Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize; if you don't recognize something, I made it up. Any similarities are purely coincidental; the only thing I get from writing is satisfaction. The title is taken from a song by 3 of Hearts, from the movie Where the Heart Is, the refrain inspiring the plot a bit.
Chapter 3
Harry stepped out into the sunshine, making sure the door shut behind him. Since Nicoli's was not very far, he decided to walk instead of Apparate. As he walked, he thought of the past.
He thought of the final face-off with Voldemort in the chamber of secrets. Voldemort had found a way to coerce Harry into thinking his friends hated him so he, in turn, would hate them. There was only one thing that could break the spell: pure, unconditional love and it came in the form of Hermione.
"Fight it, Harry!" she shouted. "I don't hate you, I love you!"
Before she could say any more, Voldemort yelled "CRUCIO!"
The sight of her screaming in agony, combined with her words, was enough to snap Harry out of his trance. "Hermione!" he yelled and ran toward her.
Voldemort was laughing maniacally and left the curse on her a little longer before removing it. Hermione slumped to the ground, semi-conscious and in obvious pain, as Harry dropped next to her. He gathered her into his arms. "Hermione, I'm so sorry," he murmured.
Hermione grinned weakly. "It's ok, Harry. You're still my best friend and I love you."
"I love you, too, Hermione. You're the first person who ever cared about me; who saw me and not my bloody scar," Harry said, his voice full of emotion.
"Oh, this is so precious," Voldemort taunted. "A Potter and his mudblood.
"You know, this seems oddly familiar to me. I wonder why?" He stopped and pretended to think. "Oh that's right. I was present at a scene very similar to this about 16 years ago. Looks like this scene is going to end the same way, too."
Harry looked into Hermione's eyes and reached out to caress her face. "Whatever happens, know you are the most important person in my life and I care more about you than life itself. I love you, Hermione. Don't ever forget," he whispered.
"I won't, as long as you never forget either," Hermione answered.
"I won't. I promise," Harry smiled. He leaned forward and captured Hermione's lips with his. They shared the most pure and tender of kisses that conveyed, above all else, the unconditional love they shared for each other as best friends.
"Very touching. But it's time for this to end. Good-bye, Harry Potter. AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort roared and a beam of green light shot out of his wand.
As the spell hit the pair, it seemed to bounce off harmlessly and rebounded onto Voldemort, who had no time to react. The beam of light hit him and it was over. In an instant, the greatest dark wizard the world had known was no more, his face forever frozen in shock. The rest of that night, and a good portion of the following week, was a blur. The only thing Harry really remembered was that he never left Hermione's side.
Harry shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He'd arrived at Nicoli's and hadn't even noticed. He went in and was able to get a reservation for two at 7:45; once again, Hermione was right, as there were few reservations available.
He then Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and made his way into Diagon Alley. He went to Gringott's first, to make sure he had enough money to last the week. After that, he made his way to Quality Quidditch Supplies to get new practice robes and cleaner for his broom.
Just as he was about to Apparate back to his house, Harry spotted an older woman selling flowers. `What the heck," he thought. He knew Hermione didn't care for flowers; she thought it was a waste since they die anyway, but he couldn't resist. He asked for one rose in each color available.
"Are they for a special girl?" the woman asked as she gathered the flowers carefully, a knowing smile on her face.
"Yes, she's my best friend," Harry answered, smiling back. "I thought these might help cheer her up."
"That is very thoughtful of you. She's lucky to have you for a friend," the woman stated. She handed the bouquet to Harry and he marveled at the brilliance of the colors and how perfect each rose was.
"Thank you. These are beautiful. How did you get them so perfect?" he asked.
The woman leaned forward and gestured for Harry to do the same. "Magic," she said with a wink.
Harry grinned lightly. "How much do I owe you, Madam?"
"For you, Mr. Potter, it is on the house," was her answer.
"I can't do that," Harry protested. "You've worked so hard. It wouldn't be right."
"I insist," the woman declared. "I've got many more where these came from and if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even be able to sell my flowers. It is my way of thanking you for all you and Miss Granger have done."
"Thank you. That's very nice of you. Just as long as the next time I buy flowers, you let me pay," Harry answered, with a grin.
"It's a deal. Until next time, Harry Potter." With a soft pop, the woman and cart disappeared.
Harry Disapparated, and found himself on the front stoop of the house he shared with Hermione and Ron. Sometimes he wished he hadn't set up anti-Apparation wards, but unless he wanted random people in and out of the house whenever they fancied, he knew they had to remain.
He walked into the house and, after charming the flowers to not wilt or die-something Hermione never did, "It's just not natural!"- he called out. "Hermione!"
Upon receiving no response, he decided to leave the flowers on her nightstand. He transfigured an old plastic cup into an intricate crystal vase that would have even impressed Minerva McGonagall.
He carried the flowers upstairs and seeing Hermione's door open, he went in and placed the vase on the stand. While he was there, Harry heard a strange noise that sounded vaguely like singing, coming from the bathroom.
Acting on his curiosity, Harry pushed the door open and saw Hermione indulging in a bubble bath. She was listening to her CD player and singing along, her eyes closed.
Harry smiled mischievously and crept quietly. When Hermione reached out to change the song, she felt fingers where the player should have been. Her eyes flew open as she groped around wildly. Harry leaned forward. "Boo," he whispered.
Hermione jumped and twisted her torso to see who it was. "HARRY JAMES POTTER! You scared the shit out of me! Don't you ever do that again! Ever!" she screamed.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I couldn't help myself," Harry grinned sheepishly. "But I brought you flowers, roses to be exact. And I charmed them to stay fresh," he added before Hermione could object.
"Oh no. You're not getting away that easy after what you just did, Potter. You nearly gave me a heart attack," Hermione retorted.
"But I didn't!" Harry pouted.
"And you're damned lucky you didn't!" Hermione said haughtily. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my bath."
"Oh, I don't mind," Harry said, settling himself on the edge of the tub.
"Maybe you don't, but I do," Hermione exclaimed. "Out!"
Harry gave Hermione his best pout, the other weapon he had to get his way.
"Potter, put that lip away and get out of here!" Hermione said.
"I only wanted to tell you I got a 7:45 reservation at Nicoli's and show you the beautiful flowers I got especially for you," Harry pouted some more.
"Great. Now you've told me. Out!" Hermione said, getting frustrated.
"Relax, I was just leaving," Harry said easily as he smiled slyly and slid out the door.
"I swear that boy is mental," she muttered. "But not as much as Ron."
Ron. Ronald Weasley. Red-haired, hot-tempered, pig-headed Ron. Hermione smiled wistfully. Her other best friend.
"Ugh. When did everything get so complicated?" Hermione sighed. "Probably when Ron pulled me aside one day in 6th year and told me he had been harboring feelings for me. Ever since then…"
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