remarked with a smile.
The look Harry gave her then made Hermione's breath catch in her throat.
`Of course I don't,' he said, his voice dropping so low it made her shiver.
`But we will be?'
`Let's finish our coffee and find out,' said Harry with an irresistibly mischievous smile.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Author's Note
Hmmm…to be (sensible) or not to be (sensible)? I wonder… *grins cheekily* (I'm spending this weekend putting up our tree and all our Christmas decorations so I MAY be a little late with the next chapter - although naturally I'll be doing my utmost NOT to be!) Happy December everyone - only 26 sleeps till Santa comes! Janie xoxo
-->