Here Comes the (Wrong) Bride

Hey there- before you read on, you must first read this seemingly boring Very Important Authors Note. First- a warning. This is an Accidental Marriage Fic. Yes, I understand it’s very improbable. Yes, I understand it’s highly unlikely. I spend nearly a day researching it and, while improbable and unlikely, it is possible.

Which brings me to my next point; this also has aspects of a FF. Not fanfiction, but Fate Fic. I’m in the middle of a class dealing with Greek Mythology, and I found it so interesting when we did a piece on the Fates. That’s what kind of inspired me, and helped this plot form in my head.

So, basically the reason I’m rambling so much in this thing is because I’d really appreciate not getting reviews that say “you’re so stupid. that won’t happen. you can’t accidentally marry someone- what are you thinking?!”

another thing you might be asking yourself at this point is- why go with a plotline like this ? well I’ll tell you why; it’s a darn good plotline. I plan to do a lot with it, and I hope you’ll join me in the journey that will be this story. I’ll do my best to update regularly- but it won’t be as often as it was for Charmed. Well, I’ve said my part. Please tell me what you think- I’d love to hear your opinion on this thing. Enjoy !

xo,

michele

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“Hermione, stop moving around so much, I can’t zip you up.”

“Sorry, Charlotte,” Hermione apologized, turning slightly to look at her friend.

Nearly five years ago, Hermione Granger had left the Wizarding World. She didn’t take a vacation. Not a business trip, either. Supposedly, one day she just vanished. Poof- gone. Well, not gone. Rumors flew around that she was living in Muggle London. These rumors proved to be true, and the Wizarding Press had a field day. The 21 year old war hero just up and left everything behind? Talk about suspicious. Stories came out every other day, each with a different theory explaining why she left. Funny thing was, none of them made perfect sense.

But enough on that particular subject; Hermione had moved into a flat across the street from the office where she had acquired a job. She was a secretary- and that’s all she needed for the moment. No point in calling attention to herself if she didn’t want to be found.

She did manage to get the attention of one certain individual in her office, however. His name was James. With his startling blue eyes and very dark brown hair, he charmed Hermione into agreeing to go on a date with him. Hermione was amazed at how respectful he treated her, how he made her feel loved and beautiful. One date turned into many, and on one fateful evening, James took her to one of the fanciest restaurants in London.

“James?” Hermione asked as he led her by the hand inside. “Are you sure you got the right restaurant? I don’t think I can pee in this place, let alone eat in it.”

James laughed softly. “Nothing but the best for my girl,” he said.

Sitting down at a table, James ordered just about half the menu, oblivious to Hermione’s protests about how much it’d cost in the end. While they were eating their dessert, a white chocolate raspberry truffle cheesecake, Hermione reached over to take a sip of her wine. Putting it down nearly immediately, she began sputtering. James could see her tongue poking along the sides of her mouth, as if trying to fish something out.

Sticking her tongue out, Hermione looked down (as best she could) and noticed that something shiny, a ring, was wrapped around the tip of her tongue. Slowly taking it off, Hermione looked at it, then at James.

“James, what—” Hermione began, but was stopped by her boyfriend. He took the ring from her hand and moved in front of her chair, getting down on one knee.

“Hermione Jane Granger,” he said. “I love you with everything that I am. I want to spend the rest of my life with you- will you marry me?”

Smiling, with tears threatening to escape from her eyes, she whispered “yes” and the next few months were a blur. The wedding was set for September 3^rd. Hermione had befriended Charlotte, her flat neighbor, right when she moved in.

“I’m just nervous, you know?” Hermione said, smoothing the ruffles she had made in her dress. “The wedding’s this afternoon. I’m not the control freak I used to be, however; I’ve let my mother handle a good portion of this.”

Hermione and her mother had gone to look at churches a few weeks back. Hermione didn’t find one that she disliked, and James didn’t have a preference, so she allowed her mother to pick the church that she felt would be best.

“It’s normal to be nervous,” Charlotte soothed, placing her arms on her friend’s shoulders. “You’re getting married! I couldn’t be happier for you. I’m so sorry I can’t make the actual wedding- my boss had a fit when I asked her, apparently I’m needed for some top secret business junk.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, smiling. “I’m glad you found another maid of honor, though.”

Hermione’s maid of honor was a fellow secretary from her office. Ever since day one, Danielle and Hermione had clicked. Of course, Danielle knew Hermione was a witch. She was one herself. But the way the truth came out was rather interesting…

Hermione and Danielle had invited their boyfriends over to Danielle’s flat for a type of double date. Hermione had come nearly a half hour early to help- Danielle knew nothing about this. Knowing the door would be unlocked, Hermione opened the door to see Danielle’s living room cleaning itself. Over in the kitchen, Danielle was using her wand to stir something in a rather large pot. When she noticed Hermione, Danielle hurriedly hid her wand behind her back.

“You’re a witch?” Hermione asked.

“No,” Danielle responded quickly. “No, I’m not.”

Hermione saw her friend discreetly point her wand at Hermione.

“Oh!” Hermione said, putting her hands up. “Don’t Obliviate me. I’m a witch, too.”

“Really?” Danielle asked incredulously. “Prove it.”

Pulling out her wand, Hermione made all the furniture in the room next to them move in complete circles then return to their original positions. Laughing, the girls returned to the task of preparing dinner.

“I’ll have the wedding taped- you won’t miss a thing,” Hermione told Charlotte. Stepping away from the mirror, Hermione picked up her veil. This was a rather special veil- she had borrowed it from her mother. The veil blurs everything- the bride can’t see very clearly. It had become a type of tradition in Hermione’s family- her great grandmother down to her mother had used the same veil during their weddings.

“It was so special,” Helen had told her daughter. “When my vision was completely foggy and the first thing I saw clearly was my husband.”

“It’s going to be so sweet,” Charlotte gushed. “James is such a nice guy.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Hermione said, taking another look in the mirror. “He’s everything I could have asked for, and more.” Except, of course, for—

Hermione’s thought was cut short as she heard her mobile ringing. Rushing over to her purse, she picked up her phone. The caller ID said “unknown.”

“Hello?” she said, flipping it open.

“Where are you?” a voice asked. “The wedding should have started right about now. Come down, quick. The Westminster Abbey.” Hermione heard a faint click signifying that the person on the other line had hung up.

“That sounded like Brian,” Hermione mused, turning towards Charlotte. Brian was James’ best man. “The wedding should have started already…? The Westminster Abbey isn’t very far from here, but I suppose we’ve talked longer than I thought. I’m sorry, dear, I have to go.” Waving goodbye to her friend, Hermione picked up her purse and, veil in hand, rushed outside and hailed a cab.

Once the cab had pulled up to the Westminster Abbey, Hermione paid the man and stepped out of the cab. Slipping her veil on, she managed to get into the church without harming herself. Now, it was only a matter of how to get inside the sanctuary…

~*~

“Don’t worry, sir,” the minister told the groom. “I’ve made it so no one’s proper names are spoken, in case a reporter is lurking outside the doors. I couldn’t, however, get out of saying the full name at the very end.”

“That’s fine,” the groom said quickly. “Thank you so much.”

“The bride should be coming in any second,” the minister said. “I’ve sent someone outside to look for her.”

~*~

“Come, come,” an elderly woman was ushering Hermione along various corridors. “It’s your wedding- we can’t start without you.”

Walking into the sanctuary and nearly tripping, Hermione could vaguely make out the path she was supposed to take. Slowly walking up to the tune of “Here Comes the Bride,” she finally made it and stood next to the groom.

“Are we ready to begin?” the minister asked, smiling at the two. The groom nodded, as did the bride. The pastor hushed those in the pews and began speaking.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” he said. “We share the joy of these two, who now come together in the love of one another; uniting two hearts and lives, blending all interests, sympathies, and hopes.”

I can’t believe I’m actually getting married! Hermione thought excitedly. So, right after the wedding reception we’re going to head straight for the Caribbean. It’s going to be so wonderful.

“You have chosen rings to be the symbol of your marriage covenant,” the minister said, motioning to the ring bearer. “The ring, made of precious and enduring metal, gold, is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual bond which unites their hearts in a love with has no end.”

The ring bearer handed the first ring to the groom, who slipped it onto the third finger of Hermione’s left hand while repeating after the minister.

“I take thee to be my wedded wife; to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health; to love, honor and cherish, until death do us part,” he whispered, hardly audible.

His hands are so cold, Hermione noted. He must be as nervous and excited as I am.

The ring bearer then handed Hermione a ring, and she copied the groom, repeating after the minister.

“I take thee to be my wedded husband; to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health; to love, honor and cherish, until death do us part,” she whispered so softly the groom could barely hear her.

“You will always remember this day, for it is a day of beginnings for both of you,” the minister said, breaking Hermione’s train of thought. “Everything you have ever experienced, every blessing, every heartache, every gift and talent that has been developed, every hope and desire expressed or unexpressed; all of these you are now giving to each other, and will continue to receive from each other during the rest of your lives.”

Hermione stole a glance at her groom. Though her vision was blurry, she could tell he was smiling.

“Lastly I say to you both, let not your voices lose their tender tones of affection, nor your eyes forget the love with which they shone in courtship days.”

Taking a pause, the minister beamed at both of them.

“And now having pledged your love for, and loyalty to each other, and having sealed the pledge with the marriage rings, I do, by the authority vested in me as a minister in this church, and in conformity with the laws of the commonwealth of London; pronounce you husband and wife,” he said. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Turning to face each other, Hermione watched her husband slowly lift the veil. Once everything was thrown into clear view, she gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

“Harry?” she whispered incredulously, though his name didn’t get past her lips. The groom had taken on the same expression- wide eyed, mouth slightly open.

To Hermione, the room was spinning as her breathing increased rapidly.

This is a dream, Hermione thought. A nightmare, maybe. Closing her eyes tightly, then opening them again, she still faced the same person. Growing light headed, Hermione felt herself teetering backwards and, before slipping into unconsciousness, vaguely heard the minister say in a booming voice.

”It’s my pleasure to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Musical Inspiration- Softer to Me by Relient K

Hello again ! I just wanna say that the next update might not happen next Friday. I’m gonna try to update regularly every Friday- but it takes a little longer than expected to type everything up. I love you all for not telling me how stupid I am or how warped my mind is because I wrote this fic. I promise I’ll make it interesting (: enjoy chapter two !

xo-

michele

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“Hermione? Hermione? There, see? She just fainted. I told you she didn’t die. Honestly, sometimes I swear you two are still eleven years old.”

Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes to see Ginny kneeling above her. She already knew that the two boys standing most likely behind Ginny were Harry and Ron.

“Yeah?” Hermione heard Ron say. She could imagine what he looked like at that moment; a challenging look in his eyes, and his ears nearly matching the color of his hair. “She could have fooled anyone into thinking she was dead with the way she fell like that.”

“Yes, minus the fact that she was breathing,” Ginny drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Come on, guys,” Hermione’s stomach did an all-too familiar flip-flop at the sound of Harry’s voice. “This isn’t the first thing she needs to hear from us after just waking up.”

Holding her head, Hermione slowly sat up and took in her surroundings. She seemed to be in a room just off the sanctuary- she could still hear the murmur of people leaving the church. Blinking rapidly at the lights above her, she noticed Ron and smiled at him. He hadn’t changed at all since she had left; same flaming red hair, warm eyes… he had lost a bit of weight, too. Playing for the Chudley Cannons had certainly changed his physique. Just then the other redhead shook her hair, causing Hermione to glance at Ginny. She had grown her hair down to about her belly button. She had also filled out quite a bit- she wasn’t the “innocent little girl” Hermione had left behind.

Hermione’s heart fluttered when she saw Harry. His hair was as uncontrollable as ever, but his gaze wasn’t obstructed by glasses anymore. He must have gotten contacts somewhere in that five year window, Hermione thought briefly. How did this happen? This wasn’t an accident- it couldn’t be.

Suddenly Hermione started laughing, completely oblivious to the dumbfounded looks she was receiving. Giggling, then sighing softly, she spoke.

“You guys are funny,” she said, smiling widely. “Seriously, abso-bloody-lutely hilarious. I don’t think I could have pulled that off. Now, what have you done with James?”

The dumbfounded looks didn’t cease.

“Who’s James?” Ginny asked, tilting her head to one side.

“My fiancé,” Hermione replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I know you guys were behind all of this, you can take the incredulous looks off your faces now.”

“Hermione…” Ron said, taking a step towards her. “I don’t think you understand fully what just happened. We’re a bit confused, too. Somehow, you accidentally married Harry.”

“That’s preposterous,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. “You can’t accidentally marry someone- it’s completely impossible. My mother always said—” she stopped talking abruptly. “My mother!” she said, quickly standing up- a difficult task with her wedding dress still on. “Where’s my purse?” Hermione asked to no one in particular.

Without waiting for an answer, her eyes swept over the room and found it on a chair in the corner. Picking it up, she hurried into a closed off part of the room that Harry, Ron, and Ginny were currently in.

Flipping open her mobile, she noticed she had four or five missed calls. Making a mental note to check them later, Hermione quickly dialed her mother’s number. After a few rings, she heard a click.

“Hello?” her mother said.

“Mum!” Hermione practically shouted.

“Hermione!” Helen said, surprised. “Where are you? I’ve been trying to call you- James did, too. You apparently weren’t by your mobile.”

No, I was too preoccupied “accidentally” marrying my best friend, Hermione thought bitterly.

“Mum, quick, tell me something,” Hermione said urgently. “I was supposed to get married in the Westminster Abbey, right?” There was a pause.

“Why, no,” Helen said. “I would have picked there- it was so beautiful. But coincidentally, and quite oddly, actually, there was a wedding booked for the same time. I picked the Westminster Cathedral, instead. I told Danielle to tell you… you didn’t get the message, I’m guessing.”

“The Westminster Cathedral?” Hermione asked. “Oh, no.”

~*~

“So, Harry,” Ron said seriously, turning towards his best friend. “or Har-Bear,” Harry flinched subconsciously at his would-be wife’s pet name for him. “Why didn’t Clarissa, the actual bride, show up?”

“That’s a good question, Ron,” Harry said, sitting down and cradling his face in his hands. “I can’t answer that, go ask Clarissa.”

“But she doesn’t like me,” Ron complained.

“That’s odd,” Ginny said, speaking for the first time in a while. “She likes me.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, then continued so quietly Ginny had to resort to lip reading. “Don’t tell Harry, but I think she likes women.”

Stifling a giggle, then hurriedly regaining a straight face, Ginny turned to Harry.

“Why don’t you call her, Harry,” she suggested. “At least figure out why she didn’t turn up.” Harry sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, standing up. “I suppose I should.” Walking over to the phone mounted on the wall, Harry put the receiver to his ear and dialed the very familiar number to Clarissa’s flat.

“Hello?” someone said.

“Hey Liz,” said Harry, recognizing the voice of Clarissa’s flat mate. “Have you seen my fiancé?”

“Yeah,” Liz replied. “She’s here- packing everything.”

“Packing everything?” Harry asked. “Where’s she going?”

“She’s moving, silly,” said Liz. “She’s going to live in Australia.”

“Australia?” asked Harry. “What—” but he was cut off by a shrill voice.

“LIZ!” Harry heard Clarissa bellow.

“Shit,” Liz muttered. “Probably shouldn’t have had it on speakerphone. Lissy, was I not supposed to tell him about this, or the tattoo?”

Mouthing “A tattoo?”, Harry couldn’t make out the next string of words, but soon enough Clarissa had taken the phone off the receiver.

“Hey, Harry,” she said slowly.

“Uh, hi,” said Harry. “So, Australia?”

“I was going to tell you,” Clarissa said quickly. “I just couldn’t find a decent time to. Har-Bear, we’ve had an amazing time together. And I feel happy with you, I just— I can’t marry you. I’m sorry.”

“You were going to just go to Australia and leave me looking like an idiot standing at the alter?” Harry asked, his anger evident.

“No, you would have gotten a call before I jumped on the plane,” Clarissa muttered helplessly. “I’m sorry, Harry. I could tell you weren’t very happy with me, anyway.”

“What do you mean, I wasn’t happy with you?” Harry asked. “Of course I was happy with you.”

“Harry,” said Clarissa. “I know when a man looks at me and sees another woman.” With that, there was a faint click. Hanging up the phone and sighing heavily, Harry turned to his friends.

“You must’ve caught the jist of that conversation,” he said.

“That your fiancé’s going to Australia and she has a tattoo?” Ron guessed.

“That’s about it,” said Harry. “She was going to leave me at the alter. She was going to break the wedding off. She told me that she knows when a man looks at her and sees another woman.”

“Good thing you didn’t marry her, then,” Ron said. “She’s off her rocker.”

“Sod off, Ron,” Ginny said sharply. Moving over to Harry, she put comforting hands on his shoulders. “Are you going to be alright?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “I think I am.”

Just then Hermione cautiously walked in.

“I just wanted to calmly discuss this whole matter to figure out what the bloody hell happened and how we can fix it,” she said in one breath.

“Okay,” Harry said. “First things first, how did you get here? I mean, who told you to come here?”

“I got a call,” Hermione said. “Telling me that the wedding was supposed to have started already and that I should come immediately to the Westminster Abbey.”

“That’s the message I left Clarissa,” Ron said slowly.

“You sound like Brian!” Hermione exclaimed. “My fiancé’s best man,” she added in response to Ron’s questioning look.

“So you called Mione instead of Clarissa?” Harry asked, staring at Ron as if he had grown another head.

“Ginny gave me the number,” Ron accused, pointing at his sister.

“Gin?” Hermione asked. “Can I see the number that you gave Ron?”

“Sure,” Ginny said. Walking over to the desk in the room, she picked up a small piece of parchment and handed it to Hermione. After looking it over, she looked up at the group.

“Mine and Clarissa’s area code is the same,” Hermione stated. “Our first three numbers are the same. The last four digits would be the same, but hers is 9513 and mine is 9518.”

Ron snatched the paper from Hermione’s hands. “Ginny!” he exclaimed. “Your finger smudged the last number! And you know I’m still learning to use the felly tone- you’re lucky I didn’t call some old bat.”

“But Ronald, you know my mobile number,” Hermione pointed out. “Shouldn’t you have recognized that you were dialing it?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Harry interrupted. “How does Ron know your mobile number?”

“That’s not important right now,” Hermione said quickly, not daring to look Harry in the eye. “We’ll explain it later- maybe. In the mean time I have to fix this.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’ll go file for an annulment.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Hermione said maliciously, walking back into the other room.

“Three galleons says that Hermione hasn’t had caffeine all day,” Ron grinned, breaking the silence.

~*~

“Shit!” Hermione muttered just after closing her mobile. Walking back out and addressing Harry, Ron, and Ginny, Hermione said, “Well this is just bloody fantastic.”

“What?” Ginny asked, leaning forward in the chair she was sitting in.

“I can’t get a meeting in with a judge anywhere for at least a month,” Hermione said, leaning against the wall.

“So… what exactly does that mean?” Ron asked, his eyebrows raised.

“It means that Hermione and I are going to be legally married for quite some time,” Harry answered quietly. Just then, Ginny smirked.

“Oh, Hermione,” she said in a sing song voice, standing up. “Would you please come talk to me for a minute in this little room?”

“Sure…” Hermione answered, eyeing Ginny suspiciously as she followed her. Once they were inside, Ginny turned to Hermione.

“You’re a little on edge,” she stated. “More so than what I would consider normal for you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed. “I’m fine. I’m just a little stressed and I haven’t had any caffeine since yesterday.”

“Damn,” Ginny muttered. “I owe Ron three galleons.”

“Ginny,” said Hermione. “I’m sure that’s not the reason you asked to speak to me privately?”

“Well, no,” Ginny said. “Mione, the fates have dealt you a sweet, sweet card.”

“I thought I told fate to fuck off when I left,” Hermione said bitterly.

“By any chance do you curse when you haven’t had caffeine?” Ginny asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I’ve been told that, yes,” said Hermione. “But that’s not important. Why did you want to talk to me?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Ginny said, perking up a bit. “See, since you and Harry are legally married and everything, and most married couples live together…”

“You want me to live with Harry?” Hermione asked. “Are you insane?”

“Come on, Hermione,” Ginny whined. “Do it for me? I’ll tell you what- live with him for a month, that’s all. Just about until you can get in to see a judge for the annulment. After that I won’t say a word about you and Harry.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ginny’s proposition. “You promise?” she said.

“I promise,” Ginny said quickly. “But this deal does mean that you go out and act like a couple. Harry doesn’t have to know about that, but if you don’t act like a pair of newlyweds in public, I can still pester you about you and him.”

“Fine,” Hermione conceded. “But only a month.”

“Perfect!” Ginny said, beaming. “Let’s go tell the guys.” She led the way out to the larger room.

“Okay!” said Ginny. “Here’s the deal. Harry and Mione are going to live together for a while. Kay? Kay. Now whose place are they going to live at?”

“Not ours,” Ron said. “There isn’t any room as it is, with you, Harry, and me there.”

“We can live in my flat,” Hermione offered reluctantly. “I’m there by myself, anyway.”

“Terrific!” Ginny exclaimed, putting her hands together. “So we’ll have Harry get everything he needs and then Hermione can move him in.”

“Hey!” Harry said, a hurt look on his face. “Do I get any say in this at all?”

“No,” Ginny said solemnly, shaking her head. “Now go get your things and go with Hermione.”

Harry glared at Ginny for a moment, muttered “Fine,” then hesitantly took Hermione’s arm and Apparated them both into Harry’s, Ron’s, and Ginny’s flat.

~*~

“This is… nice,” Hermione commented as she stood in the middle of the living room. Harry was in his bedroom, haphazardly throwing his clothes into a trunk.

“Don’t sugar coat it, Hermione,” Harry said, his voice floating to Hermione’s ears. “I know it’s quite messy and if you’re not careful your foot will stick to the floor.” At this comment Hermione laughed.

“Well… all it needs is a little tidying up, really,” she said. “You could have it halfway decent looking with a little hard work.”

Harry laughed, walking out of his room. “Yeah, sure,” he said.

“You got everything?” Hermione said, narrowly avoiding something on the floor.

“Yeah,” Harry answered, patting his pockets to indicate that they had been shrunk for easy travel. “Let’s go.”

Hermione grabbed his arm and Apparated them into a closet on the main floor of her flat building. After walking to the elevator, and getting a series of bewildered looks from the man behind the front desk, the two of them made it to Hermione’s flat. Spinning around suddenly, she turned to look at Harry.

“Shh,” she said softly, placing a finger against her pursed lips. “I don’t want Charlotte to see you.”

Playing along, Harry nodded and tried not to make a sound. The second Hermione put the key in the lock, however, Charlotte’s flat door opened.

“Hermione,” Charlotte said, immediately turning her attention to her friend. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be on a plane to the Caribbean by now. What happened at the wedding? And why are you here with…” she trailed off, slowly turning to face Harry. “Cute guy?” she finished, tilting her head to one side and grinning.

Hermione laughed softly. “Charlotte, this is Harry,” she said, gesturing to the man beside her. Harry politely shook her hand, murmuring “Hello, Charlotte.”

“Oh, please, call me Char,” Charlotte said, batting her eyelashes. “Tell me something, Harry; are you single?”

“He’s married,” Hermione stated, trying and failing to hide her amusement.

“What a shame,” Charlotte said, her face falling slightly. “Well, if it doesn’t work out, Harry, call me.” With a wink, Charlotte disappeared behind her door once more. Sighing and shaking her head, Hermione turned the key and opened the door.

“Wow,” Harry murmured as he walked inside. The entire place was spotless- no surprise there. The kitchen had a few dishes in the sink- various soap bubbles remained. Suddenly he chuckled.

“I should have known,” Harry called to Hermione, who was in the other room. “Only you would have an entire wall converted into a bookshelf.”

The wall just opposite of the kitchen had, in fact, been changed into a bookshelf practically overflowing with a variety of different books.

“Problem with it?” Hermione asked, walking out of the other room with a few blankets in her arms.

“No, no,” Harry said quickly. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed after all this time.”

Hermione smiled slightly. Silently, she handed him the pile of blankets. “It’s been a long day,” she said. “We can discuss this whole matter in the morning. You can sleep on the couch- it pulls out into a bed.”

Harry smiled. Taking the blankets from her and placing them on the couch, he turned to face her.

“Well… good night,” he said softly, staring into her eyes.

“Good night,” she whispered. After looking at him for a second longer, she looked as though she meant to say something, but thought better of it and practically sprinted to her bedroom.

~*~

Only one thing in the world could keep Hermione up at night- a problem. Something left unresolved. So as she flipped over from side to side, Hermione thought that this particular problem should be easy enough to ignore, just for tonight. She’d been doing it for so long is had become habit.

But it certainly didn’t help that both her problem and her solution was sleeping in the other room on her couch.

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If you’ve got a minute, write your thoughts.

hey you lot- sorry for not updating for the last couple of weeks. it’s not a very good excuse but- life got in the way. but i’ve fixed it, and i should be updating more regularly now- enjoy chapter three !

xo,

michelle

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I probably should have closed the curtains last night, was the first thought that flitted through Hermione’s mind as the sun peeped through her window. Squinting one eye open and glancing at the clock, she groaned. 6:30 am.

I had another hour to sleep and now I won’t be able to, she thought bitterly. Just then upbeat music floated through the far wall of her bedroom. I really need to talk to Charlotte about not turning up her music so loud every bloody morning. Which reminds me, I need to do a load of laundry today… Just then there was a thud, like that of a falling trash can. Hermione groaned.

“Who’s in the other room?” she mumbled. Just then she sat bolt upright.

“Harry!” she said, jumping out of bed and rushing into the living room, expecting to see someone on her couch. But no one was there. There weren’t any blankets on her couch. There wasn’t any sign that anyone had slept there the previous night.

“Harry?” Hermione whispered shrilly, peeping her head into the kitchen. No one was there. Moving over to her coat closet, she swung the door wide- a few jackets, and an umbrella. No Harry.

“Did I… did I dream it?” Hermione asked herself. “That’s possible. After all, it’s not probable to accidentally marry someone… Yes. Yes, it was just a weird dream.”

Just then her phone rang. Walking over to it, she picked up the receiver and said, “Hello?”

“Hey, you,” a familiar voice said. Hermione smiled.

“Hey James,” she said warmly. “What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you,” James said. “About the wedding that was supposed to happen yesterday.”

“What?” Hermione asked, her trepidation obvious.

“I talked to your mum,” explained James. “And she told me that you weren’t at our wedding ceremony because you were crashing someone else’s?”

“It wasn’t a dream…” Hermione whispered. “It really happened. I really married Harry…?”

“Apparently,” James said bitterly. “I spent the last day away from everyone- pulling myself together. Do you understand how I must have felt? I went into a separate room and didn’t catch whatever it was your mother told the ones who came to watch the wedding- I felt like you just left me to stand there at the alter. After a lot of yelling on my part, and nearly breaking a wall, I’m wondering how in the hell you could have married him.”

“It was an accident,” said Hermione immediately. “A complete and total accident. Looking back, everything that happened was so unlikely. I mean, what are the odds our phone numbers would have been nearly the same? Or that Ginny’s finger would have just smudged the last number? Or that no one would have told me what church it was? Why in Gods name did I take a cab? Or that damn veil…” she was now talking more to herself than to James.

“Well regardless of how it happened, it happened,” said James. “And I’m wondering what you plan to do about it.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“I mean us, Hermione,” James said, somewhat sharply. “What do you think we should do about this?”

“I don’t know, James,” Hermione confessed. “I have to live with Harry for a month- until I can file for the annulment. I’m only doing it because Ginny promised me she wouldn’t do the one thing she knows makes me want to pound someone’s face in- and you know I’m not a violent person.”

“Do you love him, Hermione?” James asked suddenly.

“What?” asked Hermione, taken aback.

“Do you love him?” James repeated, his tone a bit harsher. “And not in the friendly way.”

“Of course I don’t love him, James,” Hermione said immediately. “I left him and the rest of my friends in my old life, at least five years ago. If I loved him, I would have stayed.”

“Unless you couldn’t take seeing him constantly,” James said accusingly. “You know what, Hermione? Why don’t we take a break. I’ll cancel the Caribbean, and we’ll see how this month goes. I’ll talk to you periodically just to check in.”

“If that’s what you think is best, James,” Hermione said quietly. “I really am sorry about all of this.”

“They say that love is blind,” said James. “Keep me updated. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

Hermione put the receiver back down after hearing a faint click. Hermione screamed in frustration.

“Damn it!” she said, collapsing on the couch and punching one of her pillows. “Why—did—this—have—to—happen—?! I had everything. I was happy. Freaking happy, for once! Why—does—he—have—to—ruin—every—god—damn—good—thing—I—have—?” Shoving her face into the pillow, Hermione screamed until her throat hurt. Pulling back, she was surprised to see that tears had leaked out of her shut eyes and onto the pillow. Taking a few deep breaths and hastily wiping her eyes, she began thinking.

“If it wasn’t a dream,” Hermione said softly to herself. “Where’s Harry?”

Just then she heard another thud like the one before, only this one was closer to her front door. Hermione heard the tinkling laughter that belonged to her flat neighbor. Sighing, she opened the front door and sure enough, Charlotte was practically cornering Harry, who looked quite uncomfortable.

“Harry, you’re so funny,” Charlotte cooed, flipping her hair.

“That wasn’t even that funny,” Harry said, trying to escape from her yet again. “All I said was I got sort of lost because I don’t know the area.”

“Good morning, you two,” Hermione said, bringing Charlotte back to reality.

“Oh!” Charlotte said quietly, as if in surprise. “Good morning, Hermione. Did we forget to change out of our pajamas today?”

Looking down, Hermione was surprised to see that she had forgotten to change before barging out the door. She was wearing a small pale blue camisole and her rather large dark red pajama pants.

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Apparently I did. Why don’t you go finish your exercise, Charlotte? Tone those muscles of yours.”

“I might need the endurance,” Charlotte agreed, winking at Harry. “I’ll see you two later.”

“Bye,” said Hermione cheerfully, guiding Harry inside the flat. “Where were you?” she asked once he was inside. “How did Charlotte end up cornering you?”

“I went for a run,” Harry explained, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “And when I was coming back up, she opened her door and started talking to me.”

“You mean flirting,” Hermione corrected.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said. “All I wanted to do was get back into your flat to shower, but she wouldn’t hear of it. So I started talking to her and she backed me into the wall- I figured if you weren’t already awake, that’d jostle you awake.”

Hermione wasn’t paying much attention to what Harry was saying- she was paying lots of attention to what he was doing. She noticed his stomach muscles (fully visible- his shirt was soaked through) moved every time he so much as moved an arm. Quite odd, Hermione thought. I don’t think I know any other guy whose stomach muscles flinch so much. I wonder what else could make them flinch…

“Hermione?” Harry asked, waving a hand in front of her face- effectively breaking her stupor.

“What?” asked Hermione, running her hands through her hair and shaking her head slightly.

“I said do you mind if I take a shower?” Harry said, gesturing to his sweat soaked body.

“Oh!” Hermione said. “No, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, walking in the direction towards the bathroom.

~*~

Sitting on her bed, Hermione listened to the sound of the water running from the shower.

He’s in there, she thought transiently. It would be so easy to just accidentally walk in- I could blame fatigue… hmm. Might be able to see what exactly happened to him in those five years. Oh, for the love of God! What am I doing? I shouldn’t even be thinking about stuff like this. It’s Harry.

Just then she heard the water turn off. She saw Harry walk- more like glide- out into the hallway, glance in the living room, and then walk into Hermione’s bedroom.

“Why did you put my trunk in your room?” he asked sleepily, stifling a yawn and fixing the towel wrapped around his waist.

Because I’m apparently pretty smart, Hermione thought, her gaze transfixed on a bead of water making its way down his spine, then disappearing as it was absorbed by the maroon towel.

“I don’t know,” was what she said. “I didn’t like looking at it in the living room.”

Harry chuckled softly. “That’s just like you.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said softly. “So Harry, what do you want to do today? We could sit here and wait for Charlotte to come back again…”

“No,” Harry said quickly, spinning around so fast the towel nearly slipped off his body. Hermione laughed, her cheeks tainted pink.

“Or I could give you a small tour of the area around my flat,” she finished. “So you won’t get lost again on another run of yours.”

“That one,” Harry said hurriedly. “I—I want to go outside,” he said, a bit slower. “Know where I’m going so I don’t get lost again.”

Hermione smiled. “Alright,” she said. “Get dressed—” her gaze lowered to his towel for a moment. “—and we’ll get going.”

After seeing her gaze drop, he briefly looked down and, seeing that the towel was still in place, took a pair of dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt out of his trunk. He then swiftly walked into the bathroom to change.

~*~

About five minutes later, Harry emerged from the bathroom, shaking his still-damp hair. Walking into the kitchen, he found Hermione leaning against the counter, holding a cup of coffee with both hands. Slowly moving forward, he stood next to her- his hip was just barely brushing against her lower stomach.

“Are you ready to go?” he whispered, not completely knowing why he did. She inhaled deeply.

God, what is he wearing? She thought; her eyes fluttering closed. It smells so good. Oh God, stop that- I can’t let this happen again.

“Yeah,” Hermione said, standing up and placing her coffee cup in the sink. “I’m ready.” Without another word, she walked out the front door- Harry right behind her.

~*~

“So if you cut through this alleyway,” Hermione explained, pointing down a dark alley as the two of them walked past it. “You can get home a lot faster, avoiding everyone else who is probably running.”

“How did you know that?” Harry asked, speeding up just a bit to stay next to her.

“I used to go running with…” she trailed off. “I used to go running here. I didn’t like having to slow down for anyone.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Okay.”

“And this is the ice cream shop,” Hermione said, tilting her head in the direction of a sign boring the words Susan’s Sweet Tooth. “A pretty popular place- for both little kids and adults looking for a place to eat after a movie or something.”

“Hermione?” Harry asked, looking her in the eye.

“What?” she said, turning her attention to him.

“Would you like some ice cream?” his face told her that he wanted some, as well. Hermione laughed.

“Yes, Harry,” she answered. “Let’s get ice cream.” Smiling widely, she led him into the store. After ordering and paying for the ice cream, the two of them stepped outside and sat down.

It took Harry a moment to realize that Hermione was looking at him intently- her ice cream half forgotten.

“Yes, Hermione?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

“What?” she asked, her tone lighter and her eyes a bit unfocused. “Oh!” she said, blinking her eyes a few times to get them back into focus. “Sorry, I was just thinking. You haven’t changed much since…” she trailed off.

“Since you ran away,” Harry finished for her. “Hermione, I’ve been meaning to ask you- and I know this isn’t the best time or place for it- but why did you leave?” Hermione took a deep breath.

“You know me, Harry,” she began. “I can’t take people knowing every little detail about me and throwing it out to random strangers. I just couldn’t take that.”

“We- you, me, and Ron- could have gone somewhere else,” Harry said quietly. “The Trio has to at least stay together, Hermione. Without you, we’re two idiots.”

Hermione smiled softly. “You’re not complete idiots- you just don’t understand a lot. I just- I needed some time by myself. I needed to get a few things straight.”

“Did you get them straightened out?” Harry asked, his expression concerned. Hermione took a deep breath.

Have I gotten them all straightened out? She thought. Let’s see- I “ran away” because I couldn’t take the publicity, yes, but also because I couldn’t stand to see Harry with all those women- throwing himself at him. And he was just standing there and taking it all in! Maybe James was right.

“I’ll let you know,” she whispered, taking a bite of her ice cream.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

if you’ve got a moment, your thoughts would be immensely appreciated (:

musical inspiration- don’t ask me by OK Go

please don’t eat me ! *dodges random fruit* i know, this is getting ridiculous. but i’ll fix it, i swear.

xo-
michelle

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Day One- continued.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hermione!” Charlotte called, knocking incessantly on her flat door. Once the door was opened, Charlotte immediately stepped inside.

“Where’s Harry?” she asked, peering around Hermione.

“He’s getting a tour of the building,” Hermione answered. “What is it with you and Harry, anyway?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Charlotte said, staring at Hermione as if she had grown another head. “He’s gorgeous! Are you absolutely positive that he’s married?”

“Yes,” said Hermione. “Pretty positive.”

“Mmm,” Charlotte hummed, tilting her head to the side and closing her eyes briefly. “What I wouldn’t give to—”

“Char!” Hermione interrupted. “That’s enough. Why don’t you go do something productive?”

“Harry’s productive,” Charlotte pointed out, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Ha ha,” Hermione said sarcastically. “Very funny. Go.” Good naturedly, she pushed Charlotte out the door.

“She’s worse than I am,” Hermione murmured, smiling. Sighing, she walked over to her bookshelf and grabbed one of her guilty pleasures- a romance novel.

~*~

“Hermione!” Harry called, stepping inside the flat. “I’m back. D’you wanna go out for a bit of lunch?”

Just then he heard her humming- he guessed she was fixing her hair in the bathroom. Walking over to the door, he opened it and was about to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

Holy—

He shut the door to the bathroom quickly, but the door to his thoughts remained wide open.

Holy—oh my—was she really—?

“I walked in on Hermione in the shower,” Harry muttered to himself, leaning up against the wall. “Bloody—” he took a deep breath, trying to form coherent thoughts. “This doesn’t mean anything,” he murmured. “It was an accident- nothing more. Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

Just then Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, shaking her wet hair with her fingers. Try as he might, Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off the towel wrapped loosely around the body he had seen mere minutes ago.

Dammit, he thought. So much for not a big deal.

“Oh!” Hermione said, startled. “Harry, you scared me. I thought you were out getting a tour of the building.”

“We finished,” Harry said, focusing his eyes on the fogged up mirror, just to the left of Hermione’s head. “And I was wondering if you wanted to go out and get some lunch.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” Hermione said, smiling. “I need to get dressed.”

No, you don’t, he thought. But what he said was, “Okay.” Turning, Harry walked into the living room and sat on the couch.

Looking at the pillow, he noticed something partially sticking out- it appeared to be a book. Picking it up, Harry laughed softly.

“A trashy romance novel,” he murmured, more of a statement than a question. “I can’t believe Hermione actually has one of these.” Flipping it open to the bookmarked page, he read a paragraph or two. He would have read more- his curiosity had surpassed every feeling in his body that told him to put it down- but he heard Hermione’s door close just then, her feather light footsteps coming down the hallway. Hurriedly, he pushed the book back underneath the pillow, exactly how he had found it.

“Hey, Harry, I think we should get going or we’re gonna—” Hermione said, stopping short when she saw where Harry was sitting. “What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide- trying and failing to act nonchalant.

“Sitting here,” Harry replied simply, gesturing to the couch and purposely putting his hand a bit too close to the pillow hiding Hermione’s secret.

“Well it’s time to get up,” Hermione said lightly, her eyes feigning carelessness- but Harry could see the anxiety behind them. She quickly took Harry’s hand and hauled him off the couch, pulling him in the direction of the door. To Harry’s confusion- and delight- she didn’t let go of his hand the whole way there.

~*~

“Welcome,” the woman behind the counter said, smiling. “What can I get you two today?”

“I’ll have a ham and cheese slim,” Hermione said. “And Harry, I don’t really know what you might want…”

“I’ll have a Bootlegger Club,” Harry said, smiling at the woman.

“Alright,” the woman said, smiling back. After they had paid for their sandwiches, they took a seat at a table close to the windows.

“Bootlegger Club?” Hermione asked, taking a bite of her ham and cheese.

“Roast beef, turkey, lettuce, tomato, mayo,” Harry said. “It’s nearly the same whenever I go to a sandwich shop.”

“I see,” said Hermione. The two ate in silence for a while. Harry broke it.

“So, Hermione,” he said, putting his elbows on the table so he could lean closer to her. “You do have a job, right? I mean, it’d be totally out of character if you didn’t.” Hermione laughed softly.

“Yes, I have a job,” she answered. “I’m a secretary- I didn’t feel the need to push for anything above that. But I’m on my… honeymoon leave. Boss was nice enough to give me three weeks.” She paused, not sure how to ask the question forming in her mind.

“How about you?” she asked slowly. “Do you work anywhere?”

“I’ve been working for the majority of my life,” Harry answered, speaking so quietly Hermione had to lean in closer just to hear him. “The defeat of Voldemort and everything, you know? I’ve decided to take a few years off- have some fun. I figured I deserve that much, at least.”

“You do,” Hermione reassured him, placing one of her small hands on his larger, calloused one. “Without you, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said. Suddenly he recoiled, taking both hands off the table. “But without me, all those innocent people would still be alive.”

“But more would be dead,” said Hermione simply, lacing her fingers together. “They don’t call you Savior of the Wizarding World for nothing.”

That shut him up. He resigned to crossing his arms across his chest and sighing in slight frustration.

I wonder what else could render him speechless… the single-minded imp in the back of Hermione’s head had returned.

“Mione?” Harry asked, looking at her with a curious expression on his face. Hermione shook her head and blinked her eyes a couple of times.

“Hmm?” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Sorry, spaced out for a moment there. What were you saying?”

“Why don’t we head home?” Harry suggested for the second time. “This place is getting kind of crowded.”

“Okay,” Hermione said, standing up. Harry followed suit, and the two walked home- remaining within three feet of each other, but not touching.

~*~

“I like this couch,” Harry stated, sitting down on the couch he had gotten off of just an hour ago.

“Yeah…” Hermione agreed, and Harry could see the cogs working like mad inside her head- trying to formulate a plan so Harry wouldn’t see what was hidden underneath the pillow. She walked away from the living room, towards the refrigerator.

“Harry!” Hermione said from the kitchen area- she had noticed Harry getting a bit too close to that pillow. “Why don’t you come in here and help me?”

Harry walked slowly into the kitchen to see Hermione leaning against the counter opposite of the sink- the dishes were washing themselves. He contemplated the situation for a moment, and then stood right in front of her, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“Are you sure you need my help?” Harry asked quietly. “Or do you just not want me to find that book?”

Hermione stared at him, her eyes full of confusion. She let out a silent breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“What book?” she asked softly.

“Well, I didn’t quite catch the title,” Harry said, placing a hand on the cupboard just above her head- leaning a bit closer to her. “But it had to do with a Mitch, and he was in a very… interesting situation with a young woman.” Harry couldn’t help smiling at the blush on her cheeks that grew darker with every word he spoke.

“Well go ahead,” Hermione said, almost silently. “Laugh at me.”

“Why would I?” Harry asked, using a hand to tilt her chin up so he could look her directly in the eye. “I don’t feel the need to. It’s just a novel.”

Hermione gave him one of her half-smiles. He grinned in response. Just then Hermione hit her tolerance point- she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions if he stayed that close to her. Ducking underneath his arm, she opened the freezer.

“How bout some dessert?” she asked, pulling out a tub of ice cream as she did so.

Sure, I want some dessert, Harry thought. But not the ice cream.

“Sure,” Harry said, taking one of the spoons from her and getting a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. He ate it slowly, then turned his attention to Hermione.

“Mione?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Hermione’s spoon was upside down, covering her tongue, so she was prohibited from speaking actual words.

“Why did you leave?” Harry tried to remain aloof, but failed miserably. Hermione sighed.

“Iotureouantoow,” Hermione said. Then she remembered the spoon in her mouth, and took it out. She bit her lip, then tried again.

“I’m not sure you want to know,” she said quietly.

“I do want to know,” Harry said, leaning on the counter with one arm, and twirling the spoon between his fingers with his free hand. “Tell me, please.” Hermione sighed again.

“Maybe another time,” she said, dismissing the subject. “When you’re ready to know.”

“Okay,” Harry said, admitting defeat. “But I’ll hold you to that.”

You don’t need a reason to hold me, Hermione thought wistfully, taking another heaping spoonful of ice cream.

~*~

Dinner was relatively quiet- the two of them stayed on light topics when they did speak. Neither of them were very hungry, however; odd, because they started dinner a lot later than usual. Unintentionally, they had finished the ice cream tub earlier. They were too busy looking into each others eyes, then eating more ice cream so they wouldn’t say anything stupid, or revealing.

We’re acting like a couple of teenagers, Hermione thought briefly as she cleared the table- Harry had taken most of them, so she didn’t have much to do. When she walked into the kitchen, he was there; dutifully placing each plate and item of silverware into the soapy water. Hermione smiled, and walked up behind him. For reasons unknown to even her, she went up on her tiptoes so she could whisper in her ear.

“Why don’t you just wash them by magic?” Hermione swore he jumped, or shivered slightly. “It’d be a lot easier.” Harry laughed softly.

“Somehow I think I should be saying that to you,” he said. “I just wanted to wash them the Muggle way tonight.”

“Let me help,” Hermione said, nudging him with her hip so he’d move to the left slightly. They washed the dishes in silence. When they were done, and squeaky clean, Hermione yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

“You should go to sleep,” Harry said, a concerned expression on his face.

“I probably should,” she agreed. “Do you need my help with setting up the couch…?”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said, tentatively stepping closer. “Go. Sleep.”

“Okay,” Hermione said. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. His snaked around her waist, holding her tightly to him.

I could get used to this, Hermione thought sleepily.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispered, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

“’Night, Hermione,” he said, just as quietly. She took her head off his shoulder. They stood there for a moment, in each others arms, looking at each other. Not moving, not making any attempts to.

It’d be so easy to kiss her, Harry thought, losing himself in her eyes. As if reading her thoughts, or if it was due to her tiredness, she tilted her head just slightly and leaned her head a bit closer. Harry, subconsciously, did the same. Their lips were about to touch when Hermione seemed to pull out of her stupor.

She untangled herself from Harry’s embrace and took a few steps back. Hermione was about halfway between her bedroom and Harry when she stopped.

“Sweet dreams,” she murmured, then smiled and slowly walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

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musical inspiration-
why don’t you kiss her, performed by Jesse McCartney

Don’t eat me! I have a good explanation for why I’m so bad at this, and if you’re really curious- send me an email. But if I get reviews on this one, I’ve got another chapter almost done- and I’ll update it quickly. Enjoy chapter five (:

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Harry woke, rather pleasantly, to Hermione’s voice. Rolling over on the couch and opening one eye the slightest bit, he could see that she was in the kitchen, murmuring to herself.

“Low on… milk, eggs, and… yogurt. Who keeps eating the yogurt? Oh, and ice cream. Wow, I just bought ice cream, too. Can’t believe we ate that much in one night…”

Harry smiled to himself. He secretly loved it when she talked to herself. Another reason he was smiling was because he was the one eating all the yogurt.

Don’t buy good yogurt and I wouldn’t have to eat it, he thought to Hermione, knowing she wouldn’t hear. He then heard feather-light footsteps in rapid succession; he guessed she was dancing, but Hermione never danced. Lifting his head slightly, so as not to attract attention, he peeked into the kitchen and saw- in his opinion- the most beautiful thing in the world.

Hermione was spinning around the kitchen, using her tiptoes to propel herself in circles. Her hair moved with her, chestnut curls waving whichever direction she chose to go. She was humming something- Harry recognized it immediately as an upbeat Italian song that she absolutely adored.

I’m so screwed, Harry thought with a groan, still watching her dance. Then she moved into the living room; Harry instantly lay his head back down, but kept his eyes squinted. He watched her move over to the TV set and stretch to see if something was on top. Harry couldn’t look away as her shirt rose just over the waistband of her jeans.

Does she realize how perfect she is? He asked himself, then was stunned into silence when she bent down to pick up whatever had fallen off the television set.

Ahh—wha—huh? Was all the thought Harry could muster. When Hermione had bent over, her jeans dipped, giving Harry quite the show.

Those are not lacy knickers, those are not lacy knickers, he repeated to himself- but he didn’t get another chance to glance at them; she had gotten up and was now scribbling onto a piece of paper. Putting the parchment on the table next to Harry’s head, she gently ruffled his hair with her hand, and then disappeared out the door.

As soon as she was gone, Harry jumped out from underneath the blankets covering him. Reaching over to the table, he picked up the parchment and read;

Harry—

Gone out shopping. We needed a few things. Should be back soon.

—Hermione

Harry smiled softly, but it was short-lived. Glancing at her name, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Is that a heart by her name, or a smudge?” he asked himself. “Would she really sign a heart by her name? ‘Hermione-smudge.’ That doesn’t sound good at all. ‘Hermione-heart. Hermione-smudge-heart.’

After chastising himself for getting so worked up over a smudge, he rolled over on the couch and landed with a soft “thud” on the floor. Groaning, he got off the floor and stood up- a dazed expression on his face. Running a hand through his hair, he stretched lazily.

“Shower,” he murmured, drunkenly stumbling into the bathroom.

Stepping under the warm spray, Harry reached out and grabbed a bottle.

Hermione is the only one I know who would label her bottles.

Opening it, he inhaled the scent that was uniquely Hermione’s. He used a milder smelling shampoo on his hair, however. After his shower, he stepped onto the fuzzy rug and looked into the mirror- even when wet, his hair was as messy as ever. Tilting his head to the side, he squinted his eyes and looked at himself. Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head and smiled, muttering “Hermione smudge-heart.”

He walked out of the bathroom, clad in just a towel that hung loosely at his hips. Once he had walked past Hermione’s bedroom, he stopped.

“… That wasn’t lace,” he said and, shaking his head, he kept walking.

Harry haphazardly threw on a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He then walked into the kitchen.

“Almost noon?” he murmured to himself. “Lunch, then.” Quickly throwing together a sandwich, he returned to the living room and plopped down onto the couch. After staring at the dark screen for about a minute, he took a rather large bite of his sandwich and sighed. Standing up, Harry walked over and got the remote off the top of the television set. He sat back down on the couch, and pressed the ‘power’ button, aiming it at the television.

Relaxing into the couch, he took another monstrous bite of the sandwich and watched the TV with a dazed expression on his face.

“We now return to our regularly scheduled programming…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“It’s impossible for people who work in a grocery store to be this smart,” Hermione muttered as she walked down aisle 5.

She was referring to the strategy grocery store owners used to get more profit. They figure milk is the one thing people buy most, and on occasion it’s the only thing on someone’s list when they go out shopping. So what do they do? Put the milk in the back of the store, so in order to get it you have to walk by many, many other tempting things. Things you automatically think about buying, even though in your subconscious mind you know you don’t need it.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said, pausing to look at the colorful display. Snapping out of it rather quickly, she continued walking. She passed the chilled section, and stopped right in front of the shredded cheese. Hermione laughed softly to herself.

“Harry and I never got that smell out of the carpet,” she murmured, smiling fondly at her memory.

Just then she noticed a couple- newlyweds, by the look of it- having what seemed to be an amusing discussion over a tub of ice cream.

We could have been like that, Hermione thought wistfully. I can see it, too. Gods of love, Hermione. You need to get a hold of yourself. He couldn’t see you like that, wouldn’t see you like that. Doesn’t see you like that.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” a woman said, breaking out of her reverie. Apparently she had been walking while half-daydreaming, for the next thing the woman said was “Could you move, please? I need to get hamburger buns.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back at home, Harry was watching the credits from a movie rolling when his cell phone rang. Laughing softly, he sang his ringtone under his breath- Low: the chipmunk version. Pressing the ‘talk’ button, he put it up to his ear.

“Hello?” he said, stretching languidly.

“Harry, mate!” Ron’s voice came through. “How’s the married life treating you?”

Harry made a face he knew Ron couldn’t see. “It’s okay, can’t complain much.”

“You can’t complain?” Ron repeated. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, shaking his half-damp hair. “It’s interesting, at best.”

“Have you accidentally walked in yet?”

“What?” Harry was taken aback by this question. “Have I walked in yet?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I mean, I know Hermione’s like our sister and everything, but her in that wedding dress? Whew. I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I was in a house with her for that long.”

Harry was saved from having to answer the question because at that moment Hermione decided to walk in, three or four bags in her arms. Harry quickly made the decision to end the phone call.

“Uh… I’m sorry ma’am… I’m not interested in mudslide insurance,” he said hurriedly. “Goodbye.”

Harry briefly heard Ron say “What…?” before he hung up the phone with a ‘click.’

“Who was that?” Hermione’s voice floated into the living room.

“No one,” Harry answered. “Some crazy woman who wanted me to buy mudslide insurance.”

“… Does she understand where you live?” Hermione asked, lowering her voice as Harry walked into the kitchen and took a bag out of her arms and placed it on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“I really don’t know,” said Harry, smiling a bit. “Do you want me to unpack, Hermione?”

“No,” Hermione said. “That’s okay. I can do it.”

“I insist,” Harry persisted. “Let me help, at least.”

“Alright,” Hermione conceded. “You can help.”

They unpacked the groceries in silence at first, until Harry unpacked a bag with a few interesting items in it.

“Hermione?” he asked. “What’s this?” he held up a multi-pack of an assortment of chips, and tilted his head to the side.

“It’s an assortment of chips,” she answered, not looking up from her bag.

“Was this on your list?” asked Harry, smiling slightly.

“Well… no,” Hermione said slowly, turning to face him. “But you should see the way it’s displayed at the store. Those grocery store owners are pretty clever.”

“Sure,” Harry said, deciding to drop the subject for now. The silence was broken again for almost the same reason.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Why is this so big?”

“What?” Hermione spun around quickly- almost too quickly- and staggered, trying to regain her balance. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw what he was holding. She held out her hands, and he handed the package to her, which she set gingerly onto one of the shelves in her cupboard.

“Skittles are my one weakness,” was all she had to say about the matter, but she was smiling as she said it. Try as he might, Harry couldn’t get that statement out of his mind.

How could I use that to my advantage…? Was all he was thinking about; he didn’t even hear the quiet knock at the door. Hermione did, however, and went over to open it. From there emerged Charlotte. Today she was wearing very tight dark blue jeans and a rather flashy top. It was spaghetti-strapped, with a low neck line. Bright red in color, it started with a few sparkles at the top of the shirt and gradually got denser until there was a thick layer of shimmer and the bottom. Harry didn’t even notice her until she latched onto his waist.

“Hey, Harry,” she said in the sexiest voice she could muster, batting her eyelashes playfully at him. “What are you doing?”

“Unpacking groceries?” he said slowly, attempting to remove her vice-like grip.

“You’re not sure?” she asked, smiling widely- as if to show him every one of her teeth.

“No,” said Harry. “I mean, yes, I’m sure.”

Charlotte’s laugh sounded like the tinkling of bells- and Hermione knew at once that Charlotte wasn’t really amused about anything.

“That couch,” Charlotte said, using her head to gesture to the couch in the living room. “Is it pretty hard? To sleep on, I mean.”

“Kind of, I guess,” Harry said, not knowing where Charlotte would take this.

“I like things that are hard,” Charlotte hummed, moving one hand just a bit lower.

“Um,” Harry said, forcing a cough. “Well, you could have some cheese? That’s pretty hard.”

“I like chocolate better,” murmured Charlotte, biting her lip slightly. “I like it melted. But I’m such a klutz- it usually ends up all over me. Do you like chocolate?”

“Yeah…” he answered slowly.

“You should come over sometime, we could have some. But would you clean up the mess?”

Look at her, Hermione thought, trying to not make a face at Charlotte’s attempts. She’s draped all over him like cheap… drapes!

Charlotte turned her head into Harry’s shirt. “You smell good,” she said as innocently as she could. When Harry was sure Charlotte couldn’t see his face, he turned to Hermione and gave her a look of mixed confusion, trepidation, and… disgust?

Hermione smile was a mile wide as she stifled the laugh that was about to erupt in her throat. Confident that Harry most certainly did not want this attention from her friend, she moved to strike.

“Oh Charlotte?” said Hermione sweetly. Charlotte moved her head to look at Hermione with glassy eyes.

“Hmm?” Charlotte said.

“I hear they have a new front desk man,” Hermione said. “He’s 27, I believe, and Italian- gorgeous face and the strongest arms.”

Charlotte’s eyes popped open again, and she stood up- releasing Harry. She threw her arms around him in a hug, then whispered something in his ear that made him blush a deep crimson. Once she was out of the door, Harry shook his head violently.

“What did Charlotte say, just now?” Hermione asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly. The look on his face caused Hermione to not ask again- she could infer what her friend had said.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest of the day passed slowly, and rather awkwardly. The two stayed inside the house; whenever they had to pass one another they shot the other awkward glances. Whenever a simple question was asked, the answer was delayed.

This is ridiculous, Hermione thought when she caught Harry looking at her over his magazine for the fourth time. I have to fix this awkwardness. She stood up from the couch, and walked into the kitchen.

“I’m making dinner,” she called to him. The response was a muffled “okay.”

Putting some water in a pan and setting it on the burner, Hermione made dinner in silence. About twenty minutes later, she had a large bowl of pasta, a simple tomato sauce, and a plate of breadsticks.

Placing the food on the table (which was right behind the couch that Harry was currently occupying), Hermione went back into the kitchen to get silverware and plates.

“Dinner’s on the table,” she told him. When she came back, he was sitting there. Setting a plate in front of him, she sat across from him and put some food on her plate. Dinner went on for a while in silence.

Merlin, I really am screwed, Harry thought as he watched Hermione dip a breadstick into the sauce and take a bite. He decided that watching her eat was his new favorite thing to watch, ever. His thoughts ran free then, to anything and everything regarding what else Hermione could use her mouth for when she broke him out of his reverie.

“So, Harry,” she said, ridding a bit of sauce from her lips. “What else did you do today, besides getting called by strange women?”

Harry blinked his eyes a few times, and then realized that he was required to answer.

“Well,” he said. “I woke up, took a shower, watched TV for a while, and then you came home. Then that rather… awkward conversation with Charlotte, and now dinner.”

“Sounds like a pretty exciting day,” said Hermione, a smile in her eyes.

“Oh, totally,” Harry said, his eyes matching hers.

Once dinner was over, Harry helped Hermione put the dishes away. By the time they were done (chores become elongated when one isn’t really paying attention to what you’re doing) it was eight o’clock. The two decided to see what was on TV. Sitting on the couch, they flipped through channels until they found one with a movie playing.

Sometime during the movie, Hermione felt a bit drowsy- or that’s how it appeared to be, because she let her head fall to Harry’s shoulder. Harry didn’t dare move her; he knew she was tired and he wanted her close to him.

By the time the movie was over it was around eleven at night (Stupid commercials, came into Harry’s head many times). Turning off the television, Harry and Hermione were submerged into almost complete darkness- the only light was the one above the oven in the kitchen.

She’d be freaked if she woke up on the couch with me, Harry decided. He then thought that he needed to get her into her own bed. Putting an arm around her shoulders, and one behind her knees, he picked her up effortlessly. Sighing softly, she subconsciously wrapped her arms around his neck. Moving as cautiously as he could, he made his way to the bedroom.

His journey wasn’t ideal; he ran into something lying on the floor, and almost crashed into the wall. He caught himself before they did, however.

He held her up against the wall, his movements had stopped completely because he didn’t want to wake her up- this situation would be hard to explain. She didn’t stir; instead, she shifted slightly, closer to him- her chest was just slightly pressed against his and her face was buried in his neck. He could feel her even breathing. He looked up at the ceiling, as if it would give him self control. Moving her again, he ended up in her room without another incident. He lay her down gently on the bed. The minute he had let go of her, her facial features contorted- she looked as if she didn’t like this new position.

Harry seriously contemplated just crawling into bed with her, but decided against it. He didn’t want her to know about his feelings for her, not yet. Leaning over, he rested a hand just by her head; she rolled towards his hand. Bending down, he gently kissed her forehead. Hermione sighed again and, feeling a bit bolder (or a bit less in control) he placed a kiss just by the corner of her mouth. She half sighed, half moaned softly.

Harry shut his eyes briefly, then moved off the bed and left the room before he lost all of his self control. Once he was back in the living room, Hermione opened her eyes. Smiling softly, she rolled over and let sleep overcome her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Musical Inspiration- Unbeautiful by Lesley Roy

don’t eat me. i’m very very sorry for being so bad about this. finals suck. never paused, just procrastinated. writers block, as well- such fun.. all the mistakes are mine, this was just quickly read over. please read and review- i’ll love you forever! enjoy chapter six(:
- michelle

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Harry was currently lying on his stomach, watching the morning news from the couch. His right leg was nearly touching the floor, but he didn’t notice. He was watching the TV with his eyes half closed, barely understanding what Mr. Perfect Hair and Teeth was saying.

I wonder how they can get up that early, Harry thought drowsily, letting his eyes close for the briefest of moments before his head fell over the side of the couch, causing him to jerk awake.

“Wha?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I couldn’t eat the macaroni, sir. I had to walk the plank… No, I don’t speak Portuguese.” Shaking his head slightly, he laughed almost silently and sat up. Harry fell back down immediately, groaning.

“Saturday mornings kill,” he muttered as he successfully sat up. Glancing at the clock, it read 8:13 AM.

I’d expect Hermione to be up by now, he thought, standing up and shivering slightly as the cooler air hit his skin. Clad in a pair of navy blue boxers and a muscle shirt, he stumbled towards the bedroom.

~*~*~

She shivered as she felt his arms wrap around her waist, hugging her from behind. She could feel his hot breath on the exposed skin of her neck, and it sent tingles down her spine.

“Do you want me?” he murmured, kissing her neck and pressing his lower body into hers. She let out a sigh and, feeling lightheaded, allowed her head to fall backwards onto her shoulder. His hands travelled to the area directly below her hips, using just enough pressure to make her want more. When she didn’t answer, he spun her around so she was facing him. Her head landed on his chest, but she couldn’t resist lifting her head to look into his emerald eyes.

“I said,” he whispered, slipping his hands into her back pockets and pulling her flush against him. The feeling of him so close to her, the mere smell of him was intoxicating, and she found it difficult to think clearly. “Do you want me?”

He started suckling her neck, gently biting the cord he knew would make her moan and move closer to him- if that were possible.

“I’m going to make you answer me, love,” he said huskily, and her body nearly shook in anticipation. “I’ll ask just one more time- do you want me?”

“God, yes,” she purred, arching into him. He crushed his lips to hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their tongues clashed together like they had done this quite a few times before; and in actuality, they had.

One of his hands found purchase in the hair towards the nape of her neck, while the other travelled south. His hand played with the hem of her sweatpants, and she soon grew impatient.

“I answered,” she murmured against his lips. “Touch me.”

She could feel him smile against her lips. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” He kissed her with a passion that left her breathless, and she broke the kiss with a gasp, throwing her head back. His hand moved inside her sweatpants, toying with her knickers.

~*~*~*~

Holy… Harry thought, watching the woman haunting this thoughts writhe on her bed.

Hermione moaned softly, arching her body towards whatever it was she was obviously dreaming about.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered almost completely to himself.

Man, I would love to wake up to that every morning.

…What? She’s your best friend. You’re lucky she hasn’t hexed your sorry arse for getting married to her! Now is not the time to think about waking up to her.

I know, I know. Shut up.

Harry moved over to the side of the bed she was on, and leaned in; intending to wake her up gently. The second he leaned in close enough, however, he found himself getting lost in the smell of her hair. He was so tempted to kiss her right then and there- a temptation that startled even him- and had to fight against it. His compromise was gently pressing his lips to her forehead. A soft smile graced her lips; and he returned it.

“Hermione? Time to wake up,” he whispered, running a hand gingerly through her hair. She mumbled something unintelligible, rolling over onto her stomach.

“I’ll be up in three minutes,” she said into her pillow, making Harry laugh softly. He removed his hand from her hair, and walked back into the living room.

I really don’t want to get up, was the first coherent thought Hermione had. I was having such a great dream. But I should get up… ugh.

After some mental debating, Hermione tumbled out of bed. Throwing her hair up in a bun piled on top of her head, she walked out of her bedroom and into the kitchen.

Harry was standing just next to the stove, flipping pancakes while using his wand to scramble eggs on the other burner.

Gods of love, Hermione thought, looking up towards the ceiling briefly. Must he go parading around like that?

“Fall asleep with your clothes on, Harry?” she asked. He turned to face her, and immediately Hermione wished she hadn’t said anything at all. His hair was incredibly messy and Hermione found him irresistible; her mind wandered to places it probably shouldn’t go before Harry broke her thoughts.

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at his apparel, or lack thereof. “Sorry, I guess I’m so used to walking around the flat when I’m not exactly fully dressed.”

“No big deal,” Hermione lied. “You’re making breakfast, I see? You sure can eat a lot.”

“I made some for you, too, Mione,” said Harry, smiling at her. The smile that made Hermione weak in the knees.

“That was… thoughtful of you,” she said feebly. “Thanks.”

Smiling, he handed her a plate full of pancakes, eggs, and toast. She sank into one of the chairs at the table and began eating.

Harry couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Hair piled up on the top of her head, she was wearing blue flannel pants and a white camisole that exposed most of her back.

It’s amazing how things aren’t really awkward between us after not seeing each other for about five years, Hermione thought as she bit into her toast. She somehow knew that Harry’s eyes were on her, and it gave her a sense of… satisfaction? How does that work?

The rest of her breakfast was eaten in relative silence- Hermione had sighed when she bit into her pancakes. Bringing her plate to the sink, she smiled up at him.

“Where on earth did you learn to cook?” she asked, her gaze appreciative.

“Food Network,” Harry answered with one of his boy-like smiles. Hermione laughed, and Harry decided it was his favorite sound in the whole world.

Hermione moved back to her bedroom with a murmur of “I’ve got to go change.” She reemerged from the room wearing a red flare button up and a pair of faded blue jeans.

That’s what she wears when she doesn’t have to go anywhere? Harry thought to himself as he watched her go through a few things in the kitchen. I’d love to see what she wears when it really matters. Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.

“Oh, man,” Harry groaned, his eyes as big as saucers. “It’s Charlotte. Shit. Tell her… I’m not here. Tell her I moved to Switzerland. I’m training to become a monk- anything!” As he was speaking, he backed up and stubbed his foot on the corner of the couch. “Dammit!” he said under his breath, then collapsed behind the couch.

Try as she might, Hermione couldn’t stop laughing. She had gotten to the point where she was holding her side with one hand. She saw Harry’s head peek out from above the couch.

“Shhh!” he said frantically, putting a finger to his lips. He silently pointed to the door. “Answer it,” he mouthed. “Get her out of here!”

Still laughing, Hermione moved to the door. Swinging it wide, her laughter died in her throat when she saw who it was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was none other than Ginny Weasley standing at the door, grin on her face and several lists in hand.

“Hey Hermione!” she said cheerfully, giving her friend a little hug. “Where’s Harry?”

“… Ginny?” Harry said slowly, standing up.

“Congratulations to the happy couple!” Ginny said, smiling at the two of them. Harry and Hermione each made an odd face at this comment- to Ginny’s amusement.

“No offense, Gin, but what are you doing here?” Harry asked, sitting down on the couch.

“Well… I thought I’d drop off the shopping lists so you two could get the flat ready for the party.”

“The party?” Hermione asked, confusion etched on her face.

“Oh!” Ginny exclaimed, surprised. “I thought Ron had called and told you, Harry. We’re throwing a housewarming party tonight. A few people are coming over to tell you how happy they are for you. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I guess not,” Harry said. “What do you think, Hermione?”

“It should be fine,” said Hermione, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What do you need us to go out and get, Ginny?”

“Great!” Ginny said, smiling. “I need you guys to go out and get the drink mixes. I don’t care what kinds of drinks you get; but we’re planning to get wasted tonight. It is a celebration, right?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Hermione said, smiling sweetly; she was gently ushering Ginny out the door. “We’ll see you tonight, okay? Just call us if you have anything else you need.” Before Ginny could utter a response, the door was shut. Hermione leaned against it, sighing.

“Do you really wanna host a party?” Harry asked, getting up and moving over to her.

“Already said yes,” she said quietly. “Would you do me a favor and go out and get the drinks? I have to clean. We’ve probably got about… nine hours before the party.”

“Sure,” Harry said. Moving back to his suitcase, he took out a shirt and a pair of jeans. He then walked into the bathroom. About ten minutes later, he came back out- looking rather presentable.

“What should I get?” he asked, picking up a jacket that was on the couch and throwing it on.

“Um,” Hermione said while standing in front of the open refrigerator. “You should probably get stuff to make a Cadillac Margarita, Unabomber, Tailspin Cocktail…”

“How about Kill Me Now?” Harry suggested, walking into the kitchen. Hermione winced slightly, remembering exactly what that specific drink had done to her a few years back.

“Sure,” she said, closing the refrigerator and turning around. “And Emerald Vodka Martini, and Italian Screw.”

I’ll tell you what I’d like to screw, Harry thought, his gaze fixated on the cabinets just to the left of Hermione’s head. He shook himself out of it rather quickly. “Okay, got it.” He said. “I’ll be back in a while.” With that he left, closing the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

How many people did Ginny invite? Hermione thought as she let maybe the thirty seventh person into the flat. Ginny herself had not arrived yet. Harry was in the kitchen, mixing as many drinks as he could at once. Again, someone knocked at the door. Hermione was just about to tell whoever was at the door that they ran out of alcohol when she saw the mess of red hair.

“Ginny!” Hermione said, slightly exasperated. “Why are so many people here? This flat isn’t that big. I don’t know how many more people will fit.”

Ginny scanned the room for a minute. “It looks like they’re all here,” she observed.

“Why are there so many people?” Hermione asked again.

“They heard about the wedding, and wanted to tell you two congratulations,” Ginny answered. “Here, I brought the pretzels.” She said with a smile, handing Hermione a huge bag. “Veronica! How are you?” Ginny walked around Hermione to greet one of the blondes in the crowd.

“Loose lips sink ships,” Hermione muttered before moving into the kitchen to put the pretzels in a bowl.

“Did you know this many people were going to be here?” Harry asked, placing more glasses of alcohol on the island.

“I had no idea,” Hermione said, raising her arms in defense. “It’s Ginny’s fault. She told too many people about this.”

“It’s always Ginny’s fault,” Harry muttered, shaking his head and smiling softly. “Go out and entertain, I’m enjoying the somewhat-silence in here.”

“Lucky you,” Hermione said, poking him in the side before walking past him and back out into the party. Harry watched her walk away, thinking about how his earlier morning thoughts were right. Hermione looked simply amazing tonight. She wore a black tube top with various sparkles sewn in, that hugged her curves just right. Her jeans were almost white, with light shades of blue running down the sides. She fills out her jeans rather nicely, was one thought that refused to get out of Harry’s mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Herrrrmione!” Ron said, pulling Hermione into a one-armed hug. Hermione turned her head away slightly- she could clearly smell the alcohol on his breath. “How are you, love?”

“I’m fine, Ron,” Hermione said sweetly. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not that muuch,” Ron said rather loudly, taking another drink from the glass in his hand. “But it’s a celebration! Have a sssip, Hermione.”

“No, thanks, Ron,” said Hermione. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Alright then,” Ron said. “Wanna know a secret, Hermione?”

“Sure,” Hermione answered. “What’s the secret?” Ron looked around before leaning in and whispering into Hermione’s ear.

“Harry’s not all that disappointed about this whole ordeal,” Ron said, then let his head rest on Hermione’s shoulder.

“What ordeal?” Hermione asked, curious.

“The whole ‘I married my best friend’ thing,” said Ron. “I wouldn’t be too disappointed either, though. Whooo! You do not know how good you look in a wedding dress.”

Hermione laughed softly. “You’re drunk, Ron,” she said, disentangling herself from his arms. “I’ve got to go, talk to you a bit later, alright?” Before he had the chance to respond, she had walked away.

She wasn’t able to walk a few steps before she collided with a rather hard male chest. She looked up and saw Harry, smiling down at her. Hermione smiled slightly.

“Hi,” she said, before almost losing her balance again. She had almost fallen when Harry caught her by wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Are you sure you haven’t had anything to drink?” he asked, smiling. She rested her head on his chest, sighing softly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “I might want to have something, though. Do you wanna go get me a Kill Me Now?”

“Are you gonna be able to stay up on your own?” Harry asked teasingly.

Hermione glared at him playfully, then proceeded to stick her tongue out at him. “Yes,” she said. “Go get me a Kill Me Now.” With a smile, he walked towards the kitchen to get her the drink.

Just after he left, Ginny walked- or stumbled, rather- towards Hermione, a large grin plastered to her face.

“Hermione, my love!” she said happily, resting her head on Hermione’s shoulder for the briefest of moments. “Don’t you just love this party? You and Harry looked pretty cozzzy just now.”

“We were not cozzzzy,” Hermione said, placing a hand on her hip. “I lost my balance.”

“Good call,” Ginny said with a wink, and with that she sauntered away. Hermione didn’t have much time to think about what Ginny had said, for Harry came up behind her just seconds later with her drink.

“You sure you want this?” Harry asked, but she had downed the shot before he could finish his question.

“Mmmmhm,” Hermione murmured. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“Are you sure you can wander around by yourself?” Harry asked. “You’re not a drinker.”

“Silly boy,” said Hermione, patting Harry’s cheek (after missing the first try). “I can handle a couple shots, don’t worry about me.” Harry watched her walk away, chuckling slightly as she bumped into a friend of Ginny’s.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“I toast a propose,” Ginny announced, standing on top of the coffee table. “To the lovebird newlyweds!”

By now most of the partygoers had gone- the alcohol supply was nearly depleted. Those who remained in the flat were both friends of the “couple,” and were completely trashed.

“I second that toast!” sputtered Ron. “To… who got married again?”

“I don’t remember,” Luna giggled, falling over on the couch she was sitting on.

Hermione groaned. “They need to leave, and we need sleep,” she said, as she buried her head into Harry’s shoulder. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist to prevent her from falling over for the sixth time that night.

“It’s nearly two in the morning,” Harry said quietly- for Hermione flinched whenever she encountered loud noises. “We could probably kick them all out soon enough.”

“You can’t kick them all out just yet—” said a voice from the doorway. “For I have just arrived.”

“There’s no more alcohol!” Hermione said as loudly as she could to the new guest. “Go get wasted somewhere else.”

“Oh, Hermione,” Draco Malfoy said, stepping closer to the swaying couple. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“Malfoy,” Harry said bitterly. “What do you want?”

“Nothing besides taking advantage of a few wasted beauties,” Draco stated smugly. “… or just one. Hello Ginevra.”

“D-Draco,” Ginny stuttered as Malfoy approached her. “You didn’t come to the party.”

“No, and I’m sorry for that,” Draco murmured, resting his hands on her hips. “But I can still have all the fun I want. What do you say?”

“But I (hiccup) hate you,” Ginny stated bluntly, though leaning closer to him.

“No one listening, love,” said Draco as he nibbled on her earlobe. “My place it is.”

Taking her hand, he led her to the door. Before they could leave, however, Hermione stopped them.

“Malfoy,” she said slowly, swaying on the spot- Harry had left her side to tell those left at the party that it was time to go. “You know she’ll only hex your arse into the next oblivion once she figures out what you did.”

“Shhhh,” Draco said, placing a finger over his smiling lips. “She’s not really all that drunk. Trust me, I’ve seen her at her worst.” With that, they left.

Hermione stood there for a minute, mouth slightly open and head tilted to the side. Harry broke her thoughts, coming up behind her and gently placing his hands on her waist.

“Everyone’s gone,” he murmured. “Finally. Why don’t you go sleep? I’ll clean up.”

“But that’s not fair,” Hermione said, leaning backwards into his embrace. “I should help clean up.”

“You’re slightly tipsy, Hermione,” said Harry. “And the mess isn’t that bad. Go sleep.”

“If you say so,” Hermione said, yawning. “But call me in here if you want help.” She turned around and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. “But try not to need my help, please?”

Harry chuckled. “I won’t need your help, go sleep.”

Hermione nodded her head, gave Harry a quick hug then stumbled towards her bedroom. Harry couldn’t help himself from laughing softly when Hermione knocked herself into the couch and fell right on the floor. His thoughts stopped completely when he saw that her jeans were in fact very low, and dipped lower to reveal…

“Hermione does not own a G-string,” Harry said, blinking several times. He watched her get up and walk into her bedroom; try as he might, he couldn’t keep his eyes off that slightly exposed, sexy article of clothing.

“That’s it,” he said with finality. “I can’t take it anymore. I have to know.”

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musical inspiration- five colours in her hair by mcfly