Disclaimer: Most definitely not my characters. No money being made. Just working out my frustrations over what could have been since it's cheaper than therapy.
Huge thanks to Paracelsus for looking this over and ironing out wrinkles.
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Hermione's master plan became evident a few hours later, when she pulled out the leftovers of the very large dinner from the night before. Harry had wondered at the time why they were making so much food. But when he realized that preparing a quick lunch with a few heating charms would mean less time taken away from talking (or snogging), he moved with alacrity to serve the plates.
As they were eating, a shadow flitted across Harry's window. They looked up to see a familiar owl sail by, an envelope clutched in her talons.
"Hedwig!" Harry cried, leaping to his feet to let her in. He glanced at the familiar handwriting on the envelope. "So this is where you've been the last week! You didn't have to do that!" The snowy owl ruffled her feathers and leaned into Harry's hand as he scratched under her neck.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"It's a letter from Ron!"
"Oh, my! Hedwig, you shouldn't spoil him so."
Hedwig twisted her head until it was nearly upside down and gave Hermione a look that said I'll do what I like.
Harry was opening the letter and a photograph fell to the floor. He picked it up and burst out laughing. Hermione looked at him, bemused, and he passed it to her.
The picture was of Ron, Charlie and the twins, all posing and flexing. That alone would have made Hermione chuckle, but they were all dressed in some ridiculous outfit with rounded helmets and some kind of strange pads that distended their shoulders. The jerseys they wore had oversized numbers printed on them.
"What in the world are they wearing?" she asked.
Harry was scanning the letter, still shaking his head and grinning. "Seems that Charlie's gotten to know one of the dragon-wranglers from America. He's a fanatic for football, which is not football as we know it. I think it's something like Quodpot. Eleven players trying to get the ball past a goal."
"Oh, yes, I've heard of that. So, is that the uniform they wear? It looks silly."
"I think all that stuff is for protection. They can hit each other pretty hard."
"So what else does Ron say?"
"Here." Harry handed her the parchment. She began reading in Ron's loopy handwriting:
Dear Harry,
I wish you'd decided to come with us - we're having a great time. I think this was the best thing we could have done; Mum and Dad are usually too busy to stop and think about Bill or Ginny long enough to get upset.
I'm starting to wonder if I should try and join Charlie in working with dragons. I know we all stopped taking Hagrid's class after fifth year, but I bet if they let Charlie coach me I could pick it up. Most of the people that Charlie works with are pretty cool. Not that I don't enjoy working with Fred and George, but I kind of feel like I ought to be doing something more for myself.
Alex is the guy that took the photograph; he's mad for this Muggle game called football, only it's not the kind of football like in Dean's weird poster in our dormitory. These players really go after each other with their taggles and they wear all these silly things to protect themselves. I think this would be a laugh as a costume for the Twelfth Night Ball-we're all still going to that, right?
If you see Hermione or any of the others, tell them hello for me. I should be back right after New Year's; Dad is set on going to someplace called Time Squared that night.
Ron
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'd forgotten about the ball."
Harry nodded, taking the letter as she handed it back to him. "I had, too. But…at least, we could go together?" He looked at Hermione hopefully.
She brightened. "That's true! We'll just need to talk to Ron when he gets back."
Harry reapplied himself to his lunch. Hermione stared thoughtfully into space until he spoke, "Hermione? Are you in there?"
"Oh, sorry. I was just wondering what kind of costumes we might wear, since it's fancy dress."
Harry paused, his hand with the fork wavering in the air. "Fancy dress?"
"Of course, Harry. Twelfth Night, you know."
He groaned, and Hermione patted his arm consolingly. "Don't worry. If you like I'll try and come up with something very simple. Or we could go all out and disguise ourselves so cleverly that no one will recognize us."
Harry perked up noticeably. "I like that idea. Easier to slip away from the crowds and snog."
Hermione's brow wrinkled in thought again. "That would be easier if Ron had a date, though."
"Who in the world could we find as a date for him? Not even helping defeat Voldemort made Lavender forgive him for sixth year and you know she's complained the ears off the Patil twins and half the girls in our year."
Hermione shrugged and carried her plate to the sink. "I'll try and think of people in the Ministry that wouldn't have crossed Lavender's path."
Harry was going to reply, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who in the world…?" He stepped over to the door and peeked through the spyhole. "Huh. I wonder what this is about."
He opened the door. "Hi, Luna."
***
Luna drifted in, looking around at the tree and decorations. She spotted Hermione in the kitchen alcove and smiled. "Hello. I got your note. I thought I'd be sure that Crookshanks was here, since there are wizards who steal kneazles and try to use the fur for potions to help them slip past the wards at Gringotts."
Hermione smiled a little uncertainly. She had grown to like Luna very much, but the girl's tangents still unnerved her at times. "He is here, thank you. That was very kind of you to check."
Harry moved to take Luna's cloak. "We've just had lunch and there's plenty. Would you like some, or some tea or pudding?"
Luna moved to sit and replied absently, "Tea would be lovely. So would pudding."
Hermione went to fetch plates. "We've chocolate cake and treacle tart and there are a few mince pies left."
"Cake, please. I tend to avoid treacle tart since it's been discovered to be a powerful aphrodisiac, especially in wizards. You might be careful around Harry for the next few hours." She looked pointedly at Harry's generous portion as she addressed Hermione.
Hermione giggled at that one and glanced at Harry, who was turning red. She replied with a studied archness, "Oh, I don't think I'd mind that at all."
Luna looked surprised as she accepted tea and cake from Hermione. "Really? Does this mean you two have finally gotten together?" She looked from Hermione, who was now also blushing, to Harry, who was trying not to choke on his mouthful of treacle tart. They both nodded, and Luna jerked her head once in satisfaction. "Good."
Talk turned to the rest of the holiday. Harry and Hermione would be back at work after Boxing Day, he with the Aurors and she in her office in the Department of Magical Law. Luna was helping her father finish an issue of The Quibbler that would feature the twelve newest threats to the wizarding world in the coming year. As she was describing a predator called the Pig-Footed Bandicoot that could decimate the Jarvey population within a decade if not stopped, Crookshanks leaped onto the table and swiped Ron's letter to the floor with one flick of his tail. Luna leaned over to retrieve it.
Looking at the photograph, she smiled. "Goodness, I didn't know Ron and his brothers played Shuntbumps."
Harry laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised if they did when they were young, but they're actually dressed as American football players."
Luna took another look. "Oh, of course! Those are the uniforms for the San Diego Chargers. I understand they're doing quite well this year, even though they've had some key injuries."
Harry and Hermione gave each other startled looks, then Hermione noticed how Luna continued to study the photo. A smile crept across her face as Hermione had an idea.
***
After spending part of the afternoon giving his flat a thorough cleaning, Harry felt that he and Hermione more than deserved time to enjoy themselves and dragged her out for a walk. They went to Hyde Park again, this time to watch as kids tried new bicycles and scooters and other large toys on the swept paths, enjoying the unexpectedly sunny day.
They were strolling along hand in hand, headed slowly toward the Marlborough Gate. Hermione laid her head on Harry's shoulder for a moment, and he grinned and kissed the top of her head through her knitted hat. They were passing a playground when a child's shrill voice shrieked, "Hermione!!!"
They turned toward the voice in surprise and saw a small girl with a fairer version of Hermione's bushy hair running toward them and shouting, "Daddy! Daddy! It's Hermione!" She charged into Hermione, nearly knocking her flat in a hug.
"Sophia?" Hermione gasped, trying to get her air back. Then a man was approaching them. He held out a friendly hand to Harry as Hermione was still trying to loosen the child's grip.
"Matthew Granger. I'm a cousin of Hermione's. And the limpet is my daughter, Sophia."
Harry shook. "Harry Potter." And with the briefest of pauses, surprised at his sudden feeling of shyness, he continued. "Hermione's boyfriend."
Matthew's eyebrows rose. "Really? Hermione didn't mention that she was seeing someone. But then, Aunt Imogene drove her off so fast that she didn't really get the chance." He reached down and tickled Sophia to make her let go and lifted her up. "Sophia, go play." He set the child down and she ran off agreeably. He watched her go, then turned back to Hermione. "Since you left too soon to know, Dad gave Imogene a right ticking off for what she did. I expect you'll be getting a letter from Dad in a few days, but since I saw you first, you are hereby invited to any and all Granger gatherings in the future."
Hermione closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to keep the tears from spilling over, and Harry put one arm around her and pulled her close. Matthew reached out to touch her, glanced at Harry, and drew back. He continued, obviously trying to lighten the mood, "And if Imogene decides to start something, we'll all sit on her. Simultaneously."
Hermione did giggle at that, wiping her eyes and moving away from Harry slightly. "Thank you, Matthew. I really needed to hear that."
Now Matthew put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it briefly. "You're very welcome. Think you can make it tomorrow? Both of you, of course."
Hermione hesitated, and Harry asked, "What's tomorrow?"
Matthew looked back at Harry, who noticed that he had the same warm brown eyes as Hermione. "The Grangers usually spend Boxing Day together at someone's house. Everyone brings leftovers so they won't go to waste, there's a bit of trading of gifts behind closed doors. The women sometimes go shopping and leave the men to watch the football or races."
Harry was torn. On the one hand, he and Hermione only had one more day to themselves before they had to return to work. On the other hand, it sounded like something that Hermione needed to do, to reconnect with her family and work past the aunt's hideous behaviour. He squeezed Hermione's hand. "Sounds like fun?"
Hermione glanced at him, easily seeing through him. And while she had no desire at all to face Aunt Imogene again, it would have to happen sooner or later. The alternative was to abandon her Muggle family and she knew that she shouldn't cut those ties.
Matthew ducked his head, trying to draw Hermione's eyes to him. "Please? I'm really looking forward to dog-piling on Imogene."
Harry laughed. "I want in on that if it happens."
She rolled her eyes at him and nodded. "All right, Matthew, we'll come. When and where?"
"Midmorning as usual. Mum and Dad's place. Have you been there yet? They're still in Chiswick but over a few streets from before." He gave her the address and Hermione assured him that they'd be able to find it.
They said goodbye, with little Sophia streaking over for one last round of hugs. She included Harry without a trace of awkwardness, but Hermione noticed Harry's blush. She was surprised at her own urge to snog Harry senseless right there in the middle of the park.
She practically dragged Harry back to his flat.