Title: Table for Two
Summary: What was supposed to be a quiet dinner turns into something a little bit more…A funny little ficlet that's also posted at my Livejournal.
Spoilers: Book 7; EWE
Disclaimer: Harry Potter? Not mine.
Author notes: Inspired by an old, old news report about Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson going out for dinner on Valentine's day. Read it here and you'll understand.
~~*~~
"I don't like this. I don't like this at all."
Harry Potter looked askance at a glowering Hermione Granger as she poked at her chicken piccata.
"Is there something wrong with the chicken?", he asked, puzzled as to why she was incensed and taking it out on her food. It wasn't as if the poultry could fight back.
She gave him a withering look. "The chicken's fine. I'm just…It's…for Merlin's sake, Harry, why'd you have to pick this restaurant?"
"What's wrong with it? I thought you loved Circe's Circle." He sounded a little hurt, even to his ears.
"I do but it's Friday night in the middle of Diagon and everyone here is staring at us."
Before he could register her whispered "No, don't look!", he had whipped his head around to look at the
other patrons. True enough, in at least 3 or 4 tables around them, there were pointed stares and a whole lot of
whispering.
Harry shrugged then went back to his fish. He couldn't say he enjoyed the attention but he was used to it by now. If he couldn't go to Ron's matches without getting mobbed, he sure didn't expect them to leave him alone on a quiet dinner with Hermione. He glanced back at her to find her flushed pink.
"This is embarrassing. Who knows what gossip about us they'll be splashing over the Prophet tomorrow", she muttered as she tried (unsuccessfully) to shred her napkin.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "We're just having dinner."
"I know that! But to them, you know- they're going to say we're dating…"
The corners of his lips twitched and he interjected. "We are dating."
She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "…and/or shagging!"
His half-smile grew into a full-fledged grin. "We are sha-", he started saying before Hermione clamped her hand over his mouth and cut him off.
His eyes danced with suppressed merriment while she gave him a look that clearly said "Do not go there". She finally took her hand away and sat straighter. Sparing a fierce glare for the general public, she went back to her dinner with as much dignity as she could muster under the present circumstances. Harry smirked and leaned back in his side of the round booth, watching her. She was trying to ignore their captive audience but he could see she was losing the battle, if the redness of her ears were any indication.
The whispers grew louder, becoming like an excited buzzing of a hive, as more and more people were clued in as to the identity of the young couple in the corner. A few of the more enthusiastic had taken to out and out pointing. And, sweet Merlin, was that a Creevey brother?
By now, he was starting to get fidgety as well but he could see that his lovely date was (as usual) miles beyond him and on the verge of exploding. Inevitably, she did. Throwing down her silverware, she started unwinding the shawl she was wearing from her shoulders, all the while muttering French curses under her breath. Harry was half-expecting her to throw the offending garment down and challenge everyone there to a fight. Oh wait - that would be his response. He was so busy imagining the spectacle of Hermione Granger dueling that he almost missed her furiously throwing the shawl over her head and winding it around herself.
For days afterward, Harry would protest that he really couldn't help his reaction. He blinked at her once, surprised, before laughing so hard at the image she presented - gorgeous young woman from the neck down, Bedouin from the neck up - that he snorted his Sauvignon right out his nose. Dark green cashmere covered her hair and most of her face, leaving only a fine pair of brown eyes peeping out - eyes that were unashamedly glaring at him.
"Harry!", she hissed. "Stop giggling!"
Well, that stopped him…at least temporarily. "I do not giggle!", he whispered, outraged.
"Well, you do and you did."
Wiping off the wine from himself, he looked at her again and giggled sniggered.
"Harry! This isn't funny!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…I'll stop." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Though I don't know how you think this-", he made a vague hand gesture to her impromptu disguise "-would help."
She scowled (or at least he thought she did) before lifting her eyes to his and pointedly gesturing with them towards the surrounding tables. The scandalized twitters and the glares of three women two tables down sufficed as her answer. He lifted a hand to clasp hers and stroke it. Soothingly, he murmured, "Sweetheart, just ignore them."
She looked at him. "That's proving a little difficult."
He could practically picture the pout hiding behind the layer of fabric and on instinct, leaned in to kiss her. Only to end up with a mouthful of fuzzy cashmere.
She stifled a laugh. "Serves you right for giggling."
He let out a long-suffering sigh then scooted over closer to her in the booth. Draping an arm around her waist, he began to unravel his girlfriend from her unorthodox headgear with his free hand.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to get this thing off you. How am I supposed to steal kisses when you covered the important parts?"
Her hand stayed his. "Harry, they're going to see."
"Does it matter now?", he whispered earnestly. She had wanted to keep their relationship a secret and he had agreed but was finding it harder and harder as the weeks went by. Most of the time, he just wanted to run around telling everyone…possibly even shout it from rooftops.
She stared into his eyes for beat, as if searching for something. Finally, she smiled and helped him take off the shawl. Bit by bit, Hermione Granger was again uncovered to the world. She flushed again as Harry took advantage of this and kissed her quickly on the lips.
He was well satisfied with himself. "There…much better. You looked ridiculous in that headdress thingy"
"I did not!", she huffed before slapping him on the arm. He grinned back at her and pulled her closer to his side.
She sniffed indignantly but made no move to remove his arm. "It's no less ridiculous than the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived with wine running from his nose. Now for that, I'd subscribe to the Prophet again."
Now it was his turn to blush. Of course he just had to fall in love with a woman who gave it as good as she got. He tried to cover up his discomfort by kissing her again but soon the kiss turned fierce and possessive. After so many minutes, they broke apart for air and attempted to regain a semblance of control. Soon, the room, which had fallen into a shocked silence at their very public display of affection, went into gossip overdrive.
The renewed buzzing and tittering reached a fever pitch and Harry was loath to see the mortification he was sure was expressed in Hermione's face. Finally, he glanced at her and was surprised to see a look of contented resignation as she played with the buttons on his shirt. She sighed and looked up at him. He couldn't be certain but there was almost a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"Well, it looks like I'll be breaking out the Scarlet Woman robes for the rest of the season."
His lips involuntarily quirked. "Personally, I prefer your Wanton Wench ones."
She laughed softly and kissed him on the nose. Harry's body practically thrummed with happiness. He was in love with Hermione Granger and that was all that mattered.
The rest of the Wizarding World could go hang.