Part Thirteen
After quite some time, during which I felt as if I spent the whole of my time staring moodily at one thing or another while thinking angrily and sadly and sexually about you, you contacted me. It was with great surprise I received the little memo that flew through the slit in my office door one morning while I was dictating to a fine black quill the particularly gruesome aspects of a case I was in the middle of. I was more shocked about the fact it was from you than the way it soared right into my face, almost knocking my glasses off and leaving a paper cut on my nose.
As the quill hovered over the roll of parchment, I unfolded the memo with my free hand (my other was rubbing my pained nose) and my eyes widened at the sight of your neat penmanship. Your few words made my heart skip a beat and I was suddenly smiling quite widely.
Harry,
Lunch at the usual?
Hermione
With haste, I replied affirmatively. We weren't to meet for another hour, yet I could not bring myself to work. For half that hour I spent my time wondering if I should really be meeting you at all. I went back and forth until I could no longer handle it. In my eagerness to see you and to get away from my second thoughts, I left a half hour early and sat waiting in the restaurant, nervously drinking a beer. I had hoped it would help ease my nerves. Alas, I was not so fortunate.
When you walked in, I could swear my heart, instead of skipping a beat, surely stopped. Just past the threshold, you tried in vain to shake the snow out of your wild hair before removing your thick black cloak. Folding it over your arm, you looked up to scan the room until your eyes fell upon mine. Your bottom lip disappeared behind your teeth; you were biting an anxious smile.
After a moment's hesitation, you made your way toward me. With shaking hands, you placed your cloak on the chair beside yours and took a seat. A glass of your favorite wine was waiting for you and you looked up at me appreciatively before taking a long, indulgent sip. I watched you.
I watched you and I trembled. My eyes looked at yours, closed as you savored the red liquid. They followed the curves of your face, to your lips, your chin, your jaw. And then they reached your neck, watching you swallow at last. I trembled.
Your eyes opened and met mine again. Your brow quirked.
At the same time, we took a breath to speak, ending up stuttering feebly and laughing quietly at our silly difficulties. You took another sip of wine and savored it. I simply watched and savored the sight of you.
"Ron asked me to marry him," you said, suddenly and softly, once your glass returned to the table.
I stared at you, painful surprise etched into my face. It took me a moment to respond appropriately. I raised my brows as if unsurprised though mildly interested, before downing the last of my beer. My hands were shaking and my eyes were on the table as I tried to control the rush of emotion coursing through me. I felt you watching me from across the table. Every so often, you'd lift the wineglass to your lips, staining them.
"Harry…"
I looked up then and forced a smile. My eyes, however, were another story. They bored into yours, desperate and silent, as ever. Your expression softened and you bit your lip again, watching me quietly. I felt the sting of tears and tried to ignore it. I could not be upset about it. Why would I be? We only had one night. We only had this indefinite feeling between us. Why would I feel upset?
No matter the answer, it was undeniable. But what could I do? What other choice did I have, besides swallowing those feelings and speaking past the lump in my throat to congratulate you? Though as I said it, my eyes still pleaded with you - for what, I wasn't exactly sure.
I tried to go back to my old habit of talking of nothing to keep from thinking of everything. "Are you hungry?" I asked.
You blinked slowly at me, drank your last sip of wine. You leaned into the table, and your buttoned shirt strained against your breasts. Your brow was still arched and your lips… your lips formed a slow smile as your foot made contact with my leg beneath the table, just as slowly.
"Not for anything here."