Just Might Change Your Life -- REWRITTEN

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, its the refrain inspiring the plot a bit. This is a rewrite and repost!

Chapter 1

“How many times do I have to spell it out for you?!” a girl's voice yelled. “He kissed me! I had nothing to do with it!”

“But you could've at least tried to stop him!” countered a boy.

Harry Potter groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head in a vain attempt to try and drown out the too-familiar sounds of his best friends fighting. `Not again,' he thought.

“It was a sneak attack!” the girl shot back. “How was I supposed to know what he was going to do? I'm not a mind reader!”

“Well, you just should have found a way,” was the boy's retort. “I told you Kevin was up to no good.”

“Ronald Weasley, you are too suspicious!” the girl spat. “Besides, why does it even matter to you?”

“And Hermione, are just too trusting!” Ron yelled in return. “And it just does.”

“To think, I actually thought you would be able to handle me telling you what happened. I thought you'd be an adult for once,” Hermione said. “Guess I do have to be more careful about trusting my instincts,” she added sarcastically.

With that, Hermione turned and stomped up the stairs, her light brown hair flying behind her. She slammed her bedroom door so hard Harry felt the walls shake.

Downstairs, Ron let out a strangled noise and stormed out of the house, muttering something that sounded vaguely like “Girls!”

“Well, I guess I'm up now,” Harry mumbled to himself. He got out of bed and put on his glasses.

Knowing Hermione needed to be left alone for a little while before she would be able to talk, Harry ambled down the stairs and put the kettle on. He pulled down his Puddlemere United mug, which happened to be Hermione's favorite, and got out her favorite herbal tea.

When the water was ready, he poured it into the mug and put the tea bag in, leaving it in for the appropriate amount of time. He added two spoonfuls of sugar and headed back up the stairs.

He knocked on Hermione's door, and hearing no answer, opened the door slowly.

“Hermione?” he called tentatively through the crack.

The scene before him made his heart break. Hermione was lying on her stomach, her face buried in her pillow, clutching her favorite doll as a child, crying her eyes out.

“Hey kiddo,” Harry said softly, reaching out to touch her back.

Hermione stiffened upon first contact, then relaxed as she realized who it was.

“Hey Harry,” she answered, still sobbing into her pillow.

“I brought you some tea. Thought it might help a little,” he said, offering her the cup. “Just the way you like it.”

“Thank you,” she answered, flipping over and sitting up. Taking a sip, she mumbled “S'good.”

“Anything for you,” answered Harry, resolutely.

The two sat in silence as Hermione leaned against her headboard, occasionally sipping her tea. Harry's mouth felt dry and he wished he would've brought up some tea for himself.

“Do you want the rest of this?” Hermione asked, as though reading his mind.

“Sure,” he answered. “Thanks.”

Harry took the mug and finished it in one gulp. “Not bad. A little on the sweet side for me though.”

He put the mug on Hermione's nightstand and noticed she had begun sobbing again. Without a word, he opened his arms and Hermione fell into them. She cried into Harry's shoulder while he just held her tight, rubbing her back and stroking her hair. “It's going to be ok. Just let it out,” he murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione looked into his emerald eyes with her chocolate ones and Harry could see the emotions reflected in them: hurt, anger, frustration and sadness. Two lone tears fell and Harry gently wiped them away.

“You don't have to, but know that I'm here when you need me,” he continued.

“Not right now. Not really,” she answered. “What I really want to do is lie down for a bit.”

“Ok,” Harry said, making a move to get up. “I'll let you be.”

“No!” Hermione exclaimed. “Please stay with me. For a little while?” she pleaded.

Seeing the look in her eyes and realizing how tired he still was, Harry concurred. “Ok, but only for a little bit. I've got to get my day started at some point, you know,” he added, winking at her.

Hermione smiled weakly at him and the two slid down the headboard until they were lying under the covers, Harry's arms still firmly encasing Hermione.

“I'm sorry we woke you, Harry,” Hermione said suddenly, looking sheepish. “I thought you were still at Maddy's. I never heard you come in last night.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't come in until about 3. I, er, we, decided it wouldn't be a good idea for me to stay,” Harry answered, his face turning red.

Hermione grinned knowingly. “Uh huh. And, tell me, Mr. Potter, has this been an issue previously?” she teased.

“That, Miss Granger, is none of your business,” Harry shot back. “And if you're going to continue, I will have to take my leave,” he added mischievously.

“Don't go,” Hermione answered quickly. “I promise I'll be good.”

Hermione was very quiet for a few minutes and just when Harry thought she was asleep, he heard her whisper, “If Maddy thinks you are even half as wonderful as I do, she's never going to let you go. She's one lucky witch. And so am I, to have you as my best friend.”

“And I am one lucky wizard to have you as my best friend,” he answered.

“Thank you, Harry.” Hermione was almost inaudible. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, Hermione,” he whispered back.

Hermione snuggled closer to Harry and he kissed the top of her head. `I'll just lie here for a few minutes' he thought. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, feeling very comfortable have Hermione next to him.

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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 2

Harry awoke to what sounded like a door closing softly. Thinking Hermione had gotten up to go to the bathroom, he turned his head to look at the time. The muggle clock read 1:30, while the wizard clock was pointing to `get out of bed, you lazy-head'. He tried to get up, but was prevented by the weight of Hermione on his chest.

`Hmm,' he thought. `Must've just imagined the noise.'

Harry took the opportunity to study Hermione's features and contemplate what had occurred to elicit such emotions from her and such a reaction from Ron. He couldn't figure it out, but knew she would tell him when she was ready.

Not wanting to wake Hermione, but knowing how upset she'd be for napping so long, Harry decided to try to wake her, if only to find out how long she wanted to sleep.

“Hermione,” he called lightly. “Time to wake up, kiddo.”

When she didn't budge, he called her name a little louder. “Hermione.”

Seeing that more drastic measures would need to be taken, he began to run his fingers down her arm. “Hermione,” he drawled.

All she did was stir slightly and sigh, so Harry took matters into his own hands and grinned maniacally. He noticed she has some skin showing at her hip, her most ticklish spot, and began to stroke the area lightly with his fingernails. Hermione shifted more and emitted a soft groan. This made Harry grin even wider.

“Her-my-oh-knee!” he called in a sing-song voice. “Wakey-wakey, Hermione!”

Satisfied when she tried to cover her head, Harry called out again, in a louder, more obnoxious voice. “Wakey-wakey, Hermione!”

“What?” she asked groggily.

“Good morning, Sunshine!” Harry said. “It's 1:45. Time to get up.”

“1:45?!” Hermione exclaimed, sitting up quickly. “Why did you let me sleep so late?” she accused.

“Because you needed it,” Harry stated matter-of-factly. “And I just woke up as well.”

“Oh, ok then,” Hermione said guiltily.

“Silly Hermione,” Harry said affectionately as he smiled at her. He still wanted to ask about what happened with Ron, but knew not to press matters.

“I am going to take a shower,” he announced. “And I suggest you do the same, because you STINK!”

Hermione playfully swatted at her green-eyed best friend. “Not as much as you, Potter!” she called as he disappeared into the bathroom that separated his bedroom from hers.

When she heard the water turn on, Hermione thought of ways to get back at Harry. She gave up, after deciding that whatever she did, he'd retaliate ten times worse.

While waiting for Harry to get out, Hermione went through her drawers to pick something to wear. She finally opted for sweat pants and a t-shirt and pulled her hair into a messy bun.

“Hey, Harry,” she called into the bathroom. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Sure. I'll take a sandwich,” he answered back. “Thanks, Hermione!”

Hermione trotted downstairs, taking the empty mug with her, and went into the refrigerator to get lunchmeat, cheese and lettuce for the sandwiches. By the time Harry joined her, his raven hair still damp, there were two sandwiches and two glasses of water on the table. Hermione came into the kitchen from the hallway.

“Bout time,” she teased. “I swear, you take longer than any girl I know.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at her and she smirked in satisfaction. “I win.”

The two sat and ate their sandwiches, followed by a few chocolate biscuits, to finish lunch.

“What've you got planned today?” Hermione asked. “Going to see Maddy?”

“Nah. She had to go out of town for an assignment this morning. She should be back next week sometime,” he answered.

“So, how long has it been?” Hermione inquired.

“About three weeks, I think,” Harry answered, blushing slightly.

“And…?” Hermione urged.

“And…I like her. I don't know how long it'll last, but I do like her,” Harry admitted.

“Good. You deserve to be happy, Harry,” Hermione declared.

“As do you, my friend. As do you,” Harry answered meaningfully.

“Enough about me,” Hermione said swiftly. “What are you up to today?”

“Oh yeah,” Harry said. “Mike O'Leary and Ike Fitzgerald are having a party at their house tonight. The whole team will be there, so I kind of have to make an appearance.” He looked at his best friend of eleven years. “Why don't you come with me? We can get dinner first, then go to Mike and Ike's for a little while. You'll finally get to meet everyone and I promise we won't stay long.”

“I don't know,” Hermione started. “I was going to try to talk to Ron…”she trailed off.

Harry positioned himself so he and Hermione were eye-to-eye. “Hermione,” he began. “How long have you known one, Ron Weasley?”

“Eleven years,” she answered, a bit uncertain.

“And how often have you seen him lose his temper?” Harry asked.

“Probably once or twice a month, without fail,” she affirmed.

“So, that's roughly 264 times, give or take?” He waited until she nodded her head in agreement before continuing. “Out of these 264, how many times have you seen him get over it in one day, no matter how small or insignificant the incident?”

“Well, none actually,” Hermione admitted bashfully. “But…”

“No buts,” Harry said firmly. “By going to talk to him right now, things are going to get worse. And knowing you two, much worse,” he finished with a grin.

“I guess you're right,” Hermione said hesitantly. “So what time are you taking me to dinner?”

Harry grinned at his best friend; the grin that sent grown women swooning; the lazy grin that accentuated his features, especially his eyes; the grin that won Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile award more times than anyone has counted. And it's effect wasn't entirely lost on Hermione.

“Ok, Potter, I've already agreed to go with you to dinner and the party. You can put that away,” she said, gesturing to the smile.

“I can't help it, Hermione. You just make me want to smile,” he said frankly.

“Thanks,” Hermione said, smiling her own beautiful smile that had gotten attention all it's own; even more so since her teeth had been magically fixed in their 4^th year.

“Do you want to eat at a Muggle or Wizarding restaurant?” Harry asked.

“Hmm…let's try that new Wizarding Italian place around the corner. Try to get a reservation, since it is Saturday,” Hermione answered. “Go in person if need be. It's supposed to be really good and very difficult to get in. Use that scar of yours for something good.”

“Heh heh heh. You're a regular comedian. What time do you want to eat?” Harry said dryly.

“Mmm…try for two hours before you want to be at the party. I don't want to have to rush through dinner so you can get trashed with your new teammates and make an ass out of yourself,” Hermione grinned wickedly.

“I'll have you know, Miss Granger,” Harry began, with a smile. “That I don't need to get drunk to make can ass out of myself. I can do that completely sober.”

“And I can definitely attest to that, Mr. Potter,” Hermione said playfully.

“You hurt my feelings,” Harry pouted. “I'm going to leave.”

“Don't forget to make the reservation for two!” Hermione called after him.

“Oh, I won't. I'm sure I can find someone to go to Nicoli's with the Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said mischievously.

“Well, you probably could. But they'd have to fight me for it,” Hermione shot back.

“Ooooh, a cat fight! I could charge admission,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“I don't think so, Potter. Now get out of here,” she answered, giving Harry a light shove toward the door.

“Fine,” Harry mock whined. “I'm going to try for a 7:30 reservation. I'll come back right away if it's before then. I know it takes you forever to get ready,” Harry smirked.

“Would you go already?” Hermione said exasperated.

Harry laughed and kissed Hermione on the forehead. “I won't be long. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Hermione smiled as Harry waved and shut the door behind him.

`That Harry' Hermione thought with a wry grin. `He's such a character.'

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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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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 4

“Hermione, get your cute little bum down here, now! We need to be there before 7:40 or we may lose our reservation. And it's already 7:20!” Harry bellowed. “If you aren't ready in 5 minutes, I'm leaving without you!”

“Don't get your knickers in a twist, Potter. I'll be there in a minute,” Hermione retorted.

“I'm serious. We have to go now,” he answered.

Harry was so engrossed in checking out the time that he never heard Hermione come up behind him. “Hermione!” he yelled.

“What?” she asked, making him jump.

“Geez, don't do that!” Harry raked his hand through his dark, unruly hair, trying to smooth it down.

“Do what?” Hermione asked innocently. She started for the door. “Aren't you ready yet?” she teased.

“Watch it, Granger, or I might just leave you here,” Harry mock threatened.

“Please, Harry. I've waited ever so long to go to Nicoli's,” Hermione said, batting her eyelashes. “And sharing this experience with my bestest friend in the whole wide world, well, that would just be the bestest thing to ever happen to me!” Hermione finished dramatically.

“Well, who am I to keep you from the bestest thing ever to happen to you,” Harry smirked. “C'mon, my little drama queen.”

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and took her outside. The two walked to Nicoli's and arrived at exactly 7:40.

“Name?” the hostess asked briskly.

“Potter. Harry Potter,” Harry answered.

The hostess scoffed. “Yeah, right. Why don't you try that on someone who'd actually believe y…”she trailed off as she finally looked at the person she was speaking with. “You---you---you're…”

“Harry Potter,” he filled in. “And you are?”

“Michele,” she stammered.

“Ok, so I'm Harry and you're Michele,” he stated. “Now that we've got that cleared up, my date and I would like to seated sometime soon.”

“R-r-right this way, Mr. Potter.” Michele finally managed to collect herself and led Hermione and Harry to a table in the secluded section of the restaurant.

Harry pulled Hermione's chair out for her and she flashed him a smile. “Why thank you, Mr. Potter. You are such the gentleman.”

“My pleasure, Miss Granger,” Harry said, sitting in his own seat. He looked up and saw Michele hovering, wearing a silly grin. “Anything you need?”

“Um, well, actually since you mentioned it, I was wondering if I could get your autograph. And maybe a picture,” she answered hopefully. “Your friend could take it.”

At this, Harry's emerald eyes darkened slightly and Hermione's cheeks were tinged pink. “I don't think so,” he stated, firmly.

“It's alright, Harry,” Hermione answered quickly. “I don't mind.” She made a move to get up from the table but Harry stilled her with a hand to her arm.

“But I do,” he stressed. “We came here to enjoy the food and each other's company. I specifically asked for a table in the back to avoid people staring and asking for autographs,” he finished angrily. “And this lovely lady is my date, not just some `friend'.”

By this point, everyone in the restaurant knew Harry Potter was in the dining area and Nicoli DeMarino came out in person to greet him.

“Ah, signore Potter. Buon giorno. I trust all is to your liking thus far. How are you this evening?” the olive-skinned owner asked cheerily.

“Buon giorno, Nicoli,” Harry answered, finally smiling. “I'm doing well. How about yourself?”

“Bene, bene,” Nicoli answered heartily. He had noticed Michele lurking and rounded on her. “What are you doing, you silly girl? Standing around when there are people waiting to be seated.”

Michele cast her eyes down in embarrassment. “Si, signore,” she mumbled as she quickly left.

“Scusa. I am sorry for that,” Nicoli said. “I need to talk to that girl about not bothering patrons, especially the more well-known ones.”

“It's ok. We just want to dine in peace,” Harry answered. “By the way, Nicoli, this is Hermione Granger. She's my best friend and date for this evening.”

“Buon giorno, signorina Granger,” Nicoli said, kissing her hand. “It is a nice to meet you.”

“Piacere, signore DeMarino,” Hermione answered. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Parla Italiano?” Nicoli asked, his face lighting up. “You speak Italian?”

“Un poco,” Hermione said blushing. “A little.”

Meanwhile, Harry had been watching this exchange, a look of amazement on his handsome face.

“Would you care for some wine?” Nicoli asked Harry. “We have a wonderful red you should try.”

“Hermione?” Harry asked. She nodded. “Sure, we'll each take a class.”

“Great. I'll be right back with it.” Nicoli disappeared.

“Well, Miss Granger, you never told me you spoke Italian,” Harry said accusingly.

“Well, Mr. Potter, you never asked,” Hermione mocked. “Besides, it's only a few words and phrases.”

“Do you speak any other languages?” Harry asked.

“Um, French, a touch of Spanish and a bit of German and Italian,” she answered.

“Wow, that's impressive,” Harry said. “And I had no idea. You're my best friend and I didn't know you spoke five languages. What kind of friend am I?!

Hermione giggled at Harry's antics. “I'm only fluent in French.”

“There's something else!” Harry continued, comically. “I'm a terrible best friend!”

“Oh stop. You aren't a terrible best friend. Ron doesn't even know. And he's my pseudo, wannabe boyfriend. Or was anyway,” Hermione answered, her smile fading.

“Hey,” Harry said quietly, reaching out to take her hand. “None of that. Whatever happens, happens for a reason, and it's always for the best. It may not seem like it right away, but it eventually comes to light.”

Hermione managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Harry,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“No problem. Just remember what I said,” he answered, squeezing back.

Nicoli returned at that moment and they quickly dropped their hands. “For you,” he said, filling a glass with red liquid and placing it in front of Hermione. “And you,” he added, placing it near Harry. They each took a small sip.

“That's really good,” Hermione said.

“I agree. What is it?” Harry asked.

Nicoli smiled. “It's called Secro-Bertani Valpolicella.”

“It's incredible. I may need a second glass,” Hermione joked.

“No problemo, signorina. I brought the bottle for you. It is on the house,” Nicoli answered.

Harry tried to object, but Nicoli cut him off. “I insist. It's my way of rectifying the situation with my hostess. Just don't get expect it every time,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Grazie, signore DeMarino,” Hermione said.

“Prego, signorina Granger,” Nicoli answered. “Now, what can I get you two to eat?”

After a quick consultation with the menu, which highly recommended the pasta, Hermione settled on lasagna while Harry went with the veal parmagiana.

“Excellent choices. Your food will be out shortly,” Nicoli said, filling the glasses and taking the menus.

Harry glanced at his best friend and was surprised at what he saw. The candlelight caught her face just right and made her brown ringlets appear more golden and flecks of light brown gave her eyes even more depth.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hermione asked self-consciously.

“I just realized I never told you how pretty you look tonight,” Harry answered.

“As opposed to any other night?” Hermione teased.

“Very funny. I always complement you. It was the way the lighting caught your face. It made you look especially beautiful,” Harry answered honestly.

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said, obviously flattered. “You look nice too. And we match,” she added, gesturing to the dark yellow shirt he was wearing and the light yellow top she was wearing.

“Ugh, why does this always happen?” Harry groaned. “I need to start telling you what I'm wearing so you don't match me.”

“Well they say great minds think alike,” Hermione answered.

“But then why would…” Hermione was spared a further retort when Nicoli appeared with their meal.

“That was really quick. How'd you do that?” Harry asked.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” Nicoli said with a grin. “Mangi bene.” He left them to eat, casting a quick privacy charm to ensure they wouldn't be disturbed. `Ah, young love' he thought to himself as he sighed.

“Mmm, this is so good. You have to try it, Harry,” Hermione said. She got a forkful of her lasagna and fed it to him.

“Oh, wow, that is good,” Harry agreed. “But have some of this.” He took a bit of his parmigiana and gave it to Hermione.

“Yum!” Hermione said. “Normally I'm not a fan of veal, but that is delicious.”

The two friends smiled at each other and spent the next twenty minutes engrossed in their meals, occasionally talking and cracking jokes.

“That,” Hermione began, putting her fork down, “was absolutely delectable! I don't think I could eat another bite.”

Nicoli chose that moment to return to the pair. “How was everything?” he asked.

“Delicious!” answered Hermione with a smile.

“So good,” Harry agreed. “I think we'll definitely have to come back to try everything else on the menu.”

Nicoli grinned at the compliment. “May I tempt you with dessert?”

Hermione made a face. “I think I'll explode if I eat anything else.”

“Well, we can't have that now, can we?” Harry teased. We've still got a party to go to.”

“Smart-ass,” Hermione retorted under her breath, just loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Language, Miss Granger. This is a family establishment.” Harry chuckled.

“So just the check then?” Nicoli asked.

“Yes, please,” Harry replied.

Nicoli placed the check face down on the table, only to have Harry snatch it up before Hermione could get her hands on it.

“Tell me how much it is!” she exclaimed. “I want to pay my share.”

“No,” Harry said firmly. “It's my treat. I'm happy to do it, and I can do it, so I will do it. No arguments.”

“Oh, alright,” Hermione pouted. Then she smiled at him. “Thank you for a wonderful dinner Harry,” she said, somewhat shy.

Harry smiled back. “For you, Hermione, anything.”

With that, Harry got up from the table and offered his hand to Hermione. “C'mon, we've got a party to get to,” he said with a grin. “But first we have to go back to the house. I refuse to be your twin tonight!”

“They're all going to be too drunk to even notice,” Hermione argued.

Harry pulled a puppy dog face.

“Fine,” Hermione huffed. “I swear you're a nut.”

“But you love me anyway,” Harry retorted.

“Yeah, believe in whatever keeps you happy. Let's go,” Hermione relented.

“Cheer up, my friend. You're going to have a great time. I'll see to it personally,” Harry said, taking her hand.

“I'm holding you responsible for my well-being tonight, Potter,” Hermione stated.

Harry grinned wickedly.

“Oh no,” Hermione groaned. “What have I got myself in to?”

A/N added 7/8/08 :: Thank you, everyone, for the impromptu Italian lessons. I hope this edit is now using the correct words.

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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 5

Harry and Hermione got to Mike and Ike's around 2130, after a quick stop at the house so Harry and Hermione could each change into more party-appropriate clothing; non-matching this time.

When they arrived, it sounded as though the party was already in full swing. Harry didn't even try to use Alohomora; he just opened the door for Hermione and followed her in.

They walked through the hallway and into the main living area, greeted by the sight of about 35 people, standing in a few groups, laughing and drinking.

“Harry, you made it!” someone called, coming towards them.

“Hey Mike,” Harry answered the broad-shouldered squat blond guy that appeared. “Good turnout so far, eh?”

“Well, we certainly tried. Although all you really need is a few chicks and tons of booze,” Mike responded. “Things have a way of, ahem, working out, if you know what I mean,” he added, winking suggestively and nudging Harry, who at least had the decency to look a little uncomfortable with the insinuation.

“I see you've brought company.” Mike had taken notice of the pretty brunette in the yellow tank and knee-length jean skirt standing next to Harry, looking as though she wished she were anywhere but there.

“Hello,” he said, turning to the girl. “You must be Maddy. It's nice to finally meet the girl who captured the elusive Harry Potter's heart. I'm Mike,” he added, extending his hand.

“Um, actually, this is Hermione,” Harry corrected as Hermione reached for Mike's hand awkwardly.

“Ooooooh, so this is the lovely Hermione Granger,” Mike said eagerly, turning her hand over to kiss it. “Enchante, madamoiselle. Harry has spoken of you often, but he never mentioned how beautiful you are.”

“Um, thanks,” Hermione answered uncertainly. “I think,” she added softly.

Harry took notice of his friend's body language and put his hands on her shoulders. “Let's go get something to drink and mingle,” he interjected. “We'll be back in a bit,” he added, steering Hermione away from Mike.

“Sorry about that,” Harry said apologetically. “When he's been drinking, Mike gets a little---um---er ..”

“Forward,” Hermione supplied helpfully.

“Raging horn-ball is more like it,” Harry stated. “You'd better watch out for him.”

Hermione looked like she was thinking, a slow grin spreading on her face. “Perhaps, but I can take care of myself,” she said mischievously. “Maybe you should warn him to stay away from me.”

Harry shook his head. “I don't doubt it.” He smiled suddenly. “Come on, let's get something to drink.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen.

“What would you like?” he asked, gesturing to the bottles scattered on the counter.

“Um, an amaretto sour, I guess, but I don't know how to make one, do you?” Hermione asked.

“No need. It's all under control. Watch,” Harry answered. “One amaretto sour and a pint of Guinness,” he said clearly to the quill and parchment that materialized next to them upon entering the kitchen.

The quill wrote down their drink order and disappeared with a *snap*. Hermione watched in disbelief as the bottles began levitating and pouring themselves into a glass, which shook itself to mix the ingredients. When the drink was ready, the glass, adorned with a straw and orange slice, floated to her. She took it uncertainly and hesitantly brought it to her lips. A huge smile broke out on her face.

“Wow! I think this is the best drink I've ever had!” she said.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Harry said, taking a long drink of his ale. “Oh, that hits the spot.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the amber liquid in Harry's glass. “Ew. How can you drink that stuff? It's so bitter and disgusting.”

Harry laughed good-naturedly. “It's not that bad. Scratch that. Once you get used to it, it's not that bad. Definitely an acquired taste though.”

“There's no way I'll ever like ale or beer. Gross,” Hermione stated.

“C'mon. We have drinks, let's go mingle,” Harry said.

“Can't I have more to drink first?” Hermione pleaded.

“I thought you were a Gryffindor?” Harry teased.

“Yes, but we're not at Hogwarts anymore,” Hermione retorted.

Harry rolled his eyes in response. “Come on, you big baby! There are quills and parchment floating around, charmed to appear to anyone not holding a cup,” Harry explained. “So when you're done with a drink, just put the cup down and you'll get another visit. When you've decided you need a break or have had enough, just hang on to your cup. Otherwise, the quill will just follow you around,” he finished.

“Experience drinking here much?” It was Hermione's turn to tease.

“Once is more than enough,” Harry answered. “But you'd better watch it, or I may sic Mike on you. Or, better yet, my entire team,” he added, a playful glint in his eye.

“Hmm, five guys. That could be fun,” Hermione countered slyly.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's only four; five would be including me,” Harry corrected.

“You did say the entire team. Are you not part of the team anymore? Did they find someone better than the great Harry Potter?” Hermione faked surprise.

“Shut it, you,” Harry growled, a grin playing at his lips. “Let's go, funny girl.”

No sooner than they had stepped back into the main living area that a swarm of people flocked to them. Harry protectively encircled Hermione with his arms to ensure she would not be separated from him.

Shouts and greetings came from all directions as Harry and Hermione were surrounded. Hermione, a little taken back by the throng of people, moved even closer to Harry.

“Potter! We were wondering where you ran off to. Mike said you were here with this hot chick. Figured you'd already made off with her for the evening,” a lanky redhead stated with a smirk.

A blonde-haired girl with brown eyes smacked him. “Ike, don't be crude.” She extended her hand. “I'm Jocelyn, Ike's sister.”

Harry took her hand. “I'm Harry. This is Hermione,” he said. “And I am terribly sorry he is related to you,” he added, his emerald eyes twinkling playfully.

“Thanks,” Jocelyn replied dryly. “I'll take all the sympathy I can get.”

“Hey!” Ike exclaimed. “I am standing right here!”

“And your point is…?” Jocelyn teased.

“On top of his head,” Harry supplied with a smirk.

Ike stuck his tongue out at the pair as everyone around laughed. “Why does everyone gang up on me?” he grumbled.

“I do it because I can, big brother,” came Jocelyn's answer.

Throughout this exchange Hermione had remained silent, finishing her drink somewhat quickly and ordering another. Normally she wasn't much of a drinker, but she wanted to loosen up a bit and have fun. She was feeling nervous and a little out of place; everyone seemed to know everyone else there and she only knew Harry.

As if sensing her discomfort, Harry squeezed her waist and pulled her closer. He ducked his head and whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “Smile. Relax a little and smile that beautiful smile of yours. Everyone will love you and I promise not to let you out of my sight.” He straightened up and gave her a one-armed hug.

Hermione looked up and smiled, mouthing “Thank you.” Harry winked in return and tuned back to the conversation, which had turned to -what else- Quidditch.

Hermione made a face that went ignored by everyone but Jocelyn, who motioned for Hermione to follow her. “I don't care much for Quidditch talk. Do you?” she asked Hermione, once out of earshot.

“Not really,” was Hermione's answer, grateful for someone to talk to. “I love watching it though. It's very exciting to go to matches and I'll even sit through the occasional practice. But talking about tactics and strategies makes me want to cover my ears and run!”

Jocelyn laughed. “Yeah, me too. Ike has been obsessed with Quidditch forever. He used to make me practice with him.”

Hermione grinned. “Harry tried that with me once. He spent more time trying to catch me than the Snitch,” she joked. “For some reason he never asked again.”

“Hmm…I should try that when I come to visit. Then I won't have to waste time playing when I could be shopping,” Jocelyn said thoughtfully.

“Where are you visiting from?” Hermione asked.

“I moved to Ireland, near Dublin, to go to university. I'm majoring in Muggle Studies, then I hope to go into the Ministry,” Jocelyn answered. “I'm back for the summer.”

“Cool. I'm almost done with university. I have just one year left, majoring in psychology. Then maybe med or healing school,” Hermione shrugged. “Or maybe not.”

“Is that where you met Harry?” Jocelyn asked.

“No, I've known Harry since we were eleven. We went through Hogwarts together,” Hermione replied.

“Cool. I went to Beauxbatons myself,” Jocelyn responded. “So how long have you two been together?” she asked, blushing slightly.

Hermione glanced at her raven-haired best friend, who was currently talking to a small group of people, gesturing wildly and grinning like crazy. She smiled at how animated he was before turning back to Jocelyn.

“We're not `together'. Harry's my best friend. We also share a house with our other best friend,” Hermione answered carefully. `Great', she groaned inwardly. `Here it comes.'

“Is he dating anyone?” Jocelyn asked, getting even redder.

`And there it goes,' Hermione thought angrily. Before she could answer, a tall guy with light brown hair came up to Jocelyn and pinched her rear.

Jocelyn whirled around, ready to hex whoever it was. Her eyes lit up, however, and she threw her arms around the guy and gave him a quick kiss. She turned back to Hermione, her face flushed with excitement.

“Hermione, this is my boyfriend, Chris,” she said brightly. “Chris, this is Hermione.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hermione said, smiling.

“Likewise,” Chris answered. “So which one do you belong to?” he asked, waving his hand to indicate to the group behind them.

“Chris!” Jocelyn admonished.

Hermione giggled. “That's ok. It was like that with the other team, too. I'm with the new seeker.”

Chris was too busy staring at the group to hear her. “Bloody hell! Harry Potter!” Chris stated. “Who knows him? How did he hear about this party? Wow, Harry Potter.” Chris was completely and totally star-struck.

Harry chose that moment to look up and check on Hermione. She caught his eye and beckoned him over. He excused himself from the conversation and walked toward the trio.

“Oh my gosh, he's coming over. Anyone have a pen and parchment?” Chris asked excitedly, sounding very much like a teenage girl.

Harry walked up to Hermione and hugged her from behind. “Hey, you. Having fun?” he asked.

“Uh huh. I just wanted you to meet someone,” Hermione stated. “Harry, this is Chris, Jocelyn's boyfriend. Chris, this is Harry Potter.”

Keeping one arm wrapped around Hermione, Harry offered his other hand. “Hey. Good to meet you.”

Chris looked at Harry's smiling face, then at his hand and back again. “Um, er…”

“Chris!” Jocelyn hissed, elbowing him in the side. This action startled him out of his stupor.

“Um, hi,” Chris said, finally taking Harry's hand. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've followed you ever since you left Hogwarts and walked onto Woollongong's team. I'm glad you decided to come back and play for England.”

Harry's smile widened. “Yeah, me too. Australia was great and all, but there's no place like home,” he replied, giving Hermione a quick squeeze.

This action and Hermione's response, snuggling, albeit briefly, into Harry's chest, didn't go unnoticed by Jocelyn. She smirked knowingly and made a mental note.

“So, Chris, why don't you join the fellas and I?” Harry offered. “Get away from the hair and nail club,” he added, winking at Jocelyn and tightening his arms around Hermione to prevent her from twisting away.

Harry laughed as Hermione struggled, but he just held on tight. Finally he let go. “Be good,” he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He then began walking back to his teammates, Chris in tow.

“We're not going to see those guys for the rest of the night, are we?” Hermione asked in mock sadness.

“Nope. They're going to talk about Quidditch for a while, and drink some ale. After a little while, someone'll suggest taking shots. Then they get a little frisky. Better watch yourself at this point,” Jocelyn warned. “They'll start dancing, which is pretty entertaining in itself. Someone usually starts up drinking games and whatnot. All-in-all, everyone becomes horribly drunk; half the people pass out in random parts of the house and the other half can't Apparate for fear of being splinched.” Jocelyn paused to take a much-needed breath.

“Sounds like you've been to one of these before,” Hermione joked.

“Yeah, well, somehow every party involving Mike and Ike, no matter where it's held, ends up the same way,” Jocelyn answered. “It's actually quite fun…until the fan club shows up. Then it all goes downhill.”

“Fan club?” Hermione questioned.

“I prefer the term `Quidditch Bitches',” Jocelyn explained. “They only come to these parties to pretend to get drunk and then jump into the sack with the first person who looks at them or asks.

“During that time, you'd better not let Harry out of your sight. They won't care if he's got a girlfriend or not and he may be too drunk to say no,” she advised.

“You know all this from experience, I presume?” Hermione guessed.

“Unfortunately, yes,” came the answer. “Although dancing is fun, cause I get to do what I like.”

“Me too,” Hermione agreed. “I love to dance, I just never really get the opportunity.”

“Ha, you like it now. But just wait `til you've got some drunken guy stepping all over your feet while trying to feel you up,” Jocelyn stated.

“Where do I sign up?” Hermione asked mischievously.

Jocelyn laughed. “I can see why Harry likes you,” she said casually enough.

Before Hermione could get indignant, Jocelyn continued. “Oops, I forgot you said you weren't together. You never did answer whether or not he's dating anyone.”

“Don't you read The Quibbler? I think he's dating two girls, twins, mind you, and has six children by six different women,” Hermione said innocently.

“Now that you mention it, I do recall reading that somewhere,” Jocelyn joked back, grinning. “What's the reality?”

“He's a very sweet and kind person. But he's also very guarded. He likes to keep his private life, well, private,” Hermione answered honestly, finishing her second drink. She set the cup down and the quill and parchment appeared next to her.

“Do you want anything?” Hermione asked.

“Hmmm…a strawberry margarita,” Jocelyn answered.

“Oh, that sounds good. Two strawberry margaritas, please,” Hermione said clearly. The quill and parchment disappeared and their drinks materialized 30 seconds later.

“Wicked,” Jocelyn grinned. “I never get tired of this.” She raised her cup. “To the boys.”

“To the boys,” Hermione giggled as they clinked their cups together and drank from them.

Jocelyn removed the cup from her mouth and smacked her lips. “Mmm. Terrific as always.”

“I definitely concur,” Hermione grinned. “Where did they find this spell?”

“1002 Spells for the Perfect Party,” answered a male voice.

Hermione and Jocelyn looked up to see a guy with brown hair and medium build lumbering towards them.

He flashed them a smile. “I'm Aaron. I actually found the book and came across the spell. It's Repleo Necesse. Great for parties and for people with limited drink knowledge or mixing expertise.”

Hermione felt herself smiling back. “Very helpful little spell, I must say,” she replied. “I'm Hermione,” she added as an afterthought. “And this is Jocelyn.”

“Hey,” Jocelyn said. “How'd a smart guy like you get mixed up with this lot?”

Aaron laughed, a rich baritone sound, tossing his head back. “Well, I used to play Quidditch and I when I heard there was an opening, I decided to tryout. Lo and behold, I'm the new chaser.”

“That would explain it. Not enough time to corrupt you yet,” Jocelyn smiled. “Do you know many people here?”

“Not really, but that's why I came; to get to know my teammates better and try to meet a few new people,” he answered. “And things are definitely starting to look up,” he added glancing at Hermione, who blushed prettily.

Jocelyn noticed this and was going to excuse herself from the conversation when she felt a hand on her arm. She looked up and saw Hermione's face, pleading her to stay or help her out of the situation. Making up her mind quickly, she glanced at her watch.

“Oh wow, I didn't realize what time it was!” she said with fake surprise. “I told Chris I'd be back with you 20 minutes ago. He'll think I got lost.” She turned to Aaron. “It was nice to meet you. I'm sure we'll see you around.”

Aaron looked at Hermione, catching her gaze with his and holding it. “You can count on it,” he said.

Hermione broke eye contact and blushed even more. “Nice talking with you,” she said before walking away with Jocelyn.

Once out of earshot, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“No problem,” Jocelyn answered. “I wasn't planning on leaving you alone with that guy. Something just didn't feel right about him.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. He seemed like a nice guy and all, but something just didn't add up. A bit forward, really,” Hermione added.

As they neared the team, the unmistakable sound of a high-pitched giggle pierced the air, making Jocelyn stop in her tracks. “Shit,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “The QBs are here,” she said in disgust.

“The what?” Hermione looked confused.

“QBs,” Jocelyn repeated. “Quidditch Bitches.”

“Fabulous,” Hermione said dryly. “I'd better go find Harry. See if he needs saving.” She giggled at the thought of the Boy-Who-Lived needing to be saved.

“Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, but he seems to be faring quite well on his own,” Jocelyn pointed out. “In fact, I do believe he is enjoying himself.”

Hermione looked to where Jocelyn was pointing and studied Harry briefly. Although he was smiling, it was forced; his body language, arms folded across his chest, his eyes darting around, trying to look everywhere but at the chesty bleach-blond talking to him…he definitely needed a way out.

“Not if I know my best friend,” Hermione remarked. Her mouth curved upward slowly, until a sly smirk adorned her face. She adjusted her clothes and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Be back in a couple minutes.” With a wink, she turned on her heel and made her way through the crowd, her eyes trained on Harry.

Hermione walked purposefully and confidently to Harry, not noticing the guys looking at her approvingly as she passed. `I can't believe I'm going to do this. I hope he understands and doesn't hate me,' she thought to herself as she made her way. She took a deep, steadying breath as she reached up to tap Harry on his shoulder…

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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 6

As Harry turned and saw Hermione, he smiled grateful for her presence. When she mouthed “I'm sorry”, his look shifted to one of confusion, and finally came to rest on one of utter disbelief as Hermione's palm and fingers connected solidly with his face.

“What the hell…” he began, his hand slowly coming to rest gingerly on his cheek, which was now sporting a bright red mark.

“HARRY JAMES POTTER! I can't believe you were flirting with…with…HER!” Hermione shouted angrily, while her eyes betrayed her supposed anger. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Um, I'm sorry?” Harry answered unsure, searching her face for any sort of clue as to what was going on.

“Sorry for what? For flirting with that bimbo or for leaving me to fend for myself while you went off gallivanting with random women?” Hermione asked dramatically.

“Both?” Harry replied, sounding more like he was asking a question than giving an answer.

“I can't believe you left me, your girlfriend, alone. Then I find you with this…woman…” Hermione continued, subtly emphasizing the words.

“My girlf…” Harry started. He suddenly caught on to what Hermione was pulling and smirked. She winked and nodded slightly in return.

“Baby, I'm so sorry. She means absolutely nothing!” Harry exclaimed, getting into character. “You're the only one for me,” he added, taking Hermione's hand in his.

“Well I should hope so,” she said haughtily.

As they played this game, Harry tried to figure out how he was going to get back at her. Slowly a wicked grin came across his handsome features as he glanced at Hermione. She noticed the look and gulped audibly. `Oh shit' were the only words that came to her mind.

She tried to remove her hands from Harry's grip, but he wouldn't let go.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said devilishly. “To prove she means nothing and you mean everything.”

“Uh, that's not necessary, I trust you not to do it again,” Hermione managed to squeak out.

“Oh, no. I insist. You totally deserve it,” Harry said slyly, enjoying watching Hermione fidget in anticipation.

He then surprised Hermione - and himself a bit, too - by drawing her body roughly to his and lowering his mouth to hers. The gasp that escaped Hermione was muffled by Harry's lips.

Hermione was in shock for a moment or two before she regaining her senses and responded to his kiss. What started out was semi-chaste hastily became much more as they continued, neither wanting it to end just yet.

Harry lightly touched the tip of his tongue to Hermione's bottom lip, testing the waters. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt the tip of Hermione's tongue in place of her lip the second time he tried it. He groaned in approval as their tongues met, massaging the other; tentative at first, but rapidly becoming more intense and passionate as they hungrily kissed each other, Hermione's hands winding around Harry's neck as he had one hand on either side of her face, holding her in place.

After one last lingering kiss, Hermione broke away, breathless, her heart pounding in her chest; she was, for once, completely speechless.

“Does that make up for everything?” Harry asked softly.

“Um, yeah,” Hermione stammered. “Just don't let it happen again,” she added, trying to cover her anxiety.

“Oh, it won't,” Harry said playfully, trying to slow his racing pulse. “That was a one-time thing.”

They'd both forgotten the blond, who chose that moment to make her presence known by tapping Hermione's shoulder, hard.

“What?” she asked, whirling around, clearly agitated. “Can't you see we're busy?”

Ignoring her question, the blond stared at Hermione icily. “Who the hell are you to come barging over when I'm about to seal the deal?”

“I would've thought it was kind of obvious after that kiss,” Hermione stated dryly. “But since you didn't get it, just believe me when I say you weren't about to seal anything with him tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” the blond challenged. “Says who?”

“Says me,” Hermione answered nastily. “Now, why don't you run along. I'm sure you'll be able to `seal the deal', with someone else. Not that you haven't already fucked every guy here.”

Harry was astonished by Hermione's behavior and didn't know whether he should laugh or have cause for concern. He glanced between the girls, his gaze taking in Hermione. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously and her lips were set in a straight line, her jaw clenched tightly. He'd seen that look before, even been on the receiving end a couple times; no good could come from this.

“Um, Hermione, sweetie, let's go find Anna. She wanted to meet you,” Harry said carefully, trying to diffuse the situation.

Hermione turned to Harry and, as she smiled brightly, he breathed a sigh of relief. `Crisis averted' he thought, returning the smile.

“Sure,” she answered. “At least then I won't have to look at her ugly face any more.”

The two walked away, arms around each other. Hermione snuck a peek over her shoulder at the girl who was staring at them, dumbfounded. She smirked as her hand wandered and pinched Harry's bum. He looked at her in surprise and she tossed an innocent smile in his direction.

They made their way over to Jocelyn, who was standing rooted to her spot, mouth hanging open.

“Hey, you're letting the flies in,” Hermione joked.

Jocelyn closed her mouth so hard you could hear her teeth click together. “That was some show you two just put on; very convincing,” she stated, in awe.

“We were good, weren't we?” Harry asked, his pride evident.

“Yup,” Hermione quipped, smiling weakly.

“But you could've done without hitting me so hard,” Harry joked.

“I'm sorry. Are you ok?” Hermione asked in alarm.

“Oh yeah, I'm fine,” Harry answered airily. “Maybe now they'll leave me alone,” he added hopefully.

“Nah, they're too stupid to leave you alone,” Hermione predicted. “They'll probably try even more because now it's a `challenge' to get you into bed, since you have a `girlfriend'.”

“Well, if that's the case, you're not allowed to leave me for the rest of the night,” Harry stated. “I don't want to deal with those girls. They scare me.” he shuddered.

“Harry, most guys would kill to have their choice of large-chested women to shag,” Hermione declared bluntly.

“Well, Hermione, I'm not like most guys,” Harry retorted softly. “When I'm with someone, I am with her and only her,” he said deliberately, his gaze was boring into Hermione; piercing her with such intensity her heart began to race. She swallowed hard, sure he was looking straight into her soul. She had never seen his eyes this particular shade: the darkest green imaginable, with a touch of gold around the edges.

Hermione blinked and, just like that, his eyes returned to their normal shade and his gaze softened. `Maybe I should cut back on the alcohol a bit. I'm starting to hallucinate,' she thought shaking her head.

“You ok, Hermione?” Harry asked, concerned.

“I'm fine. Maybe a little too much to drink,” she answered with a grin.

Harry looked at her skeptically, then his face broke out into his trademark `Harry' grin. “I know just the cure for that!” he exclaimed.

“What?” Hermione asked carefully.

“Another drink!” Mike cut in, coming to the group.

He handed Harry, Hermione and Jocelyn each a small glass filled with an unknown liquor. “Bottoms up!” he said tossing it back easily. “You've just got to love Muggle alcohol!”

Harry raised his glass in mock salute and tipped it back, making a face. Hermione and Jocelyn just looked at the contents suspiciously. “What is it?” Jocelyn asked warily.

“Drink it to find out,” Mike answered cryptically.

The girls glanced at each and shrugged. “Why not?” Hermione mumbled, tapping her glass against Jocelyn's before drinking the liquid. She gasped as it burned her throat and gulped at her margarita to get rid of the aftertaste.

“What the hell was that?” Jocelyn managed to choke out.

“Tequila!” Mike slurred happily.

“Oh, that's just nasty,” Hermione finally was able to spit out.

“Just the first one's nasty. After a while, it tastes just like water,” Mike stated drunkenly.

He put his empty glass on a nearby table and it disappeared; in its place was the enchanted parchment.

“Four shots of tequila,” he said. “Anyone else want anything?”

“Guinness,” Harry stated.

“Rum and coke,” Jocelyn answered.

“Nothing,” Hermione stated firmly.

“Oh come on, Hermy…Hermo…whatever your name is! Don't be a party pooper,” Mike coerced.

“Fine. Vodka cranberry,” Hermione replied, exasperated.

“K, so that's four tequila shots, a pint of Guinness, one rum and coke and a vodka cranberry,” Mike said as clearly as he could.

A few moments later, everything appeared and hovered in the middle of the group. Hermione shocked them by grabbing a shot and downing it quickly, chasing it with her drink.

“Right on!” Mike exclaimed, imitating Hermione.

“You'd better be careful, Hermione,” Harry warned, putting his shot away. “This stuff is pretty potent.”

“Harry, you're no fun! Let Hermy-o-ne drink whatever she wants. It is a party, after all,” Mike chided. Another shot appeared out of nowhere and he shoved it into Harry's hand. “Here. Lighten up.”

“Whatever,” Harry grumbled, tossing the shot back.

“See that wasn't so bad,” Mike coaxed.

Harry gave him the eyeball and knocked back another shot. He glanced at Hermione who was currently nursing her vodka cranberry. She looked up and grinned, her eyes lighting up. Harry couldn't help himself and smiled back, his mind wandering briefly back to the kiss they'd shared.

“Whatcha thinking?” Hermione whispered directly into his ear.

“Nothing much,” he answered back, startled at the sudden closeness.

“I don't believe you,” she shot back flirtatiously, grabbing his hand. “Come on, let's dance.”

Harry grinned uneasily and allowed Hermione to lead him to the makeshift dance floor. She held onto his hand and began dancing and twirling while Harry stood stiffly.

“Harry, honey, you need to relax,” Hermione declared. She placed her hand on Harry's slim hips and moved them back and forth.

“You know I can't dance,” Harry hissed, blushing.

“Nonsense,” Hermione stated airily. “All you need to do is find the beat and let the rhythm move you.” She told his hands in hers again and danced around Harry as he swayed awkwardly.

Out of nowhere, Emily Michaelson, one of the team's chasers, appeared and handed Harry a bottle of ale. “Drink this…before you hurt yourself,” she said in a low voice, before disappearing into the crowd.

Harry had a long drink of the liquid before Hermione stole it and took a swig. She scrunched her nose in disgust, but had another gulp before handing the bottle back.

“I thought you didn't like beer?” Harry asked, polishing off the remainder.

“I don't. I was just really thirsty,” Hermione said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “And I wanted what you had,” she added seductively.

“I do believe you are drunk, Miss Granger,” Harry declared teasingly.

“Not yet, but I am definitely on my way,” Hermione retorted, giggling. “Now dance with me, Potter,” she whined.

Harry laughed and ordered another Guinness for himself and a Raspberry Smirnoff for Hermione.

A fast song came on and Hermione began moving seductively; Harry - and every other guy with a view - became entranced by the way she was dipping and swaying her hips. Harry noticed the looks the others were giving her and, driven to keep her safe (plus a little alcohol), stepped up and started dancing.

Hermione smiled at his awkwardness and moved in closer. She draped her free arm around Harry's neck and moved against him. Harry couldn't resist and put his arm around Hermione's waist, drawing her near. Hermione's inhibitions went flying out the window as she moved and rubbed up against him.

Harry responded by moving and grinding, pressing his body into hers. Hermione glanced up, meeting Harry's sparkling eyes. Their gazes locked and they grinned at each other. They continued to move, never breaking eye contact. They shimmied and shook and swayed their bodies, matching move for move.

“See, I told you, you could dance,” Hermione said superiorly. “All you had to do was relax and move,” she added as they took a short break.

“Yeah, I should've just listened to you,” Harry agreed, smirking.

“I've been telling you that for years,” Hermione answered airily, finishing the rest of her drink. She ordered herself another Smirnoff and some Firewhiskey for Harry. “Let's dance some more!” she exclaimed after taking a drink.

“Nah, I think I'm gonna sit this one out,” Harry stated.

“Please?” Hermione pouted. “For me?” she added, batting her eyelashes.

“I'll dance with you,” a voice interrupted.

“Ok,” Hermione agreed happily before Harry had a chance to respond. She took the hand offered and followed the guy to the dance floor. Her new partner spun her around before she came face-to-face with him.

“Aaron!” Hermione exclaimed. “Hey!”

“Hi,” he replied, settling his hand on her hip as they began moving in sync, his eyes never leaving her face. They twirled and spun in time with the music, never faltering. Aaron was a strong lead and Hermione instinctively knew what his next move would be.

Harry watched the pair carefully, a strange feeling welling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't quite put his finger on exactly it was, but he knew he didn't like it. Suddenly, Aaron's hand *magically* inched its way south and landed on Hermione's butt. Upon seeing that, a new emotion came to the forefront; one Harry knew very well: anger. He kept waiting for Hermione to forcibly remove his hand and when she didn't, that weird feeling returned and Harry didn't know how to deal with it.

As the song ended and slow one started up, Harry thought they would break apart. Instead Aaron wrapped his arms around and she reciprocated. Aaron bent his head and whispered something in Hermione's ear. She laughed lightly and Harry had this inexplicable urge to rip Aaron's lips off his face.

`Who does he think he is?' Harry thought angrily, still observing their exchange. `He is not going to hurt Hermione. I won't let him.'

While the song was coming to an end, Harry made his way over to steal Hermione from Aaron's clutches.

“May I cut in?” he asked breezily, taking Hermione into his arms without waiting for an answer and moving them away.

“What'd you do that for?” Hermione asked, a bit surprised.

“I, uh, just wanted to, er, dance…with…you,” Harry finished lamely.

Hermione looked at him skeptically. Even in her inebriated state, she still knew when he was lying. “Ok, Potter. Spill it,” she demanded.

“It's just…Richards, um, I mean Aaron,” he corrected at Hermione's confused look. “Well…he has a…reputation…of trying to sleep with as many girls as he can. It's just a game to him,” Harry added, watching Hermione's reaction.

“I don't believe you,” Hermione answered stubbornly. “He's been nothing but nice to me. He's new and he just wants friends.”

“New? Richards?” Harry asked in surprise. “He's been on the team for three years.”

“But why would he lie?” Hermione challenged.

“Um, to get you into bed springs to mind,” Harry shot back sarcastically.

“So, he can't possibly like me or think I'm pretty or attractive?” Hermione retorted, her voice rising.

“Sure, he thinks you're attractive,” Harry answered. “But he's just trying to shag you. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am.”

“Harry Potter!” Hermione practically shouted. “Just because you don't find me attractive doesn't mean others don't!”

“That's really not it!” Harry argued helplessly.

“Well, whatever it is, you need to get stop, because it's getting old, really fast,” Hermione concluded, turning on her heel and walking away.

Harry wanted to go after her, but knew better…unless he wanted to be on the receiving end of Hermione's wand. He sighed in defeat and decided to wait outside a little longer before trying to fix it.

Hermione had been combing the house looking for Aaron when she spotted him talking to Mike, Ike and another guy she didn't recognize. She made her way over, ignoring the uneasy feeling growing in her gut. `Harry doesn't know what he's talking about,' she argued with herself.

She was close to the teammates when Ike asked Aaron about the girl he'd been dancing with.

“Who? Hermy-something-or-other?” Aaron asked.

“If that's her name, sure,” Ike replied.

“Oh, it's only a matter of time,” Aaron responded with a smirk. “The big 7-5.”

“Wow, how do you do it?” the third guy asked, clearly in awe.

“Johnny-boy, it's easy. Just act all smart and sensitive. Chicks eat the shit up,” Aaron advised. “For example, I told this one I was new and didn't know anyone. Simple as that, and I'm in like a dirty shirt.”

“Wait, didn't she come with Potter?” Jon asked.

Aaron shrugged. “Couldn't tell ya. But you bet she'll be `coming' with me tonight. Easiest lay yet,” he said with an evil smirk. The other three guys laughed and Hermione felt her eyes get hot with tears. She bolted outside, only to run right into the one person she couldn't face at the moment.

-->

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 7

Hermione looked into the very startled emerald eyes of her best friend. She turned away quickly, but before she'd gotten very far, the owner of the eyes placed a hand on her arm. She shrugged it off and moved faster. Suddenly she felt fingers dig into her shoulder and use her momentum to turn her back around.

“Hermione,” came Harry's voice.

“What?” she spat back, catching him off-guard.

“Are you ok?” he asked warily.

“Peachy-keen,” she answered, determined not to let him know he was right about Aaron. “Just trying to find Aaron,” she added with a fake smile.

“Oh,” Harry said dejectedly. “I, um, can't help you there. I don't know where he's hiding.”

`He should be under the rocks with the rest of the scum.' Hermione thought angrily. “Oh well, thanks anyway,” she said aloud. She made a move to walk away but Harry blocked her path.

“Hermione,” he began quietly. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I don't know what you're talking about,” she insisted, refusing to look him in the face.

Harry placed his index finger under Hermione's chin to force her to look up at him. “Sweetie, you're my best friend and I've known you for a long time. I think I know when something's bothering you.”

Hermione gathered all the courage she could muster at that time and looked him square in the eye. “Then I guess you don't know me very well.” She took advantage of Harry's shock and hurried away, feeling even worse than before.

Hermione walked aimlessly around the party in a daze, not paying attention to where she was going; she kept running the conversations through her mind, picturing the look on Harry's face. “Shit, I've seriously done it now,” she mumbled to herself.

She decided right then and there that she needed to put things right with Harry. His friendship was way more important than her silly pride. With new determination, Hermione set out to find her best friend.

She looked around for about 10 minutes, to no avail, before she ran into Jocelyn.

“Hey, Jocelyn,” Hermione yelled over the music. “Have you seen Harry?”

Jocelyn, obviously intoxicated, giggled. “Not lately, but I wish I would. He's wicked cute. If I didn't already have Chris, I'd do him in a heartbeat,” she noted. “Shit, I'd do him anyway, all he has to do is ask. But I'm sure I'd have to get in line behind you though, huh?” She giggled again and Hermione just shook her head.

“Um, ok. If you do see him, would you please tell him to meet me by the back door?” Hermione asked.

“No problem!” Jocelyn hiccupped.

“Thanks,” Hermione replied.

“Bye-bye, Hermione!” Jocelyn called after her.

Hermione looked around a little longer before giving up and making her way to the back door in case Harry had run into Jocelyn and she'd actually remembered to give him the message.

She got as far as the kitchen when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She grinned and turned, expecting to see Harry. The grin faded as she glimpsed her companion.

“Looking for me?” Aaron drawled.

“Not really,” Hermione shot back. She turned to walk away but Aaron moved in front of her.

“What's the rush?” he asked lazily, draping his arm around her shoulders.

“I have to meet Harry,” Hermione said, trying to free herself from his clutches.

“Potter? Now why would you want to do that, when I'm right here, right now?” Aaron questioned. “Besides, you and I were just getting started,” he added, leering hungrily at her.

“No,” Hermione stated firmly. “I have to find Harry.”

“I'm pretty sure he's otherwise occupied.” Aaron grinned maliciously. He grabbed Hermione's wrist and started pulling her toward some stairs.

Hermione struggled to release her wrist, but Aaron just laughed and tightened his grip. Years of playing Quidditch as a Chaser had helped him develop a strong grip and large forearms, which he used to his advantage.

“I have to find Harry,” Hermione protested weakly, still trying to get loose.

Aaron laughed evilly. “Please. That big-headed git is probably off trying to score with the first person that has bigger boobs than him,” he stated cruelly. “Especially since he lost you to me. Shame, really,” he continued. “Maybe now he'll finally get what he deserves.” Aaron grinned maniacally, his usually handsome face distorted by the sneer he wore.

“After you,” came a new voice.

Half a second later, a fist appeared out of nowhere and hit Aaron square in the jaw with a resounding crack. Just as quickly, he hit the floor, effectively knocked unconscious.

“Are you ok?” her savior asked, turning toward her.

“I am now,” she answered, falling against his body. He caught her with practiced ease and she buried her head into his chest and breathed in the scent so memorable to her.

“Thanks, Harry,” she said, with a shy smile.

“I've already told you, anything for you,” he answered, returning the smile. “Although I must admit,” he added with a smirk, “I've wanted to do that ever since I met the guy.”

“I don't doubt it,” Hermione retorted.

“So what should we do with him?” Harry asked, nudging Aaron in the side lightly with his shoe.

“Just leave `im,” Hermione stated, with a shrug. “Maybe we'll get lucky and no one will notice.”

Both of them laughed as Harry stepped over Aaron's prone body. He offered his hand to Hermione. She took it and made certain she tread on Aaron's back -hard- as she made her way pass him.

“How'd you find me anyway?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“Jocelyn,” was the answer. “I was on my way to our meeting place when I saw him grab you. I rushed over as fast as I could.”

“If you hadn't…” Hermione shuddered and Harry wrapped his arms around her again.

“But I did,” Harry said softly. “Don't think on it anymore. You'll drive yourself mad.”

“I'll try,” Hermione replied.

“Hermione,” Harry tried to continue. He was stopped by Hermione's finger on his lips.

“Me too, Harry,” she whispered. “Me too.”

They tightened their holds on each other for a few seconds, their apologies given and accepted in the simple gesture. They stepped back and grinned at each other. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and Harry laughed and squeezed her again.

“Hermione!” Jocelyn bellowed.

“Jocelyn!” Hermione called back.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Jocelyn asked suggestively.

“Nope, nothing at all,” Harry replied.

“Shit. I'll have to try back later,” she mumbled before heading back to the dance floor.

Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly and Hermione just shook her head. “You don't want to know.”

“Okaaaaay,” Harry replied uncertainly. “Come on, there are still a few of my teammates you haven't met.”

Harry pulled Hermione over to two girls who were talking in a corner. Both were about 5”6' and very pretty; one had short dark blond hair and hazel eyes, the other red-streaked brown hair and light blue eyes.

“Hey, Potter!” they chorused, then giggled.

“Yeah…they're totally wasted,” Harry whispered in Hermione's ear before straightening up. “Hey, Anna, Emily.”

“Hi, Harry,” they said again, giggling like mad.

“Is this the girl you've been talking about?” the brunette asked.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “This is my best friend Hermione. Hermione these two lushes are Anna,” he said, pointing to the girl who'd asked the question, “and Emily. They're our two other Chasers.”

Emily picked up on the tone of voice Harry was using. “Ah, I take it you have had a run-in with our infamous third Chaser. Where is he now?”

“Knocked out cold on the kitchen floor, as far as I know,” Hermione answered, straight-faced.

The girls looked at her unbelievingly, then burst out laughing. “Nu-uh. For real?”

Hermione nodded.

“It's about bloody time someone decked that prat,” Anna said vehemently. “Who did it so I can kiss `em?”

Hermione smirked and her eyes twinkled mischievously. “I do believe you'r…hmph mmph.” She was cut off by Harry clapping his hand over her mouth. He grinned at his teammates, who giggled again, and dragged her away.

Harry removed his hand and prepared for the onslaught.

“Why'd you do that?” Hermione asked. “I thought you would want to be snogged by your teammates.” She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively and Harry had to laugh.

“Nah. They're nice and all, and not usually so giggly, but I have my eye on someone else,” Harry blushed.

“Ah, yes, Miss Madeline,” Hermione recalled. “She seemed really sweet when we had dinner a couple weeks ago.”

“She is the sweetest girl I've ever met. Well, other than you, of course,” he added.

Hermione smiled, flattered by his compliment. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Yeah, I want you and Ron to get to know her better……” Harry trailed off as something caught his eye.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, her brows furrowed in concern. “What's going on?”

Harry was too busy staring, unblinking, at something behind Hermione to answer her. Hermione turned around and discovered he was starring at two someONES, both of whom were very familiar; Aaron and…Maddy?! Entwined…intimately…on a couch…

Hermione tried to digest all this information while Harry looked as though he was trying to keep down his dinner.

The two in question decided they needed to get some air and detached. Aaron leaned over and whispered something into Maddy's ear. “Oh, Aaron,” she giggled and playfully swat him. She glanced up and saw Harry. She froze, eyes wide, starring at him.

Aaron noticed her behavior and looked up, a huge bruise forming on his jaw. His face contorted into a diabolical sneer as he caught sight of Harry and Hermione. “Well, well, well. Who got the girl this time, Potter?”

Harry just stood there, feeling as though he'd been punched in the stomach; his eyes boor into Maddy's. “You can have her,” he stated soft, yet firmly. “I don't want her.” He then disaparated without another word.

“Hermione,” Maddy began, pleadingly.

“Stop. I don't want to hear it,” Hermione responded. “You've hurt my best friend. You're on your own.

“And you,” she said steely, whirling on Aaron. “Well, you might want to find another team to play on. You do not want me at any of your games or practices. It's too easy for an accident to occur,” she finished, her voice low and deadly calm.

With that, she was gone, reappearing on the front porch of her house. There was a loud crash inside and she hurried in to find the entrance hall in disarray. “At least I know he's here,” she muttered to herself. She followed the crashes and yells until she found the source.

Harry was blasting everything he could see, sometimes twice. Hermione stood back and watched in silence, letting him do what he needed to get out his anger and frustration.

After 15 minutes, Hermione came to the conclusion the house had taken enough abuse. “Harry,” she called lightly. He didn't hear her above the ruckus he was making. “Harry,” she tried again, and got the same reaction.

“HARRY!” she yelled, then ducked as a stray curse was accidentally sent her way. She stood up and adjusted her tank top. “Feel better?” she inquired, a touch of sarcasm in her tone.

“Sorry,” Harry answered. “Guess I got a bit carried away, huh?” He grinned sheepishly, and with a well-placed `Reparo', everything was back to normal. Well, everything but Harry, who kept pacing back and forth, mumbling.

The only words Hermione was able to discern were “bloody wanker” and “stupid cow.” She smiled to herself and went to retrieve the largest bottle of Firewhiskey she could find. She poured two glasses and handed one to Harry. He took it and swallowed it in one gulp, slamming the empty cup on the table. Hermione refilled it and Harry downed it. Silently, Hermione handed the bottle to him. He took a long drink, not even noticing the burning sensation as the liquid slid down his throat.

“You know what really gets me pissed?” Harry finally blurted. “The way she acted all…innocent,” he spat.

“Oh, Harry,” he began in a high voice. “You shouldn't stay tonight. We've only been together for a little while; we don't want to rush into anything.” Harry let out a false giggle and Hermione fought the urge to grin.

“Now, I am totally thankful for not being with her,” he continued. “Although, in all seriousness, when you're shagging the entire English National Team, what's one more?”

“Well, technically, she only shagged part of the team. She didn't shag you, and I'm fairly certain, though I could be wrong, she never shagged Anna or Emily,” Hermione put in, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Despite his current mood, Harry cracked a smile and Hermione was encouraged.

“See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” she urged.

“No,” Harry grudgingly agreed. “But that doesn't mean I'm not still mad!”

“Of course not,” Hermione retorted condescendingly, pinching his cheek. “You can be as mad as you want.”

“Don't mock me, woman!” Harry growled playfully.

“Who? Me?” Hermione feigned. “Never.” She sent Harry a coy half-smile and any anger Harry harbored broke. He grabbed Hermione up in a huge bear hug and swung her around for effect.

“That's why I love you, Granger,” Harry declared once he'd set her down. “You always know what to say to cheer me up.”

“Do you know what else I say?” Hermione added mischievously.

“What?” Harry asked warily.

“I say I can drink you under the table,” she replied.

“Bring it,” he retorted with a smirk.

-->

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 8

An hour -and half a bottle of Firewhiskey- later Hermione was sprawled out on the couch a content, and drunken, smile adorning her face.

“Drink up, Minnie,” Harry urged.

“Minnie? That's not right,” Hermione looked confused. “My name's Herminniny. Hermononny? Why couldn't I have a normal name? Like Harry. Just rolls off your tongue. Hair-ree. Harry.”

Harry appeared to be thinking very hard about something. “Nah, I like Herminny. It's unusual. People remember it.”

“Right,” Hermione scoffed. “Cause no one would ever remember the name `Harry Potter'.”

“Doesn't count,” Harry retorted. “`Harry' is just too common, too plain.” He made a face to illustrate his point.

“Perhaps. But I'm sure no one could forget those beyootiful green eyes you sport,” Hermione reasoned. “I know lots of people, and not just girls, if ya know what I mean, who would date you in a second.” She attempted to snap her fingers and failed miserably. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“Tha's juss it,” Harry slurred. “They go for the eyes, the scar, the name. They are mighty disappointed when they finally comprehend I'm a real person and not the superhero I've been made out to be,” he finished, his tone bitter.

“Then that's their loss,” Hermione responded. “'sides, that means I don't have to share you with anyone.” Hermione declared emphatically. “Or share my Firewhiskey.” She smiled devilishly.

Harry laughed at Hermione's expression and drank some more before handing the bottle to her; they'd long ago forgone the cups Hermione originally brought out. She finished the bottle in one long gulp.

“Oh, no! We're out of Firewhiskey!” Hermione looked as though she may burst out into tears.

Harry jumped up. “Juss wait one secon'.” He ran up the stairs, tripping over the top two steps. He came back, skidding to a stop. “Here.” He shoved his package, two very large -very full- bottles of Firewhiskey. “Been savin `em.”

“Yay!” Hermione clapped her hands like an excited child. “Oh, Harry. I could just kiss you!” She shrugged her shoulder. “Why the hell not?”

She placed her hands on either side of Harry's face and placed a large, sloppy, wet kiss square on his lips, complete with a loud smacking noise.

“Ya know, tha's the secon' time you kissed me tonight,” Harry stated with a smirk. “A guy could get used to it.”

“You wish, Potter,” Hermione retorted, tossing a pillow in Harry's general direction.

He ducked, avoiding the projectile. He turned back towards her, a triumphant grin on his face. He was greeted with a pillow to the side of his head.

Harry sat in shock, watching Hermione grin manically. Without warning, he grabbed the first pillow and hit her in the arm. He smirked and wriggled his eyebrows before an all-out pillow fight ensued.

They ran around the main level of the house, through the kitchen and dining areas, hiding behind furniture, occasionally breaking glasses and mirrors, and other objects that had just been repaired after Harry's rampage.

“Truce!” Hermione cried, a pillow whizzing past her head. “Truce!”

“Had enough?” Harry smirked.

“No, but maybe the house has!” Hermione gasped out. She collapsed on the couch,

Harry flopping next to her. They looked around the living area; there were broken glasses and feathers everywhere.

“Oopsies,” Harry grinned. With another quick, Reparo, everything was back to its original state.

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry asked casually. “Why were you an' Ron screaming earlier?”

“Oh, that,” Hermione dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “He got all bent out of shape because Kevin kissed me.”

“Kevin?” Harry asked sharply. “Your Psycho partner?”

“Haha, yeah that's the one,” Hermione affirmed with a giggle.

“Oh?” Harry asked, trying to control his anger.

“We were in the Library, of all places,” Hermione began. “We were working on that large assignment that's due soon. Most of the work was finished, we just needed a few final things to tie the whole thing together.”

FLASHBACK

“I'm really glad we were partnered on this project, Hermione,” Kevin stated. “I really wanted to work with you. And I think we make a great team.”

Hermione nodded absently, oblivious to Kevin's attempts at flirting. “Me too, but right now we should concentrate on getting this done. It needs to be perfect.”

“Oh it will,” Kevin said dismissively. “We've found all sorts of studies and scientific journals to illustrate our point. I'm sure Dr. Jerginns will be impressed.”

Hermione sighed. “I know. I'm just nervous. I always get like this before handing something in. Just ask Ron or Harry.” She chuckled, recalling her Hogwarts days.

“So, are you seeing either one of those blokes?” Kevin asked nonchalantly.

“One of those guys?” Hermione asked, surprised. “No, they're my best friends. Have been ever since we were eleven,” Hermione explained.

“Ah, ok,” Kevin smiled. “So what do they do? For a living, I mean.”

“Um,” Hermione stalled. “Ron's a….bobby. And Harry, he plays semi-professional football.” She smiled, proud of how quickly she came up with the answers.

“Really? For what team?” Kevin asked.

“He's, uh, taking a break right now. He injured his, um, groin, and is out of commission until it heals,” Hermione answered hurriedly. “Let's get back to what we're doing here. Would you please go get the next book on the list?”

“Sure,” he replied.

Kevin got up and went to search for the next reference. When he returned, he gave the book to Hermione. As she became distracted, he pulled his chair very close to hers. He waited for her to acknowledge him. When she didn't, he took an extra step and called her name. When she looked up at him…..

END FLASHBACK

“…then he leaned in and kissed me,” Hermione finished.

Harry looked as though he was going to kill.

“And then what?” he asked, a bit harsher than he'd intended.

Hermione looked at him questioningly, and he smiled weakly in return.

“I told him I wasn't interested in him that way and left quickly. I haven't talked to him since.”

Harry relaxed at this information. “But then why Ron so bent out of shape about it?” he questioned.

“Who knows why that prat acts the way he does,” Hermione answered. “He just wants to be right. Then he made it sound like I threw Kevin on a table and starting shagging the daylights out of him!”

Harry managed a tight-lipped smile at the image. “Maybe he's upset another guy kissed you,” he suggested.

“Why now though?” Hermione persisted. “We're not together. That was over before it even began. You can't bloody well be with someone when it feels as though you're kissing your brother when you kiss him.”

“Most definitely not,” Harry teased. “I could never be with someone who made me feel as though I was kissing my brother.”

“Git,” Hermione mumbled. “Anyway, less Ron, more FIREWHISKEY!” Hermione said, grabbing the bottle and taking a long pull of the fiery liquid. “'Sides, he was just being a prat.”

“Don't you know the rules, Minnie, you can't insult a man when he's not here to defend himself,” Harry said. “'S just not right.”

“So I can insult you?” Hermione grinned slyly.

“Nope! Cause I'll just come after you,” Harry answered cheerfully. “In fact, I may do that anyway.” He flexed his fingers menacingly.

“You wouldn't…” Hermione trailed off.

“Oh, yes I would,” Harry retorted.

As if perfectly timed, Hermione jumped out of the way as Harry dove at her. Once again, they found themselves running through the house, although this time it was just Harry chasing Hermione. He finally cornered her upstairs, in his room. He locked the door with a quick spell so she couldn't get away and grinned mischievously.

“If you just come here, I'll take it easy on you,” he coaxed, waggling his fingers at her.

“No you won't!” Hermione countered. “It's a trick!”

Without any prior warning, Hermione turned the tables and lunged at Harry. She caught him completely off-guard and managed to get in a few good shots before he began fighting back. He dug his long fingers into her ribs as she tried to defend herself. All you could hear was loud laughter and an occasional squeal as Harry got in a lucky shot every once in a while.

Somehow, the two ended up on Harry's bed, him sitting on top of her; he'd effectively pinned her in place.

“Ha! I win! I am the champion!” Harry gloated. “Give up?”

“Oh yes! You're so much stronger than I am,” Hermione pretended. “NOT!”

She made a sudden movement to escape and ended up hitting Harry in the jaw.

“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” she asked in total concern. She sat up to take a better look at it, but Harry had other plans. He jumped at her inattention and began his quest to tickle her into oblivion in earnest. Poor Hermione never had a chance.

“HARREEE!” she squealed. “STOOOOOP!!!”

“Never!” he declared.

Hermione tried to retaliate, but Harry had figured out a way to pin her wrists together to keep her from using her hands. He sat on her hips and had her completely immobilized. She tried to wriggle free.

“Uh,” Harry said awkwardly. “You may not want to do that.”

“Scared I might be able to get back at you?” Hermione asked triumphant, wriggling faster.

“Minnie. Stop. Please,” Harry begged.

“Why?” she asked, carefully.

Harry looked at her meaningfully and raised his eyebrows. “Do I really have to answer that question?”

Hermione's eyes widen in realization. “Sorry.”

“S'ok,” Harry mumbled. He shifted his body and rolled off Hermione, choosing to lie next to her.

Out of the silence, Hermione burst into giggles. “I'm sorry. It's just….you were…getting a….woody,” she managed to squeak out through her laughter.

Harry reddened. “S'not like I can help it! You try being a bloke with a pretty girl writhing under you… see how you like being made fun of when you have a … reaction,” he pouted.

“Aw, poor little Harry” Hermione calmed herself for a couple minutes. “Actually, not so-little-Harry,” she added before bursting into fresh giggles.

“You're getting it now, Granger!” Harry renewed his attack on a helpless Hermione.

“AHHHH!!!” Hermione couldn't do anything to defend herself; she was completely at Harry's mercy. She was laughing so hard she started coughing violently and sat straight up.

“You ok?” Harry asked, lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, peering at his best friend.

Hermione nodded and resumed her prone position, letting out a cough every once in a while. She was getting sleepy when she was pulled out her semi-consciousness.

“You still awake?” Harry asked.

“Barely,” she lazily rolled over and faced him.

He gave her a half-smile as he reached out and brushed a stray curl out of her face. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she and Harry locked gazes. There was a look on his face she had never seen and his eyes were that dark green she'd glimpsed earlier. They just stared at each other, unblinking, Harry's hand resting above Hermione's head.

“Hermione,” Harry said softly. “Do you remember what I said earlier? About it being a one-time thing?”

“Uh huh,” she breathed, not trusting herself to speak.

“I lied.”

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