Unofficial Portkey Archive

Keeping With the Company

by coven

Rated PG-13

Hermione offers her best friend Harry a place to stay after a girl discards him. Harry accepts, knowing that the arrangement is indefinite until he finds a suitable place for himself, but things take a strange turn when they both find out that keeping each other company is turning out to be a permanent thing after all.

Disclaimer:

This is a Harry Potter fan fiction. Standard disclaimers apply.

Notes:

Uploaded by request. This is the same unedited and non beta-read version of the fic that I first posted about 4 years ago. If there are inconsistencies, OOC characters, plot holes, grammar and typo errors, and if the formatting sucks (I had to format it to Word from PDF) then I apologize. I haven't gone over it again and I crossed my fingers that you would be forgiving enough when I clicked the upload button.

A million thanks to all those who still like to read this fic after all this time. It really means so much to me! Props to gal-texter too, since she loves you all enough to keep on contacting me. Haha.

Yes, there is some minor Draco-Hermione thing going on here in some parts so for die-hard Harry-Hermione fans, you've been warned!

Cheers!

CHAPTERS 1- 6

Chapter 1: Midnight Visit

It was a peaceful normal night. The streets of Muggle London were sleeping soundly in their silence. Nothing could be heard except the occasional hum of cars passing through. Everyone, both Muggle and Wizard alike, was in bed enjoying his or her weekend respite.

But in a room somewhere, one Hermione Granger woke up in a start.

"Harry," she said with a sharp intake of breath.

And as if on cue, a muffled "poof" sounded just right outside her bedroom door.

"Hermione?" an unsure voice called out.

"God," Hermione shut her eyes tight for a second. "It is him."

It wasn't supposed to be surprising at all if Harry would visit her at midnight. After all, he had done this countless of times before. If Harry had any good news that couldn't wait until the next morning, he'd apparate in. If Harry was bothered by something and needed someone to go things over with, he'd apparate in. If Harry was being stalked by one of his millions of fan girls and wanted to hide for a few hours, he'd apparate in. If Harry had another of his now-seldom-occurring nightmares and couldn't go back to sleep, he'd apparate in. In other words, if Harry needed to be with someone, he'd apparate in.

It wasn't supposed to be surprising at all because Hermione was so used to this that she had developed a "Harry Radar"- something more like a sixth sense when it came to her best friend. What happened earlier- waking up a second before Harry crashed in, was one such example.

It wasn't supposed to be surprising at all. Except, perhaps, for the fact that it had already been six months since Harry's last midnight visit. That particular time being when Harry enthusiastically dropped in and announced that he had found the "girl of his dreams." This was in the form of Bianca, a perpetually overexcited quidditch fan girl. Apparently, Harry had seen something redeeming in "Blanca dahling," otherwise he wouldn't have moved in with her. This big step that Harry took had stopped altogether his nightly rendezvous with his dear best friend.

Therefore, it wasn't supposed to be surprising at all, and in fact very much justified, if Hermione Granger had the urge to throttle the Great Harry Potter. Another option was to plague him with hexes. Either way would nicely nurse her bruised feelings.

"And where is Bianca now, Harry?"

With that question in mind, Hermione sneered. She stood up, shrugged into her dressing gown, and energetically walked to the door to let her prodigal friend have a piece of her mind.

"Hermione, can I come in?" Harry's uneasy voice filtered through the closed door. "Are you decent?"

For a brief moment, Hermione rubbed her forehead, and out of annoyance answered, "No, I'm naked in bed with Draco."

She smirked as she heard a shocked "Oh," from Harry.

With that, she yanked the door open and her smirk melted away as she saw the disheveled bloke that was her friend. There was something about a bothered Harry that made him irresistible to Hermione's eyes, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Honestly, Harry James Potter!" she started. "You bloody believed that I was in bed with that git?"

"Shagging Draco," Harry admitted quietly, running his hand through his hair, seemingly a bit embarrassed.

Hermione tried to find ways to hide the complacency she felt at seeing Harry squirm at the idea. She ended up placing her arms across her chest, looking at him as if he was Professor Snape deducting points from Gryffindor.

"Ha!"

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, Hermione saw the lackluster in them. She knew then that something was really wrong, and for a moment she was willing to forget her selfishness.

Not!

Instead, she steeled herself, mentally trampling that seed of sympathy budding at the depths of her heart into a pulp. She would make him pay.

Harry stepped closer to her, softly placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered. "What was I supposed to think? You dated the guy."

"Once!"

"Which I thought was one date too many…" Harry muttered then added aloud, "I said sorry right? And besides, I wouldn't know if you were actually er, alone would I?"

Hermione sighed. This was so true. And she couldn't really blame Harry. Once, almost a year ago, he had walked in on Hermione and Draco Malfoy locked in an embrace - which was actually the result of a spell gone wrong. Being Aurors on the same assignment, the two were formulating ways of apprehending Death Eaters. Unfortunately, Draco mispronounced one of the spells they were trying out. Thus, resulting in him getting stuck with Hermione in such a compromising, if not really unpleasant, situation.

To say that Harry was shocked was an understatement. Of course, Draco had redeemed himself by joining their side during the final years of the Second Great Wizard War, but Harry found the idea of his best chum snogging with Draco Malfoy as still implausible.

"Better me than your other best mate, right?" Hermione had mischievously said, when she confided in him that she had indeed gone out with Draco. That made Harry wary of the other bloke for about a week. Draco and Hermione, he could still take, but him and Ron? From then, Harry shuddered when he recalled the image in his head. He blamed his overactive imagination for this.

Anyway, that experience taught Harry to apparate outside Hermione's bedroom door. Whatever extracurricular activities she was engaged in, he didn't want to know. Although he wouldn't admit it, he was a bit disturbed at the thought of Hermione getting intimate with anyone. It was a normal reaction due to his brotherly feelings towards her, he thought. However, he had a nagging suspicion deep inside that it was something else. This, he didn't bother to find out. Harry, the boy who defeated Voldemort more than once, was afraid of whatever answer this self-questioning might bring.

Harry was aware of Hermione's grumpiness, and he knew exactly what to do.

Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust. She wasn't expecting Harry to pull out his best weapon-The Puppy-Dog Look.

"Oh bloody hell, Harry," Hermione whined. "I hate it when you do that!"

"What?" Harry shrugged.

Hermione jabbed a finger in his chest.

"That!"

"This?" Harry joked, pouting forlornly.

She bit her lip, trying her best not to smile, although, it did make her glad to notice the sparkle returning in those emerald eyes of his. Hermione exhaled loudly and started to walk towards the kitchen, turning lights on as she went.

"Okay, Harry that's cute," she said in semi-defeat. "So what brings you here?"

Harry, relieved and amused at Hermione's actions, sat on the kitchen chair.

"She left me," he said tiredly.

Hermione froze at the act of putting the kettle on the cooker. She turned around with a skeptical look on her face.

"What?"

Harry looked at her straight in the eyes.

"Bianca," he said softly. "She left me."

"Wait…" Hermione wanted to leap in happiness, but she saw that bland look return. She started to mentally do a cartwheel instead when Harry blurted a, "No."

"Oh," Hermione frowned. Too early to celebrate; hold the cartwheel!

"She told me to leave," Harry corrected.

She cleared her throat, not wanting her delight to be too evident in her voice. Okay, she was happy about this latest development because she hated the woman and how she manipulated Harry's time. However, it didn't mean she wasn't feeling sorry for him. She really was. Whatever affected Harry, affected her too. For some reason, she had become Harry's sponge - one that absorbed everything Harry, from his problems to his thoughts, and of course, his moods and emotions.

"Rewind that a bit… Bianca told you to leave?"

"Yes," Harry grunted. "My things are actually making themselves comfortable in your drawing room right now."

Hermione glanced through the door and saw the said bags plus several boxes. Turning around she said, "And this sudden moving-out results from what incident?"

"She replaced me with another bloke!" Harry muttered.

The whistling of the kettle interrupted them. Hermione simply raised a brow. Taking her time, she went on pouring the tea into two cups. She added milk and two sugar cubes in one, this she set in front of a glowering Harry. While in the other, she just poured milk.

"You didn't waste time, did you?" she said quietly, stirring her tea.

"Why would I?" Harry, frustrated, pushed his cup away, and added, "A bloody fortnight with no decency to inform me about her sudden decision to change bed mates!"

Hermione merely watched Harry as he went on his tirade.

"I adjusted to her erratic mood swings. I rented a space at the owlery for poor Hedwig because she's allergic to feathers. I even gave up my flat just to move in with her! "

"Ah," she nodded knowingly.

Harry took a sip of his tea, not minding that it was scalding hot.

"And I can't believe you're giving me the cold-water," he spat, pointing out the way Hermione was being blasé about the whole thing.

Hermione simpered at this, her irritation growing by the minute.

"What do you want me to do then? Cuddle you like a babe?"

"No!" Harry threw his hands in the air. "But you could at least be sympathetic about it."

Hermione set her cup down and as nonchalantly as she could replied, "If what you really are worried about is your flat, then it's not your heart that's hurting- it's your ego…"

Harry scoffed at her.

"Since when have you become catty?"

For some uncanny reason, she felt angry tears burn at the back of her eyes. Hermione wasn't usually emotional. This kind of remark from Ron or Harry would normally just earn them a glare from her, but there was something to be said about pent up anger trying to get out. Her fury, at the moment, was on the verge of boiling over.

How dared he!

Hermione stood up so suddenly that the tea sloshed on the table. With bright eyes, she glared at Harry, her hands gripping the edges of the table tightly. She saw Harry opened his mouth with no word coming out, but she didn't care.

"Catty!" Hermione shouted. "Catty? Well I'm so sorry Harry James Potter, if you think I'm being catty."

"Herm…"

"No," Hermione held up a hand trembling with rage. "Let me finish this. Otherwise, I wouldn't be rational for days."

Harry plainly nodded.

"Bugger Harry! You lost touch with Bianca for a fortnight and you obviously felt dejected. How about six months? Half a year with nothing except a note or two from Hedwig. 'Hello Hermione. How are you? I'm doing really great and so is Bianca. Well, that's it. See you soon.' See you soon? How soon are six months Harry? How soon are six months?"

The man being questioned opened his mouth again to answer, but decided to do otherwise as Hermione screamed in aggravation.

"And then you come in here, disturbing my peace as if nothing bloody hell happened. Now tell me, do I have the right to be catty, or don't I?"

Harry continued to stare at her dumbfounded. Silence ensued as Hermione tried to catch her breath. Harry cleared his throat and quietly stood up. Hermione followed him with her eyes as he got a glass from the cupboard then proceeded to fill it with water. Turning around, he gave the glass to his friend and watched with amusement as she downed the liquid in three huge gulps. Harry took the glass from her hand, and placed it on the table gently.

Now facing her, he started, "Can you be rational now?"

Knackered with her unexpected eruption, Hermione nodded and allowed Harry to pull her down to his lap. To her great mortification, she burst into tears. She couldn't stop and she cried more in embarrassment as she felt Harry chuckle.

"I… I…" she hiccupped. "I'm glad you're finding this amusing, you twit!"

Harry brushed her hair away from her wet face, and gazed into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he simply said. No explanations, no excuses. This caused another bout of weeping from the woman in his arms.

"I'm sorry too," she croaked, words flowing from her easily as were her tears. "I didn't mean to fire up like that. I guess I was jealous of Bianca because of all the time you were spending with her. It felt like you didn't need me anymore."

"Oh…"

She shook her head.

"I know it's silly but I spent fifteen years of my life being needed by you and Ron. I told myself that it wouldn't always be like this and that you wouldn't be needing me all the time, but I can't help it. I can't let go of you gits! Remember the time when Ron got together with Luna?"

Harry smiled, recalling the scenes ten years ago. Hermione was so protective of Ron that everybody thought she had more than friendly feelings towards their other best mate. Of course, this wasn't true. She was just that - being overprotective. Besides, she was readily able to get over her "motherly nature," because she happened to like Luna immensely. Hermione was even bridesmaid at the couple's wedding a year later.

"Yeah, you were really mental about that one."

Hermione playfully swatted Harry, and clamped her mouth to stifle a yawn.

"You'd better get to bed," Harry said concernedly, helping her to her feet. "And I'd better get going."

"Huh?"

"Well," Harry explained. "You need your beauty sleep right?"

Hermione scoffed at the idea. With an incantation, she cleaned the cups and put them back in order.

"And where are you supposing you'd sleep?"

Harry shrugged.

"I was thinking of getting a room in a hotel…"

"Heavens Harry!" Hermione rejoined. "What is wrong with staying here?"

"Er…"

"I'm not bound to slaughter you in your sleep."

Harry grinned guiltily, he was actually thinking in those lines. After seeing Hermione earlier haranguing, he decided she really was capable of doing anything when livid.

"Thanks," he said. "Go ahead then. I can get myself comfortable on the sofa."

"Hah!" Hermione grinned evilly. "Not a chance. I just got you back so I'm not letting you go for a while. You're sleeping with me!"

"What?" Harry gaped at her as if she had changed into a human-cat (which he had seen happen once, ages ago).

Hermione laughed.

"Of course," she giggled - something that is so uncharacteristically Hermione. "Not in that sense, silly!"

Harry sighed.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured to himself. "It's just the emotional turmoil brought by the roller coaster of events taking over."

"Well come on now," Hermione grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her towards the bedroom, the change in her mood obvious. She was really glad Harry was there.

Harry shook his head in defeat and couldn't resist a "Well I hope there's no Malfoy there."

"Honestly, Harry!"

The two laughed, as they got ready for bed.

After a while, Hermione found herself nestled in Harry's arms.

"Sorry about earlier, I was absolutely gutted!" she said tiredly. "You're the one who went here for a crying shoulder. I turned you into one instead."

Harry grinned, his chin resting on the top of her head. He was just happy to be in the good graces of his friend again. It was with no doubt that he truly missed Hermione.

"Wouldn't miss your outburst for anything," he said then shrugged. "And I guess you're right. Though I'm sad about what happened with Bianca, I realized that it was more out of disappointment of not being able to get what I had expected from the relationship in the first place."

"Let me guess," Hermione, being smart as she was, couldn't keep from concluding. " Marriage?"

Hermione felt him move his head in agreement.

Hermione pulled his arm around her more tightly.

"It'll come Harry. The future Mrs. Harry James Evans Potter will come eventually."

He smiled at that.

"And this is coming from the girl who doesn't believe in Divination."

"Hahaha," she said blandly. "You know what I mean, Harry."

Then silence.

"Harry?" Hermione murmured sleepily after a few minutes.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm glad you're here."

Harry smiled.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too."

And with that the two friends let exhaustion, and the comfort of each other's warmth lure them into a contented sleep.

Chapter 2: Morning Menace

Due to the lateness of the hour that Hermione was able to sleep, and the fact that there was a deliciously warm body snuggling her, it was quite understandable that she was still dead to the world, and had completely forgotten that she had a sort-of appointment at ten o' clock.

At a quarter after ten, another muffled "poof" resounded in Hermione's flat, this time more specifically coming from her fireplace. Of course, Hermione and her bed partner were still in the land of nod when this happened. Alas, this nice state of oblivion would soon be interrupted by a dreaded menace.

"Hermione! Hermione!" an excited high-pitched voice broke through the morning stillness.

"Shh…" This time a deep male voice followed.

"Where is Hermione?" the squeaky voice asked.

"Not too loud," the amused deep voice said. "I suppose she's still sleeping."

"But she shouldn't be! She knows I'm coming. I'm waking her up!"

"No… wait…"

It was too late. Squeaky Voice eagerly ran towards the door of Hermione's room and opened it, not knowing that what he'd be seeing would cause him anguish for the next twenty minutes of his life.

"Hermione!"

Arthur Weasley II felt his nine-year-old world crumble at his feet. After all the preparation he painstakingly did just so Hermione would be proud of him! He seethed as he remembered that for the first time he had taken a bath without being told to. He had even washed behind his ears! And all of these wasted down the proverbial drain.

He had refused to call Hermione 'Aunt' ever since he decided that he wanted to marry her when he grew up. He knew it would still take years before he could actually ask her, and he wasn't expecting much from her either. However, he never thought he would see his 'girlfriend' in bed with a man cuddling her. Artie didn't like the way that masculine arm was placed intimately on top of her. He was holding her in his sleep just like the way Artie would sometimes see his Dad cuddle his Mum, whenever he would sneak into their room to wake them up in the morning.

But it was not just any man. It was his Godfather-slash-Uncle Harry. The Harry Potter who was the Great Wizard who defeated Voldie-Moldy in the bedtime stories his Mum would read him. The Harry Potter who signed and personally dedicated a quidditch poster to 'the Great Artie Weasley, Future Quidditch Star' that hung on his bedroom wall. The Harry Potter who was his next hero after his Dad. The Harry Potter who was now awake and blindly reaching for his glasses on the side table.

If there were things that Artie Weasley got from his father, aside from the red hair and freckles, they were the jealousy and the quick temper. Without any warning, Artie exhibited these traits well as he jumped on Hermione's bed, and attacked a very much-disorientated Harry.

"Why Hermione? Why Hermione?"

"What the…" Harry, who was awakened by the shrill 'Hermione' earlier, was surprised as a small bundle of clothes and skin charged at him, ridding the wind off his body by landing on his stomach, and started kicking and punching whatever part of him was defenceless.

Hermione, who was also startled awake by Artie's screaming, was surprised to see her godson trying to kill Harry.

"What's happening…" Ron appeared at the door. "Artie!"

And the assault ended with the father of the offender plucking his small body from the poor unsuspecting victim.

"Let go of me Dad!" Artie screamed, surprisingly articulate for his age. "He was with Hermione!"

Ron, torn between amusement and love for his son, assumed his role as father and cast a wry grin at his two friends who were still too perplexed to move from their petrified state.

"Ron…" Hermione started, as she regained sense of what was going on. But she stopped when she saw the 'later' look on Ron's face.

"We'll just be in the kitchen," Ron said, trying to pacify the still squirming Artie. "Give you some time…"

The air was tense until Harry let out a slow whistle after Ron and Artie were out of the room.

"That kid's got it bad for you," he said with a smile. "Better me than Draco though, otherwise he'd be scarred for life."

"Will you stop winding me up with that Malfoy bit?" Hermione glowered at him. "This is no laughing matter," she continued, really worried about the child. "For Artie it is serious!"

Harry knew this, and he too was concerned for his godson. That was why he made his resolve to talk with the boy, how exactly? That one he still needed to find out.

He sighed and looked at Hermione, who was now standing beside the bed by the window, biting her nails anxiously. She was wearing a red pyjama top that hung loose on her slight frame, and a pair of black drawstring shorts. Her hair, which she had learned to tame, was definitely untamed at the moment from sleep. Harry shook his head, confused at why he found this picture endearing.

Hermione continued nibbling on her nails, aware that Harry was looking at her strangely. Quickly becoming conscious of her appearance, and thus becoming more distressed because of this, she blurted out an irritated, "What?"

"Nothing," Harry shrugged, and before he could stop himself said, "Can't really blame the kid for his taste you know?

With that, he jumped off the bed and exited the room leaving a blushing Hermione behind.

"Where is he?" Harry asked as he entered the kitchen.

Ron looked up from his paper and motioned at the adjoining dining room where Artie was sulking on a plush chair. The boy turned his head and caught his Uncle Harry looking at him. Harry gave him a tentative smile but was greeted by a murderous glare instead.

Harry sighed and turned to the father for backup.

"You aren't going to help me, are you?" he asked.

Ron shook his head, still engrossed with his paper.

"You're on your own on this one," he said. "After all, you were indeed caught in bed with Hermione. Bear the consequences."

"He's his father's son alright," he said, sitting down.

'What can I say?" Ron shrugged, turning pages. "You stole his girl, mate."

Harry snorted at this, looking at Artie thoughtfully, planning how he'd alleviate the situation.

"Luvvly," Harry griped. "I'm glad you're not asking questions. You won't believe why I ended up here anyway…"

"Yup I will," Ron answered. "You were here for what we mere men-folk know as a rebound shag."

Harry was gob smacked.

"Are you even supposed to talk like that with a minor in the vicinity?" he hissed.

"And to contradict that, no! No rebound shag or any kind of shagging happened between Hermione and I."

Ron laughed at Harry's discomfort. His friend had no idea that he was just trying to get back at him for the six months Harry neglected to give quality time to his godson.

"Besides," Harry rambled on, obviously a bit bothered by the idea, he just didn't know why. "We're only friends and you know we've been doing platonic-sleeping ever since our Hogwarts days. Wait…" Harry's voice trailed off. "Rebound shag? Rebound? You knew Bianca and I are over?"

Ron flipped the paper to the 'Entertainment' section and landed it in front of the other chap. Harry looked down and saw a picture of him and Bianca with a jagged line in the middle. The caption read, 'Who will be the next future Mrs. Potter? Boy-Who-Lived and girlfriend Bianca Simmons call it quits.' This was followed by an interview of his now ex-girlfriend.

Harry groaned. "That girl is amazing…"

"Yeah," Ron said. "So amazing that you aren't with her now."

"Haha, very funny, Ron."

Ron smiled. "Glad to oblige!"

"What's funny?"

Both men turned as Hermione stepped in the room. She was now wearing her dressing gown over her sleeping attire, and her hair was pulled back in a hastily tied ponytail.

"Nice," Ron teased. "Haute couture?"

Hermione gave him a bland look.

"Artie?" she asked, as she proceeded to go to the dining room "I'll talk to him…"

Harry clamped a hand on her arm. "No, I'll do it."

Ron and Hermione watched as Harry walked towards the refrigerator door to get two cans of manufactured pumpkin juice.

"Wish me luck," he said, and strode off, closing the door behind him.

"Pumpkin juice," Ron muttered. "Is he going to bribe Artie with that? What does he think of my son?"

Hermione heaved a sigh. She went to Ron and embraced him.

"Your son is so cute," she said simply and gave the man a kiss on the cheek. "And I don't think he'll buy it, which makes him smart to boot."

"Takes after his father," Ron said cheekily and winked at Hermione, then added, "Good that Harry's diverted his attention from us. Otherwise, I have a lot of explaining to do about receiving a kiss from my son's girlfriend."

Hermione chuckled at that, and proceeded to make some tea, this time she didn't bother with manual labour. With her wand, she directed ingredients and utensils to do their job. Within minutes a pot of steaming coffee and a plateful of bagels appeared on the table, much to the delight of Ron's stomach.

"Sorry about this," she said, watching amusedly as Ron attacked the grub. "Harry came last night. He and…"

"The scarlet woman broke up, I know."

She arched an eyebrow at that.

"Honestly, Ron. You still use that word?" she said and handed Ron a napkin.

"Thanks…" Ron swallowed then said, tapping a finger at his temple, "Got it ingrained here, what with fourth year and all. Anyway, the break-up's in the papers."

Hermione took the copy of 'The Daily Prophet' lying on the kitchen counter and skimmed through the article.

"That woman is amazing!"

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Same thing our Romeo said. I, for one, am glad that this pseudo-relationship is over."

"Hmm, and Harry said I'm the catty one," Hermione muttered sipping at her coffee. "I wasn't aware that we shared the same opinion."

Ron sniggered, contemplating on getting a third bagel.

"I was counting days. That girl was a bad influence on our chap. Remember that he only stayed at Artie's birthday party for a full bloody thirty minutes because Bianca didn't like children much less noisy children's parties. He owes my son much more than a can of pumpkin juice."

Hermione laughed softly.

"Harry heard an earful from me last night," she said.

"Oh?" Ron snickered. "You screamed in the throes of passion?"

She made a face and threw her table napkin at him.

"You're despicable. I don't know how Luna puts up with you!" she ribbed.

Ron smiled proudly at this, putting on a smile that was the evidence of a happy and contented life as both husband and father.

"That is because she loves me," he said.

"And how is she by the way?" Hermione said, not contesting what Ron had said. It was true in all the simplicity of the statement. "Is she coming home as scheduled?"

"Yeah," Ron answered. "She said that covering the World-Wizarding Conference was a dream-come-true, and that Switzerland is a wonderful place. But yeah she misses her handsome husband and wonderful son."

"Oh yes on the part about the 'son,' but the one about the 'husband?' Well, we all know the truth!"

Hermione chuckled and ignored Ron's protests as she glanced at the closed door and wondered if Harry was indeed making progress with Artie.

****

Artie knew the exact moment Uncle Harry stepped inside the room. Like his Mom, he was very intuitive and sensitive to his surroundings. He had felt Uncle Harry's presence because he also felt the sudden shift in the air. This didn't really surprise him much because after all, Uncle Harry was a very powerful wizard. Artie grunted. Yes, powerful he might be, but he still stole HIS Hermione.

Another trait he inherited from his Mom was his intelligence. After all, Luna was in Ravenclaw. Artie started talking even before he was a year old. He also started reading when he was only two, much to his parents, and specially Hermione's delight. But it was neither the eloquence nor the early development that stood out among his many wonderful traits. Artie may be only nine years old but his logic was exemplary. And for the past ten minutes, just before his Uncle Harry joined him in the dining room, he was processing the scenario he saw earlier in his mind.

Artie frowned. Why did HE have to go after her? The last time he saw Uncle Harry was at his birthday party a month ago. Although he didn't like his Uncle Harry's taste in women, the 'Bianca' he came with was really beautiful.

'Well, in a scary sort of way,' Artie decided. She wasn't anything like Hermione who was sweet, and funny, and really kind. The 'Bianca' didn't like children. She had looked disgustingly at Artie when Uncle Harry introduced her to him. She also didn't participate in the games. Besides, she was always stuck at Uncle Harry's side. She also didn't laugh much, and when she did it was a whiny one that made him think of nails scratching on a blackboard. She also smelled strongly like those perfume counters his Mum went to in Muggle department stores. On the other hand, Hermione smelled like sunshine and spring. If Uncle Harry liked beautiful but scary women, then why was he in bed with Hermione?

Artie then thought of Hermione. He suddenly remembered something he overheard the night after his party. He was on his way to the kitchen to salvage what was left of the yummy chocolate cake that Aunt Ginny baked for him, when he heard voices.

"I hate that bitch!"

"My, I never knew how colourful your vocabulary is, Hermione."

"Oh shut it Ron. Did you see the way she was clinging to Harry? Her claws were practically attached to his arm!"

"And she missed the fact that Harry didn't mind that Bianca was clinging to him."

"She must have brainwashed Harry, after all he really did look dopey every time she flashes that irksome smile of hers. Luna, do you think people or even wizards are born like that?"

"Like they're perfect?"

"Ron, why do you keep answering for Luna? Luna, can you tell your husband that he's not helping any?"

"What would you need help for?"

"We should help Harry see the truth!"

"And that blinding truth is…"

"That Bianca is Voldemort incarnate! And as members of the Order, it is our job to eradicate her from the face of the earth"

"Hermione dear, are you still aware of what you're saying? Ron, can you get that bottle of fire whiskey away from your friend?"

"Blimey, do I have too? I'm still enjoying the full mon- alright then..."

It wasn't only from replaying those voices in his head that Artie found his answer. There were also the telltale smiles and the glow in Hermione's eyes…

Suddenly, the answer dawned on Artie. How couldn't he know of it, having lived with it all of his nine-year existence? Well, if Hermione wanted THAT, then he wouldn't stand in her way, but that didn't mean he'd have to take it easy on Uncle Harry.

"Hey," Uncle Harry said as he sat down beside Artie.

Artie didn't answer.

"Want some?" Uncle Harry offered one of the cans of pumpkin juice.

Now, pumpkin juice was Artie's favourite. He looked furtively at the cold container his Uncle was offering to him, but he strengthened his resolve. He wasn't going to be swayed just by a can of pumpkin juice.

"I don't want your pumpkin juice," Artie said.

Uncle Harry nevertheless set the can on the arm of the chair, just in case Artie would change his mind. He pulled the tab of his own, and downed a huge gulp of the liquid.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said, after awhile. "I didn't know…"

"Then you have lots of things that you don't know."

Artie almost smiled at the shocked look on Uncle Harry's face.

"I don't understand…"

"Then you have lots of things that you don't understand."

Artie bit his lip. There went that look again. Hilarious!

"I'm sorry, son," Uncle Harry shook his head. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Artie shrugged.

"What colour are Aunt Hermione's eyes?"

Harry was growing more confused as the conversation went on. Trust Ron and Luna's kid to be as trivial as a Picasso painting. Though he noted his use of 'Aunt,' there was something here that he wasn't getting. He didn't bother with the thought though. Instead, he answered Artie's question. Harry thought it was the easier way to do so. But boy was he wrong.

"It depends," he answered truthfully. "When she's happy, they're molten chocolate. When she's sad, they're a wet forest, when she's angry, then they're almost black like coal."

"What does she smell like?"

Harry was finding the boy's questions really absurd, but decided to play along if this interrogation will put everything to right. He had thought at first that pumpkin juice would do the trick. He knew it was the boy's favourite, but apparently it wasn't appealing to Artie at the moment.

"She smells like early morning, when everything is fresh and wet with dew."

"What is the thing she does that you like the least?"

"When she says 'honestly.'"

"What is the thing she does that you like the most?"

"When she says 'honestly.'"

Harry was surprised at his answer. But he knew it was true. There were many things about Hermione that were all endearing. But when Hermione would say 'honestly,' he gets annoyed that he sometimes wanted to kiss her just to shut her mouth.

'Wait,' Harry thought, swallowing hard on his pumpkin drink. 'Kiss? Where did that come from?"

Artie delighted in the sudden paling of Uncle Harry's face.

"Say what comes first in your mind," Artie said with an authority that could rival Professor McGonagall's. "If Aunt Hermione was an object from the wizarding world what would she be?"

"What…"

"Just answer it!"

"A snitch?"

Artie nodded at that. He was satisfied with his Uncle Harry's answers, especially the last one. After all, his Uncle Harry was the best seeker in the whole of England. With a 180-degree-turn of mood, he got the can from the armrest and pulled the tab.

"Come on Uncle Harry," Artie smilingly said after taking a gulp from the can. "I'm sure Dad and Aunt Hermione are waiting for us."

"What was that all about?" Harry asked incredulously. "Weren't you just angry a while ago?"

"Yup," Artie nodded.

"But you're not angry anymore?"

"Nope," the young boy shook his head, eyes sparkling.

Harry frowned. He had a feeling he was sorely missing something here. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Artie replied innocently, let Uncle Harry think what he wanted to think. "I just love pumpkin juice!

*****

Turning to Ron, Hermione announced, "I have a theory…"

"Oh no, you can't let a day pass without making theories huh?"

"Seriously, Ron, hear me out on this."

"Okay, I'm listening," Ron said, having no choice on the matter. Hermione would make herself be listened to whether he liked it or not.

"I think Harry's tired."

"Huh?" Ron was perplexed. "I've never seen anyone with that kind of energy on the quidditch field. You should see his…"

"No," Hermione threw her hands up. "Honestly! I'm talking about him being knackered about the direction his life is going on."

"Oh!"

"I mean, he hasn't really gotten it easy- having the worst childhood, having such a great responsibility growing up, having been pressured in doing his best at anything. He's tired of it, Ron!"

Ron understood it, but he was actually realizing something more, and he doubted Hermione knew about it. He saw the pain in Hermione's eyes, and heard it in her voice too as she spoke of Harry.

"That's why I can't really blame him for hooking up with Bianca," she continued wistfully. "He wanted someone to be with him for just being him- no pressure, no anything."

Yes, Ron knew what this was all about.

"You're saying, luv, that Harry needs someone to love who will love him back unconditionally."

Hermione looked at Ron strangely. If she said this ten years ago, he would have answered, "Bloody hell, Hermione! Don't go mushy on me." Ron- family man, her best friend, had matured a lot and she was so happy about it that she wanted to cry.

"Woah, luv!" Ron said, noticing the sparkly eyes. "Don't go mushy on me!"

Hermione doubled up at that. Sometimes, there were some things that weren't really bound to change.

"Seriously Hermione. Don't worry about Harry too much," Ron declared matter-of-factly then mumbled to himself, "Besides, Ms. Right is just probably right under his nose…"

"Hmm?"

And before Ron could change his mind about not meddling in his friends' love lives or lack thereof, the dining room door opened revealing a bewildered Harry. Beside him was a smiling Artie, holding a can of pumpkin juice.

Chapter 3: Just Perfect

Whatever cloud had descended at Hermione's home had been lifted somehow. Seeing Artie bounce into the kitchen as if nothing happened had melted Hermione's worries away. But then it was only natural to have it replaced by curiosity. She had been meaning to ask for an explanation on the sudden change of atmosphere, but chose to be patient about it. If she needed answers then she would have to ask Harry about it later.

Ron, who knew his son better than anyone else, except of course for Luna, had an inkling of what went on behind the closed door. It also helped that he caught a sly wink from Artie over Hermione's shoulder as he gave his 'Aunt Hermione' a hug. Judging from Harry's baffled face, the boy had obviously pulled one on his godfather, a fact that his fatherly pride wanted to gloat over for.

"Do you want some bagel, Artie?" Hermione asked as she watched the boy with fondness. "I got the cream cheese you like."

Artie grinned and nodded.

Hermione hummed as she proceeded to lavishly spread Artie's bagel with blended cheese.

"Hey," Harry, who was busy re-reading the Bianca article on the newspaper, yelled from across the room. "Is that the one that you used to make me every Sunday morning at Hogwarts? The one that you flavour with basil and oil?"

"Maybe," Hermione teased.

Artie watched the pair closely. He hadn't yet run out of tricks in his pocket. Looking at the saccharine smile Aunt Hermione was directing towards Uncle Harry, he decided to make a kill for it.

"Why aren't you married yet, Aunt Hermione?" he asked innocently.

Hermione almost dropped the butter knife she was holding. Ron stifled his laughter by shoving another bagel in his mouth, and Harry who froze in his seat, zoomed his sight on his definitely red-faced girl best friend.

"I mean Dad and Mum got married when they were only eighteen!"

Hermione chose to chuckle nervously and with a slightly trembling hand, placed the boy's food on a saucer. She pushed the plate towards Artie and refused to meet the twinkling eyes of Ron. She definitely avoided looking at Harry. Instead, Hermione focused on the task at hand, and chose her words carefully.

"Well, because I haven't found the right guy to marry, Artie."

Artie thoughtfully nibbled on his food. How could grown-ups be so dense? He grew up in an environment where love was displayed openly. For Artie, his godparents' actions were as unnatural as Ron not being his Dad. This was going to need more work than he thought.

"Then what's wrong with Uncle Harry?"

If there were ten shades of red, then Hermione's face had gone through each of them. She put a hand to her chest, sure that she was going to need a mediwizard soon. She dared glance at Harry and saw the mischievous smile on his face. She didn't know if she should be relieved because it seemed as if Harry wasn't taking it seriously, or if she should be disappointed because of the same reason. Was he daring her to answer? Well, Hermione Granger was never one to back down from a dare, even if it was close to her ruin. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"You see, dear, I don't think there's nothing wrong about him but…."

Artie had a quick rebuttal to that.

"If there's nothing wrong with him then why don't you marry him?"

"Artie," Ron interjected. He knew that he had let Artie go on too far. And it's not that he wasn't enjoying Hermione's discomfort and Harry's confusion, but his son was treading on grown-up territory. No matter how smart he was, there were some things that Artie still wouldn't able to understand - like love and its complexity, or rather in this case, its stupidity.

"I think it's time for us to go. Remember, the reason you're here is because you wanted to say something personally to your Aunt Hermione."

Artie sighed. Dad always said the final word, and he was using that tone of voice that said, 'That's enough!' It was just too bad because he was really enjoying himself. It beats having to watch the telly.

"Dad said that if it was possible for you to have dinner with us tonight."

Hermione mouthed a 'thank you' to Ron who shook his head with a smile.

"And what would the occasion be?" Harry said, deciding that it was finally safe to join in the conversation once again.

"Daddy said that he had closed a deal…."

"A franchise," Ron said excitedly. "Business is expanding!"

"That is fantastic!" Hermione exclaimed as she went to Ron and gave him a hug.

"Congratulations mate," Harry said, giving him a light cuff at the head. Harry knew that it was no little feat for his best friend.

Ron had also been a professional quidditch player. Actually, he went into the sport a couple of years before Harry did. He tried working at the ministry for a few years but knew he wasn't happy there. So with the encouragement of his wife, family, and friends, he tested his luck, attended a try-out, and got accepted. He was no Harry Potter, but his charm and his superb chaser abilities made him very bankable. He was signed in million galleon contracts and product endorsements. Thank Merlin for Hermione's practical advises and the fact that he had a family to think of, Ron was able to save his earnings. No one had foreseen that only after four years of playing, the star chaser for the Puddlemere United would be injured badly enough to never be able to professionally play anymore. Ron took it hard, as anyone would, but he got through it. He bought the old quidditch supplies shop at Diagon Alley and upgraded everything. This was the start of his new life as an entrepreneur.

"I had wanted to wait for Luna to come back from her assignment, but she said we'd be doing a different way of celebrating when she gets back."

"I bet," Harry laughed. "It's about time that Artie gets a new sibling."

"Please guys!" Hermione warned.

Ron laughed as he helped his son get off the kitchen counter where the child was sitting before starting off to the living room.

"Well we'd better get going then," he said, when they got to the fireplace. "Say goodbye to your godparents Artie."

"Bye Aunt Hermione!"

"I'll see you later," Hermione said, bending down as she gave Artie a hug and a kiss.

"Okay, Aunt Hermione!" Artie replied, hugging her back.

"Well, don't forget to apparate in at the backroom," Ron reminded Harry. "I neither have enough manpower nor wizardpower to keep a thousand screaming fan girls at bay."

Harry cringed.

"Don't remind me, Ron."

Ron laughed at the stricken look on Harry's face. The last time Harry Potter used the front door of Ron's quidditch shop was almost a year ago. It was also the time that Harry had signed a check of twenty thousand galleons to Ron as payment for the damage the stampede had caused. Ron, who didn't really need the money, accepted it anyway knowing that Harry's principles demanded it.

Ron laughed heartily and thumped Harry at the back.

"We'll see you later folks," he said, taking Artie by the hand.

"Cheers Artie," Harry said.

"Cheers Uncle Harry!" Artie waved at his godfather before Ron flooed them out.

"I've never been so happy to see that boy leave. Whatever did you say to him?" Hermione shook her head.

"I have no idea," Harry shrugged. "One minute he was throwing daggers at me, the next he was all chirpy. Must be the pumpkin juice."

Hermione laughed at that. "There's more to that Harry. Artie wouldn't be bribed and that was what you resorted to. He was calling me 'Aunt' again, and then he was asking those pointed questions."

"Believe me you weren't the only victim," Harry chuckled as he and Hermione returned to the kitchen. "But whatever did happen, I'm glad that was over. I hate picking bones with that child. He's too smart for his own good. By the way I'll do the dishes."

"Be my guest," Hermione swept her arm in a flourish, indicating the sink. "You know how I dislike doing dishes even when using magic."

"As you wish, my lady," Harry bowed and started concentrating on the task at hand.

Hermione watched as Harry methodically dirty-rinsed the dishes before soaping them. Both of them had developed a habit of doing menial chores without magic, especially when they were at the Muggle world. They had both concluded that doing it the 'Muggle way' helped relieve stress.

"I was thinking of looking for flats today," Harry said. "But with what Ron said, I think I'd lie-low for a while, especially after that newspaper stunt Bianca pulled. Would that be okay, Hermione?"

"Huh?" Hermione wasn't exactly listening. She was too busy relishing the way Harry's shoulders tauten deliciously under his shirt as he did his chore. "Oh yeah, why not? I was going to suggest that you stay here for as long as you like."

"Well thanks," Harry replied, tossing a dishtowel at her. "But I don't really want to intrude on your private life."

Hermione finished drying a cup and had Harry stow it before saying a monotonous, "From your tone Harry, this conversation is leading once again to Draco."

Harry blinked at Hermione and innocently answered, "I have no idea of what you are talking about."

Hermione stuck a tongue at him.

"Seriously, Harry," she said exasperatedly. "I don't know why you find it in you to wind me up like that."

Harry grinned mischievously.

"I just like it when you're really, really riled."

"Oh thanks a lot!" Hermione shook her head. "That is so mature of you."

"You're welcome," Harry replied good-naturedly.

"Harry," Hermione expelled a frustrated breath. "Is the idea of Draco and me being together really that outrageous?"

Harry turned to Hermione as he was stowing the last of the dishes. Was she actually trying to say something? He pretended to ponder over the question.

"Yes," he answered.

"Seriously!"

Harry sighed. He hated answering these kinds of questions.

"Seriously?" he repeated. "Well not really. He turned out to be an okay bloke, and Moody trusts him so…"

"But you still haven't answered the question," Hermione pointed out.

"So," Harry emphasized. "It's not really THAT outrageous. Besides, you've been partners for four years now, and you've even dated him once. So my answer is no, the idea is not that outrageous. But I think you can do better with another guy."

"Okay," Hermione nodded, clearing the counter. She somehow disliked the last bit Harry said but she wasn't going to let him know it.

Harry caught her hand and looked at her straight in the eyes.

"Is there something that you would want to tell me?" he asked gravely. "I mean, last night and this morning you were acting as if the idea seems like a joke but just now…"

Harry noted Hermione's nervous laugh.

"It was just a question Harry. Besides you started it with your yarns. Hey, are you actually jealous?"

"Of Malfoy? Are you kidding?" Harry scoffed, but felt really hot at the moment.

Hermione eyed him doubtfully. She was secretly thrilled that Harry was indeed jealous of Draco.

"What?" Harry said.

"You know," Hermione giggled. "It's so funny that the two of you act like you hate each other, but in reality it's the other way around."

"Please," Harry visibly shuddered. "That didn't sound right."

She laughed and rolled her eyes and shoved the copy of 'The Daily Prophet' inside the garbage. "Anyway, I'm repeating my invitation Harry, you can stay here as long as you like."

"If it isn't a problem, maybe for a week or so until I can finally cut my own cloth," Harry said, then added, "And kidding aside, I really don't want to be a burden."

"What foolishness! Of course you won't be a burden. But I do understand that there's nothing like a home of your own. I just wanted you to know that you'll always have here a place to stay."

"Thanks, I don't know what I would do without you."

Then he went up to Hermione and kissed her on the forehead. Hermione smiled at him and gave him a hug in return.

They broke apart as they heard someone clear his throat.

"Very touching," Draco grinned. "I hope this one isn't a by-product of a mispronounced spell."

"Only you Malfoy, are capable of committing such a mistake," Harry said without missing a beat.

Hermione, to her vexation, was blushing like a schoolgirl. For the second time that day, she was caught in a sticky situation with Harry. It wasn't really that bad, except for the fact that she was getting the hang of it. She was afraid that she was enjoying the 'situations' too much, and THAT was embarrassing.

"Just give me twenty minutes Draco," Hermione sighed. She got a can of pumpkin juice and handed it to her partner. "Go watch TV."

"Yes, Ma'am," Draco saluted and proceeded to the living room, followed by a glowering Harry.

"Do you just apparate in like that?" Harry asked.

"Well, nice to see you too Potter!" Draco replied as he got the remote control under the cushions and flipped through the channels like a natural. No one would think that he spent half of his life detesting anything muggle.

Harry frowned though as he noticed how Draco was too familiar with his surroundings. He discerned how Draco knew the exact spot where the control was. He also observed that Draco got a glass coaster from the kitchen for his drink. Hermione hated it when people leave wet circles from their drinking glasses on the table. He noticed that Draco took his shoes off before walking on Hermione's prized Persian rug in the middle of the room. Did Draco know Hermione that well, or did he just have impeccable manners? Whichever it was, it still meant he was spending too much time at Hermione's place.

"Answer the question, Malfoy!"

In turn, Draco eyed him, taking in his rumpled state and shrugged.

"Yes."

"What if Hermione was parading around in her knickers? Don't you have the decency to consider that before just apparating in?" Harry pushed with his interrogation.

"Though I appreciate the picture you have nicely put in my head," Draco coolly replied. "Hermione and I had devised a charm in our respective flats so that neither of us would be able to apparate in when the other is in a tricky situation. I was actually wondering if it was working earlier, judging from the fact that I caught you and her in that particularly poignant moment."

Harry ignored this. He still wasn't satisfied with the arrangement. He refused to acknowledge the truth that he was actually jealous of the friendship Hermione had developed with Draco. He knew that this intimacy with the other man could not compare with what he and Hermione had. Still, knowing the fact that the six months he had whiled away his time with Bianca would have probably increased that closeness in the relationship of the two, irked him. However, Harry was man enough to agree, even if grudgingly, that Draco would never let anything bad happen to Hermione. He should, otherwise he was going to answer to Harry's wrath. Harry mentally shook his head and decided to quit torturing himself and stop asking Draco critical questions.

"So how's the assignment nowadays?" he asked. He may be an understanding bloke, but he still had his pride. He would never admit it to Draco that he knew little of how Hermione was doing for the past half year.

On the other hand, Draco was indeed aware of this but didn't say anything. He had outgrown the habit of giving Harry hell with such petty exploits. He was more into the bigger fish nowadays.

He remembered the full-blown rants Hermione had about Harry and Bianca. Looking at Harry now, with his very slept-in appearance, Draco wanted to kick him back to wherever he came from. How Hermione could just let him walk back to her life was beyond him. Draco suppressed the urge to put his thoughts into action, for that would expose his own agenda. He would not let Harry Potter gloat over the fact that Draco Malfoy was envious of a half-blood. He was still too much of a Malfoy to admit that.

Draco flinched inwardly. That one date with Hermione had left him longing for more. Unfortunately for him, the feeling wasn't mutual. She didn't have to say anything because it was apparent that there already was a special person in her life. What Draco couldn't understand was how no one was setting the circles to motion, not that he was complaining. In any case, it was even to his advantage. With regards to everything else, Draco decided to just stay where he was - in Hermione's good graces. It was a good place, definitely less than where he would really want to be, but definitely better than nowhere at all.

"Pretty well," Draco said shifting to a more relaxing position on the sofa. "But we're not really in the liberty to say anything about it."

"Fair enough," Harry dismissed.

"Why don't you tell me how you came about here," Draco said.

"Wow," Harry gibed at. "Is this your idea of small talk?"

Draco laughed, and shrugged.

"Maybe."

"Hey," Hermione's voice broke into the awkward silence that followed. "Sorry it took me long."

"I didn't know you people work like THAT," Harry said referring to Hermione's outfit.

Hermione looked down at her green dress. It had a very simple but classic cut, and it flattered her figure very well. Its knee-length hem and her black, heeled sandals showed off her legs to their advantage.

She noted that Draco lightened up as he saw her walk into the room. On the other hand, Harry's brows were connected together in displeasure. This reaction from him put her on defensive mode. What was wrong with him?

"And so what if I go to work like this?" she asked, stepping beside Draco.

Harry felt that twinge of jealousy again as he regarded how good they actually looked together. Draco was wearing khaki pants and a crisp white shirt. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed hearing Draco's words.

"You have your ring?"

Hermione merely showed her left hand.

"Great…"

"What!" Harry exclaimed and shook his head in disbelief. "Surely that wasn't there last night and this morning!"

Hermione looked at Draco, who was trying hard not to revel in the moment.

Meanwhile, Harry was stupidly staring at Draco's hand.

"Malfoy, what is that ring doing there?"

Draco simply smirked and pulling an amused but startled Hermione to his side, said, "Well, I now present you the new Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy!"

Chapter 4: Hurricane Harry

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy… Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy… Malfoy… Malfoy… Malfoy…

The words swam inside Harry's head. He felt as if a sledgehammer had been shoved into his gut. He gripped hard at the arm of the chair next to him, and looked from Draco to Hermione and back again. He stared at the rings in question. Was this really happening? He felt as if he was in one of those hidden camera shows. Yes, it was probably one of those.

"Hermione," Harry was vexed to find that his voice had suddenly become hoarse. "Is this true?"

"Uhmm," Hermione immediately pulled away from Draco's hold and stepped forward tentatively. "Well, sort of."

"What kind of answer is that, 'Sort of?" Harry roared.

Hermione winced.

"Harry, you're overreacting," she said as soothingly as possible.

"What do you mean overreacting?" Harry stepped closer menacingly. To say that he was stymied was an understatement. He felt betrayed, and the last time he felt that way was during the days of the Order -when he found out that Dumbledore was keeping vital information from him. He learned to forgive eventually but he never got over it. He hated the pain and he felt it rousing in him again, but this time it was different, a lot different.

"Tell me, Hermione," he spat out menacingly. "How do you think should I react to the fact that my best friend ran off and got married to a scum…?"

"Hey," somebody, who in the more cogent recesses of Harry's muddled mind sounded much like Draco, exclaimed.

"…Without even mentioning it to me?" Harry continued on, ignoring the interruption.

"Uhm, Harry," Hermione said gently.

"And to think you were fuming last night about me not spending quality time with you for six months," Harry became more chagrined as he observed how calmly Hermione was taking it. "I knew those letters on occasion weren't enough but I don't think I deserve this… this abomination!"

"Harry…"

"And oh!" he yelled, throwing his hands to the air. His vein at this temple was throbbing wildly. "That is why you were asking me just a while ago what I thought of the idea of you and HIM together. I know you're intelligent Hermione, but that was plain sneaky. Very sneaky of you…"

Hermione now understood what Harry felt last night. She silently cursed Merlin at the way the circumstances were making fun of her. She shook her head, studying Harry as he started pacing the room, not anymore talking to her but just plain raging in general. She pursed her lips and directed a baleful look at Draco who just shrugged his shoulders. Why wasn't he getting any screaming from Harry, or better yet a punch in his smug face? Why was she getting all the damage?

"And you got married to… of all people why…"

This had to stop.

"Harry!" she screamed at the completely insensible-at-the-moment bloke. "Are you done?"

"Wha-hat?" Harry shook his head as her scream finally got through him.

"I said are you done? Are you finished?" Hermione repeated a little breathlessly.

Silence followed as two people stared at each other while another stood at the sideline watching them amusedly as if enjoying a play. And it looked exactly like that. Hermione's living room was serving as a stage to a very peculiar string of events.

And then there was the sound of the beginnings of laughter. Hermione couldn't contain herself any longer, went ahead, and decided to lose herself in the absurdity of the moment. It was insane, a complete madhouse! She laughed until tears were streaming down her cheeks. Harry and Draco were only able to stare at her in befuddlement.

"Harry… Oh my gosh," she haltingly said after a while. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry… I can't… I can't…"

She stepped forward, threw her arms around the poor guy, and laughed again. She felt him stiffen but she didn't care. She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

"Oh, Harry, you buffoon! I so adore you!" she said softly before having another fit of giggles. She wiped the tears away and while still laughing said to the bystander, " Draco, can you please… I have to go… air… need air…"

Harry followed her with his eyes as she flew off, chortling like crazy. Turning to Malfoy, he said threateningly, "What the bloody hell is going on here? And wipe that smirk off your face Malfoy!"

Draco held his palms in front of him.

"Hey, easy Potter!" he said mock-scared. "You'll mess the Armani."

"I don't bloody care," Harry said with clenched teeth, his hand forming into a fist. He wasn't that daft not to know there was something else here. For the second time that morning, he was at the receiving end of life's very cruel jokes. "Explain it to me now, or the last thing you'll need to worry about are your bloody clothes!"

Draco shrugged, not really threatened by a fuming Harry Potter. He may have defeated Voldemort, but that doesn't mean he's insusceptible to pranks. And this one was a good example of that. Draco suppressed the desire to rub his hands together in glee.

"First of all," he explicated nonchalantly. "I resent the fact that you called me 'scum.' Second, Hermione and I aren't really married. The rings that you saw are really our wands charmed to look like rings. We are working undercover as a muggle couple, and we needed props that could also serve as arsenal. And third, it's not really Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, it's Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

Harry felt numb. It was just a prank, a stupid Slytherin-trademarked prank!

"Malfoy," Harry started, finally finding his voice. "Count yourself lucky that-"

"Oh, I'm so sorry Harry," Hermione gushed in, unknowingly, but fortunately, interrupting a hex. She looked much composed now, but the playful twinkle in her eyes was still there. She walked towards the two men. "What got into you, Draco?"

"Sorry," Malfoy sniggered. "The look on Potter's face… so priceless!"

"Draco!" Hermione cried exasperatedly, though Harry thought in disgust that Hermione's reprimand needed a little more heat.

"Alright, alright," Draco rolled his eyes but became rather serious as he faced Harry. He wouldn't apologize for something so brilliant so he said something that would suffice, "That was crude of me Potter."

"Give me a minute," Harry was too emotionally drained to say anything else.

Hermione sighed and got one of Harry's hands and held it in her own. She cringed as she noted that it felt cold to her touch. Draco's jokes were often a tad too mean, and this was no exception.

"We're on assignment," she explained. "Basically undercover work as a muggle couple. There is word that a former death eater is posing as a muggle doctor and is prescribing unlicensed potion for infertility to childless couples. It's usually the plebe aurors who get work of this kind, but they are already all on minor assignment so Moody gave the case to us. We still don't have an idea on to what the effect of the potion is. But the fact that the wizard used to be a death eater is still worth checking."

"And to think that they are not in the liberty to say anything," Harry muttered, glaring at Draco who blatantly ignored it.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing," Harry tiredly replied. With his free hand, he pushed his glasses up his head and rubbed at the spot between his eyes. He was genuinely feeling the stirrings of a headache.

"Harry?"

He heaved a sigh, and placed his glasses back on.

"Hmm?"

Hermione was still holding his hand. He looked at their entwined fingers and then at her solemn face. How could he deny her anything when all she needed to do was to look at him like that?

"Are you angry?"

"Am I angry?" Harry asked. "Of course it would please me greatly, if Draco does not dare show his face, say for a quarter of a century?"

"But you'll miss me," Draco joked.

"Watch it," the other man warned.

"I'm really sorry about this," Hermione repeated. "But I'll make it up to you, I promise! Please?"

Harry surrendered to the look. He noted that Hermione was doing a good imitation of his Puppy-Dog Act. The thought made him smile tentatively, which was a big mistake for Hermione soon flashed him one of her honest-to-goodness smiles - the ones that would light up her face. His anger instantly dissolved into kaput.

"Okay, I absolve you of all sins," he said jokingly in defeat. "But I'll be the one to make the call."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" Hermione let out a sigh of relief. The chime of the mantle clock suddenly reminded her of the time. "Well Draco and I have to go… Oh wait, we need to do the spell!"

Hermione cast a glamour spell on herself. In a few seconds, Harry watched as Hermione's hair turned black and sleek. Her skin suddenly had a little olive tint to it. When she turned to him, he noticed that her eyes had turned to a dark blue. Draco too had cast the spell on himself. His skin was a little tanned, and his hair and eyes too were black.

"Just make yourself at home okay?" Hermione said, once again stepping beside Draco. "I'll see you at Ron's?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and tiredly nodded.

"I hate you Malfoy," he said. "So you'd better take care of her!"

"See you Potter," Draco replied, clasping Hermione once again at the waist, which earned him a roll of the eyes from the woman. "Next time I'll send you an invitation."

"Sod off!"

Hermione blew Harry a kiss and waved as she disapparated with Draco.

Harry stood where he was for a full minute before letting out a stream of expletives. He took the aluminum can of pumpkin juice that Draco was drinking earlier and crushed it in his hands.

"A bath," he muttered. "I need a damn good bath!"

*****

"Ow!" Draco cried out in pain, as they apparated in a back alley. "What was that for?"

"That was a mean joke to play on Harry," Hermione said, planting a hand to her waist.

"I think my ear fell off," Draco said, rubbing said ear.

"Well, serves you right!" she replied.

Draco smiled and bragged a bit.

"But it was a good joke, wasn't it?'"

Hermione sighed and started to walk away in long angry strides. Draco was not only curious on how she could walk in those high heels, but he was also marveling at the sight of her legs. Hermione was already good deal away when Draco realized that he was staring long enough. He had to clamber to catch up with her on their way to the building where their suspect was holding his practice.

"What was it for?" Draco asked as if he wasn't walked out on.

"What?" Hermione, still a little annoyed at his insensitivity, was completely at a loss.

"The sigh you did earlier," he said, capturing her hand in his. They always did this when posing as muggle couples. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," she replied.

"Nothing?" Draco repeated.

One thing about Draco that Hermione learned during the years of working with him was his tenacity. He never, ever gave up on anything he had set his mind to do, or in this case, to learn.

"Oh," she admitted in irritation. "Alright, everything's just been out-of-this-world!"

Draco laughed at the expression.

"You mean, even for a witch?"

Hermione got the wit and laughed softly, squeezing Draco's hand.

"Yes," she said. "Even for a witch."

Then she related the events of last night from the second Harry apparated in, up to her outburst on learning the news of Harry's break-up.

"I'm surprised Potter hasn't been admitted to St. Mungo's," Draco supposed, and then laughed as Hermione continued on with the Artie incident. "And wait, Artie asked that? The kid's playing bloody matchmaker!"

Hermione scoffed, the last thing she needed at the moment was a Draco-speculation. Ron had complained earlier about her and her theories. Draco was more than a theorist. He thrived in conspiracy ones, and made it a hobby to prove the truth in them.

"What is there to match make?"

"Why, you and Potter of course!" Draco answered.

"Are you kidding me?" Hermione said, truly and honestly shocked at the idea.

Draco took a second look at her upturned face, and decided that the surprise there was genuine. It was given that Hermione was the smartest witch in the history of Hogwarts, but he never knew she could be a dunce in the obvious department.

"I'm serious," he retorted. "I mean, you're single, and Potter is too. He is also currently available and nursing a broken heart, which could be advantageous to you. You have known each other since you were children, so you know each other's good points as well as the not-so-appealing habits. Thus, making both of you good candidates for matchmaking!"

Hermione knew it was logical, realistic, rational, or whatever synonyms the word had. However, the idea was so farfetched! Or was it?

"But we're just best friends," she said, this time not so confidently.

"We're just best friends…" Draco snorted and mimicked her. "And this best friend was the same person who had wanted to take a vixen named Bianca out because she had allegedly used love potion on a guy? And the other best friend was the person who almost messed my good looks this morning? Funny, isn't it?"

"That was a lame argument Draco Malfoy!" Hermione said with a flip of her hair. "Best friends do get jealous too!"

"Alright, whatever you say."

"Thank you," Hermione said dignifiedly.

"You're welcome!"

Draco shrugged and since they were soon nearing their destination, decided to pursue a different topic of conversation.

"Hermione?" he asked in a rather grave tone.

"Yeah?"

"Well, if it's not Harry…"

Hermione took her hand from Draco's and faced him.

"Draco, not this again."

"What?" Draco said with a smile, casually taking back Hermione's hand in his. "You can't blame a guy for trying!"

Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn't flattered by Draco's admiration, but it was just not working with her in THAT way. She hated it when she had to parry his good-natured advances, because she knew that Draco was really serious behind the funny façade. She wished that she could reciprocate the feeling but she couldn't. She felt that there was somebody else for her. And interestingly, she was getting a feeling, one that was making her uncomfortable, that she knew him already. She gritted her teeth. She shouldn't have let Draco put ideas in her head. Now, she was starting to process what her feelings for Harry are exactly. She shoved the thoughts for later, as they were nearing their destination. She needed to fully concentrate on the task at hand, and the last thing she needed was a self-analysis of her relationship with Harry. Work now, work more later. Poor Hermione, she was confused more than ever, and it was all Draco's fault.

She walked closer to his side, and unclasping their entwined hands for the second time hooked her arm through his. She looked up at his face and said, "You're such a great FRIEND, Draco."

Draco grimaced.

"Ouch," he mock-winced. "I get the message."

"You were asking for it!"

Draco, though he was crashed to earth once again, had to laugh at the woman's gumption. Then, he stopped walking and so did Hermione as they reached a rather classy looking building. They looked at each other and nodded grimly. Fun time was over.

Draco looked down at the woman beside him and said, "So Mrs. Smith are you ready?"

Hermione smiled back.

"Ready as ever, Mr. Smith!"

Chapter 5: Love Fool

Harry looked forlornly at the boxes that were lying on the floor of Hermione's spare bedroom. Now that he had spent an hour manually moving them from the living room, he suddenly didn't know what to do. The most logical course of action was to unpack. However, he hated doing chores like so alone. It was too depressing to move especially things with sentimental value. You get one, you hold it in your hands, reminisce a little, then put it somewhere suitable. It was the same thing with packing. He didn't mind the 'getting,' the 'holding,' or even the 'putting somewhere suitable.' The worst part of the process was the reminiscing. Harry had always believed that memories were best shared rather than stored. So as for the packing-unpacking business, either somebody would do it for him, or he would get somebody to do it with him.

Or he could just do it with magic.

Being able to do wandless magic with simple spells, Harry had only to wave his hand and his stuff began flying out of the boxes and began placing themselves in drawers, cabinets, and shelves. Within a quarter of an hour, he was done.

Suddenly feeling the weariness of the uncanny events that had happened last night and earlier this morning, he fell down on the bed. He replayed the images in his head and groaned as it got to the part of the prank Draco had played on him.

"Aargh!" he cried out to the solitary silence of the room. He quickly sat up and placed both of his hands on either side of his face. He could feel the warmth creeping from his neck to his cheeks. How could he be such a fool, overreacting in such a manner?

And of course, it turned out to be a joke. Boy, Hermione must have laughed at him, because Draco surely did enjoy himself. Or worse, what if Hermione had laughed WITH Draco afterwards?

There goes that feeling of jealousy again. He hated the way it made his chest feel heavy, and his throat dry. Why would he be jealous anyway? What was Hermione to him? She was just his best friend!

Then why was he feeling this way?

'Okay, too many questions,' Harry thought, a little frustrated. 'Let's backtrack a little.'

But what if it was true? What if Hermione did get married to Malfoy? Did that mean his anger was justified? Except in Harry's heart, he knew that there wasn't even a need for anger.

"Because she would have told me," Harry said. "No matter what would have happened, she would have told me…"

No matter what excuse he could conjure at the moment, Harry knew and acknowledged the fact that he felt guilty. For six months, he had gone off and lived with a woman, and had neglected his best friend shamefully. He owled her messages, or he sent gifts on special occasions, but at the bottom of it all was that he had been a prat, big time. Yet, she forgave him. Again.

The worst part of it was this wasn't the first time he had taken Hermione for granted.

"What do you mean you're quitting?" Hermione asked.

"I'm so sorry," he said, the words suddenly stuck at the bottom of his throat. "But I don't think you would understand!"

Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment. Harry could see the different emotions she was trying to hide in them.

"Tell me Harry," she pleaded. Hermione never pleaded. She persuaded, or she nagged, but she never pleaded. "Make me understand."

Harry was starting to feel guilty about his decision to leave. He stood by the window of Hermione's room, letting the noise from the street below drown the ache in his chest. Hermione let him bide his time, that for which he was thankful. He would make her understand, even if it would take all night to talk.

"I'm tired," he started. "I don't want this anymore."

He turned to look at her and saw that she was waiting patiently for him to continue.

"All my life I have had other people decide which path I was to take. I had to spend my childhood in deprivation. I had to witness friends and family die for me. I had to the save the world. I had to be tough to survive. I had to do everything because it was what was expected of me. I had no choice."

"But it wasn't your fault Harry," she softly said.

"No, it wasn't," he agreed sadly. He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. "Don't get me wrong Hermione. I never regretted anything. I wouldn't have met you and Ron. I wouldn't have met the Weasleys, Sirius, Remus, and the others I have considered my friends, and my family. But now that it's all over… I want to make my own choices. I don't know what I want to do, but I want to take a chance to find out what it is. If it is indeed being an auror, then I'll come back. But that would mean it was something that I wanted, not something other people wanted me to do."

He heard Hermione sigh.

"I knew you just accepted Professor Moody's invitation to join because you wouldn't want to disappoint him and Professor Lupin," she said. "I didn't say anything because I was so happy we'd be training together."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I thought I would be contented but…"

Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder. Harry felt an enormous tide of relief washing over him. Hermione understood. She always did.

They stayed that way for a while.

"You know you owe me," Hermione finally broke the silence. "This means I would be training with Draco then."

And they had both laughed at that.

He knew that it was painful for Hermione to accept what he said that night, but she tried to cover it up for his sake. He let her down by leaving her alone. For two years, he traveled the world and did some soul searching. But he didn't forget. He would apparate at Hermione's whenever he would feel like it, and Hermione had always been happy to receive him. At the end of his second year as a wanderer, he had watched Ron's first professional quidditch game. It was when he was scouted. At first, he wasn't convinced that playing professionally would end his search for whatever. But he did try, and found out that he loved it. The attention was something he would rather not have, but the thrill of the game was another thing altogether. Hermione didn't say anything as usual, just supported him one hundred percent.

He smiled at that. No wonder he loved her.

Harry's smile froze. He stood up and felt the room sway around him. The woes of realization! Harry flopped back on the bed, his stomach feeling a little queasy.

"Bloody great," he said aloud to himself. "You realize you've fallen in love finally and now you want to throw up!"

Panic surged through his being. He said it aloud; the thought was now affirmed! What could he do? What would he do?

Harry James Potter had fallen in love with Hermione Jane Granger who was for sixteen years until now, had been his best friend.

'It'll come, Harry. The future Mrs. Harry James Evans Potter will come eventually.'

"By Merlin's beard Hermione," Harry muttered, still a little dazed. "You spoke too soon."

No wonder he was so jealous of Malfoy! And also that incomplete feeling he had when he was with Bianca. It was all falling into place now. It was Hermione he would run to for problems. It was Hermione he would first tell good news to. It was Hermione he would share everything with. It was Hermione all along! He remembered Artie's questions. His face broke out into a wide smile. How daft could he be if a nine year old saw something that had been staring at him in the face all this time?

He stood up and started to pace.

"Hedwig," he muttered. "I must get Hedwig first from the owlery… and Ron I have to talk with Ron. The old guy would probably torment me to death. Oh, I must buy Artie a present. Thank Merlin, for that child! And I should show Draco a thing or two about messing around with my girl. My girl? Bloody hell, Potter are you blushing? Shit, what the heck!"

Harry turned around, walked towards the bathroom and decided to have that bath he had intended to take after Hermione and Malfoy left. If he were to make progress, he had better move along. Whistling, and feeling better than he had for years, he went inside the bathroom that adjoined his room and Hermione's.

It was a mistake.

He regretted the minute he walked in as a very spicy scent wafted through his senses. Now, Harry was never a very conscientious student, but there were some things that he was able to pick up from his lessons. One of which was that the scent of cinnamon corresponded to lust. It also didn't help that he could see the reflection of Hermione's black lace underwear on the bathroom mirror. It shouldn't have bothered him. After all he had seen women's underwear lots of times -on the rack, in the bathroom, under the bed, on the bed, on the kitchen counter… Bianca who was never a tidy person, had tons of her unmentionables spilling out from her drawer. So it shouldn't have shocked him. But in this case, seeing Hermione's underwear was equal to seeing Hermione IN underwear.

No!

Muttering curses, Harry took off his glasses, violently yanked off his shirt, and stepped out of his track pants and boxers. Forget the bath! He got inside the shower stall and turned the knob on full force, letting the cold water wash out the suddenly unfriendly thoughts he was having on The-Girl-Formerly- Known-As-Harry Potter's-Best Friend.

*****

"Viagra," Draco read the analysis of the potions lab in the Auror Department. "What the bloody hell is that?"

Hermione cleared her throat to prevent herself from laughing out loud.

"Read on Malfoy, read on!" she said tapping the rest of the written words on the scroll.

"Drug commonly ingested by male muggles with erection problems…shit!" Draco cursed while scratching the back of his head. "We've been duped!"

This time Hermione laughed and slapped the baffled man at the back. "Maybe," she said. "So Dr. Alacard seems clean enough. Draco, what's the matter?"

Draco's face was very much pale.

"He… er, he prescribed this according to the test result right?" he croaked.

"I believe so, yes." It was Hermione's turn to be puzzled. Where was this conversation leading? Then it suddenly dawned on her… "Oh my god…"

Draco's eyes widened. He hurriedly pulled Hermione towards him and clamped her mouth shut.

"Sssshhhhh!" He hissed loudly, looking around if somebody was there. Still dragging his partner with him, he closed the door of their shared office space and said, "I'll let you go if you don't laugh."

Hermione nodded. Draco slowly released his hold on her, though he mistrusted the sparkle in those eyes of her.

"I…"

"Don't laugh!" Draco griped.

"I'm not laughing!" Hermione replied.

"But you were meaning to…" Draco spat out.

"But it's so funny…"

"It is so not funny!" Draco cried in exasperation.

Hermione calmly sat on the edge of her desk and placed her arms across her chest.

"Okay, it's not funny," she said. "But Draco, you did give them a sample right?"

Draco nodded silently. He was sweating under his Armani, and he didn't like it one bit.

"How was I supposed to know that's how you muggles do it?" he said. "I don't get it why I had to go inside that tiny space with a plastic cup and…"

"Well, you didn't have trouble you know, getting your pecker up?" Hermione almost lost it on the pun.

"Oh, you think you're clever, eh Granger?" he said. "Well yes, I had no trouble at all. And if there's one consolation in this entire misadventure, then it's that you muggles have creative magazines."

"Why thanks," Hermione rolled her eyes sarcastically. "So what are you griping about?"

"Expect a woman to understand, and she rolls her eyes at you," Draco muttered. "Hermione, this IS a major problem!"

"Draco, I'm sure there is an explanation for uhmm… this problem of yours."

"Well there'd better be," he sulked. "Or my mother would be disappointed that there wouldn't be any little Draco's running around…"

"You want kids?" Hermione was surprised at that.

"Of course I do," Draco snapped. "I'm the last of the line as is. Besides, it's about time Malfoy children get a different treatment by a father."

"Sorry," Hermione said sympathetically. She knew the whole story of Draco being maltreated as a kid, so it was no surprise hearing from Draco that he wanted a new child-parent tradition for the Malfoy family. "Dr. Alacard probably also based his diagnosis on the answers we gave during the interview."

Draco shuddered. "Oh yes, the part where I had to answer yes to 'Do you have premature ejaculation?' God, that was horrible, even for make-believe!"

"Oh you men and your big…"

Draco shot her a dirty look.

"…Ego! You lech, I was going to say ego!" Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "You know, you can just go to a mediwizard so you can allay your fears!"

Draco suddenly lightened up at the suggestion. He strode across the room, took Hermione in his arms and spun her around.

"Hey," Hermione said, laughing. "Don't celebrate yet. What if you really do need Viagra?"

"Oh how I hate you Granger," he said as he opened the door. "I'm going to get you for this."

"Serves you right for playing a joke on Harry this morning," she replied.

Draco stopped and faced her.

"And she insists he is just his best friend. Well, I'm off to St. Mungo's. When I get back, we'll celebrate," he added with a suggestive wagging of his eyebrows.

"Good luck," Hermione waved. "Hope to find out there would still be little Draco and Dracolettes in the future!"

"Bye luv, and thanks for broadcasting it to the whole world," Draco winced.

"Well," Hermione sighed as she heard the door clicked close. "If that doesn't beat them all!"

She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was already five. She decided to fix her things before going home. There was Ron's dinner later and she still needed to fix a quick desert. She hoped Harry had a restful day. Well there was only one way to find out.

With a poof, she disapparated, and moments later found herself in her apartment.

"Harry?" she shouted, tying her hair as she walked towards the kitchen. There, she found a note taped on the fridge:

Changed my mind. Had some business to attend to. Don't wait for me. I'll see you at Ron's.

Harry

P.S.

I missed you.

"Now what was that about?" Hermione asked at the postscript, feeling that tingling feeling again. "Oh shush, Hermione."

She hated having to do this kind of thing. Blast Draco for always shoving the idea whenever chance he would get. What was the git doing? He was worse than Artie, if his analysis of the situation was correct.

"Matchmaking my bum," she muttered. "Harry and I?"

Did she love him? Of course she did, but in that sense? That she wasn't sure of.

And vexed with herself for thinking such notions, she took ingredients out from the fridge and focused on the mundane task of baking instead.

"Oh darn," she cursed as she set the fudge brownies on the counter an hour later. "I'll be late."

She went to her bedroom and stripped off her clothes. She took clothes from her closet and dumped them on her bed. Grabbing a towel, she hurried to the bathroom.

It was a mistake.

She regretted the minute she walked in as a very male scent wafted through her senses. Now, Hermione was a very conscientious student, she learned that the scent of musk corresponded to strength and protection. It was so very much like Harry. It also didn't help that she could imagine a naked Harry in the shower. The picture she had conjured up had almost let her mouth salivate.

Muttering curses, she got inside the stall and turned the knob on full force, letting the cold water wash out the suddenly unfriendly thoughts she was having on Harry Potter - the man who was supposedly her best friend.

Chapter 6: Love Struck

Hermione was still flustered by the time she arrived at Ron's shop in Diagon Alley. Naked-Harry was still on her mind and she hated the fact that even if she had found the thought disturbing, it had excited her too. Oh, she was no prude, and at her age it wouldn't be surprising to know that she had had her share of lovers, even if they were indeed few and very far between. But, thinking of Harry…

She had known him for sixteen years and had seen him in various states of undress. She did admit that on a physical level, there was nothing wrong with him. At twenty-seven, he was at his prime. His former boyish good looks had refined with maturity. His hair, which had never been tame, still gave him a jagged appeal. Thank Merlin for quidditch's rigorous training, or otherwise there would be no muscles for Hermione to admire secretly.

Her mouth ran dry at this. Okay, she undeniably had that habit of checking Harry out, but that didn't mean anything right? It just meant that she was a perfectly normal, healthy female who appreciated the opposite sex. Was it her fault if Harry had a wonderfully tight arse?

"Miss Hermione?"

Hermione snapped back to her senses.

'Where am I?' she thought. 'Oh, at Ron's shop.'

Quickly shutting the mental file she was going through a while ago, she turned to Becky, Ron's shop assistant. She grimaced and judging by the concerned look on the young girl's gamine face, she realized that she must had been standing there a little too long to merit Becky's concern.

"Hello Becky," she said hurriedly re-arranging her facial muscles to a smile. "How are you?"

Becky smiled back.

"It's all peachy, Miss," she replied. "But is there anything wrong? You looked much preoccupied a while ago."

Hermione laughed.

"No," she said. "It was just something work-related that I couldn't get out of my head."

"I hope it's something that you don't lose sleep over for," Becky said gravely. "I remembered when a hundred galleons went missing from the cash register. I was so worried that the Boss would fire me, and I needed the job to pay for my school supplies on my last year at Hogwarts. I hated it when my Slytherin Potions partner teases me over my hand-me-down tools. I really don't know why Professor Snape would partner a Slytherin with a Hufflepuff, or with any other student from a different House… And oh yes, I desperately wanted to keep the job, what when the Boss and the Missus have been so kind… Oh, me and my wandering mouth! That must be heavy. I'll get that for you…"

Hermione surrendered the box of brownies she had in one hand to the girl, her head still whirling from Becky's non-stop chatter.

"Thanks," she said gratefully. "Where are the boys?"

"The Boss and little Artie went out for a while," Becky said. "Don't tell the Boss Miss, but I'm glad for the little quiet time. Artie is really adorable but he talks like a magpie! And he keeps asking questions. How should I know why bananas are called bananas and not apples? I'm telling you Miss, I would be real glad when the Missus comes back! I heard the Boss say that it would be by… oh here comes Mister Harry, miss!"

"Cheers Becky, hello Hermione!"

Hermione who was amusedly listening to the rants of Becky suddenly froze. When did Harry's voice start sounding so deep and so… masculine?

'Because he is male, you twit!' said the voice in Hermione's head.

With a rather anxious smile pasted on her face, Hermione slowly turned and felt as if a car had ran her over. There was Harry, the same old Harry, wearing worn-out loose fitting jeans, a green collared shirt and flip-flops. But if he indeed were the same old Harry, then how come it was only then that Hermione noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, or that his scar gave him a slightly dangerous appearance? She had always looked at Harry, but never did her heart give such a tremendously wonderful show of acrobatics as it was doing right now.

Hermione willed her hand from actually going up to clutch at her heart.

'This couldn't be!' panic surged through her. 'It only happens in books… Oh you dunce!'

How could she have missed it? The symptoms were there- the dry mouth, the palpitations, the electricity in the air, the sudden change of her perception, and all these when Harry was around. Not to mention, the jealousy, the worries, the delightfully warm feeling when he would smile at her… How could she be such a ninny? The answer was there all along, and Draco had pointed it to her a million times. By gads she didn't know that the insufferable git had enough intelligence in him. Okay, okay… she didn't mean that. But…

She loved him! By Merlin's beard, she loved Harry!

'Oh my God… oh my God…' her muddled thoughts were screaming. 'I'm going to castrate you Malfoy, and Viagra's the last thing you'll need when I'm done with you… Oh my God…'

The last thing she needed now was this complication. She had just gotten Harry back and having this new development in their relationship could just be the end of it. Instead of being happy over her realization, Hermione's heart plummeted.

"Hermione?" Harry asked a little worriedly. What was wrong with her? She had been staring at him with such a terrified look on her face. His excitement upon seeing her after what happened to him this morning was now doused with worry. What if…

"Cat got your tongue?" he said jokingly, hoping that humour could actually dispel the awkward air that hung in the shop.

'What did he say?' she thought. 'Cats? Why would Harry talk about cats?'

"Huh?" Hermione said dumbly, too preoccupied with her thoughts. "Oh cat… no, Crookshanks is at the vet."

"Hermione," Harry said trying hard not to let his frustration show. "What are you talking about?"

Hermione, who was so much focused on staring at the second button of Harry's shirt, looked up.

"What?"

Harry stepped forward. Hermione stepped back in reflex. Harry stopped and sighed.

"Hermione, is there anything wrong?"

"Oh, the miss has something in her mind about work."

The couple jumped at Becky's voice. Neither remembered that she was even there, standing where she was, Hermione's box of brownies still in her hands. Hermione wanted to hug the girl for rescuing her. What happened was so nerve-racking that she couldn't think coherently. If she were always like this during assignments, then she'd be dead by now. Cursing herself for her ineptness, she breathed deeply, expelled the air out and shook her head to clear her mind.

'Now, I'm ready,' she told herself. 'Bring it on Potter, bring it on!'

Harry too felt mild relief. He had thought that Hermione noticed the change in him and knew how he now felt about her. It had almost sent him to a panic attack. Now, that was going to be funny. He smiled foolishly as he took in what Becky had said. So it was not really about him. Goodness knows that Harry Potter did have moments of insecurity, not to mention paranoia.

"Why don't you go on upstairs, Sir… Miss?" Becky tendered. "The Boss said that you could wait there just in case you got here before them."

"Why don't we?" Harry said, smiling radiantly, glad that the uneasiness was gone.

'Crap,' Hermione's weak will cursed. 'What a smile!'

"So how was your day?" Hermione said after finally being able to pull her wits together.

"Pretty much okay," he said, a hand beneath her elbow and leading her up the stairs. He loved being so close to her. Hermione was never one to wear perfume, because perhaps she didn't need to. She smelled delightfully of lemon, cinnamon, and her own fresh scent. Harry inhaled deeply as her hair, still a little wet from the shower, was just a few inches away from him. He felt Hermione stiffen and soon chastised himself for his action. But what could he do when he was so close to temptation?

"Did you just sniff at me, Potter?" Hermione asked, her voice in mock indignation though in reality she wanted to scream in a combination of thrill and frustration.

"No," Harry lied, crossing his fingers behind him. "I was just breathing. I probably breathed too much."

Hermione shrugged and sat down on the couch. Harry on the other hand, helped himself to two bottles of lager from Ron's office-fridge. He handed one to her, to which she nodded her thanks. He sat on the windowsill looking at her as she was busy browsing through a magazine. There was something uncanny about the afternoon. Harry could swear that Hermione was acting peculiar, or it could just be because he had changed his perception of her. He winced as he remembered the repercussion of this. All right, it was true he loved her. Except, his problem was if it was mutual. He could try to find the answer, but he was too afraid of the rejection that he was too sure to follow. There was also the friendship to think about. Of course, he knew that Hermione would not let anything ruin their seventeen years worth of friendship, and he also knew that if she would really have to let him down, she wouldn't let anything happen to it. However, he weren't too sure of his own reaction. He didn't know if he could stand not having her in his life, which would be the result if his sudden revelation of feelings wouldn't come out as expected.

Hermione could feel Harry's eyes on her. If it weren't for years of Auror training, she wouldn't be able to project the cool appearance she had at the moment. But unfortunately, training wouldn't be able to hide the violent beating of her heart.

"So what was bothering you?"

"Oh nothing," Hermione answered after taking a sip from her bottle. "Just something about work."

"Ah," Harry replied knowingly. "The fertility doctor."

She smiled wryly.

"Yes, something on that line."

Harry stood up, set his bottle on the coffee table beside the couch, and sat beside Hermione.

"I see, so how is Mr. Smith?"

Hermione almost choked on her drink.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask about it."

Harry scowled.

"Why?" he asked. "Was it a death eater?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No. The tip was actually a little off," she said then grinned as she remembered something. "But my gosh, I don't know whether to laugh or to be serious about it."

Harry settled himself more comfortably on the sofa and took a swig from his bottle.

"Then tell it either way."

"It's about Mr. Smith."

Harry made a face.

"Malfoy," he said. "I should've known. What did that prat do now?"

"Well…" Hermione pondered over it. What happened to Malfoy was extremely hilarious, but it didn't mean she could just blab about the incident to everyone. Knowing Harry, he would tell Ron and the two would never stop teasing Draco about Viagra for the rest of his life. She even chided herself for even mentioning it. If she were attentive in the first place, then she wouldn't have blurted it out. Harry looked immensely curious right now and he could be and actually was as obstinate as Draco if he wanted to.

'Bad judgement Hermione,' she egged herself. 'Bad judgement!'

"On second thought," she said abruptly. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Harry grunted.

"What! Just when things are actually getting juicy… That is so mean of you, Hermione!"

Hermione shrugged and returned to the article on vampires she was reading. That is, until the magazine was rudely yanked from her hands.

"What the fuck…"

"Tsk, tsk," Harry threw the magazine on the coffee table and wagged his finger at her. "Ms. Granger, no foul language. Go on, continue with your story."

"I said no," Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not my secret to tell."

"Aha!" Harry's eyes glimmered roguishly. "Something to frame that ferret!"

Hermione put her hands on her face and counted silently. What kind of trouble did she get into now?

"So? It's only Malfoy. Tell!"

"No!"

"Aww," Harry mock-sulked. "I didn't know you were such a tease."

"Aww," Hermione mimicked. "I didn't know you were such a gossip."

"Hermione," Harry was smiling devilishly now. "Didn't you say a while ago that I could call the shot?"

Hermione remembered and let out a small, 'Eep!'

Harry made a sound of triumph.

"Be careful of what you promise people, Hermione."

"Oh stop it Harry," Hermione swatted his hand. Harry only wiggled his eyebrows at her. She definitely did not like where the episode was leading to. She edged a little towards Harry, hands clasped together in front of her. "Can't you just pick another way of retribution? Please?"

Harry pretended to mull it over.

"Absolutely Hermione," he said innocently. "How about - this!"

It should have warned her. She gasped as Harry lunged at her, his fingers tickling at her sides, and her neck.

'If I only had my wand…' she thought in despair.

"Stop… it… Harry!"

"Not until you surrender."

"Never!"

"Ah, to the torture chamber it is!"

Hermione screamed as Harry, with one hand, pinned her arms above her head on the sofa, and continued tickling her at the sides with the other.

She should have known what Harry was about to do. He had done this many times before. But since Hermione now knew that she loved him, it was completely different. And this was what she was afraid of. Instead of enjoying the formerly harmless game of tickle-war, she was now aware of Harry's closeness, his scent, and the feel of his hands on her body. And it was pure torment. She didn't want it to be this way.

'Why couldn't you just stay put where you were?' she blamed whichever part of her was causing her all the trouble.

"I told you Dad, we should have knocked first."

"I guess you're right again Artie my boy."

Like a guilty couple, the two broke apart. Harry, who was more or less calm, grinned foolishly. Hermione, who looked absolutely horrified, smoothed her hair and clothes nervously. Ron wanted to laugh out loud but decided to do it later.

"Could we make this rate at least a PG 13 please?" he said to the two and to his son he ordered, "Artie, tell Becky to call your Uncle Fred for order confirmation. I forgot to tell her a while ago."

Artie who was as smug-looking as his Dad whined, "Do I have to Dad?"

"Artie…"

"All right," Artie yielded, but to his godparents added, "Hey Uncle Harry, Aunt Hermione, red looks really nice on you!"

Ron waited until Artie had scuttled out of the room. He faced his best friends, who for some reason had quickly sprung to the opposite ends of the sofa. He shook his head and was about to get lager from his fridge but decided to go for the brandy from his bottom desk drawer.

"Well, we're making a habit of this, huh?" Ron said as he poured drink into three glasses.

"Shush," It was Hermione who got her tongue loose first. "It's not what you were thinking…"

"And what was I thinking?"

"That we were…"

"Spare me the horror of the details of whatever you were doing, please!" Ron dramatically looked upwards. "My god, is this what it will be like with Artie in seven years time?"

"Sorry Ron, really." Harry decided to speak at last, more for Hermione's sake rather than his own. He thought she already sounded a little frustrated. "It was just a tickle-fight. She wouldn't tell me about this dark secret of Malfoy's…"

"Not this again," Hermione cried out to Harry.

"Okay," Ron gave each his or her glass. "The Malfoy tale can wait. Can you actually hear yourselves? You sound like a couple of teenagers!"

"That's an exaggeration Ron," Hermione snorted. "Besides, as if you and Luna don't do it."

"Aha," Ron said folding his arms across his chest as he leaned on his desk. "There lies the difference Hermione-girl. We're married, while you and Harry are not."

'I'm gonna kill you Ron,' she thought. 'I'll ship Luna off to the Bahamas and I'll adopt Artie. But I swear I'm gonna kill you!'

"That's feeble," Hermione shrugged, though positively seething.

"On the contrary, it is not. You see, I feel this unresolved sexual tension between the two of you."

"Alright Ron," said Harry, who unlike Hermione, was taking everything on face value. "Sex guru, what are you getting at?"

"Harry," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Our sorry-excuse-of-a-friend here wants us to have sex with each other."

"Thank you, oh wise one!" Ron said, with a bow.

Harry stared at the livid expression on Hermione's face, now what?

"Now," Harry said, thinking of something to say that could placate the girl. Although he did find the thought helpful to his cause, he couldn't just agree with Ron when Hermione looked like she would kill their best friend. "That would be impossible."

Harry was puzzled as he saw Hermione frown and revert to her thinking-face.

"Look, Dad," Artie barged in the room, holding the box of brownies Becky must have given him. "Aunt Hermione baked us some brownies."

"Saved by the boy," Ron said. "You two are lucky."

"Ron, you are such a ninny sometimes," Hermione said, standing up from the sofa and to Harry said, "Imagine that, Harry. You and I…"

"Oh you bet I could just." Harry muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

"I said yeah," he said with a weak smile. "Pretty improbable, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Hermione smiled back just as weakly. "Absolutely improbable."

On to Chapters 7-11!