Chapter 3
Of Bribery and Men
Thank you for all the reviews and birthday wishes =)
This chapter is a bit of a birthday present to my friend Amanda (August 5th) and bestest little buddy/beta, who's been through thick and thin, high and low with me, Libby (August 6th). We're all awesome Leos born within days of each other. =)
*~*~*
"Harry, there's something I've been wanting to discuss with you," Robert said suddenly while they were walking through the racks to shirts in the store.
"What's that, sir?" Harry asked holding out a red, plaid-print shirt, his face slightly scrunched as he decided if he liked it.
"It's about my daughter, and how you feel about her."
Harry let go of the shirt in surprise; that was the last thing he expected to hear. He caught it quickly before it hit the floor. Seeker skills come in handy in the muggle world. "What exactly would you like to know, sir?"
"First, stop with the `sir' all the time, and second, I'm not blind, Harry. I see the way you look at Hermione."
"And how's that, si-Robert?" he questioned, hoping his feigned ignorance would end the conversation.
"Like you'd go to hell and back, taking on every monstrous obscenity in between for her," Robert said obviously, "like you'd die to keep her happy. Very much the way I look at Helen."
Harry sighed. "You caught me, sir. I'm completely, utterly, and desperately in love with your daughter. I suppose you'll want to kick me out now."
Robert chuckled. "Lord, no. Helen would have my head, if Hermione didn't take it first. Now, I ask you, what are you going to do about it, son?"
After a pause where Harry flicked idly through a row of t-shirts, Harry began, "I was going to tell her, but you interrupted accidentally and asked me if I wanted to help fix the bathroom. Now, I'm not sure I should tell her. She deserves to know," he continued before Robert could say anything, "she has every right to know, but I don't want to make her a bigger target for any lingering Voldemort supporters out there than she already unfortunately is."
"You do have quite a conundrum, Harry," the older man sympathized.
Harry moved further into the clothing section. "What should I do?"
"I can't tell you what to do, son."
He nodded. "What would you do in my place?" he questioned next.
Robert sighed. "I honestly can't imagine being in your place. I wouldn't lie to her about how you feel. And know this, Harry, if you hurt my little girl in any way, shape or form, I'll hunt you down and make you regret being born a male."
"If I hurt Hermione, I'll hand myself over to you," he told Robert seriously. "Do you...know how she feels about me?" Harry asked hesitantly.
After a pause, Robert said, "I have my ideas. Helen knows, I'm sure, but Hermione must have told her not to say anything to me." He gave a small scowl at that. "As if her own father can't be trusted."
Harry turned to a rack of clothing on the wall and sighed heavily, still with his quandary, grabbing at some random shirt. "Why does being me have to be so complicated?"
"Why does shopping have to be so bloody complicated?" Robert said, trying to lighten Harry's mood. "Oh, sod this; we're just getting the essentials. Helen and Hermione can take you tomorrow in London."
"Sounds like…it'll be an interesting experience," Harry commented, cringing at the thought of practically being the two women's dress up doll.
"I'm sure you'll have fun," the dentist said, smiling evilly at the young man beside him. "So, now you need dressy clothes for tonight, socks, underwear and a few undershirts and we're done here. Thank God. Okay Harry, grab whatever you think fits and looks decent. I've never spent this much time in a store and it's starting to get to me."
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Harry walked from the hall shower to his room at the Granger's house with only a towel about his waist; he had gotten used to not taking clothes to the shower with him when using his private bathroom. Robert had made him get his hair trimmed, too, after stopping at the DIY store. "You can't look like a five year-old at a nice restaurant," he'd said. They had successfully fixed the downstairs toilet when they returned home and were cleaning up for dinner. He'd spent his shower continuing his personal battle concerning his feelings for Hermione. Maybe he would just flip a coin…
He was almost to his door when the object of his affection left her room and bumped into him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes traveling down his naked torso. "I was- I was…" she shook her head. "I was going to my mum's room."
"No worries, 'Mione," Harry told her, focusing very hard on not letting his eyes wander to her tank top and shorts, her hair and make-up already done, or letting his imagination follow. He didn't want a reaction to occur when he was so scantily clad. "I'm just glad I had a hold of the towel," he laughed.
Hermione gave him a small smile, her eyes still roaming his body.
"You look very pretty, 'Mione," he said, standing in his doorway. "And I'm sure you'll only look more so when you're dressed."
"Thank you, Harry. I'm anxious to see how you'll look tonight," she commented.
He grinned at her. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."
She gave him that beautiful smile of hers that made his heart flutter, the one he saw her only direct at him. "Just as long as it's pleasant, Potter."
"I'll be nothing compared to you, I'm sure. You're bound to stun me into shock with your beauty. And have members of both genders checking you out," he added as a joke.
"Thanks, Harry," she said dryly, "now I have to try to look pretty tonight, if only to live up to your expectations. Just for that, you better knock my socks off, mister." She emphasized her point by poking his chest. What Harry was sure was meant to be a quick jab turned into Hermione almost caressing his pectoral with her index finger. The feel of her fingertip on his bare skin sent chills and goose bumps over his body.
"You never have to try to look pretty, Hermione," Harry told her, softly, seriously as her hand slowly dropped from his chest. He saw an unfamiliar look in her eye and decided to continue, changing the mood the conversation had taken. "And it sounds like you've presented me with a challenge, Miss Granger. Though I'm sure I'll fail miserably, I intend to give it my all. Somehow, I'll surpass your expectations," he vowed, giving a mock salute before stepping fully into his room and shutting the door. But not before he heard Hermione quietly say, "You already have, Harry."
Those four words and the sincerity behind them sent Harry into a new level of depth of thoughts on the situation with his love for Hermione.
*~*~*
He stood at the bottom of the stairs anxiously awaiting her descent. He wanted to see her first, alone, without her parents in the room.
His mind wandered to the how similar this was to muggle prom, minus the corsage and the fact that Hermione wouldn't be his date.
"Harry," her angelic voice broke his thoughts.
His head snapped up and he stared in awe at the beauty on the stairs before him. The fitted black dress she wore accentuated her slim figure and hidden curves, the halter top design and mid-thigh length showed off long, slender legs and her lovely, tone back he ached to caress. The heels she wore seemed to emphasize the shape of her legs and they looked even more luscious. Her hair styled on top of her head had tendrils of curls hanging loose, framing her face. He longed for the privilege to toy with them between her fingers, to have her other curls slid through his fingers as he teased her to screaming his name in ecstasy.
Don't think about that now.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked.
Harry grinned. "Yes, 'Mione, you just rendered me speechless with how gorgeous you look. You look absolutely amazing," he told her honestly.
"Thank you, Harry. You clean up nice, as well," she complimented taking in his attire. Harry felt himself blush under her gaze and praise. "Green and black always looked good on you."
"Your dad and I decided to play it safe. Green dress shirt, black dress pants, I'm bound to look decent and formal enough. Shirt's a bit snug, though."
"You look better than decent, Harry. Much better. The tight shirt…" her voice trailed off and she drew a shaky breath, "looks very good on you."
"Did I succeed in `knocking your socks off'?" he teased.
"Yes, you did," she smiled and his heart swelled. Harry was sure he heard her mutter, "You have no idea how much," but in the commotion of the Grangers entering the room, he couldn't be certain.
"You know, Harry," Robert began, "for just grabbing whatever you thought would fit, you did a good job."
"Thanks, Robert," Harry laughed. "We could've grabbed a size larger in the shirt, though."
"Oh, no," interjected Helen, "you look marvelous, and I'm sure Hermione doesn't mind the smaller shirt."
"Mother," Hermione groaned.
Confused, Harry said, "Thank you, Helen, you look spectacular, too." He leaned close and whispered so only she could hear, "Sorry, ma'am, but Hermione gets my vote for most beautiful tonight. Those curls…" he grinned.
Helen laughed with him. "As well she should. You look beautiful, honey," she directed at Hermione then telling Harry, "That's alright, dear, I get Robert's vote and that's the one that counts for me."
"What did I vote for?" Robert questioned.
Helen and Harry shared a smile and a wink before shaking their heads. "Let's get going," Helen advised. "Our reservations are in half an hour."
They arrived at the restaurant to a very intimate setting. Small tables were scattered about the spacious room, with a small Italian band playing music softly in one corner. They were shown to their table immediately and Harry pulled out Hermione's chair while Robert did the same for Helen. A waiter came and took their drink orders and Harry felt himself grow annoyed as the waiter stared openly at Hermione. It was one thing to joke about others checking her out, another for it to be done right in front of him.
Harry became to mentally plot ways to swipe the ogling waiters tip. He'd give it to charity.
Dinner with the Grangers was much more enjoyable than with the Dursleys. Harry could count the number of times on one hand with fingers left over the Dursleys had taken him out to eat with them. Fewer times than that he'd ever had a pleasant meal with his relatives.
The four of them laughed and teased and talked about school and life. Childhood stories of Hermione came up during which she blushed and Harry learned more of his best friend.
Every time the waiter came to their table (which was far too often in Harry's opinion), the schmuck would fawn over Hermione. It was disgusting how blatant he was; it made Harry clench his fists under the table. He nearly glowered when he saw Robert and Helen hiding smirks behind their hands and how Hermione seemed to be enjoying the out-of-work actor's attentions.
I wonder if I can tie his shoelaces together with wandless magic, Harry mused to himself, allowing a small smile at the mental image of the waiter falling.
"Excuse me a moment," Harry said, a much better idea coming to him. He headed off to the restrooms, then darted off to the host station when none of the Grangers were looking. "Excuse me, sir, may I speak with the manager?" he asked the host.
The manager arrived within a minute, a respectable looking man in a made-to-order suit with a slight Italian accent. Harry felt jealous of his perfectly combed hair. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes, I'm at that table," Harry indicated inconspicuously, "and the waiter is visiting frequently, making inappropriate comments and practically leering at my girlfriend and her mother." Slight exaggeration wouldn't hurt anything.
Harry needn't say more. The manager waved a hand saying that was enough of an explanation. "I'll have him put on break immediately and moved to another section when he returns. You'll have another waiter in less than a moment."
"Thank you very much, sir. I'm sure you'll understand I would feel much more comfortable with a female waitress, however."
"Of course, sir, that can be arranged without trouble. I apologize for this inconvenience. I'll have ten percent removed from your tab."
"That's not necessary, but appreciated, sir. Thank you for your help, sir." Harry shook the man's hand, slipping him a ten pound note at the same time. He had learned that greasing the wheels always helped matters along. One thing Vernon had taught him that was useful.
A moment after Harry returned to the table, a female waitress stopped by to refill their drinks, check that their food was as expected and explain their previous water was now on his lunch break and she would be taking over for the night. Harry swore Robert winked at him.
The remainder of meal was much better for Harry, without worrying or getting upset about some jerk of a waiter hitting on Hermione. With most of his attention on Hermione, he did notice her giving the waitress some mean looks. Harry felt it was a good thing Hermione couldn't perform wandless magic.
"Oh, Hermione, stop glaring at the poor girl," Helen said after the waitress had brought their desserts. "She's acting nowhere near as bad as the other waiter and I doubt Harry has even noticed her eyeing him," she added.
"What?" Harry asked, as Hermione blushed and scowled at her mother. "The waitress has been `eyeing' me?" he glanced at Hermione and smiled slightly as comprehension dawned on him. "Are you jealous, Hermione?" He was rather flattered.
"Says the boy who bribed the manager into switching waiters," she retorted.
"I didn't bribe him," Harry defended, shocked that she knew. "The money was to make it happen faster. And I got ten percent off the check," he added, elbowing Robert and grinning.
"That's my boy," Robert laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as the women rolled their eyes.
Harry's heart seemed to stop. That simple phrase affected him so deeply it had him stunned.
Hermione watched Harry as he stared at his plate, the words her father had spoken affecting him. She knew what he was feeling and why he was feeling them, even though she could never relate.
"Oh, honey, you've touched him," she heard her mother whisper to her father.
Hermione knew her father was doing this on purpose, trying to give Harry that fatherly pride he had never experience growing up with the Dursleys. She hoped nothing would embarrass Harry, though.
Lifting his drink a little, her father said, "To the new Head Boy and Head Girl of Hogwarts."
Harry lifted his head and joined in the toast, clinking his glass with theirs. "Thank you, sir," he said sincerely and Hermione saw, as her parents probably did, too, that Harry meant it for more than the toast.
Robert smiled and gave a slight nod, accepting for all implications.
*~*~*
Aww… I feel a tear. And I wrote it.
Maybe I'm PMSing and that's why.
ANYWAY, tell me what you thought, what you think, what you feel, what you want, who you want, where you are, anything and everything, and I'll give you more. Bwahaha
Yes, I am a dork
Thanks to Duncan007 for filling in as my beta, as mine was celebrating her birthday, the naughty (lucky) little girl ;)
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