Chapter 10: Godric's Hollow
Author's note: Okay, so I learned my lesson: no more double posts. I got a few emails with subject lines reading "wtf? Did you skip a post because THIS MAKES NO SENSE!" But, yeah…chapters 8 & 9 were uploaded at the same time because I'm an idiot.
Although nothing will ever EVER top the soul-crushing-tumble-in-the-abyss-of-writer's-remorse that came with the last chapter, this one was also struggle because I had to take a break from all the Harry-Hermione angst and further the stupid plot along. Also, right now I'm finishing up another (non HHR) fiction and I'm already brainstorming for my next HHr story (just so you know, my brainstorming consists of eating cheetos while watching Far from Heaven for the umpteenth time). The downside is that everything's kinda screwed up in my head regarding P&P. Dammit. This was supposed to be my HHr opus and I'm crapping it up. Darn you attention span! Darn you to hell! Anyspoo…we're getting to the glorious reunion and the mushy stuff it entails so stay with me folks.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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"Stop squirming Miss Granger," Mrs. Niddlemark mumbled through the pins in her mouth. Mrs. Niddlemark was Pemberley's foremost dressmaker and had no tolerance for fidgeting bridesmaids.
"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized as she shifted uncomfortably in her slip, flinching as Mrs. Niddlemark pricked and prodded her. Tonks, Hermione and Mrs. Niddlemark were in one of the guestrooms at Godric's Hollow. Hermione was being measured and fitted for the third time in six days. Her poor body was nicked and bruised beyond recognition, and Mrs. Niddlemark showed no signs of stopping.
But Mrs. Niddlemark's relentless pricking was far from Hermione's biggest worry: the wedding was tomorrow, and Hermione hadn't the faintest idea of what the dresses were going to look like. Tonks had gone through an array of wedding themes over the last week: French Baroque, Renaissance, Oriental, and pirate. Every style of dress involved different fittings, so Hermione had to undergo several trips to the dressmakers, each time being measured in different embarrassing places for different embarrassing dresses. By the time Tonks finally settled on a Celtic theme, she and Hermione had to leave for Godric's Hollow. Luckily, the house lay just outside the seaside village of Pemberley, a quaint seaside town that had an esteemed bridal boutique. Its owner, Mrs. Niddlemark, assured them that the dresses would be ready in time for the ceremony.
A few more pricks and measurements and the final fitting was done. An aching Hermione slowly dressed herself.
"You'll look great in the fabric I picked out, Mione," Tonks assured her as Mrs. Niddlemark left. "The color's amazing. You'll adore it."
"Um … I'm sure I will," Hermione said, not very sure at all. Knowing Tonks' fondness for outlandish colors, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little doubtful. "I still can't understand why you're so intent on having a Celtic wedding." Hermione's voice was muffled as she put her dress back on.
"Because it's a beautiful part of my rich Scottish heritage," Tonks replied, flipping through the pages of a fashion newspaper from London. "And the sleeves on the dresses are beyond fantastic."
"But you're not Scottish. Your father's family is from Lyme and your mother's Italian."
"So?"
"So…" Hermione slowly explained, "Celtic weddings are for people of Celtic descent. That is, people who understand the rituals and traditions and who actually know what the word 'Celtic' means."
"I know what 'Celtic' means," Tonks replied impatiently. "It means 'giving the bride whatever she wants on her wedding day,' which just happens to be the task entailed on the maid of honor, which just happens to be you."
Hermione held her hands up, admitting defeat. Once Tonks had an idea in her head, it was impossible to convince her otherwise. Besides, anything was better than a Renaissance theme, or goddess forbid, a pirate one.
Hermione decided to leave Tonks to her newspaper and have a look around the house. They'd only just arrived the day before, and Hermione hadn't gotten a moment to herself. She'd barely had time to Owl Luna, whose cold had turned into a mild flu thus preventing her from joining them. Lavender was off visiting her friends in Brighton, so she was absent as well.
Other causalities of Tonks' impromptu wedding were her parents, who wouldn't be there until the day of the ceremony, having had to cut short a trip to Berlin. Sir Sirius couldn't come at all as he was speaking at a conference in Moscow; however, he sent his congratulations along with several sparkly presents for Tonks (who was more than satisfied with his apology).
Hermione wandered down the vast hallways, taking her time to study the floral carvings on the intricate wooden molding. Godric's Hollow itself was a large, Tudor styled mansion, with dozens of rooms covered in mahogany panels, thick red rugs, and heavy velvet curtains. It certainly seemed well-equipped for the harsh winters of the region with tidy fireplaces in every bedroom and cozy overstuffed furniture awaiting any shivering inhabitants. She thought a person could spend a very comfortable winter here and understood why Lupin wanted to use it for the ceremony. Odd-sounding name aside, it seemed the perfect place for a snowbound retreat or a cozy hideaway for a couple just starting out.
Yet, however much she liked the house, it just didn't seem like the sort of place Harry would live. She'd expected something dark and forbidding and incredibly masculine, but with its richly upholstered floral furniture and antique colonial paintings, the place was devoid of anything resembling him. As she ambled down its hallways, she looked for some trace of him amongst its Olde World charm, but found none. It was as though he'd carefully avoided imprinting any part of his personality on his home. Hermione felt a twinge of disappointed that the man still remained such a mystery to her. She was hoping the house would reveal something of his character, or more specifically, something that would better prepare for seeing him at the ceremony.
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After wandering a bit, Hermione settled herself on a window seat in the second floor drawing room. It offered a picturesque view of the hazy wintry seashore that glittered in the faint sunlight. Freshly fallen snow covered the rocky shores, and the crashing waves appeared white against a misty gray sky. Hermione admired the snow-covered prospect until Lupin happened upon her.
"And there's the maid of honor," Lupin greeted her cheerfully.
"And here's the groom-to-be," Hermione smiled, rising from the window seat as he shook her hand.
"How do you like the house Hermione?"
"I like it very much Remus. I can understand why you wanted to use it for the wedding. It's very cozy."
Lupin nodded. "I'm glad you like it." He paused before going on. "But there is something I've been meaning to show you. If you have a moment that is."
"Of course," Hermione agreed and followed him out into the hall.
Lupin took her to one of the neglected wings of the house where giant portraits of the Potter family lined the walls. Dressed in funny, old-fashioned clothing, the figures in the magical portraits were yelling curses and screaming obscenities at each other. Lupin had to shout in order for Hermione to hear him over their bickering. He never understood how the hundred-year old portraits (some of which had been hanging on the same walls for decades) still had so much to say to each other.
"Although it hasn't been used since Lily Potter's passing, this is a very important part of the house Hermione!" Lupin cried over the noise and motioned to the paintings. "I wanted to give you a proper introduction to them, lest you wander through on your own and wonder what sort of insane family Tonks has aligned herself with."
Hermione started to laugh but abruptly stopped herself.
He's not laughing. Why isn't he laughing? He's joking…he must be joking…right?
Lupin led her down the hallway, oblivious to her concern.
"James Potter was a cousin of Sir Sirius Black's," Lupin yelled. "Together they started the Black Trading Company over twenty years ago. You'll find several members of the Black family along these walls." Lupin stopped in front of a large portrait featuring a young man with dark curly hair and a severe expression. He was wearing hunting clothes and was holding a large rifle. "Take this one for instance. This is Sir Regulus Black, Sirius's brother."
"Sir Regulus Black?" Hermione repeated loudly.
As she spoke, the other portraits immediately ended their bickering and craned their necks to see who the new visitor was. The sudden silence was ominous and slightly spooky.
Hermione cleared her throat and adopted a normal tone of voice. "I read about his death years ago in the newspaper."
Lupin nodded. "Yes. It's something of a mystery actually. We still don't know how he died…"
"I'll tell you how," Sir Regulus interrupted him. "'Twas those damn pixies! They come for me in my sleep I tell you. They crawl all over me and in the morning no one believes me. They say 'Oh Regulus, your windows are barred and your doors are bolted, how could they get in?' Oh but pixies have their ways, they do. They have their ways, you be sure of it lass…"
Sir Regulus trailed off and his rant came to an end.
Lupin shifted uncomfortably. "He was always, you know, a little odd," he explained.
Hermione muttered an affirmative noise as he ushered her on.
"This is Belvina Black, another cousin of James'. She was known for her talent in potions-making. Somehow she ended up with one of the rarest wands ever made, the Elder wand. It has a core of Thresal tail hair and they say that whoever wields it will never lose a duel."
Impressed, Hermione studied the tall dark-haired woman, who was indeed holding an intricately carved wand. She was painfully thin and had dark circles under her eyes. Clutching her wand tightly, Belvina looked uneasily around at the other portraits, lest they try to steal it.
"What happened to her?" Hermione asked wearily, not really sure she wanted to know.
"She…well…she exploded," Lupin explained with a sigh. Sometimes, recounting the Black family tree was like trying to describe a potion that went disastrously wrong. "She was so worried that someone would steal her wand, she decided to…er… swallow it."
"Of course," Hermione said wearily, trying not to offend the woman in the portrait, who was now staring at them. "That way, absolutely no one can use it," Hermione offered with an uneasy smile.
The woman in the portrait nodded vigorously as she possessively gripped her wand. "My precious," she cooed as she stroked and nuzzled it. "The precious…"
Hermione and Lupin softly stole away as she continued her loving ministrations.
"Remus, who's that?" Hermione asked, pointing to a very small picture of a sad-looking man sitting in a chair.
Lupin looked pityingly on the portrait. "That's Andrei Krum, a very honorable man to be sure. He helped manage Godric's Hollow until he died seven years ago."
"Krum?" Hermione muttered to herself. Viktor's stories about Harry suddenly came to mind, and she desperately wanted to find out more. The portrait didn't cooperate though; Andrei Krum simply sighed and slouched further into his chair.
"Why does he look so unhappy?" Hermione carefully asked.
Lupin lowered his voice. "Well, he had a son who turned out rather badly."
"Oh?" Hermione hoped he'd go on.
Lupin hesitated for a moment but decided to tell Hermione the whole story. He'd rather tell her straightaway than have her hear about it by way of village gossip.
"His son Viktor grew up at Godric's Hollow," Lupin explained. "James Potter was very fond of Viktor and sent the boy to school at Durmstang after Andrei died. James had hoped the young man would eventually work for the Black Trading Company, however, young Krum decided to practice law instead. James, fine fellow that he was, put aside some money for his education." Lupin shifted uncomfortably.
"But Krum never attended law school. Instead, he went to Harry, as James was no longer living, and asked for the money in a lump sum. Harry agreed, but about two years ago, Krum wrote to Harry for more money. Harry refused to give him a sickle unless Viktor proved himself responsible enough to obtain a position of employment…" Lupin trailed off.
Hermione nibbled her lip, anxious to hear more.
Lupin cleared his throat and continued. "And so Krum, well, fashioned a sort of resentment for Harry. Viktor somehow managed to…er…court a young lady who worked in one of our Herbology wings at the company. Her name was Georgiana Thomas. Harry had been friendly with one of her older brothers at Hogwarts. She was passionate about Herbology and Harry persuaded Sirius to hire her on during her break from school. Viktor became friends with young Georgiana and somehow convinced her to slip a small amount of moonstone into a batch of dragon hide accelerator."
Hermione gasped, "But that's fatal. That could kill anyone who uses it."
Lupin nodded an agreement "Yes, well, unfortunately the poor girl didn't realize what she was doing. Several people were injured and a few lost their lives. Afterward…" Lupin shook his head as he trailed off.
"What Remus?" Hermione urged him to continue.
"Georgiana killed herself out of remorse. She was only fifteen years old," Lupin's voice caught in his throat.
"Dear God Remus…" Hermione's hand covered her mouth. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't
believe that Viktor was capable of something so hurtful, something so inherently evil, just to spite Harry.
"What about Viktor Krum?" she demanded angrily. "What happened to him?"
"Without the young lady's testimony, there was nothing we could do. We believe he's gone into the army, but there's no use in pursuing the matter."
No use pursuing the matter?! Hermione silently cried. Choking back her indignation, she calmly followed Remus down the hall, but inside she was overflowing with anger. Of course Viktor was so open about disliking Harry, slander and impropriety were the least of his crimes. How could she have been taken in by such a man?
Hermione excused herself from Lupin and ran to her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her and began pacing furiously around the room, trying to sort out what Lupin told her. If Victor was really behind the sabotage and the girl's suicide, then he was nothing less than a murderer! How on earth could Viktor be strolling round the streets of Meriton, flirting with her sister and spreading evil rumors about Harry? It seemed inhuman. Viktor seemed inhuman. In any case, his treatment of Georgian certainly was. Hermione's heart went out to the girl. She was so young, barely Lavender's age, and Viktor had used her as a pawn in his sick revenge against Harry. And poor Harry. He no doubt blamed himself for her death.
"Why didn't Harry just tell me?" she asked herself with a pitiful laugh.
She suddenly remembered the letter he gave her and groaned at her own stubborn stupidity. When Harry had written about her "friendship" with Viktor, he'd obviously intended to her warn about Viktor's character. Assuming the worst of him, she had thrown his letter (along with his good intentions) into the wastebasket.
She now realized that Harry was just trying to help her…help her again that is. It appeared no matter what, Harry was always endeavoring to protect her. He seemed determined to spare her pain, no matter how much she resisted him.
So between discovering Viktor's a criminal and I've been a complete fool, which one comes as a bigger surprise? Hermione asked herself.
Unable to decide, she (the complete fool) huffed and sank into the chair of her desk. Her mind was racing and she thought she might go mad if she didn't do something… anything. She tore a piece of parchment out of her notebook, grabbed a quill, and began scribbling a letter to Luna.
Luna,
I'm sorry for the lack of obligatory pleasantries. Mind you, I do hope you're feeling better, but I've just heard the most dreadful news. Viktor Krum's story about Harry is completely untrue! I know you warned me against believing any of it, but I'm afraid I let my baser feelings about Harry cloud my judgment. Not only is his story utterly false, it seems that Viktor did great harm to a friend of Harry's, simply for the sake of his sick revenge. All sense of decency seems to have drained out of me just thinking about it. If Viktor were here now, I'm afraid I'd actually Crucio him, or at the very least hit him over the head with something heavy. Perhaps a polo mallet or a Beater's bat.
Please don't bother responding with niceties about how I'm being harsh on myself. I should've seen through Viktor's lies. I deserve none of your sympathy, and yet, I do wish you were here with me now. You are one of the few people who I really love, and one of the fewer whom I really like. It seems the more I see of the world, the smaller that circle becomes. Every day seems to confirm my belief in the inconsistency of all human character, especially my own.
Please write back as soon as you can.
Your Devoted Sister,
Hermione
She had just signed her name when she heard Tonks calling from down the hall.
"Hermione! Harry's here. If you don't hurry up, I'm going to spread strawberry jam all over the library shelves and say you did it!"
Oh of course he's here. Wonderful timing as usual Harry, Hermione muttered, reaching up and feeling the flush on her cheeks. She hastily folded the letter and sealed it.
Still shaking, she stood and examined herself in the mirror. Her white gown was somehow unwrinkled despite her pacing and frantic letter writing. She patted her hair and applied a curling charm to neaten her corkscrew curls. Pleased with her outward appearance of composure, she grabbed her letter and headed in the direction of the foyer. She dropped the envelope in with the outgoing Owls as she hurried round the corner.
Tonks and Lupin were standing by the front door waiting for her. Tonks greeted her with a hug: "Harry's here, and more importantly, he's brought presents!"
Hermione smiled brightly, not wanting Tonks to see her agitation.
Just try not to faint until you get back to your room, she sternly told herself, trying to calm her heavy breathing. Between the shock of discovering Viktor's crimes and the anticipation of seeing Harry again, she didn't know how she was going to get through the evening
At the moment, all she could think to do was to act as polite and pleasing and normal as possible. She could sort out her feelings about Harry later. But "later" didn't seem like much time at all. The wedding was tomorrow and she was leaving the day after that. There was no "sorting out later" where Harry was concerned.
Now that Hermione understood the reasons behind Harry's angry outburst in Meriton, she felt compelled to set things right between them. Clearly she misjudged him, and Harry, in turn, had done the same with her. For her part, she'd stubbornly assumed the worst of him, and he'd acted like a hot-tempered fool about her supposed friendship with Viktor.
Recounting their idiotic behavior in Meriton, Hermione had to chuckle despite her nervousness. It suddenly seemed as if their characters weren't as hopelessly mismatched as she thought. Perhaps there was a chance to salvage some sort of friendship out of the mess they'd made, although she hadn't the faintest idea how.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the heavy front door swung open. Hermione gasped, surprised to see none other than a grinning Ronald Weasley walk into the foyer. But she only caught a glimpse of Lupin shaking his hand because her eyes were riveted to the other figure in the doorway. She took a deep breath and forced a smile as Harry Potter stepped forward to greet her.
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"Hello all!" Ron cried, taking Lupin's hand.
Hermione smiled as Ron greeted Lupin and Tonks; however, her smile (and her composure) quickly vanished. Suddenly Harry was standing in front of her and Hermione couldn't take her eyes off him.
He was wearing his usual green cloak (which set off his unearthly eyes) and his hair was more adorably messy than usual. Although Harry hadn't changed much in appearance, there was something different about him. Hermione couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something somehow…lighter about him, almost as if he were making an effort to curb his dark, brooding intensity.
But whatever assumptions she made in regard to his manner, his stoic disposition remained unchanged. He didn't say a word to anyone; he just stared right back at her, and for a moment, despite the rush of greetings and servants and handshakes, the room seemed to have gone completely silent and calm.
Lupin laughed and said something to Hermione about her having the "misfortune" of already knowing the tall redhead beside him. Hermione broke away from Harry's gaze long enough to give Ron a curtsy and utter a quick hello, but she didn't hear Ron's reply. By then Harry had stepped forward and Hermione was finding it difficult to form whole words.
"Hello Hermione," Harry quietly greeted her. She couldn't read his expression as he offered his hand, but she took it without hesitation.
"Hello Harry," she replied softly. Her lips parted in surprise as he lifted her hand for a slow, languid kiss. She watched, fascinated, as his lips tenderly moved over her skin. For once she was glad her stubborn ringlets had fallen forward, as they hid the blush rising to her cheeks.
Harry held her hand longer than necessary before releasing it, and Hermione quickly tucked it behind her back, absently rubbing the tingly spot where his lips had been. Refusing to think about the softness of his kiss, she kept her eyes on the floor lest she stare at his mouth. His perfect, supple mouth…
Lupin said something about adjourning to the drawing room, and soon everyone was shuffling down the hallway. Hermione was the lone straggler. She was too busy berating herself to keep up with the others.
Stop it stop it stop it now, she told herself dizzily. Don't you dare think about what just happened or about him or his lips or else I'll turn you, I mean me, into something with no hands or lips so he won't be able to kiss them ever again…
…she worried her bottom lip as she studied her hand… And just how does he do that? How can a simple kiss on the hand set my inside exploding. He has to practice that…plan it. Evil wizard. Worse than any dark lord…
Hermione was shaken out of her rant by Tonks, who grabbed her elbow and dragged her down a dark hallway before she could follow the others into the drawing room.
"What's wrong with you?" Tonks demanded in a hushed tone.
"Nothing!" Hermione squeaked. "What do you mean? There's nothing wrong with me."
"You weren't paying any attention back there. Remus was talking and all you did was nod and agree and completely ignore everything he said."
"I didn't ignore everything he said," Hermione insisted. I heard something about Ron Weasley and… well that was it, but still…
Hermione sighed.
"I'm sorry Tonks," Hermione apologized sincerely. "I'm not myself, but I'll snap out of it. I promise."
Tonks looked at her, surprised. "No, don't stop it Hermione, really."
"Don't…what?" Hermione didn't think she'd heard right.
"Staring and stuttering and being rude," Tonks explained. "It makes me look so much better by comparison. I really want Remus to be proud of me, and if you're acting like a tongue-tied arse, then he'll definitely think the better of me for it. You know, pick of the litter and so forth. Ok?" Tonks flashed her a thumbs-up sign.
Hermione eyed her wearily. She'd long ago lost the ability to tell when Tonks was being sarcastic.
Tonks wordlessly pulled Hermione toward back toward the others, apparently eager for Hermione to make a complete idiot out of herself again. Hermione took a deep breath and let herself be dragged along, but she knew she couldn't keep acting like this. If Tonks, the free-spirited Ariel of Meriton, thought she was being rude then something was definitely amiss.
Remember, she told herself as Tonks led her down the hallway, No staring. No stammering. Just be very calm
and articulate. Especially the being articulate part. Talking: good. Staring: bad.
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Steeling herself, Hermione followed Tonks into the drawing room and found that (in her eternal bad luck or good fortune) the only place left to sit was the one next to Harry. Hermione swallowed hard and kept her eyes on the Arabian rug as she walked towards him. She took a seat but Harry didn't seem to notice her, his eyes were fixed on Remus who was going over tomorrow's schedule.
Forcing herself to take long, deep calming breaths, Hermione helped herself to a cup of coffee from a floating tray.
"How are you Hermione?" Harry suddenly asked.
Hermione jostled the cup, surprised that Harry would even bother to speak to her. She quietly muttered an apology and wiped away the few drops that had spilled onto her hand.
Harry apologized as well and the two settled back into silence.
Harry cleared his throat. "So…how are you?" Harry asked again without looking at her.
"I'm fine Harry. Thank you. And yourself?" Hermione asked evenly, taking a sip from her cup, intent on showing Harry that she could speak to him and drink coffee at the same time without incident.
"I'm fine," Harry answered without emotion. The two became quiet again, each waiting for the other to say something.
Harry spoke first: "How is your family?"
"They're fine," she answered too quickly. "Luna hasn't been feeling well."
Harry nodded and turned to her. "Ginny's been sick too. A flu or a cold or something."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione said, politely. "Tonks wanted more bridesmaids, but it seems everyone's either ill or traveling."
"Well, next time she gets married, she'll have to give her friends more than a week's notice," Harry said with a grin. Hermione suddenly remembered how much she liked his rarely-seen smile.
"The next time Tonks gets married, we'll all be wearing eye patches," she said playfully. Her eyes opened wide as soon as the words had left her mouth. She hadn't expected to take such a tone with Harry, but she just wanted to see that smile again and found she really couldn't help herself.
Harry favored her with another lopsided grin. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but what does that mean?"
"Tonks wanted a pirate wedding," Hermione shook her head.
"Dear god…" Harry winced.
"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I daresay it'd be interesting to see you groomsmen in fluffy shirts."
"I think I left my fluffy shirt at Hogwarts."
They both laughed and settled into a comfortable silence. Hermione couldn't believe she was sitting here, having a pleasant and perfectly natural conversation with Harry Potter. It seemed impossible. During the course of their conversation, Hermione had noticed the way his eyes lit up and how a sincere smile appeared where the grim line of his mouth once was. Although she wasn't sure what could've brought about this sudden warmth, she wasn't going to waste the new ease and friendliness between them. Hermione smiled and shifted closer to him. Harry did the same, leaning in before he spoke again:
"Since we're not all wearing eye patches, I guess you talked Tonks out of the idea."
Hermione shook her head. "I can't talk her out of anything. As you can plainly see."
"What? Do you mean the wedding?" Harry asked, surprised.
Hermione's hand went to her mouth. "Oh no," she hurried to explain. "I mean. I love Remus. Honestly I do, but it's just all happening so fast. Only a week or so to prepare, I mean. I thought it a bit hasty, even, um…even for Tonks."
Harry nodded slowly. "You don't believe in rushing into these things." He studied her as she answered.
"It's not that I disapprove really," she assured him. "I think that an engagement shouldn't happen on a whim. It's hardly the ideal foundation for a marriage. Not that I have much of an idea what the ideal foundation for a marriage would be. I suppose I always imagined a friendship or at least a solid acquaintance would…er…oh…"
Hermione trailed off as she realized that she wasn't just talking about Tonks and Remus anymore. Oh now you've done it…Hermione's eyes shyly lowered to her cup and she swallowed hard. …exactly how does a girl go about explaining her views on marriage to a man she's refused to marry? They didn't even try to teach us this in finishing school…
Shrugging sadly, she gave a resigned sigh and decided to simply keep her opinions to herself. What was the use in telling Harry about her ideas regarding matrimony? About how she intended to set an example for her sisters with her own courtship? Or the value she placed on convention and respectability? Or how determined she was to marry a man she truly loved and esteemed?
Hermione shook herself out of her thoughts "…in any case," she went on, "Tonks doesn't share my sentiments and just because we have different views on the subject doesn't mean I'm not going to give her my blessing."
Hermione nervously played with the coffee cup in her hands and held her breath as she waited for Harry to respond. He stared at her intensely and seemed to be gathering his courage to speak, however Tonks interrupted him before he could.
"What are you talking about over there? I heard my name," Tonks demanded.
There was a brief pause before either one of them answered.
"We're talking about pirates," Harry answered harshly, his now-forbidding glare focused on Tonks.
Tonks squealed and began excitedly describing her original idea for the wedding, right down to the chartreuse bridesmaids' dresses.
"I thought chartreuse was a liquor," Ron said as he munched on a piece of fruitcake.
"It's both," Tonks answered brightly. "It's a color and a liquor. So I figure, it's twice the goodness of two good things."
Ron nodded approvingly but still looked confused.
"It's a hideous greenish-yellow Ron," Hermione explained.
"Hideous!" Tonks cried. "It's not hideous. It's absolutely transcendent. It looks like mushed-up cats eyes."
"Which is why I've forbidden all things chartreuse from the wedding." Hermione glared at her.
"Ha!" Tonks laughed. "Like that could stop me."
At the mention of mushed-up cats eyes, Ron set his half-eaten cake on a plate and pushed it away from him. Changing the subject, he started asking Remus about the local Quidditch team.
.
Hermione tried to focus on the conversation but couldn't feign an interest for long. She snuck a glance at Harry and her spirits immediately fell. He was listening attentively; however, judging by his severe expression, his earlier good humor had vanished. She wondered whether she'd said something to offend him. Perhaps he was angry that she hadn't apologized to him. Perhaps he was angry she brought up the subject of marriage…
She shook her head. At this rate, she doubted they would ever get a chance to form a friendship. And who knows when I'll get to see him again? she thought as she anxiously raised her cup to her lips to hide her frown. Her heart sank at the thought of leaving Godric's Hollow without at least clearing the air a little.
Hermione refused to admit just why settling things between them was so important. The reason had been creeping up on her so gradually that she hardly knew it herself. All she knew was that she could feel a strange, overwhelming Thing building whenever she looked at him, and although she hadn't the slightest idea of what it was, it was powerful and new and scared her to death.
The dinner bell rang and everyone got up to head into the dining room. She shook herself out of her thoughts, a task which was becoming increasingly harder and harder to do where Harry was concerned.
Hermione was sure that Harry was going to offer to escort her in, but Tonks shoved him out of the way and dragged Hermione away, eager to resume their chartreuse debate. Unfortunately, Hermione didn't have another chance to speak to Harry for the rest of the evening. Their chairs were placed on opposite ends of the dining room and they sat at different sides of the card table afterward. When Hermione finally retired to her room for the night, she hoped the next day's ceremony would afford her at least one opportunity to speak to him alone. It would be her last chance to set things right between them.
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