Keeping with the Company by coven

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 02/09/2008
Last Updated: 02/09/2008
Status: Completed

AU * 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.




1. Chapters 1-6
---------------

**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!**



2. Chapters 7-11
----------------

**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 7-11**

**Chapter 7: That’s Amore**

Dinner was uneventful after the tickle-fight incident. To Hermione’s surprise, Ron and Artie
behaved themselves rather well as there was no mention of whatever the father-and-son team had
witnessed a while ago. Even Harry himself was carrying on as usual.

“Ron,” Hermione snorted in mild revulsion. “Chinese take-out?”

Ron looked slightly offended.

“I did say we were to eat dinner right? Did I mention that I would make it?”

Artie shook his head and snickered.

“Dad tried,” the boy said. “But he burnt the shepherd’s pie. You should see the smoke in the
kitchen…”

Ron gave his son a withering look that only made Artie laugh harder.

“Thanks a lot pal,” Ron muttered, taking the boxes out of their bags.

Hermione took pity on him and kissed her ruffled friend on the cheek.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t care if it’s fish and chips. It’s your day today.
Congratulations.”

“Well,” Harry said, finding himself a spot beside Artie on the floor. “Take-out or not, I’m
hungry!”

Hermione handed out boxes and chopsticks. The boys grabbed them eagerly and with the only girl
in the room muttering something about the similarities between hungry men and pigs, they began to
eat.

Since dinner was a pretty much informal affair, in the middle of it, Harry gave Artie two
tickets with locker room passes to his team’s first game of the season next weekend. Artie whooped
in joy and started babbling on about which friend he wanted to bring along to the game. Hermione
instinctively knew that the tickets were a way of atonement for not being a devoted godparent for
months. She smiled as her three boys started a long and animated chatter on quidditch- a subject,
which although her very close friends considered themselves experts on, she could find no affinity
with. She then grabbed the opportunity to reflect on the circumstances.

She knew she overreacted earlier. She also knew that she could have handled the situation
better. And she knew that what Harry said a while ago to Ron’s teasing hurt her somewhat. Who
wouldn’t when you found out that the person you’ve just realized that you’re in love with would not
be able to return the feelings? But wasn’t it what she wanted in the first place- better to save
the friendship rather than indulge in a possible romance?

Wait, she was twenty-seven, for heaven’s sake and not getting any younger. She was no longer
interested in brief encounters. She’s already looking for a lifetime partner! And here was her
chance, an opening for exactly that. She knew she should just grab the opportunity, but Hermione
had never been a risk-taker. She had gotten along with reason better since she could remember. She
would rather weigh the situation up, find the pros and cons, and then settle on a decision that
would benefit all those concerned. And what reason was telling her to do now was to save the
friendship. For the first time in her life, Hermione doubted her mind and wanted to follow her
heart. Could she do it? Would she do it? Could she just curse common sense to hell altogether and
then face the consequences later?

Harry watched as a myriad of emotions played across Hermione’s face. What was she thinking
about? Did the thing he had said earlier bother her? Oh, he had indeed dug his own grave with that.
He remembered the frown she put on afterwards. Could he dare hope that the frown was in his favour?
But didn’t she say that her having sex with him was improbable? Of course, the physical merits of
the idea actually happening weren’t his priority right now, but how could he be hopeful in the
emotion department when judging by the discussion earlier, there was a huge possibility that
Hermione find the thought of him and her together as not viable – or a blow to his ego, possibly
revolting.

Ron watched as the wheels in both of his friends’ heads turn. It was pretty amusing to see
Hermione direct furtive glances at Harry when she thought the bloke wasn’t looking, and Harry doing
the same when he thought she wasn’t looking. From his point-of-view, it was like watching a tennis
match. Knowing his best friends very well, Ron knew that the two fools loved each other as more
than platonic. He watched, observed, and took notes – uncharacteristic things for him to do but
would surely make Luna and Hermione proud. Oh sure, it was really friendly in the beginning, but
their years of being together, specially when Ron and Luna got married, made it certain that Harry
and Hermione’s relationship would develop into something more than friendship. He and Luna had
discussed this often enough, and his wife had dissuaded him time and again to not meddle in his
friends’ lives. It had frustrated him, to say the least, at having to promise not to. But it was so
hard, when the only people who didn’t see this were the two of them! Heck, even his kid evidently
knew about it too. Ron sighed and silently asked Luna for forgiveness. He usually kept his promises
but drastic situations call for drastic measures – and this one needed more than that.

“Oh look, Dad, there’s an owl at the window!”

Three heads turned towards the magnificent snow owl perched impatiently on the window ledge,
waiting with an air of royalty about it.

“Draco’s new owl,” Hermione muttered as she got up from her place on the floor and proceeded
towards the window.

“Well,” Ron said, a little put off for having been interrupted. “Will you look at that? Even the
git’s owl has caught up with its owner’s conceit.”

Harry scowled as Hermione got the note attached to its leg. What did Malfoy want now? Wasn’t it
way past office hours?

As Harry was contemplating evil thoughts towards Draco, Artie, fascinated with the bird, offered
the owl a small bowl of water and some snacks-all of which the bird scoffed with an imperious hoot,
and to which Artie only laughed and said, “Wicked!”

“Uncle Harry, the owl is so cool!” he said, running back to his godfather’s side. “It has got a
personality. I wish Hedwig is here, I’m sure it would be fun to watch how she would size that one
up.”

Harry only grunted his agreement, still watching Hermione’s face for clues on to what the letter
was about. Well, she was pursing her lips. It was definitely about something serious then.

“Oh…” Artie said knowingly.

“So,” Ron said walking behind Hermione. “What does Malfoy want?”

Harry tried not to perk his ears up too much.

“I have to go,” Hermione said absently. “I’m sorry Ron, Artie. I’ll make up for it next time.
Harry, I’m not sure what time I’ll get back. Don’t wait up for me, okay?”

Harry nodded and accepted Hermione’s kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione added as she kissed him and Artie. But to the boy she whispered, “Hide
the brownies where your Dad won’t find them.”

“Thanks, Aunt Hermione,” Artie said giving her a hug in return and whispered back. “He won’t
stand a chance.”

She laughed and with a wave, disapparated.

Ron let out an audible sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Imagine that,” he said. “What could Malfoy want with her this time?”

“This time?” Harry asked, plainly curious.

Ron hid his smile by taking a sip from his glass.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. Apparently, this was the opening he was waiting for. “Sorry to say
this, mate. But ever since you took off with Bianca, those two, well… they got a lot closer. ”

“Oh yeah?” Harry said, frowning. “What do you mean by closer?”

“Well, every week they would usually have a… what does your Aunt Hermione call it again?”

“Muggle Friday,” Artie said, busy answering a crossword puzzle on a magazine. “Uncle Draco and
Aunt Hermione would do muggle things every Friday. They would even let me tag along sometimes.”

“There you go,” Ron said, stretching his tall frame on the sofa. “Muggle Friday.”

Harry ignored him, and focused more instead on Artie.

“You call Malfoy, Uncle Draco?” he asked.

Artie nodded.

“He’s okay,” he said, knowingly adding fuel to the fire. “He often takes me and Aunt Hermione
out for ice cream, and he knows a lot about conspiracy theories. He has this incredible premise on
dragons that I’m sure Uncle Charlie would find amusing… by the way Uncle Harry, do you know an
eight-letter word for smitten?”

“Besotted,” Harry answered absently. “So what do you do on Muggle Fridays?”

The boy shrugged.

“I’ve only been with them a few times, but they were lots of fun. We would go to picnics, or
just window-shop around the department stores. Twelve letter word for envy?”

“Covetousness,” Harry replied.

“Oh yeah,” Ron added, almost choking on his drink this time. “Hermione mentioned that at first
it was practical education for Draco since they always had to pose as muggle couples on assignment,
but they had started to enjoy it so much, they decided to make it tradition.”

“I bet Malfoy did,” Harry muttered. “Anything weird going on during this tradition?”

“What do you mean by weird, Uncle Harry?” Artie asked innocently.

Harry caught himself and had the grace to look embarrassed. He knew it wasn’t fair to ask a
child these questions, but a guy whose woman is being taken from under his nose must take some form
of action. He was going to mask the question, hoping that the kid was buying it, but knew at the
back of his mind that Artie knew what he was talking about. So, Harry decided to do the direct
approach.

“Were they acting funny?”

“Oh,” Artie said. “You mean like were they doing lovey-dovey stuff?”

“Whatever,” Harry said sulkily.

“I want to hear this,” Ron said eagerly, to which Harry answered with an impatient shush.

Artie grinned at his Dad before proceeding, “The first time I was with them, we watched a muggle
cartoon at the theatre. Uncle Draco bought us a tub of popcorn with lots of butter. I asked to sit
beside the aisle because I tend to go to the bathroom a lot. Well, Uncle Draco had his arm around
Aunt Hermione and she didn’t seem to mind. I didn’t really pay attention to them because the movie
was really good. Besides, they had a world of their own. They were always whispering things to each
other. Dad, any ten-letter word for angered?”

“Infuriated,” Harry answered easily, after all that was what he was feeling at the moment.

Ron cleared his throat as he saw the vein at Harry’s temple pulsing wildly.

“Son,’ he said to Artie. “Why don’t you take your crossword with you downstairs? Your Uncle
Harry and I need to talk.”

Artie rolled his eyes and reluctantly got his magazine.

“Dad,” he whispered to Ron as he walked past him to the door. “I’m not really working on a
crossword puzzle.”

“Which is what I consider lying, my boy,” Ron replied, also in a whisper. “Now scamper along
mate, and leave the rest to the expert.”

“Good luck then,” he answered with an impish salute and ran out of the room.

Harry, who was too lost in his jealousy, was unaware of their exchange.

“Okay,” Ron said. “Spill it out.”

“Spill what out?”

“Whatever hex or curse you’ve been conjuring to get at Malfoy,” Ron calmly explained. “Aren’t we
friends here, mate? Admit that you are in love with our best friend and that you are jealous of the
ferret.”

Harry whipped his head towards the other man.

“What… how… why…”

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron guffawed.

“Is it that obvious?” Harry said sheepishly.

“What do you mean?” Ron gaped at the gob smacked fellow. “I can tell you love her when I come
within a ten-foot radius of the two of you.”

“I’m sorry because I only found out today,” Harry replied sarcastically, suddenly feeling
foolish about everything. Was he really that clueless? Hold the question because he already knew
the answer.

“Well that’s pathetic mate,” Ron clapped Harry at the back. “We’ve been waiting years for this
moment.”

“We?” the other bloke asked incredulously.

Ron shrugged.

“I, Luna, Mum, Dad, my bloody siblings, people from school, even Artie knows about it.”

Harry tiredly rub at the nape of his neck and smiled wryly.

“No wonder that boy has become too much of a wise-crack lately.”

“Still is smarter than you though,” Ron commented. “I was worried that you would wait twelve
more years, when Artie is old enough to marry Hermione himself, before you do anything.”

“Hahaha…”

The two friends drank the last drops of their snifter, each deep in his thoughts. Harry was
embarrassed to know that he was the last to realize. He thought it only happened in books or
movies.

“So when did you know?” Harry asked.

“Is that a serious question?” Ron stared down at his friend who was sitting on the floor.

Harry looked up at him and nodded.

Ron exhaled, forehead furrowed.

“Actually, mate, I really don’t have the exact time or date,” he admitted. “It just felt right
you know. You always had this thing going on, and you had always understood each other on a level
that even I couldn’t get into. You could communicate by merely exchanging looks and stuff like
that.”

“You know what’s funny?” Harry asked rhetorically. “In all the years that we’ve been in and out
of relationships with other people, why find out now? Why not then so it could have spared me the
trouble of going through all of that!”

“Ah,” Ron said. “That’s the mystery of life. For everything there is a purpose, you know that
mate. If you had realized it before, would you value her just as much as you do now that you’ve
both been through so many things together?”

“Well it sucks,” Harry said grudgingly. “Besides it’s still Hermione. Then or now, it’s still
her.”

Ron laughed then turned serious.

“So now that I know that you know that you love Hermione what are you planning to do?”

Harry grimaced. He hadn’t gotten to that part of the problem yet.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know if she loves me,” Harry mumbled.

“That’s ridiculous,” Ron roared. “Of course she does!”

“She does?” Harry asked, looking like a hopeful child.

“If you don’t know then I won’t tell you,” Ron answered in distaste.

Silence.

It was Harry who spoke first, “I’m willing to take a risk Ron, but I’m not sure if she does,
being Hermione and all. Besides, I don’t want to lose the friendship.”

“Friendship? Sorry, but that is bull!” Ron sneered. “I am not sure if you’re really getting
this, Harry. You’ve been friends for so long to let anything come between the two of you. Trust me
on this mate, she loves you. And she won’t do anything unless you do something first.”

“How?” the poor man desperately implored. “Without even twenty-four hours of breaking things off
with Bianca I just go at her and tell her I love her, that I want to marry her? I’m still winning
her back as a friend as is…”

Harry sighed, “I’ll give it a week, Ron. Just a week to find my footing.”

Ron stood up, got the empty glasses, and refilled them.

“I don’t know Harry, that’s moving things too slow.”

Harry accepted the glass and thoughtfully stared at the pale amber liquid.

“I want this to be perfect, Ron. I want it to be her.”

“Well I hope you make good use of your week because there is also Malfoy to consider.”

“Yeah… Malfoy…”

“Well,” Ron raised his glass. “This is to you then, mate. May you succeed in winning your fair
lady’s heart.”

“Hear, hear,” Harry said, downing the whole glass.

*****

“Draco Malfoy, I swear I’m going to tie you to your broom and send you off to the Womping Willow
and then I’ll dump your stinking corpse in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Baby, don’t be mad at me!”

It would have been really amusing to watch the two, if it was the Comedy Hour. Hermione was
clutching at her wand so tightly, that the sides of her hand had gone white. Draco, on the other
hand was holding his hands in surrender, behind an enormous potted plant.

“Oh, don’t you oh baby me, you big fat arse!” Hermione emphasized each word clearly. “And when
did you learn to say that stupid form of endearment?”

Draco shrugged.

“Uhh, muggle ladies seem to like it.”

“Well, it doesn’t suit you using it so quit the word,” Hermione dismissed, transfiguring her
wand back to a ring, and violently shoved it on her finger. She breathed deeply before continuing,
“And what in Hagrid’s hut were you thinking of making me worried all for a jolt of your ego.”

“Hey,” Draco brightened up, deciding that the coast was clear. “You were worried?”

“Don’t change the subject, Malfoy,” she warned, plopping herself on Draco’s living room couch,
and sighed. “Of course I was worried. You’re my friend! Congratulations on debunking the Doctor’s
diagnosis, by the way.”

Draco cautiously seated himself beside his partner, and propped his feet on the coffee table. “I
don’t know why you’re so worked-up with all of this.”

“It’s not just that you git…”

“Then what is it?” he asked. “What’s twisting your knickers up? Because honestly, you look like
Peeve’s girlfriend.”

“Oh yes, thanks a lot,” Hermione swatted Draco’s arm. “You sure make it easy to be sympathetic
with you. And stop mentioning my unmentionables. It doesn’t sound decent coming from you.”

“And you’re making me feel better,” Draco said, dramatically clutching at his chest. “That’s the
proverbial pot calling the kettle black. So Miss Granger, what is bothering you? I’m sure I didn’t
write in my letter that you come barging here right now. My news could have waited until
tomorrow.”

Hermione suddenly became absorbed with the hem of her sweater. She even tried clearing her
throat, but all that came out was a, “AdjusgadagetaweifromHarry…”

“What is that again?

“I said,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. “I just had to get away from Harry and I used
your letter as an excuse to flee.”

“Well, well, well…” Draco rubbed his hands together and smugly continued. “Finally you’ve had
your moment of revelation then. Good for you and about time I must say. But where is that
Gryffindor courage? I didn’t know members of your house can be so cowardly as to run away from
something as dreary as staying in the company of Potter, and which mind you is something that you
have been doing all your life?”

“Oh, it’s your entire fault,” Hermione jabbed at Draco. “Without your damn teasing and… and
pushing then it shouldn’t have happened.”

“This is bloody fantastic! My Hermione is having a dumb moment. Do you honestly believe what
you’re saying?”

“No…”

Draco laughed out loud.

“You’re too cute for your own good, Hermione.”

“Malfoy…”

“Now it’s Malfoy,” Draco said with an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t feel like calling you ‘Draco’ right now,” Hermione retorted childishly. “I’m warning
you… Your fountain of wit and humour has long gone dry.”

“Okay,” Draco surrendered. “I apologize for my offensive behaviour. What gives?”

Hermione stood up and started pacing in front of her partner who just patiently sat and watched
her. She took her time to answer.

“I love him.”

“Ouch, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Draco…”

“Good, it’s now back to Draco. Okay, go on.”

“He was there,” she said with a frown. “He was standing in front of me, and then- wham!”

“Ah,” Draco said. “That’s amore!”

“Are you quoting a muggle song?”

“Maybe,” he grinned. “And why are you telling me this and not Weasley?”

“Because there was no opportunity. Harry was there, and I needed to unload this.”

“Well, I’m honoured.”

“Not so fast,” Hermione sneered. “You were just filling in.”

“Hey, you’re learning fast!”

“Well, that’s me brainy Hermione Granger for you,” Hermione said and did a nice genuflect.
“Smart in everything except her own troubles.”

She sat back down beside Draco.

“Of the heart,” the man added.

She nodded at that, “Yeah, of the heart.”

“Well,” Draco exclaimed. “What’s your plan? Because you should better do something about
this.”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed morosely. “I’m aware of that.”

“Why the long face?” Draco asked. “You’re an Auror and one of the best, if I might add. I mean
why not see this as a covert operation or something?”

Hermione cheered up a bit at that. If there was anything she was best at, its being an
Auror.

“You know what,” she said, gaining a little confidence. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Then you go on tell him out right!”

“Yes!” she exclaimed then checked herself. “No… wait… how can it be a covert operation if I just
tell him out right?”

“I was just trying to catch you there,” Draco admitted with a smile. “Besides, what’s wrong with
just telling it to him straight?”

“Because I don’t want to look like I’m the one doing the pursuing.”

“You are so old-fashioned. At this day and age, women can actually speak their minds.”

“No, I am not giving him the satisfaction of being the one to say it first,” Hermione spoke
adamantly.

“Aha, so that’s the root of it all. You’re just scared.”

“I am not!”

“You are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Oh, this is so immature,” Hermione scoffed. “All right, I’m scared. Okay? I admit it. I’m
scared. I don’t want to be rejected. Besides, I want to make sure …”

“That he loves you back?” Draco asked knowingly.

“Yeah, I don’t want to lose him, Draco,” she said softly. “Besides, I just want to be sure that
he loves me back and not because I gave him the idea first.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever lose him,” he replied confidently.

“But this changes it all,” Hermione moaned. “I can lose the friendship and gain a love, or lose
a love but then lose a friendship in the process too.”

“Or you can gain both?” Draco offered.

“But that would be wishful thinking,” Hermione sighed.

“You know,” Draco said in a disbelieving tone. “You are the most insecure achiever I know. Have
faith in yourself for a change.”

“Easy for you to say,” Hermione scoffed. “Have you seen the girls Harry dated? Bianca for one…
Perfect hair, perfect smile… my god even her breasts are perfect.”

“Well, has it ever occurred to you that those are also the reasons why he just discarded them
easily?”

“You are completely missing the point here…”

“No, it is you are completely missing the point here,” Draco said, grabbing a hold of Hermione’s
arms. “If you accuse me of being that shallow then I’d be angry with you. Are you accusing Potter
of that?

“No… he’s the least shallow person I know.”

“And I am just beef jerky,” he joked. “Hermione Granger, look at me.”

Draco gently cupped her chin with his hand.

“You can’t be unsure of yourself over looks. Who says you aren’t pretty?”

Hermione stayed silent, but allowed herself to be embraced by the man. “You have the prettiest
brown eyes, that can make a man drown in them… and from my current vantage point, I can feel that
your breasts aren’t that bad.”

She instantly broke free from his hold and scolded him.

“Draco!”

“Kidding,” Draco gamely let go and laughed. “Woman, you sure are worked up.”

Hermione laughed with him. Later on, she took his hand in hers and looked him in the eye.

“You know, Draco, I could never have imagined going to you for anything seventeen years ago. I
am so glad I got to know you better.”

“Well, I am the regular Doctor Love,” Draco winked. “And believe me Granger, if my old self
would see me now, he would have committed suicide. But then again, he would’ve been too scared to
do that.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said, and she meant it.

“Hey, anytime baby!”

Hermione grinned and accidentally caught the time on the grandfather’s clock.

“Goodness, its midnight!”

“Yep, it’s midnight,” Draco confirmed, letting go of her hand. “Someone is probably wearing the
floor of Granger-Potter residence off at the moment.”

“Well, I guess I have to go,” Hermione said as she stood up to leave. “Congratulations on the…
er, test result. Thanks, again.”

Draco stood up also.

“Go now before I decide to celebrate my rediscovered virility with you.”

“Ewww….” Hermione stuck a finger in her mouth. “You do have the knack of ruining a moment at the
last minute do you?”

“Graduated summa cum laude on it. And Granger…”

“Yes?”

“I’m rooting for you!” Draco said simply.

“See you tomorrow,” Hermione smiled before disapparating, leaving Draco standing alone in the
living room of Malfoy Manor.

“And that, Draco Malfoy,” he said with finality. “Is it.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to get up. I just wanted to know if you’re awake.”

“Well, I’m awake.”

“Obviously. Listen, I… well…”

“Is there something wrong? Look, I’ll get the door…”

“No… nothing’s wrong. I just…I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Uh, okay… yeah, tomorrow.”

…

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Hermione.”

**Chapter 8: Voices Carry**

“What are you being so angry about?” Hermione asked viciously. “I don’t get it why you have to
shout just to get your point across!”

“Shut up!” Harry yelled back. “Let’s cut to the chase.”

He stepped towards her menacingly.

“Okay, fine!” Hermione said, tilting her chin upwards challengingly, but it didn’t prepare her
for what Harry had in store for her.

Harry grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close to him. So close, that their foreheads were
touching.

“Let go of me!” Hermione asked, trying to squirm away from his clinch, but Harry only tightened
his hold on her. “What are you bloody doing, Harry James Potter?”

“This.”

It took a while before it registered on Hermione that Harry was indeed kissing her.

Never, not even once, in her more x-certified dreams did it come close to this utterly
dumbfounding, soul-searing moment.

“Let me in, Hermione,” Harry whispered hoarsely against her lips.

“My God,” Hermione gasped, feeling his tongue gaining entrance to her mouth. She hanged on to at
Harry’s shoulders, for her knees had certainly turned to liquid. “You feel… so…”

“Hermione…”

“Hmm?”

“Hermione…”

“You’re so…”

“Hermione…”

“Harry…”

“Hermione, wake up!”

“What the… ouch!”

Hermione Granger, who had woken from her delicious dream in a start, had quickly bolted sitting
up. It was beyond her lethargic reason to think that someone would be hovering over her. For sure,
it wasn’t her fault then if she had almost cracked Harry Potter’s head open when she accidentally
crashed hers to his.

“Oh my God, Harry!”

“No… I’m… awake… Mrs. Weasley…”

Hermione gasped and leaned down from her bed over Harry’s sprawled figure on the floor.

“I am so sorry, Harry,” she apologized profusely. “Are you okay… wait…”

Harry groaned and sat up, a hand on his aching forehead.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled.

Hermione scampered to get her wand from her side table and cast a quick spell on Harry.

“Better?”

“Wow, thanks and good morning to you too…” Harry said, slowly standing up. “Remind me not to
startle you awake ever again. By the way, what was that about?”

“What was about what?” she asked, shrugging into her dressing gown.

“You tell me,” Harry said, casually sitting on her bed and trying to relish the warmth he could
still feel there. “You were moaning.”

Hermione stopped in the middle of tying her hair.

“Oh…”

“I was already up when I heard you,” he explained. “I thought something bad was happening. Hey,
I was so scared. When I took the liberty of barging in you were writhing and you look like you were
in pain.”

“I… I was just having a… an improbable dream,” Hermione stuttered. Did he just say writhing?

“About?”

“I forgot already,” she evaded by walking to the bathroom to wash her face. “Er, was I really
moaning? Did I say anything uhmmm… was I talking?

“Nothing intelligible really,” Harry answered, craning his neck to see if Hermione could see
him. “You were just that… moaning.”

“Thank God,” Hermione muttered, patting her face dry with a towel. This was turning out to be a
very big joke – on her. She looked at herself in the mirror, and cursed as she found herself quite
pale. Well, it was better than the tell tale blush of embarrassment. Merlin’s beard! If she wasn’t
in love with the bloke she could have just stated the truth to which they would probably tease and
share a big laugh later. Unfortunately she was in love with him, and like anyone caught doing
forbidden acts, she lied. Well, it wasn’t really a lie, she just played with semantics a little.
Today was the day to start on her little “covert mission” – as Draco had put it. Would she be able
to pull it off? Only time could tell now.

“I’m a woman, hear me roar,” Hermione grunted. She made a face at her reflection and walked with
a little more confidence back to her bedroom.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

Hermione stared as she caught his best friend with his head buried in her pillow. Harry guiltily
looked up and hastily plumped up the pillow.

“I… was…,” he started trying to find an excuse that wouldn’t sound stupid. “What’s your
shampoo?” He nearly kicked himself.

“Come again?” Hermione was still staring at him incredulously.

With his fingers crossed behind his back, he tried to finish the fib he started. “I was going to
make your bed when I just smelled something on your pillow. I realized it was your shampoo –
cinnamon?”

“You were sniffing my pillow?” Hermione asked, still not moving from the bathroom doorway.

“Uhmm… I love cinnamon,” he improvised weakly, feeling like it was McGonagall interrogating
him.

“Harry…” Hermione’s voice trailed as she walked towards him.

Harry could only stare as she came a lot closer. He felt his breath hitch and catch in his
throat. What was she doing? He gulped as she stopped in front of him. With an innocent smile on her
face that belied the very strange glint in her eyes, Hermione slowly lifted her hand. Harry watched
in fascination as the long tapered fingers rested on his own that clutched her pillow.

“Harry…”

“Yeah?” he answered dumbly. It was no surprise there since it seemed that all blood from his
head had gone some place else.

Hermione brushed his hand away and grabbed at her pillow. With a giggle, she said, “Go get your
own pillow to sniff.”

“What?”

Hermione laughed.

“I said go get your own pillow to sniff,” Hermione repeated, pinching Harry’s cheek playfully.
“Hey, on second thought, let’s get some breakfast I’m starving.”

Harry watched in disbelief as Hermione lavishly buttered her toast, and heaped a hefty amount of
scrambled eggs and bacon on her plate. Was it just his imagination, or was Hermione acting a little
seductive a while ago? He caught the playful child-like grin she was flashing at him from across
the table, and mentally shook his head? Seductive? Hermione? If there was one thing that he found
refreshing about Hermione was the fact that she didn’t need to be pretentious to be beautiful. She
could go out of the house even without make-up on. She could also just get away with a ratty shirt
and tattered jeans, and she wouldn’t care. She wasn’t posturing, or trying too hard. She was just
being Hermione! Seductive? It was just probably him and his overactive hormones.

He had woken up early that morning to prepare breakfast for her. He told Ron that he would find
if he could be anything else other than a friend in Hermione’s life. With the other girls, he just
gave it a go and they were more than willing to tag along for the ride. But with her, he felt that
it wouldn’t be right. He knew because he had felt the need to woo her, to make her feel special,
and to just basically love her. If it was going to take more than a week to make Hermione love him,
he would still persevere. He had waited until this time to grasp it, and although he’d rather speed
the process up, if waiting was the key to her heart, then Harry Potter would wait year if need be,
just for that.

Yet, the picture of her in bed, moaning and writhing was way too much for him to handle. He
didn’t tell Hermione that he had been standing at her bedside, just watching her for a full minute
before realizing why he was there in the first place.

“This is absolutely wonderful, Harry!” Hermione said in gratitude as she swallowed a bite of the
bacon-and-egg meal. “I haven’t had any decent breakfast for a long time now. I was always too lazy
to cook, being alone and all. Why aren’t you eating?”

“I think you’re eating enough for both of us,” he said carelessly.

“Har-ry,” Hermione whined. “You’re so mean… Oh my, are those your famous croissants? Gimme!
Gimme!”

If there was one thing that Harry had to thank the Dursleys for, it was the fact that they had
unknowingly taught him to cook. He had even used this skill more than once during his
soul-searching days, as he would often get odd- jobs along the way.

Harry laughed at Hermione’s excitement and just shoved the plate towards her.

“Where are you putting them away?” Harry asked.

“I exercise,” Hermione replied, as she put jam on her croissant. “Oh what a plonker!”

Harry instinctively put his knees together as Hermione began to lick dripped jam off her
wrist.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, painfully.

“Is there anything wrong Harry?”

“Yeah, just not… uhm hungry,” he said. He just couldn’t state the truth so Harry cursed
mentally. Harry tried desperately to think of something that could alleviate his predicament. And
he knew exactly what.

“So how is Malfoy?” Harry asked.

Hermione remembered what had transpired last night and suddenly felt hungrier.

“He’s fine,” she said, swallowing.

“Is this something about the thing that you wouldn’t want me to know?”

“Harry,” Hermione replied pushing her plate away from her, and getting her glass of pumpkin
juice. “Not this again!”

“No,” he said in defence. “Honestly, I just want to know if it’s about that.”

Hermione eyed him if he was indeed being honest.

“Well,” she said with a shrug. “If you must know… yes, it was about that.”

“Oh,” Harry’s instinct was right after all.

“I know that look.”

Harry downed a glass of water.

“Hermione… I need to know…”

“What?”

He took her hand in his.

“Is Draco … I mean… Draco is…”

Rrring!

Hermione yelped at the sound. It was obvious that the moment was broken.

“Merlin’s beard!” she said. “Wow, I’m so used to wizarding ways that I’ve almost forgotten the
sound of a telephone. Harry, can you hold that thought for a sec?”

Harry couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or vexed. He chose the first.

“Uhh… yeah…”

Harry mouthed a silent scream. He stood up and walked towards the sink. He turned the faucet on
full blast and put his head under it.

“Ginny, oh my God!” Hermione’s voice permeated through the kitchen. “Harry, it’s Ginny!”

Harry turned the faucet off and shook his head. With water still dripping, he walked to the hall
where Hermione stood, a hand on her hip while the other one cradled the phone.

“Hi Ginny!” Harry yelled.

“Harry what the…” Hermione said to Harry, motioning on the ‘wet look’ he was sporting. “Harry
says hi… No… he’s still buff… Ginny says she’ll kick your ass on your next game.”

“I’m not going to comment on that,” he answered, winking at Hermione who rolled her eyes.

“He’s not commenting on that.”

“Hermione,” Harry tapped her on the shoulder. “I’ll just get ready. I have training today.”

Hermione nodded.

“Catch you later, Ginny!” Harry yelled as he walked towards his room.

“He says he’ll catch you later,” Hermione repeated with a laugh. “Why use the phone?”

“Just wanted to,” said Ginny Weasley. “Something to tell Dad, you know, that I’ve used a
‘fellytone.’ So…”

Hermione sat on a nearby stool.

“What do you mean, ‘so’?”

“I heard Harry’s your new housemate.”

“My, my, word travels fast doesn’t it?” Hermione answered dryly.

She heard Ginny laugh.

“Yes,” came her voice. “If the messenger is my brother.”

Hermione chuckled.

“Things never change, huh?”

“So…”

“There you go again,” Hermione insisted. “Can you please explicate that monosyllable
further?”

“Anything NC 17 going on yet?”

“You’re nuts,” Hermione exclaimed. “Of course there isn’t any ‘NC 17’ going on.”

“R?”

“No!”

“PG 13?”

“No…”

“That sucks,” said the girl on the other end of the line.

“Ginny, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Hermione, haven’t you forgotten about my seventh year?”

“What’s with your seventh year?” she asked, honestly baffled.

“My birthday, firewhiskey… ring any bell?”

“Oh bloody hell …” Hermione gasped.

“I see that it does,” Ginny laughed.

“Ginevra Weasley… have you told anybody about that?”

“No, I haven’t,” Ginny vehemently denied. “So have you done it yet?”

“No!” Hermione almost choked.

“But you have plans of doing so, right?”

“But… but… but…”

“You explicitly said that memorable night that quote ‘if given a chance that Harry Potter and I
get to play house, I’ll make sure he’ll be my Daddy’ and quote”

A mumbled “That was the firewhisky talking,” was Hermione’s excuse.

“You’re kidding right?”

“No!”

“Wait,” Ginny insisted. “Is any other guy lurking around?”

“No…” Hermione answered truthfully. How could there be? “It’s just things are complicated right
now.”

“How?”

“No blurting out yet, even Ron doesn’t know about this,” Hermione whispered.

“Oh… something incriminating!”

“Ginny!”

“What?”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone!”

“Jeez,” Ginny mumbled. “Alright, I promise.”

Hermione looked left and right.

“I just found out that I love him,” she barely whispered.

“What?”

“I said,” Hermione looked around again then continued a little above a whisper this time. “I
just found out that I love him.”

“What?”

“Merlin, Ginny,” Hermione screamed, standing from the chair. “I said I fucking found out I love
him!”

“Well, there’s no need to curse!”

“Ginny Weasley!”

Ginny laughed.

“Kidding, Hermione…Well, finally Hermione Granger admits she likes Harry Potter. Hermione
Potter, what a lovely name!”

“Ginny…”

Hermione sank back to her chair, drained.

“Do you know how long we’ve waited for this moment? Haven’t you known that you loved him all
this time? You wouldn’t have made that comment drunk or not if you didn’t.”

“Well, at that time it was just a crush and hormones.”

“But not this time, right?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, playing with the phone’s cord. “Not this time.”

“So how did you know?”

Hermione laughed hollowly.

“Draco.”

“Draco?” There was an incredulous tone in Ginny’s voice now. “What about him?”

“He made me realize that I was in love with him the whole time.”

“Him being Harry. Let’s make that clear.”

“Of course.”

“Oh wow, so you owe that git now?”

“I guess so,” Hermione shrugged. “After all he’d put me through.”

“Yes coach!” Ginny shouted. “Oh darn, this is ridiculous. Coach is raising hell already. I’ve
got to go dear, but I want to hear every juicy detail of this.”

“Yeah, but don’t forget about your promise.”

“Of course,” Ginny said abruptly. “About time, about time I should say. Oh whatever happens fill
me in okay?”

“Yes, Mummy Ginny”

Ginny laughed.

“Have fun Hermione!” she said. “I’ll be back soon. Do you know that Italy has some really fine
men? Anyway, you have to tell me everything… Yes coach! What a slave driver! I'll see you then.
Oh yeah, you love Harry right?”

“Yes I do,” Hermione said exasperatedly. “I love him like mad.”

She smiled as she heard her friend squeal.

“Word of advice though, make sure you get him. Snatch him and tie him up as soon as possible or
else he’ll get away like the snitch he chases.”

“You quidditch players you… go before you get thrown out for over chatting.”

“Ciao!”

“Bye…”

*****

*“I just found out that I love him…”*

*“Well, at that time it was just a crush and hormones…”*

*“Yeah, not this time…”*

*“Draco…”*

*“He made me realize that I was in love with him the whole time…”*

*“I guess so, after all he’d put me through…”*

*“Yes I do, I love him like mad…”*

Harry couldn’t do a thing but stare blankly at his sad reflection on the mirror.

**Chapter 9: Small Talks**

Hermione hung up the phone and went to the spare room Harry was occupying. Still grinning from
her conversation with Ginny, she knocked.

“Harry?”

She knocked again. No answer.

Hermione frowned and turned the knob. She poked her head in a little.

“Harry, are you dressed?”

Still, there was only silence. Hermione opened the door wider and stepped in.

There was no one inside.

“Funny, I’m sure he wouldn’t just go without telling me.”

Hermione searched the entire place but couldn’t find him. Still a little puzzled, she went to
the bathroom, deciding that Harry must have been in a hurry. She let out a small sigh of relief,
realizing that meant she would have to deal with him later. There was work waiting for her at the
office, and a possibility of something else later in the evening. All was well.

For now.

*********

“Are you sure about this?” Ron asked.

“It’s a wonder I didn’t get splinched apparating here,” Harry answered, his face buried in his
hands.

“This can’t be true. There must be some explanation…”

“I’ve heard enough ‘explanation,’ thank you,” Harry retorted sarcastically. “How clear can it
be? She was talking to Ginny about how she loved Malfoy ‘like mad’.”

“Aren’t you being a little too hasty, mate?”

Harry glared at his friend.

“Ron," he warned. “Let’s not go there.”

Ron held his hands up in front of him.

“Okay, Harry if that’s what you want. But hear me out on this. All I’m saying is there must be
more to this than… that!”

“I bet,” Harry muttered then groaned. “How can I be so stupid thinking I had a chance with
her?”

Ron sighed, laying a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“Let’s talk to Ginny.”

“No!”

“It’s going to clear a lot of things.”

“It’s just going to put your sister on the spot.”

Ron didn’t answer.

Harry stood up.

“I’ll deal with this myself.”

Ron caught his best friend’s arm, and looked him straight in the eye.

“No blood, or Unforgivables.”

“Just a few broken bones.”

“Harry…”

Harry broke free from Ron’s grasp.

“Come on, give me enough credit.”

“Just think first,” Ron warned. “Think before you do anything you’d regret later on.”

The two friends regarded each other cautiously before Harry reluctantly nodded and went.

Artie heard his Uncle Harry disapparate. He waited for a full five minutes, before knocking on
the door.

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

Artie strode in.

“Can I go to Flourish and Botts for a while, I heard they have a new shipment of books.
Please?”

Ron glanced at the clock and sighed. It was only nine in the morning.

“Okay,” he said. “Just stay there until I pick you up for lunch.”

“Yes!”

“No talking to strangers. You know the drill.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Alright, scamper. Your Uncle Harry has turned into a lovesick puppy, and I still have a lot of
things to do.”

Artie just chuckled.

“Bye Dad!”

Ron shook his head and returned to the paperwork he was trying to accomplish, without any
success. He swore to God, he didn’t know so much could happen in two days.

“Harry, you plonker,” he sighed. He stood up from his desk and walked towards the fireplace.

In a while, Ginny’s face appeared on the flames.

“Hey there Weasley King,” Ginny cheerfully greeted him.

“We need back up,” he simply said.

*********

“So do you have anything to do tonight?”

Draco flashed a grin at the girl on the reception desk of the Ministry. Hermione might not like
him enough to go into a more romantic relationship with him, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t
explore other possibilities. Besides, Wendy Poppy sure looked fit. It was obvious that the girl had
tendencies of being a Pansy Parkinson, but that was how he wanted things to be anyway, for the
meantime, while he bravely mended his broken heart.

“Are you hitting on me, Mr. Malfoy?” The girl giggled flirtatiously.

“Maybe,” Draco teased with a wink.

“Excuse me, Mr. Draco Malfoy?” one of the security personnel interrupted. “There is someone to
see you, sir.”

“Hmm?”

“He’s waiting in the lobby.”

Draco thanked the man.

“Well, Ms. Poppy. Catch you later.”

The sound of giggles faded as Draco walked towards the lobby. The personnel motioned to one of
the seats. Draco fixed his robes.

“Yes, I’m Draco Malfoy…”

“What’s up,” said a very familiar voice. “Uncle Draco!”

****

“Your kid Malfoy?”

“I didn’t know you had one…”

“Do the girls know about this?”

“So with whom did you have him?”

Draco heaved out a very exasperated sigh and refrained from answering. He had been barraged with
inquisitions from the lobby and based on experience; one question answered would mean hundreds more
asked. Even Poppy, the receptionist, had given him a look. Unfortunately for him, Weasley’s kid
didn’t contradict the accusations and looked as if he was even enjoying himself. Draco quickly
ushered Artie in his office, glad that Hermione wasn’t in yet.

“Does your Dad even know you’re here?”

Artie grinned.

“Not really.”

“Merlin Artie,” Draco dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re going to get me into
trouble.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be at Flourish and Botts,” Artie said with a shrug. “But I have two and a
half hours to get there yet.”

“Coffee?”

Artie shook his head.

“Are you sure it’s me and not Hermione you wanted to see?”

“Yeah.”

“So what brings you here then?”

“You know you look like someone,” the boy said as he eyed the man thoughtfully. “I just don’t
know who…”

“I’m not going to play games with you Artie. I’ve been there and I didn’t like it.”

Artie merely sighed.

“If I’m going to ask you a question, would you promise to answer as honestly as you can?”

“Sure,” Draco answered, leaning against his desk, coffee mug in hand. “Fire away!”

“Are you and Aunt Hermione together, like boyfriend-girlfriend together?”

Draco almost spat his coffee on the kid. He forced himself to swallow instead.

“What the…”

Artie cleared his throat.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A serious one.”

Draco eyed the kid and decided he was serious.

“Of course not.”

Artie eyed the man and decided he was telling the truth.

“Okay, thanks Uncle Draco.”

Artie popped up from the seat and proceeded to walk out when Draco held out an arm and stopped
him.

“Wait a minute… what’s that about?”

“Uhh…”

“Don’t consider lying kid, or your Dad will soon have your arse.”

Artie scowled.

“You’re a meanie!”

Draco smirked.

“Try me.”

Artie’s shoulders slumped and trudged back to his seat.

“Uncle Harry heard Aunt Hermione spoke to Aunt Ginny on the telephone. He said that she said
that she’s in love with you.”

“What? Who’s in love with me?”

Draco sat beside Artie.

“Aunt Hermione.”

Draco laughed.

“For a second there, I thought it was Red.”

Artie wrinkled his nose.

“Now why would Aunt Ginny like you? No offence, Uncle Draco but she prefers dark blokes.”

Draco looked at the kid weirdly. Artie ignored this and continued.

“I heard when Uncle Harry had another talk with Dad just an hour ago.”

“I didn’t know eavesdropping was hot this season… anyway… that’s impossible.”

“Do you know something about it then?”

“I don’t even know why I am discussing Hermione’s love life with you,” Draco smiled wryly. “But
you’re a smart one. First things first, this will not go beyond this room.”

Artie nodded.

“Next, you’re too precocious for your own good so try not to botch things up for your
godparents.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault if they are that slow.”

“I know kid…” Draco said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s sad… But you have yet to agree to the
second rule.”

“Yeah…” Artie rolled his eyes. “Okay, Uncle Draco.”

Draco drank from his mug.

“Your Aunt Hermione went to me last night because she was too distressed in finding out she’s in
love with your Uncle Harry.”

“That’s wicked!” Artie exclaimed excitedly. “So that means Uncle Harry was daft enough to get
meaning from just one side of a conversation?”

“Does your Uncle Harry know you call him bad things behind his back?”

Artie grinned.

“No, but he deserves it.”

“A kid after my own heart… wait… What’s Harry going to do now?”

Artie shrugged.

“I don’t know, but he sure is massively furious.”

“Oh boy…” Draco winced. “This means he’s going after me. Sometimes I’d just like to lock those
two up in a room set with anti-disapparating charm…”

…

“Uncle Draco…”

“Artie Weasley…”

“Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

“No, are you thinking what I am thinking?”

Draco stood up.

“Come on, let’s discuss this brilliant plan somewhere.”

“Somewhere with ice cream, preferably.”

Draco nodded.

“Let’s owl your Dad first.”

“Oh, come on Uncle Draco.”

“Lest he charges me with kidnapping.”

Artie shrugged and watched his Aunt’s partner scribble something on paper, which Draco attached
to the leg of the magnificent owl Artie saw last night.

“So are you ready kid?”

“Yeah!”

“By the way Uncle Draco.”

“What?”

“I now know who you look like.”

“Who?”

Artie whispered to him.

“What?!”

*********

“Potter!”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a visitor.”

Harry shrugged into a clean sweatshirt as he heard his teammates’ whistles echo in the locker
room. He had just put his glasses on when the click of ice-pick heels stopped right behind his
locker door.

“Hi Harry.”

Harry slammed his locker shot and put on a rather frosty smile.

“What brings you here?”

*****

“Uncle Draco, this is not good,” Artie said as he stopped in his tracks just as they were about
to turn around the corner.

“You can say that again, sport.”

Draco pulled Artie against the wall as they watched Harry and Bianca enter the shop.

“What is Bianca doing here, and with Uncle Harry?”

“Beats me mate…”

“Draco Malfoy… Artie Weasley… What are you two doing here?”

The dynamic duo froze at the sound of the voice. Artie turned slowly.

“Hello,” he gulped. “Aunt Hermione…”

“Does your Dad know your whereabouts?” Hermione admonished with her arms across her chest. It
didn’t bother that Artie and Draco looked really uncomfortable with them in the middle of a public
sidewalk. It only went to show how formidable Hermione could be.

“Yeah,” Artie squirmed under his Aunt Hermione’s gaze. “Uncle Draco owled him.”

“And why would he do that?” Hermione said, turning to Draco.

“Hermione, give the kid a break…”

“Draco,” Hermione said. “Why is Artie here?”

“Because he wanted to ask me something,” Draco said nonchalantly.

“About what?” she demanded.

“About the purple-rimmed-horned dragon,” Artie answered, improvised. He ignored the ‘What are
you doing’ look on Draco’s face.

“Then why didn’t you just owl him?” Hermione asked the kid.

“Dad sent Pig Jr. out and hadn’t returned yet so I decided to go ask him myself.”

“Is this true, Draco?”

Draco had to swallow hard.

“Of course.”

“I have a feeling something’s up…” Hermione said, sounding unconvinced.

“What do you mean?” Draco placated his partner. To Artie he asked, “Is there anything up?”

“No,” the boy shook his head vigorously. “Nothing… nothing’s up.”

“Well,” Hermione said, shoving the issue aside for the moment. “Since we’re here, why don’t we
get some ice cream after which, you young man must go back to your Dad’s shop.”

She then started to walk towards the ice cream parlor.

“No!” Both man and boy shouted.

Hermione stopped, and turned. She looked at the horrified look on the two’s faces.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Ahem…” Draco cleared his throat and coughed. “I have a sore throat.”

“Yeah, Aunt Hermione,” Artie added. “I read somewhere about cold stuff and sore throat don’t go
well together. No… Ice cream? I don’t think so.”

“Wait, what’s gotten into both of you?”

The sound of a familiar shrill voice interrupted them.

“That is so funny Harry!”

“Hey, Hermione,” Draco ran in front of Hermione, trying to block her view. “Can I ask you a
question?”

“Wait…” Hermione tried to look over Draco’s shoulders. “Isn’t that…”

“Aunt Hermione can we just get a butterbeer or something?” Artie said, tugging her away from the
direction of the ice cream parlor.

“Shut up the two of you!”

Hermione ordered, and pushed Draco away. Her heart stopped as she saw something that she didn’t
expect – a few feet away from them, just in front of the ice cream parlor, was Harry with his
supposedly ex-fiancée Bianca. And they were kissing.

“Harry?”

*****

“So I’ll see you tonight?” Bianca purred, touching Harry’s arm.

“Of course,” Harry said, trying to unlatch the woman’s claws from him.

Bianca laughed.

“Bye Harry,” she said, smiling slyly. “For now!”

With that, she kissed him fully on the lips.

“Ta-ta!”

“Harry?”

Harry turned around upon hearing a familiar voice. His eyes widened with surprise. Not only were
Draco Malfoy and Artie Weasley were there, but also…

“Hermione…”

Draco and Artie stepped back as Hermione went off in a violent ‘poof.’

“I guess the plan doesn’t go into action now, huh?” Artie asked the older man.

Draco sighed and nodded.

“I’ll look for Hermione,” he said. “Take Harry.”

Artie saluted and ran towards his godfather who was still a bit dazed.

“Uncle Harry,” Artie tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you okay?”

Harry looked down and nodded.

“I screwed up again huh?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” Artie nodded sadly.

Harry slumped down on the sidewalk and buried his head in his arms. Artie followed suit and
tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?” he asked the kid.

“If it’s any consolation,” Artie said. “I’m on your side.”

Harry rumpled Artie’s hair as he laughed hollowly and thought that he needed all the help he
could get.

**Chapter 10: Cornflake Girl**

Draco paced the lobby as he used his magic-generated cellular phone.

“I know it has been all day!” he hissed. “No, you’d better tell Romeo not to go here. She’s…
yes, blistering… exactly! That’s the word. Weasley? Hello? Potter… calm down! No, I wouldn’t advise
that… I don’t care if you damn faced **Voldemort** all by your friggin’ lonesome. I myself would
rather go against his incarnate than Hermione at this moment… Look, listen to Weasley. Go home, try
to find a way to atone yourself… Now give it back to Weasley… Weasley? Thank Merlin! Okay, I’ll try
my best to talk to her. You do your part. KEEP POTTER AT BAY! Yes…yes… I’ll keep you posted. Okay,
I hope this works.”

“Well,” Draco exhaled, putting his phone inside his shirt pocket. “Here goes nothing!”

“Get out, Malfoy,” Hermione ordered in a frighteningly calm voice.

Draco suppressed the urge to shiver as he stepped inside the office.

“Okay,” he persisted, taking in the piles of paper on Hermione’s ‘out’ tray, and dozens more on
the ‘in’ tray. “I know you’re upset, but isn’t this a tad too much?”

“I am not upset,” Hermione answered, tightlipped without looking up from her work.

“Oh really,” Draco sniggered, deciding to be very brave. “Then how do you explain this?”

“What?” Hermione said defensively, her magic pen writing on a scroll as she filed in reports.
“As you can see I’m busy working.”

“At a very rapid pace,” Draco retorted as he cleared a tiny space on Hermione’s table, and with
disregard to his partner’s finer feelings, he settled his bum on it. “Which you usually do when
you’re in a mood.”

Hermione looked up this time, and with a glare said, “Malfoy, if you’re not going to help me
with paperwork then might as well get out of here.”

Draco put a hand on his chest.

“Come on Hermione this is my office too.”

“Then act as if it is,” Hermione muttered, resuming her work.

“Hey,” Draco took hold of her pen and commanded it to stop. “You do know that you’re
overreacting.”

She stopped working altogether and pushed her swivel chair away, tiredly.

“I am not overreacting.”

“All right… jumping into conclusions then,” Draco offered. “What was the first rule Moody
drilled in our heads? NEVER ASSUME.”

Hermione snorted. Her eyes were closed as she rubbed at her aching forehead.

“I did not assume,” she said, opening one eye. “Second rule – the evidence tells the truth.”

“What evidence are you talking about?” Draco asked.

“Oh,” Hermione exclaimed, suddenly standing up evading the question. “This conversation is not
going anywhere.”

“But are you sure that’s what you really saw?” Draco persisted.

“Leave it, Draco.”

“I mean,” he went on. “You should consider all the angles.”

“I said leave it.”

“Fine,” Draco mock-sighed, getting off the table and proceeded to walk towards his table but
stopped and turned around. “Can I ask you one other thing though?”

Hermione counted one to ten. She just wanted to shut Draco up, but she needed the distraction.
She was hurting, and she was overworking.

“I’m warning you,” she said. “If this is…”

“No,” Draco interrupted. “This is a harmless, honest-to-goodness safe question.”

And to prove it, he crossed his fingers over his heart.

“Alright,” Hermione gave in. “What is it?”

“Do you think I look like Eminem?”

Hermione looked at him incredulously.

“What?” she blurted out, coming out of her initial shock.

“You know,” Draco said matter-of-factly. “Eminem… Marhsall Mathers… Slim Shady… Eminem? Artie
said I look like him.”

Hermione stared at him and saw that he was serious.

“Who’s Eminem?”

“Wait,” Draco gasped. “You don’t know Eminem?”

“Should I know him?”

“I don’t believe this!” Draco exclaimed and walked over to where Hermione was. He placed his
hands on her arms. “You’re a muggle and you don’t know him?”

Hermione didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She decided to step back and get behind her desk
once again.

“Your knowledge of muggles has become pretty impressive Draco,” she said. “But seriously, I’m
tired of this conversation.”

“Okay,” Draco said a little too happily, which was a dead-give-away to what he was getting at.
“This obviously isn’t working. You know what, you should talk to HIM.”

“Will you just get out Draco!” Hermione shouted.

Draco was about to say something when a hesitant knock at the door interrupted him.

“Excuse me,” Sara, one of the junior Aurors poked her head in. “I’m sorry but there’s a Bianca
Thompson to see you Miss Granger.”

“Well,” Draco said stubbornly. “I’m not leaving now.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and to the girl said, “Thanks Sara, send her in.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Draco cautioned.

“Just shut it Draco, for once!” she barked.

“Well,” Draco started. “I won’t be offended by that one. Okay, okay… I’m sorry. I’ll just sit
here and…”

“No,” Hermione said firmly. “You’re not staying.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked skeptically. “What if…”

For the first time since that morning, Hermione smiled.

“Oh no,” she said. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Draco grumbled. “It’s her!”

“Well,” Hermione shrugged, and walked towards the door. She opened it wide, and showed Draco his
way out. “Thank you for your concern then.”

“But…”

“And Draco, I haven’t forgotten the fact that you weren’t going to tell me about Harry and
Bianca,” she said. “We’ll talk about that some other time.”

Draco hesitantly walked out, knowing he had lost to Hermione.

“I’m being dismissed by my own partner… in our own office,” he mumbled. “I can’t believe she
doesn’t know Eminem!”

But the truth was Hermione was nervous. In just a couple of minutes, she was able to fix her
desk, rearrange her robes, and smoothed her hair.

“It’s only the witch,” she said to compose herself, but found the statement to be on the
ridiculous side, so she chuckled. And that was how Bianca found her.

“Hello, Hermione,” the tall, voluptuous woman drawled.

Hermione was vexed at the malicious glint in the other woman’s eyes as she was caught in another
stupid moment. All the psyching up she did went down the drain as she suddenly felt ugly and
inept.

“Hello, Bianca,” she said, standing up. She may be not as beautiful as Bianca, but she had
manners.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you,” she said with a false sweetness in her voice, raising her brow
over the pile of papers on Hermione’s desk.

“Not at all,” Hermione said just as sweetly, lying through her teeth. “It’s alright. Would you
care to sit down?”

“Why thank you,” Bianca laughed her perfect laugh. She sat down, crossing her perfect legs. “But
I’m not staying long.”

“Honestly,” Hermione said frankly. “I don’t know why you’re here. Shouldn’t it be Harry you
should be seeing?”

Oh yes, she could be bitchy too.

“We already saw each other earlier,” she said leaning back, her designer blouse stretching over
perfect breasts.

Hermione shifted in her seat, chin pointing haughtily upwards.

“Really?”

“We had to meet with the solicitors tonight,” Bianca answered. “We bought some property
together, which by the way is the reason why I’m here. Could you tell Harry darling that the
solicitors couldn’t come, so I’m postponing the meeting for Wednesday instead?

“What?”

Bianca sighed.

“My new boyfriend works here,” she explained patiently, as if she was talking to a small child.
“And since I went to visit him, I thought I’d just drop by. I’m allergic to owls you see, and since
Harry’s staying at your place, I thought you could just tell him.”

“You’re asking me to become messenger?”

“Why not?”

“Wait,” Hermione shook her head and looked at Bianca askance. “So you’re not back together?”

Bianca laughed once more, but this time there was true humor in it.

“Harry and I?” she retorted, as if the idea was entirely stupid even to think of. “Of course
not! Oh you foolish girl. Why would I want him back? I’ve never even had him!”

“What do you mean?” Hermione was at a complete loss.

“You honestly do not know?” the other woman inquired.

“Why would I ask?” Hermione volleyed back.

Bianca looked at her oddly.

“Fair enough,” she said with a shrug then added straightforwardly, “I’ve never had him because
he had you all the while.”

“This is a joke right?”

“Darling,” Bianca said huskily. “Do you honestly think I’m the type of woman who jokes
around?”

Hermione merely shook her head.

“The reason why I broke things off with Harry was the fact that the engagement was a farce,”
Bianca said, looking at her pointedly. “I was the fiancé and to whom does he go to first if he
needed anything besides sex? His best friend.”

“But surely…”

“Oh, I do admit I never loved him,” Bianca interrupted. “But it didn’t mean I couldn’t get
jealous.”

Hermione found all of it hard to believe.

“You were jealous of me?”

A corner of Bianca’s lip tilted.

“I do not mean to offend you,” she said in a bored manner. “I know that you’re the smartest
witch of this age. But I find it amusing how you cannot pick up on this.”

Hermione merely stared at her.

“Unless… are you in love with Harry?”

Hermione laughed this time, then stopped midway- lest Bianca would think she was really a nut
ball.

“You know what,” she said calmly. “Why don’t we discuss this over dinner?”

Bianca smiled knowingly.

“I take that as a yes,” Harry Potter’s ex-fiancé said. “And sure, I would love too.”

“What?” Ron shouted through the speaker, as how he would usually use the phone. “Why did you
leave her?”

“I had to,” came Draco Malfoy’s voice. “She locked me out of the office and Moody had also sent
for me.”

“So where is she?” he asked, closing the door so that Harry couldn’t hear him. Judging by the
events that had just happened, one-sided phone conversations and Harry Potter do not gel well
together.

“Don’t worry I had her tracked down,” Draco replied tiredly. “She is having dinner with
Bianca.”

“She is what?”

“I know… Look, I’m on my way to get her. You just keep to your role.”

Ron rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right,” he said. “As Harry’s nanny.” He could hear the smirk from the other end of the
line.

“So how is he doing?”

Ron smiled.

“Artie is keeping him preoccupied.”

“I wonder how. You got one very smart kid there, by the way.”

“Of course,” the proud Dad smiled. “By the way, Ginny is here, said she’s willing to lend a
hand.”

“Well,” Draco replied. “Better if Red is willing to lend both.”

“I know,” Ron agreed.

“You sure pick your friends well, Weasley.”

Ron laughed at that.

“Go on Malfoy, see to Hermione,” he said. “Otherwise, this will go on and on and we’ll never
have peace again in our small part of the universe.”

“No offense,” Draco said. “But haven’t you noticed that your wife is rubbing off on you.”

“You’re just jealous Malfoy.”

“Yeah, yeah… see you at the Potter-Granger residence in an hour then.”

“Go, Agent Malfoy.”

“Shut it, Weasley.”

“Shut it, Malfoy.”

And the two anxious men went and proceeded to do their part of their plan.

Meanwhile…

“Another round here pleesh!” Hermione bellowed to the bartender.

Men glanced appreciatively at the two women at the bar- both attractive in her own right. One
was a blond bombshell who looked as if she knew about her own allure, while the other was a
brunette with fire in her eyes, and was so unaware of her own beauty.

“Yes,” Bianca, who by experience, knew how not to get drunk, coherently said. “And he has this
really annoying habit of furrowing his forehead when he finds something displeasing.”

“Really?” Hermione asked as she gulped her drink. “I find it endearing.”

“Well, you’re the one who’s in love with him. I guess you would,” Bianca pointed out.

“Says the girl who couldn’t take his claws off Harry Potter’s arm,” Hermione tried to snort but
ended with a hiccup.

“It’s all in the past my dear,” Bianca replied with a toss of her beautiful head. “Besides, who
was the one making cow eyes over her best friend when he’s not looking?”

“I be-eg your pardon!” Hermione cried, sitting fully on her seat. “I do not resemble a cow in
whatever way. And what you say that I was ‘doing cow eyes’ is what I prefer calling an
appraisal.”

“Semantically the same darling,” Bianca said.

“Are we drunk?” Hermione asked.

The other woman laughed.

“You are.”

“I think it’s your ploy,” Hermione accused. “I can’t believe this… I would never have dreamed
that I would be drinking with you or of even talking with you in an amicable social manner.”

“I know,” Bianca agreed. “We aren’t each other’s cup of tea, aren’t we?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Hermione nodded then added, “Anyway Bianca, I’d like to
apologize for imagining your death in a thousand ways.”

“Just a thousand?” Bianca rejoined. “Oh, don’t worry it was mutual. By the way, you should know
that I purposely made excuses so Harry couldn’t see you.”

“I knew it was the case,” Hermione shrugged.

“But I’m not sorry,” Bianca said. “Our relationship was brief, but the sex was amazing.”

Hermione laughed.

“You’re just saying that!”

“Actually you should know that Harry…” Bianca leaned in and whispered something to Hermione’s
ear.

“So…” Hermione said, almost choking on her drink and getting very red all of a sudden. “Well…
uhm… I… I don’t know what to say anymore.”

“How about thanks for the tip?” Bianca said as she slid off the barstool.

“Yes,” Hermione drunk and dazed said. “That would be okay. Good luck, and thanks so much for the
honesty…and the tip.”

“No problem,” Bianca smiled. “Thanks for dinner.”

Hermione watched as Bianca walked away. What now? She motioned to the bartender.

“Can I have another martini please?”

**Chapter 11: Punch-drunk Love**

The atmosphere in Hermione’s flat was thick with tension as three and a half people waited for
her in varying degrees of anxiety.

Ron was in the kitchen busying himself with a tower of sandwiches, not minding the fact that he
was consuming his friends’ week’s worth of food. His reason for his intrusion was it being a
payment for all the headaches his best friends were giving him with their latest blunder.

Ginny, who had volunteered to help, was playing nanny to Harry’s repentant lover. As an
adversary in the field of professional quidditch, she was sadistically enjoying Harry’s worry and
discomfort, and was willing to add fuel to fire.

And Artie, the precocious one, remained calm and keenly observant. After all, what was he to do?
He was only a kid.

“I cannot believe I’m letting you do this to me,” grumbled Harry as he stood up for the -nth
time to pace.

“I’m sorry dear,” Ginny said, feeling anything but. “We believe that this is for the best.”

“For whom?” Harry asked sarcastically, stopping a moment.

Ginny merely smiled.

“For everyone,” she said calmly. “ This is killing us too, don’t you know that?”

Artie decided to butt in.

“Better than quidditch huh, Aunt Ginny?” he asked with a grin.

“Absolutely, positively better, Artie-kid,” Ginny solemnly answered with a glint in her
eyes.

Harry sighed and sat down once more. His hair was dishevelled from being run through by his
fingers. He looked as he felt- tired.

“Look Ginny,” he said pointedly. “I miss you and everything but you are certainly not one of my
most favourite people right now.”

Ginny laughed.

“That doesn’t mean pooh!” she replied. “You say that to me every time our teams have a game
against each other.”

Harry removed his glasses, rubbed at his eyes and said, “But this is different.”

The female Weasley snorted.

“Oh yes, different, ” she rejoined sarcastically. “It is not my fault if you are on the losing
side this time.”

“Ginny…” Harry warned, placing his glasses back on.

“Oops,” she retorted and rolled her eyes. “Not very bright of me to have said that. But really,
Harry. You brought this unto yourself.”

And for the first time during their repartee, Harry agreed.

“Tell me about it,” he said.

“Aunt Ginny,” Artie interjected. “Is it true that you had a crush on Uncle Harry when you were
my age?”

“Oh yeah,” Ginny said in a bored manner. “I was really bonkers over him. But I outgrew it, thank
Merlin!”

“Hey,” Harry complained. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment!”

“Of course it isn’t,” Ginny said matter-of-factly.

Ron chose the moment to walk in.

“I just got off the phone with the ferret,” he reported. “He said they’re on their way.”

“Oh my God,” Harry gulped.

“Nervous?” Ron asked.

“No,” Harry said truthfully. “More of scared.”

Ron looked at him in the eyes.

“This may be your last chance mate,” he said gravely.

Harry nodded.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Draco was trying very hard, not to his amusement but that of the bartender’s, to keep a terribly
pissed Hermione from sliding down the barstool.

“Draco…” Hermione gasped. “I don’t… feel… well…”

“Just hold it for a while,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“Your wife?” the bartender asked, cutting in.

“No,” Draco answered with a weak smile while constantly propping Hermione up against the bar.
“Fortunately. Thanks for looking out for her.”

“Nah,” the other man barked out a laugh. “She sure is a change from the many pissed-ass blokes
here. Are you flooing her?”

“No…” Hermione said, vehemently shaking her head. “Not the flu… hate colds…”

“Granger he’s talking about the floo network,” Draco explained tiredly, and to the man added,
“Er, we’re apparating instead.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Hermione hooked her arm around Draco’s neck, almost causing him to lose balance.

“Why do I keep getting into situations like this?” Draco muttered. “I must have gotten it from
my Mother’s side of the family. Damn martyrs…”

Swallowing an expletive, he swept her up.

“Am I pissed?” Hermione moaned as Draco carried her to the door. “I think I am.”

Draco had to smile wryly.

“Well,” he said. “You had a few glasses over your limit.”

Hermione sighed, still in Draco’s arms.

“It’s Bianca’s fault,” she said, pouting a little. “She should have stopped me. Well, what can
you say about Harry’s girlfriends? They’re all bitches. Am I bitch, Draco?”

“That’s pretty debatable,” he smirked.

“Hey,” Hermione cheerfully said. “You know what… Bianca’s not my enemy…”

“Huh?” Draco grunted, stopping to adjust his hold on the squirming girl. “Alright then who
is?”

“Put me down first and I’ll tell you,” she ordered.

“I don’t think so, Hermione…”

She then turned on her charm on full blast.

“Please?” she said as she smiled at her friend.

Draco slowly put her down. He thought it was better to humour her, than be the receiving end of
a drunken tirade.

“So,” he said after putting her down. “Who is it?”

“Harry of course…” Hermione said forlornly. “He broke my heart. Right into two like this…”

“Ow!” Draco cride out loud. “Er Hermione, that’s my arm there…”

“Sorry,” she said and giggled before adding, “Hey Draco, do you love me?”

“What?”

Hermione toyed with the collar of Draco’s shirt.

“Do you love me?” she repeated.

“Yeah,” Draco gulped, feeling that he was getting into something he didn’t want to get involved
with. “Of course I do.”

“Okay,” Hermione nodded, obviously pleased with his answer. “Do you always like the gifts I give
you?”

“Uhmm…” Draco murmured. “Hermione we’d better go.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, yes…” Draco muttered, putting his arm around Hermione’s waist for support. “Come on...
woah! What are you doing Granger?”

Hermione was tugging at his belt.

“I want to know if you’re wearing the Sponge Bob boxers I gave you last Christmas…” she
answered, giggling.

“Honey,” Draco said, finally disentangling her hands from his pants. “They’re in the laundry. I
just wore them yesterday.”

“Oh good…”

And she finally left it at that.

“Thank Merlin!” Draco almost cried out in relief. “Well, got to get you out of here… Potter’s
gonna have my head on a platter if I don’t”

“Wait…” Hermione began to struggle once again. “No… need to be pretty… Harry likes pretty
girls.”

Draco was almost at the end of his straw.

“Okay, but just a few minutes,” he said as he led Hermione in the women’s loo.

“Yeah… got to go…” Hermione started but didn’t make it far.

“Hermione!”

“Sorry…,” she said weakly. “Shame on me… what a waste of dinner!”

“All you had to do was to make sure she gets home!”

Not even in Draco’s childhood was he chastised in such a manner. And if it wasn’t for the fact
that there were other problems to contend with, he was all ready to take on Ron. Draco turned off
the faucet of the sink he was dunking his head into.

“She did get home,” he hissed, turning his wet head towards the other man.

“Drunk?” Ron asked pointedly, and sighed. “I should have known when you called me to say that
you will apparate in the kitchen.”

“Look,” Draco started. “I did my best…”

“Jeez, you’re all acting like kids,” Artie said as he walked to the kitchen to get some water.
Then he caught sight of his godmother. “Woah, is that Aunt Hermione?”

“Hi there Artie…” came the muffled sound.

“Er hi… Aunt Hermione.”

If it wasn’t enough, Ginny also chose the time to butt in.

“Weasley King… Wonder Ferret …”

“Would you stop it Red?” Draco snapped at her.

“Fine,” Ginny said with a shrug, plopping down on the counter stool before seeing Hermione with
her upper body slumped across the island counter. “Hermione? Gads Malfoy, what ever did you do to
her?”

“What do you want, Ginny?” Ron asked.

“Pretty-boy there is getting impatient,” she replied nodding towards the direction of the
hall.

“Just humour him for a while,” Draco said dismissively getting a water glass.

Ginny rolled her eyes at that.

“Easy for you to say… oh-oh!”

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

Four different heads turned towards the voice of the one-and-only Harry Potter.

“Way to go, Red…” Draco said, raising his glass before tossing its contents in.

“Hey,” Ginny retorted defensively. “I told you he was getting impatient.”

Harry took in the scene warily. Artie was propped on the counter beside the sink with Ron at his
side, a sandwich in hand. Draco was leaning against the fridge with his water glass. Ginny was
poised and sitting on one of the stools. And then there was an unmistakably human body slumped
across the island counter. Was it-

“Hermione?”

“Harry?” said the voice coming from the body.

“You’re drunk!” Harry exclaimed, without anything better to say. Hermione straightened up and
sat beside Ginny.

“Of course I am, silly!” she said with a foolish grin on her face. “I drank almost a whole
bottle of fire whiskey and about three glasses of martini. Too bad, Bianca had to go home…”

“Bianca?” Harry asked incredulously, and to Draco added. “Malfoy, whatever did you do to
her?”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” the other man said, raising his now-empty hands, palms up towards
Harry. “I just delivered the goods. Nobody said to bring her back in good condition.”

“I’m honestly getting a headache here,” Harry said, exhaustion making his voice a little groggy.
“Woah… Hermione!”

In a beat, the woman found enough strength to plaster herself to Harry’s body, her hands doing a
take-two with his belt.

“I wanna see something…” she said teasingly.

“Dad!” Artie shouted as Ron covered his son’s eyes with the hand not holding food.

“Not until you’re a little older boy,” Ron said, still confused if he was finding the scene
funny or frustrating.

“She did that to me too,” Draco added.

“What?”

It was Harry who turned to jealous-mode.

“I was just checking if Draco was wearing the boxers I gave him,” Hermione explained as she
tried to keep Harry’s hands from guarding his fly.

Draco caught the look Harry was directing at him.

“I didn’t let her, I swear!”

“Shut it!” Ginny shouted, taking charge of the situation.

And everybody did.

“Oh Merlin,” she started. “This is turning to be such a circus! Can we all please calm
down?”

She walked towards Harry and with a slap at his bottom and a wink at Hermione said, “Harry, be a
dear and get Hermione to her room. She’s all but ready to hit the sack.”

Hermione huffed with consternation, and turning to her female friend said, “I beg your pardon
Mummy Ginny … I think I can still… whoa!”

Harry caught her at the waist before she could topple over.

Ginny sighed.

“I rest my case,” she said with a smile. “Now Harry, please?”

“Come on lover boy, take me to bed!” demanded the woman in Harry’s arms. With another squeal
from Hermione, Harry lifted her up and started towards her bedroom.

“I sure hope you’re getting your money’s worth,” he shouted over Hermione’s head, as he bore her
away.

“More than what we’ve bargained for, actually,” Draco smirked.

“Good luck, pal!” Ron said with a nod of his head.

“Sweet dreams Aunt Hermione!” cheered Artie.

“G’night!” Hermione shouted back.

“Ooh… hurry up now!” Ginny bellowed, to which Harry doubled his pace. There was something about
Ginny Weasley giving out orders. And Ron voiced this same opinion out as soon as the two
star-crossed lovers were out of earshot.

“I swear, Ginny. You’re sounding more and more like Mum.”

“Quit it,” Ginny said, a little distracted because she was watching whether Harry was already
inside Hermione’s room. Seeing that he was she then ordered, “Draco, do what you’re supposed to do.
Jeez, and they say that we are the chattier sex.”

“You’re so pushy Red,” Draco retorted as he silently made his way down the hallway, the others
following suit. “I’m beginning to like you.”

“Ewww!” Ginny cringed. “Stop hitting on me and get on with it.”

“I hope this works,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Trust me, Dad it will.”

“I hope so too…” Ginny whispered.

“Well,” Draco said determinedly rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed. Here
goes nothing!”

Harry flinched as Hermione’s breath tickled his neck. Of course, he didn’t want to
unceremoniously drop the woman, but if he didn’t hurry up soon, he might. He had committed several
follies concerning her in the past two days that he didn’t want to add another one to the growing
items on the list. He almost sighed with relief as he reached the door of Hermione’s room. With his
back, he nudged the door open and kicked it back to close. He gently laid Hermione on the bed. He
looked down at her and thought that she looked uncomfortable in her office robes. Under normal
circumstances, he would have remedied that himself but the circumstances weren’t normal so he
decided to call Ginny for help.

“Wait here, Hermione,” he whispered. Hermione merely grunted her disagreement.

Harry walked towards the door and found it locked. He tried the bathroom door and still found it
to be locked.

“Don’t even bother hollering,” Hermione gruffly called out. “Your friends have deserted us.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at how the situation was getting
crazier by the minute. “What’s going on?”

“I think it was Draco, or was it Ron… well, whoever it was who said, ‘The only key to this is an
anti-disapparating charm,’” Hermione answered with her face against her pillow.

“I can’t believe they are doing this to us,” Harry said forlornly, still standing. “They’re only
adding pain to injury.”

“What are you griping about then?” Hermione said. “Use magic.”

“I don’t have my wand,” Hermione almost laughed at the hopelessness in Harry’s voice as he
answered. “And even if I use wandless magic it would take me hours to finally get the appropriate
charm. I know. Why don’t you do it?”

“Too tired,” Hermione said with a sigh, and sat up. “Then let it be Harry. You look knackered
yourself. Why don’t you just stay here then?”

“Easy for you to say,” Harry muttered.

“Come on,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Like I would jump at you.” This time she crossed her
fingers under the sheets.

Harry looked at Hermione and the bed, and back at Hermione again, his face contorted in doubt
and self-preservation. Like a man being led to the lion’s den, he walked towards the bed. He
tentatively took his shoes off and sat uncomfortably next to Hermione.

Hermione stared at him dumbfounded and finally, with the humour of Harry’s almost
robotic-movements and the irony of the situation, given the fact that they were snug in each
other’s arms two nights ago, Hermione gave in and laughed. And she laughed even harder when she saw
the chary look in Harry’s face. Wiping the tears off her cheeks, yet still chuckling, she climbed
off the bed and got a nightshirt from her closet.

“What are you doing?” Harry croaked in alarm.

“I’m changing,” Hermione said as she stepped out of her robes and the dress underneath, giving
Harry a nice view of Hermione in her underwear.

“I…I… know that,” Harry stammered, closing his eyes, though not soon enough. “But…”

“Harry Potter,” Hermione said teasingly, pulling the nightshirt down. “Don’t tell me you’re
going shy on me now.”

“No, I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he muttered with a pout.

“What?” Hermione asked as she bounced on top of the bed.

“Nothing,” Harry answered. “Are you done?”

Hermione smiled painfully.

“Yup,” she said as Harry opened his eyes. “You want to change?”

Harry smiled wryly and shook his head.

If Hermione was dismayed, she didn’t show it.

“Well,” she said with a shrug. “What are you doing sitting? Might as well sleep too.”

“But, Ron…”

“Harry,” she explained patiently while plumping up her pillows, and giving one to Harry. “I
don’t think they’ll be staying long after pulling off that stunt.”

Harry placed his hands under his head.

“You have great friends Hermione Granger.”

“Well, so do you, Harry Potter,” she answered, eyes closed. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Harry muttered. He was tired but he couldn’t sleep. He just couldn’t help but
stare at the face beside him. How could he be such a fool, making a mess out of everything?
Hermione had been there almost all of his life, and for the first time he felt pain being beside
her. Oh how Voldemort must have been laughing at him right now. He stayed there, just staring for a
while that he almost jumped when Hermione’s voice suddenly broke into the silence.

“Keep at it,” said her muffled voice. “And I’ll turn to stone.”

“Shit…” Harry let out in surprise.

Hermione opened an eye.

“Thought I was sleeping huh?” she said. “Don’t worry, I’m getting there.”

“Hermione,” he said, relaxing a bit. “You never cease to surprise me.”

“Eh?”

“Uhmm…”

Hermione turned on her side to face him.

“Harry, I know you’re trying to say something. I maybe a little pissed, but I am still in charge
of my better faculties.”

Harry inhaled for courage. Might as well be honest now.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he started. “I didn’t plan on seeing Bianca…”

“Oh pooh!” Hermione said with a small chuckle. “Bianca told me about the thing with the
solicitors. By the way, she wanted me to relay to you that she postponed the meeting to some other
time. But then again, it’s of no use now right?

“She spoke to you?” Harry faced her, shock replacing his more remorseful mood.

“Of course,” she continued. “She’s my new drinking buddy! Boy can she hold her drink, unlike me
I guess.”

“You were with her all this time?”

“Uh-huh” Hermione said with a nod. “You know, I can now see why you fell for her. She’s so
perfect! I also found out that she has a brain under that big hair… what? What’s so funny?”

“No,” Harry chuckled. If it didn’t beat all! He was worried to death about Hermione’s reaction
to what she saw early that morning, and there she was confessing she was being buddy-buddy with his
ex-fiancée. What was he to do then but laugh at the bizarre turn of events? “No, go on.”

“You’re enjoying this huh?” Hermione said with mock-disgust. “Well since I’m on the roll here,
I’ll probably go all the way. Tell me Harry, I know you can supply the answer. Are Bianca’s breasts
real? Coz they’re so…” she continued, making motions with her hands.

“Hermione!”

“Come on,” she said, slapping Harry’s arm. “Humour drunk old Hermione.”

“Uhmm… yeah… they’re real,” Harry said, scratching his head in embarrassment.

“Oh well, I guess they are,” she answered with a shrug. “Now Harry James Potter, you have that
look on your face that spells indecisiveness.”

“I’m debating whether I should rid you of your drunkenness.”



“Why?”

“Although I really find you endearing and cute at the moment,” he said,

almost back to his former self. “I know that you wouldn’t appreciate the hangover I’m sure you
are going to have tomorrow. And…”

“And?”

“And I want you sober when I tell you… stuff,” he said a little confidently.

“What stuff?”

“Uhmm… I… stuff.”

Suddenly Harry felt his confidence slipping away as he saw the seriousness in Hermione’s
eyes.

“Ah… stuff,” he said becoming evasive. “I think I prefer you staying drunk. Goodnight!”

Hermione violently grabbed him up so that they sat on the bed facing each other.

“Oh no, you don’t go retreating on me this time Potter,” she warned. “Don’t start something you
don’t have the guts to end!”

This time, Harry didn’t bother to hide the pain he was feeling. If anything, he was being torn
apart with all the different thoughts going on in his head. At least one thing was clear, if
everything should have to end, then it should end now.

“Please?” Hermione said, this time there was no mistake in the break in her voice. It was like
the time when he was leaving Auror training. Hermione never pleaded. But she pleaded then for him
to explain, and she was pleading at him now. He placed a hand on her cheek.

“I think…” he began. “Oh! Hermione, do you love me? I mean, more than as a best friend. What I’m
trying to say is… Hell, I want to know if there is a remote chance that…”

Harry’s voice broke.

“Hermione… I’m afraid that I have fallen in love with you…”

“Harry…” Hermione started to say something but Harry silenced her by placing a finger on her
lips.

“No, don’t say anything. It’s okay if the feeling isn’t mutual, I just wanted it off of my
system, and I’m sorry. I know I should have chosen a different way to announce it, but it’s killing
me the past few days. This morning was the last straw. I…”

Harry couldn’t say anything anymore. Hermione had pulled his hand away. She was looking at him
with so much love in her eyes. And Harry just sat there, frozen as he watched Hermione placed her
lips on his in a sweet, tender kiss. If this was a dream, Harry didn’t want to wake up. He drank
her in. Her taste, her scent, her whole being… Hermione.

Hermione thought it was perfect, more than any of her vivid dreams could attempt. This was real.
This was Harry James Potter, the man she loved, and right now, whom she was kissing.

“Wow,” Harry said, as Hermione reluctantly pulled away from him.

“And to think I was the drunk one,” Hermione said a little embarrassed but clearly not
regretting what she just did. “Oh Harry, we’re fools.”

“I…I…I…” Harry stuttered.

“I love you, Harry Potter,” Hermione said it for him.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Harry said, a hand on his mouth. He still couldn’t believe what
just happened.

Hermione grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards her.

“Then shut up and kiss me,” she ordered with a mischievous smile on her face, all the hurt and
confusion forgotten.

Harry was only glad to oblige.

*****

“I think your brother is having a hard time putting Artie to sleep,” Draco said as he nursed a
coffee mug in his hand. He was in Ron’s living room with Ginny sitting on the rocking chair in
front of him, drinking from her own mug.

“I can just imagine,” Ginny said. “That kid is a handful, but I love him anyway. Do you know
that Ron spoils that kid rotten? I’m glad Luna is coming home tomorrow.”

“So,” Draco said after a while. “What do you think is going on right now?”

Ginny laughed.

“Can’t just let it go huh?”

Draco shrugged and took a sip at his coffee before speaking.

“Well, I don’t want to think our efforts are being wasted.”

Ginny smiled amicably.

“I’m sure they aren’t,” she said. “After all, Hermione has the upper hand.”

Draco nodded at this.

“To Potter and his future wife then,” he said, raising his mug.

“Cheers,” Ginny said, raising hers likewise.

“Hey Malfoy,” she said after taking a gulp. “Out of curiosity, you aren’t jealous, are you?”

Draco winced.

“Maybe a little. But if I had really wanted to go for it, I would have given Potter a run for
his money.”

Ginny chuckled, knowing that what he said was true.

“What happened with you and Hermione, anyway?”

“Nothing,” he replied matter-of-factly. “We went out once. It went all right but it wasn’t
working that way for her, you know. All she talked about the whole dinner was ‘Harry this, Harry
that.’ I knew then I lost once again to Potter. But it’s okay, I didn’t lose her completely because
she turned out to be an okay best friend- for a muggle.”

“Aww…” Ginny teased, placing a hand at her heart. “You’re going soft, Malfoy.”

“And you still have that sassy mouth of yours Red,” Draco teased back.

“Yup,” Ginny nodded. “Still intact!”

Draco laughed.

“So, you going to bed?”

“Actually,” Ginny said. “I’m a little hungry and knowing Ron and Artie they’ve eaten everything
in the house.”

“I’m a little hungry myself,” he said. “Do you fancy sharing a meal with me then?”

She felt weird as Draco regarded her funny.

“Fish and chips?” she asked, trying to shrug the feeling off.

“Why not?” Draco said.

Ginny smiled at him.

“Then I’d love to.”

*****

“Dad?"

“You’re still not asleep?”

“I was thinking. Uncle Draco didn’t set the charm did he?”

“No he didn’t son, just please try to sleep.”

“Dad?”

“Artie…”

I’m just glad Mom’s going home tomorrow.”

“Me too.”

“Dad?”

“Now what?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, son… now sleep!”

****

“Well I guess the next thing in the agenda is a wedding?”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, as she lay in Harry’s arms, sober and sated. “We got the chronology a
little messed- up, huh? I used to think the wedding night comes after the wedding.”

“Who says this is the wedding night?” Harry said, biting Hermione’s ear lobe softly. “Wait until
you have the wedding night!”

“Honestly!” she shrieked. “Think of all the years we’ve wasted.”

Harry delighted in the fact that she was ticklish there.

“Uhmm…” he whispered into her ear. “I’d like to think you were a fast worker. We’ve only been
living together two days and now this. I never knew that playing house with you would be
exciting.”

“If you did?” Hermione pretended that she didn’t know.

“Then I should have proposed to do it a long time ago,” he said, surprising Hermione as he got
up from the bed and walked towards the door.

“Harry James Potter, where are you going?”

But she really couldn’t complain, after all Harry was parading in all his naked glory for her
eyes to feast to their content. Oblivious to the fact that Hermione was eyeing him gleefully, Harry
put his arms across his chest in a thoughtful manner.

“I still can’t figure out how they were able to set an anti-disapparating charm here.”

“Honestly, Harry… try this.”

Harry turned and gaped at the object Hermione was dangling from her forefinger.

“A key?” he almost bellowed, walking back towards her. “Hermione…”

“Harry, Draco simply locked the door.”

Harry grabbed the key from her and threw it somewhere.

“Eep!”

“What do you mean?” Harry said, pinning Hermione on the bed. “But you said…”

“Well,” Hermione explained, not at all bothered with the dangerous glint in Harry’s eyes. “Your
friends were planning to do just that, set an anti-disapparating charm that is. On our way back
here, Draco accidentally let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. And I told him his plan wouldn’t
work because you were too good for that. And so I suggested to him to just lock the door. Because I
knew that since we have been so used to wizarding ways that simple muggle situations tend to
befuddle us. Of course, there was the chance that the plan might have backfired but it was a chance
I was willing to take.”

Harry groaned as Hermione’s lips found its target. “I think I’d better marry you soon. I don’t
want a round two of this…merry-go-round thing that happened!”

Hermione giggled.

“Well how about another round of…”

Harry grinned despite himself.

“Uhmm, I like where this is leading to.”

“Uh-huh,” retorted Hermione. “Besides, I need to prove one other thing.”

Harry raised a brow at this.

“What?”

And Hermione whispered it to his ear,

Harry’s eyes widened.

“She told you that?”

“So is it true?” Hermione asked back.

Harry wiggled his brows suggestively.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” Harry answered.

“I can never back out of a challenge,” Hermione replied.

Harry laughed and groaned as Hermione proceeded to prove just that.

**The End**