Something Rings True

Something Rings True

The wedding was starting to wind down. A cool breeze swept around under the marquee, dancing around the two dozen or so remaining guests. It was late, well past midnight, though the joy and excitement of the day rendered concepts of time vague and hazy. A silver sickle moon blazed down from the night sky turning the white dome of the marquee a striking shade of gold.

Harry and Hermione were standing a little away from the rest of the party. They watched as assorted members of the Weasleys and the Delacours square danced in circles, chortling at the antics but thinking only about a topic of a far different nature. Hermione was eager for Harry to recount his version of things; he was only concerned about her feelings, and why he had been so stupid as to not consider them sooner. He had the sense that his entire concept of things was breaking down, though he didn't think this was necessarily a bad thing.

“Tell me again,” Hermione whispered.

“Tell you what?” asked Harry determinedly evasive.

“What you said when we were dancing,” Hermione implored. “We have to talk about this. Oh, Harry - we have to find out what this means.”

“It doesn't mean anything,” said Harry, avoiding the silvery twinkle in Hermione's eyes. “I just didn't like it, that's all.”

“What didn't you like?” Hermione was pushing and Harry knew his resolve couldn't hold out.

“I didn't like you dancing with him,” said Harry pointedly, unable to restrain a bitter trace from his voice.

“But why-”

“Because I didn't like seeing Viktor Krum with his hands all over you, alright?” said Harry. “I saw it and I didn't like it. You asked - I've told you.”

“I just wanted to know why,” said Hermione in a hurt voice which wrenched Harry's insides with guilt. “Besides, there was nothing in it. It was just for old times.”

“I could have accepted that if you hadn't told me what you did just before you danced with him,” said Harry. “Now you have to explain. You didn't like it when I was with Ginny, even though she said you encouraged her? You never said anything.”

“How could I?” said Hermione. “What would you have said if I turned around and starting hexing Ginny for kissing you? It would hardly have been subtle.”

“No, but we've been friends for years. I know we've been getting closer lately but if you felt, well, more for me you could have said ages ago.”

“And you would have gone for me, would you? With Cho on one hand and Ginny on the other? Give me a little more credit than to think you'd have picked me over them.”

“Haven't I done just that, though?” said Harry. “Maybe it was a bit subconscious, maybe I didn't realise it but I have picked you over them. You just never gave me enough respect to give me the choice. I never knew you liked me so I never considered it. I'm a bloke - we don't see things until they poke us in the eye.”

Hermione laughed. They looked back towards the dance floor where only Fred and Verity, the girl from the twins' joke shop, were still swaying along to the slow music.

“You know, I liked dancing with you,” said Harry quietly. “I've never liked it before. But it was, you know, okay with you.”

“I'll take that as a compliment - I think!” Hermione said, half-laughing. “You weren't bad either. Viktor is a bit duck-footed, not at all graceful.”

“Yeah, I did think he was a bit crummy,” said Harry absently.

“Your jokes are terrible,” said Hermione pityingly. “You could get a job writing them for Muggle crackers.”

“Ho ho ho,” said Harry.

“Or be Santa Claus.”

Harry didn't even bless this comment with a response. He wanted to say something important or explanatory, but true to his track record in these sorts of situations his mind seemed to have turned to lead. Hermione, for once, didn't appear to have the right words either and for several moments they stood watching the remnants of the party in awkward silence.

The band played their last number to a smattering of polite applause. Harry watched the portly figure of Mr Delacour cross the dance floor to shake hands with each of the band members before collecting his wife on the way out of the tent. The others began drifting off too and Harry had barely turned to move that way himself when he felt Hermione's arm slip along his and her hand encircle his own. A brilliant tingle, like a thousand bolts of lighting, shot along Harry's hand where Hermione's cool skin touched him. It was a sensation more powerful than anything he'd ever known.

Harry felt himself being steered across the room towards the dimly lit exit. The candles all around had burnt down to almost nothing, casting long shadows against the weak orange glow. Harry stared squarely ahead trying hard to concentrate against the highly distracting little circles Hermione was tracing across the back of his hand. When they reached the exit, she turned to him.

“You're going back to the Burrow tonight?” she asked. He nodded - it was all he felt capable of. “I think I'm going to go home, see mum and dad while I can. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“No,” said Harry. “I have to go back to Privet Drive for one last night. The protection spell will be cast for the final time and I never have to see the place again.”

“So I won't see you for two days?” said Hermione, slightly hysterical. “I can't do that. Not after everything tonight. You will give me a ring, won't you, Harry?”

A what? Harry thought desperately. He had a fleeting gladness that he hadn't blurted his thought out but his answer still sounded dodgy.

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

“Oh, Harry-”

Then she did it, in front of the last stragglers of the party. She threw her arms around him, threw abandon to the wind and kissed him deeply, as though she'd been waiting all her life for this moment. Harry's mind seemed to have left his body; he felt so light headed that it was as if his soul had floated up and was circling around watching the scene from above. Slowly, reluctantly, Hermione broke their embrace. She looked around guiltily but no-one seemed to be watching.

“Sleep well, I'll see you soon,” she said and with another quick peck on the cheek she left the place and was gone.

Harry was now alone in the marquee. He stayed several minutes to compose himself, uncertain as to whether his euphoric sense of mind was from Hermione's soft kiss or the gallon or so of butterbeer he guessed he had drunk. He touched his own lips, trying to prolong the impression of their missing partner but in no time at all the sensation had gone and Harry thought he'd better get indoors before he was missed.

The Weasleys were in the kitchen of the Burrow. Mrs Weasley was making some late night sandwiches for the twins, Mr Weasley was dropping off in an armchair with his glasses askew on the end of his nose, while Ginny and Ron were doing one of the puzzles from the Daily Prophet. Harry went to join them.

“What's that you're doing?” he asked. Ginny got up quietly and walked away; Harry watched her go, confused. He looked to Ron for an answer.

“Just ignore her,” said Ron quietly. “She's just moody and tired probably. She'll be back to normal by the morning.”

“Oh,” said Harry absently. “Look, I'm going to go to bed. I'm shattered. I'm going to fall on my backside if I don't lie down.”

“Alright,” said Ron. “I'll just finish this and I'll be turning in myself.”

Harry bade goodnight to everyone and made his way up the crooked staircase. He passed Ginny's room, the door shut tight, and mounted the last set of steps to Ron's room. He flopped down on the bed, his head awash with all that had happened. He was looking forward to a few minutes peace where he might examine these new feelings; not that they were entirely new, he thought, just now he could see them for what they were. He had gotten no further than this, though, when the bedroom door opened and Ron entered with a strangely shrewd look on his face.

“So,” he said, half-grinning as he crossed the room and sat on his bed. “When did you get so sly, mate?”

“What are you on about?” said Harry.

“You know very well,” said Ron, positively smirking now. “You and Hermione. You kept that quiet.”

Harry started. He wasn't sure what shocked him most - the fact that he and Hermione had been seen or that Ron seemed perfectly okay with it. He'd always assumed there was something between his two best friends.

“You - you don't mind?” said Harry slowly.

“Mind? No, I think it's great, unlike Ginny,” said Ron. “Can't say I'm surprised, apart from the fact it's taken you this long. I thought you would have got together ages ago.”

“What?” said Harry. “Why would you think that?”

“Remember those Rita Skeeter articles?” said Ron (“How cold I forget,” said Harry). “Well I hadn't looked at you two like that before them but after I could see where she was coming from. I tried to get you together but you wouldn't listen.”

“Like how?”

“Going off with Lavender? I thought it might make you and Hermione closer but then she didn't do anything, you had that weird little obsession with Ginny. It was a mess. It seems sorted now though.”

“Well, she wants me to buy her a ring,” said Harry.

“A ring? Wow! Talking about moving fast. Making up for lost time are we?”

“Must be,” said Harry. “But I don't know the first thing about jewellery. Plus I don't even know her size.”

“Rings have sizes?” said Ron, aghast. “I didn't know that. I thought they were all the same.”

“I mean, I'm worried,” Harry began, voicing a nagging concern, “about what sort of ring to get? Did she mean friendship ring? Eternity ring?” Harry gulped. “Engagement ring?”

“Engagement seems a bit much, even for Hermione,” said Ron. “Then again if she's fancied you for ages and she's seen you with other girls maybe she wants to secure you.”

“Secure me!” Harry laughed. “What is this? Pride and Prejudice?”

“What's that?”

“Oh, never mind,” said Harry waving an impatient hand. “What am I going to do?”

“Sleep on it,” said Ron sagely. “We'll nip down to Diagon Alley first thing. There's a jewellers there. They can help.”

It wasn't the best night of sleep Harry had ever had. He dreamt that he and Hermione were shopping for wedding rings and she was desperate to have his Firebolt attached to a ring. Harry protested that he needed his broom and though he would gladly give it to her it was hardly practical. She complained that Krum had given her a ring that spouted out hundreds of chocolate frog cards and that Harry should be that thoughtful. He woke in a cold sweat, rolled over and tried to forget the dream but instead fell back to sleep and had another where he gave Hermione a ring of lead covered in gold that grew so heavy it snapped her finger off. Her wailing cries kept him awake for hours…

The jeweller at Diagon Alley was very helpful the next day. Clearly sensing that neither Harry nor Ron had ever bought a ring before the shop assistant was very obliging. She asked very polite questions about the nature of the ring they were after, the sort of person it was for and so on. Harry was eventually shown a drawer of rings that were tailored to his needs. He glanced through them; some were uselessly gaudy and Harry knew Hermione wouldn't like them; others were far too chunky for Hermione's dainty hands. Then, at the end of the row, the very one jumped out at Harry.

It was silver and shiny and inside the metal seemed to be moving. It looked like Mercury, Harry thought, only it was contained in the band of the ring. On top was a tiny otter with silvery jewels cut into the eyes and around the body. As though he knew what he wanted all along, he chose it.

“Ah, an excellent choice, sir,” said the assistant. “This particular range is infinitely popular due to the adjustable ring band. Fits all sizes. May I ask about the otter choice?”

“It's, um, personal,” said Harry. “She'll get it.”

“I understand, sir,” said the assistant knowingly. She wrapped the ring inside a small black box and Harry handed over his money.

“What is the point with the otter?” asked Ron as they were walking down Diagon Alley a few minutes later.

“It's her Patronus,” said Harry. “I think she'll appreciate that.”

“Wow, Harry,” said Ron, impressed. “I didn't remember that. You'll have to teach me how to think like that one day.”

Harry grinned as they made their way into the Apparition Points and whirled back to the Burrow.

* * *

Harry, through restlessness, decided to stop in on Hermione on his way to Privet Drive. He realised that he didn't actually know where she lived so turned to someone he did. Hedwig was roused from sleep with this most unusual of requests and led the way, Harry riding his Firebolt close behind under cover of his Invisibility Cloak. They flew for ages and Harry was just getting numb when Hedwig suddenly began a steep dive. He followed and swooped softly into a small wooded area.

Hedwig flew over and settled on the fence of a pretty little house at the end of a cul-de-sac. Harry draped the Cloak over his broom and propped it against a tree before walking to Hedwig. She gave him an affectionate nip as he stroked her on his way to the front door. He knocked three times with the silver doorknocker over a brass number 7 and waited with anxiety growing in his chest.

Footsteps sounded on laminate flooring through the door and it was opened by a prettyish woman with an expanse of bushy brown hair. She smiled a curious smile at Harry and her eyes cast behind him to the large snowy owl sat on her garden fence. She smiled again and looked at Harry.

“Don't tell me,” she said with a grin. “You're looking for Hermione?”

“Yes, actually,” said Harry. “How did you know?”

“Well, the owl's a dead giveaway,” said Mrs Granger. “Hedwig, isn't it?”

“How did you know?” Harry repeated.

“She's been here that often she's almost Hermione's second pet,” said Mrs Granger. “So you must be Harry? I can see why she likes you.”

“Likes me?”

“Oh she's told us everything about you. If I had a pound for every time she said your name in this house I'd have been able to retire by now.”

“Mum? Who're you talking to?” Hermione had appeared in the hall. “Oh, Mum! What are you doing? Oh, Harry - come in, come in.”

“Of course, where are my manners,” said Mrs Granger. She stepped aside and Harry walked to Hermione. She gave an embarrassed scowl to her mother before ushering Harry upstairs and into her bedroom. It was decked around all walls with bookshelves teeming under multiple volumes. There were several dolls in one corner that looked like they'd hardly been used.

“Harry, oh, Harry it's wonderful to see you,” said Hermione closing her door. “But why are you here? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing's wrong,” said Harry. “I just thought about what you said at the wedding. And well,” Harry took out the ring and gave it to her. She opened it, gave a little squeal and slipped it on, blushing and glowing all at once.

“Harry, it's gorgeous,” she said admiring her hand. “But I don't understand, what's this about?”

“Well, you did say,” Harry began. “You said to give you a ring, so I did.”

Hermione giggled, laughed and giggled some more.

“Oh, Harry, sometimes you're so hopeless it's cute,” said Hermione after a minute. “When I said `give me a ring' I meant phone me, you know - with a telephone.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry suddenly feeling very stupid. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, don't apologise,” said Hermione. “I like your way much better.”

She kissed him again. If this is what being stupid means, Harry thought, it's not all bad.

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