Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, and the fiscal property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Bros. No profit has been made from this work.
Harry sighed. He hated New Year's Eve parties with a fiery passion. Ever since he'd finished at Hogwarts, he'd had to put up with every single female between the ages of twelve and eighty trying to make a move on him for a `good luck' kiss at the stroke of midnight. Well... that wasn't strictly true. There was one who'd never even looked at him. The one he wanted to notice him never had.
Damn her, anyway.
He tried to live his life without regrets, but this always niggled at the back of his mind. He knew that he was emotionally damaged, considering the Dursleys' influence on him as he grew up, but he recognised his feelings for her as love. True love. He knew because when he saw her happy while dating someone, he felt his sadness decrease slightly. Only slightly, but enough to let him know that her happiness was more important than his.
It didn't help that, once again, she was single. Her dating life was almost as pitiful as his, a sad state of affairs. After the war, all three of the Golden Trio were celebrities, and, just like the Muggle world, people swarmed over them like flies on shit. Truth be told, it irritated two-thirds of the trio. Ron, on the other hand, was quite happy with the attention. He was tall, single, and reasonably good-looking (according to a poll in Witch Weekly) and he had done his part in the war. As far as Harry was concerned, it was all good for Ron.
He sighed again, heading back to the bar. He got an odd look as he ordered a Pepsi, but he didn't want to let his defences down. Alcohol was about the quickest way to get him into a destructive depression, and he had no desire to go through that again.
Taking a moment, he glanced round the room, spotting most of his Hogwarts year-mates in compromising positions. Neville had Susan Bones hanging off one arm (and considering the size of her chest, he'd need bloody strong arms to support her) and Hannah Abbot on the other. Ron was with Luna, apparently checking if she still had her tonsils. Ginny was giving Seamus and Dean a lap-dance. Not surprising, really. When Seamus had come out at the end of fifth year, it didn't surprise people too much. When Dean admitted he was bi, while dating Ginny, she'd been furious, slapping the shit out of Dean... before grabbing his wrist and dragging him to Seamus, then pulling them both out of the Great Hall. Apparently, they weren't seen for days.
Polygamy in the Wizarding world always makes me chuckle. Trios are far more common than people suspect, but a one witch/two wizard relationship is frowned upon... Until Molly Weasley got involved. She had a `quiet word' with anyone who made a comment. They soon apologised.
He looked over to the stained glass windows, noting that Padma was with Fred tonight while Parvati was wriggling in George's lap. It was true that both sets of twins shared everything with their other half. Apparently this included husbands/wives, too. Still, with the addition of the Patils in Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, the business had really expanded. Padma's severely understated genius, along with Parvati's frightening marketing skills had made the business triple in value overnight, something which certainly helped Harry's bank balance.
His final circuit of the room spotted her, leaning dangerously close to someone he'd never seen before. They were staring at Hermione in a way that made him feel... uncomfortable. And she looked...
Quickly making his way over, Hermione looked up, her eyes lighting up. "H-Harry!" She slurred, instantly setting Harry's teeth on edge. "How're you?"
"I'm good, Hermione. Thank you for asking." He replied politely. "How're you?"
"Who're you?" The man asked gruffly.
"He's Harry Potter." Hermione slurred, stumbling forward and crashing into him. "My favourite Harry Potter."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Potter... ah, yes. The man who defeated the Dark Lord. Good show, old chap."
"Thank you." Harry replied, his voice like ice. "And you are?"
"Mark Johnson."
"Pleasure."
"I know."
"Harry?" Hermione drawled. "You busy?"
Harry looked down, noting just how dilated Hermione's eyes were. Oh, bloody hell... "For you, Hermione, I have all the time in the world."
"Excuse me." Johnson interrupted. "I believe I was speaking with the lady."
Harry's eyes swivelled to Johnson. "Were you?"
Johnson nodded. "I've been buying her drinks all night, so I think that qualifies." His hand reached out to take hold of Hermione's arm.
"I miss my Harry..." Hermione slurred, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck. "We hardly speak anymore..."
"Johnson, I suggest you take a walk." Harry said, his voice like ice. "If you've done what I suspect, you might want to head to the Aurors."
"Oh?" Johnson's eyebrow shot up. "And what do you suspect I've done."
Harry whistled through his teeth twice. Hermione blinked at him, looking confused, a look mirrored on Johnson's face. Within five seconds, seven wands were pointing at Johnson, the witches and wizards holding them displaying no trace of inebriation. "Hold him." Harry commanded, before pulling out his wand.
A quick diagnostic charm on Hermione was all he needed. A chemical formula formed from smoke above Hermione's head.
"You son of a bitch!" Neville snarled, grabbing hold of Johnson's arm. "I'll take care of him, Harry. You take care of Hermione."
Said girl was gently rubbing Harry's bicep, looking up at him with adoration.
"Come on, Hermione... party's over."
She smiled warmly. "Are you taking me home?"
Harry reached down, plucking her legs off the floor, holding her bridal-style. "Yes." Together, the two disappeared into smoke. Neville also vanished with a sharp `crack', taking Johnson away. The rest of the party-goers began to restart the celebrations, knowing that Hermione was in the best possible hands.
----- H N Y -----
Harry reappeared inside his home at Godric's Hollow, holding onto Hermione like the precious thing she was.
"H-Harry?" Hermione slurred, still gazing up at him. "What's wrong?"
Harry didn't respond for the moment, simply stepping forward and gently lowering her onto the couch. Once settled, he took one of her hands. "Hermione, do you feel... sort of floaty?"
"Yeah..." She giggled. "Feel so good, Harry..."
"You've been spiked, Hermione." Harry informed her gently. "That man, Johnson, used a form of Rohypnol on you. He was planning to date-rape you tonight."
"Oh..." She frowned at him. "Are you planning to shag me tonight?" She asked.
"No, Hermione." Harry assured her. "I'd never do anything so reprehensible. You know that."
"You were staring at my arse." Hermione pointed out.
"I..." Harry couldn't deny it. "Hermione, there isn't a cure for Rohypnol. I'm afraid you're gonna have to let it run through your system. You should be okay in the morning. Rohypnol also affects memory. I want you to stay here tonight. I'll watch over you."
Hermione stared at him for a moment. "You never answered... you do want to, don't you?"
"I... Please don't ask me that, Hermione. You should sleep. You're very tired."
Hermione's eyes began to close. "You're too bloody noble sometimes, Harry..." She said as she drifted off to sleep.
Harry settled into the armchair, flicking his wand to summon a duvet from the bedroom, flicking it to make the cover gently tuck her in.
----- H N Y -----
Hermione woke up, her head pounding. She could see sun shining, hear the birds singing, and her stomach roiling. What the bloody hell did I drink last night? She asked herself, not opening her eyes. If I stay here, maybe I'll die quietly.
She heard the faint sound of snoring coming from her right and managed to stifle a groan. Oh, shite... please tell me I didn't have some random shag last night. Gathering all her Gryffindor courage, she cracked open one eye, spotting Harry sitting in an arm chair, snoring lightly. Okay... I'm on Harry's couch... why the hell am I on Harry's couch? I was at the party last night... Oh, I must have done something embarrassing... She heard Harry snort and couch, and decided to quickly play dead.
She heard Harry get up, stumbling slightly before he let out a small moan as he stretched. Damn... he sounds cute like that... She could almost feel him approach, gently placing a hand on her forehead.
"You'll never know..." He whispered, before he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead. With that, he stumbled away, yawning loudly and scratching.
I'll never know? Hermione asked herself, the pounding of her head a distant second as her mind was given a puzzle. I'll never know what? Damn it, Harry, I feel bad enough without being confused... She huffed slightly as she tried to free herself from the duvet. It took a few moments, and Hermione had to pause halfway through so she didn't vomit, but she finally gained release. As she sat up, she clutched onto the back of the sofa with a piteous moan.
----- H N Y -----
Harry was enjoying a long, healthy morning pee when he heard Hermione moan slightly. He pushed harder, quickly performing the single shake and follow-up jiggle, before tucking himself back into his boxers. He quickly ran the tap, wetting his hands before grabbing the towel and hurrying back to the living room. "Hermione." He said quietly, correctly guessing that she felt lousy.
"Bleugh..." Hermione said softly, flicking her tongue out slightly. "Any chance of a coffee?"
"Sure." Harry bustled into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee maker. He grabbed a mug, milk and sugar and prepared what Hermione referred to as a `brickie-brew'; coffee so strong it could be used to melt through bank vaults. He scurried back into the living room, putting the coffee on the table.
"How're you feeling?" He asked tenderly.
"Bloody lousy..." Hermione groused, her hand instinctively reaching for the coffee. "What the hell did I drink last night, Harry?"
"Rohypnol." He informed her helpfully. "You were spiked. I brought you here so I could watch over you."
"Oh..." Hermione took a swig of her coffee, relaxing in the smooth taste of Harry's coffee before the statement entered her drug-addled brain. She spat out the coffee, making Harry dive to the side. "What?! Oh, headache, headache..."
"That fella, Johnson, spiked you with Rohypnol, Hermione."
"I... I see." Hermione swallowed, before remembering the coffee would help perk her up a bit. "And how did I get here?"
"I brought you here last night, Hermione. Just before midnight."
"Why here?" She asked. "Why not St. Mungo's?"
"I..." Harry blushed slightly. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay, is all."
"You're the healer, Harry." She said, shrugging slightly. "So... what happened to the creep?"
"Neville arrested him. Probably still at Auror HQ. I dunno. Getting you home safely was a priority."
Home... the word reverberated throughout Hermione's mind. He hadn't taken her home. He'd brought her to his place... "Oh... thanks, Harry."
"Any time, Hermione."
She smiled warmly at him, the coffee beginning to cut through the fog and make her feel vaguely human. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"What did you mean when you said `you'll never know'?"
Harry's face erupted into a huge blush, making him look down at his feet. "Er... I thought you were asleep."
"I'd only just woke up." She said, frowning at his reaction. "Harry, whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
"I... it's, er... it doesn't matter, Hermione."
Hermione's frown only got larger. "I think it does, Harry. You look... terrified." She patted the couch next to her. "Come on, Harry, there's nothing we can't talk about."
"There's this..." Harry muttered as he obediently went to sit next to her. Hermione was about to move closer when she remembered she had morning breath. Not just morning breath, but coffee morning breath.
"I should go and brush my teeth." She muttered, holding her hand over her mouth. She stood up, feeling a bit woozy for a moment, but Harry was already up and helping her steady herself. "Thanks, Harry."
As she was stumbling away, she heard Harry's final remarks. "Oh bloody fucking hell..."
----- H N Y -----
Five minutes later, she was minty-fresh and had a much smaller bladder. She still felt pretty grotty, but better than she was beforehand. She saw Harry, still sitting on the couch, frowning at his shoes. "Stop frowning, Harry." She told him softly, getting back on the couch and pulling the duvet over herself. "You'll give yourself wrinkles, otherwise."
"Sorry." He muttered.
"Now, what will I `never know'?"
"Hermione, are you hungry?" Harry said in a blatant attempt to change the subject.
"No, I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach and stop changing the subject. What will I `never know'?"
"If I told you, then-"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, dear, sweet Harry, I feel like death warmed up. Please just tell me."
"I... I can't."
"Try."
"I have before. I never could tell you then, either."
"Harry..."
"I'm sorry."
"Oh..." Hermione hmph'd for a moment, before leaning back on the couch. "You're infuriating sometimes."
"I know."
"Still love you to pieces, mind you, but you're infuriating."
"Thanks."
"Please tell me."
"It's... difficult."
Hermione leaned forward, taking hold of his chin and turning his head to face her. "Harry, you're probably the person I'm closest to in the whole world, Muggle and magical. Please just tell me."
Harry sighed. "What do you remember about last night?"
Taking a moment to scan her memory, she realised that things became a bit hazy when she was on her fourth Slippery Nipple. "Well, I was drinking quite a bit, but things just get blurry after that."
"When I saw you, you were practically draped over that guy. I know you don't normally get that drunk... your 21st notwithstanding."
She blushed. "Okay, I remember you telling me how embarrassing that was."
Harry grinned at her. "It still makes me laugh now."
"Yes, I threw myself at anything male." Hermione groused softly. "I was... amorous all night. You've told me this."
"Right." Harry sobered up. "So, I know that you don't normally get that drunk. But, you were last night. So, I came over to see you. As soon as you saw me, you stumbled forward and practically threw yourself at me. I was... concerned.
"I did a test. You showed up positive for Rohypnol. I picked you up, brought you here and put you to sleep on the couch."
Hermione was still the smartest witch of her generation. "What did I say to you, Harry?" She asked tentatively. "You're being all diplomatic. I said something... embarrassing, didn't I? Oh, god... what did I say?"
Harry grimaced slightly. "Not... not exactly. I told you that you'd been spiked. Then you asked me if I was gonna shag you. I told you to sleep."
"Oh..." Hermione's cheeks were now bright red. "Sorry about that, Harry."
"It's okay."
"No." Hermione interrupted, pressing a hand gently against his thigh. "I realise that me saying stuff like that's not good. I'm sorry."
"That wasn't the problem." Harry said, his voice strained.
"Then what was?"
"I wanted to!" Harry blurted out. "God damn it, Hermione... you have no idea what you do to me, do you?"
"No."
"Jesus... every time I see you, I just wanna drag you to bed!" Harry said, not noticing that Hermione's grip on his thigh was getting tighter. "As soon as you asked me that last night, I was nursing wood!" He frowned, looking down and pulling his head away from her hand. "You should probably let go..."
Hermione followed his glance, only now feeling just how tight she was holding onto him. "Oh..." She looked back up, seeing his face and neck burning. "Do you feel... guilty?"
"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean... you were lying there, all defenceless..."
"Right. I was there, defenceless." Hermione said. "Did I need a defence from you?"
"What? Of course not!"
"So, what's the problem?"
"I... I was so tempted, Hermione." Harry whispered. "You have no idea what you do to me..."
Hermione was beginning to get an idea. "Why don't you tell me?"
"Because you've never been interested."
"You've never shown me that you're interested."
"I've tried..." Harry whispered, looking despondently at his shoes. "For years, I've tried to be the nice, supportive guy. I'm... I'm not good with feelings, Hermione, you know that."
She nodded; she did know that. She'd seen him being pursued by a crowd of women and panicking. She'd seen him at their friends' weddings, looking lost and alone. And she realised that for almost ten years, he'd been there, supporting her. Showing her. And suddenly, she felt so very stupid.
"Oh, hell..." She muttered. "You've been dating me for years... and I've never noticed."
Harry shook his head despondently.
"All those trips out... movies, dinner, helping me shop for clothes... How could I have been so thick?"
Harry just shrugged.
"Why didn't you ever... right. The Dursleys." Hermione reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping it would help stave off her headache. She opened her eyes, spotting a pink vial in front of her, dutifully supplied by Harry. "Headache cure?"
"Of course."
It was things like this that made Hermione realise just what a sweet boyfriend he actually was... even if she'd never noticed. And suddenly, she felt so very bad. "Why, Harry?" She whispered softly, her voice sounding broken. "Why wait? Why didn't you find someone who deserved you?"
"Because it's always been you, Hermione." He whispered back, just as broken. "It's always been you."
"Oh, Harry..." She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. "All those times I complained about my dates being uncouth morons..."
"S'okay..." He muttered, resting his head on hers. "It didn't matter about me. Just so long as you were happy... it killed me each time you weren't."
Hermione looked up at him, really looked at him. "It's probably because they weren't you, Harry. Be honest; how many blokes do you know who'd have been such a gentleman last night?"
Harry just shrugged gently.
"All this time... you've been there, waiting for me. Such a fool..."
"Hey..." Harry whined softly.
"Not you. Me. I was a fool." She said despondently. "Are you... still interested?"
"Nursing wood last night, remember?"
"Ah..." Hermione sat up, leaning back. "Do you have any plans for the day?"
"No, nothing."
She made a decision. "Would you go out on a date with me, Mr. Potter?" She winced slightly. "A date where we both know it's a date, now that I've finally woken the hell up."
"What do you want to do?"
"I really don't care. I just wanna spend time with you. No pressures, just Harry and Hermione, on a date. How about a visit to Alton Towers, dinner then a movie?" She proposed.
Harry gave a weak smile. "Hermione, it's okay. You don't need to propose some kind of... of pity date. I know you're not-"
"I don't do `pity dates', Harry." She informed him, after clamping her hand over his mouth. "I want to go on a date with my best friend. Yes or no, Harry."
"Yesh." He muttered into her hand, before licking her palm.
"Ack! Harry!"
----- H N Y -----
After struggling to escape from Harry's couch again, Hermione proposed that she head back to her place, so she could shower and get some fresh clothes. Harry, ever the gentleman, offered to apparate her there, just in case she splinched herself. Once they arrived, Harry immediately broke away, heading into the kitchen to tackle the small mountain of washing up she had.
Even though her house was impeccably neat, the kitchen was always the sight of several cooking disasters. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't cook, and the ugly burn marks dotting the kitchen made that evident.
Smiling to herself, Hermione headed into the bedroom, quickly spotting the outfit she wanted to wear. A long, hot shower restored almost all of her humanity to her, and a quick visit to the bathroom, as well as an air-freshening charm, made her feel normal.
She dressed quickly, tossing a few items into her handbag, before pulling on a pair of boots, and tugging her jeans into place. Suitably attired, she headed into the kitchen, only to see Harry wiping the last piece of crockery, which he tucked neatly into the cupboard. He glanced up, spotting her wearing a tight white blouse and a pair of skinny jeans, with a pair of low-heeled boots. "Wow..."
"Thanks, Harry." Hermione said softly, blushing slightly. "You ready to go?"
He neatly folded the tea-towel, placing it on the radiator before holding out his arm. She took it, smiling at him as they disapparated away.
----- H N Y -----
The day was truly outstanding; she rode the scary rides with Harry, clinging onto him at all the right moments (and several wrong ones, but neither of them was going to complain) before they headed into London for dinner.
Harry's name was dropped several times as they entered The Ivy, one of London's foremost restaurants. Harry watched, slightly entranced, as Hermione demolished a 32-oz steak, her body screaming for sustenance after her unfortunate drug encounter the previous evening. As she finished, she sighed happily.
"How..."
"`How' what, Harry?"
"How the hell did you eat that?"
She grinned at him. "Well, I cut it into bite-sized pieces, then I put them, one at a time, into my mouth-"
"Smart-arse."
"You love me really."
"I really do."
She blushed as she saw the sincerity in his eyes as he said that. Another happy sigh. "Harry..."
"So, what movie do you want to see?" He asked, trying to make her feel more comfortable.
"I'm sure you'll think of something good."
----- H N Y -----
He did. He took her to see Notting Hill, a complete chick-flick. Bless his heart, he tried to get into it, but the lack of explosions and gunfire made it almost unwatchable to him. Hermione felt herself snuggling closer and closer to him as the movie progressed, smiling when she felt his arm go around her.
They left the cinema, holding hands, looking like any other young couple in love. They began walking towards an empty alley, so they could disapparate back to her place. As they got there, Hermione held up her hand. "Do you trust me?"
Harry nodded.
"Good." She took his hands and apparated them away.
Harry blinked, only to realise they were back in his living room. "Hermione?"
She stared up at him, hard. "You know... I never kiss on the first date, Harry."
"Okay..."
Slowly, she began to unbutton her blouse. "Then, I had a thought."
"O-Oh?" Harry's eyes were slowly dropping to the newly-uncovered... Sweet Merlin, she's not wearing a bra!
"In fact," Hermione continued, not looking at all uncomfortable, "you could almost call it a revelation."
"Yes..."
The shirt was shucked, Hermione jabbing her hands on her hips. "This isn't a first date, is it?"
Harry shook his head, entranced with the beautiful sight in front of him.
"We've been dating for years. I was just too stupid to realise."
"You're not stu-"
She stalked forward, jamming her hand over his mouth. "Don't lick my palm." She commanded, before softening slightly. "I was stupid, Harry. What I was looking for... was right in front of me. The perfect guy, right there. And I never noticed." She pushed him back onto the couch, watching him become boneless as she knelt before him. "Do you want me, Harry?"
"Yes..." He moaned softly, leaning forward to capture her lips in a kiss.
Hermione could feel Harry's hands tensing as she leaned up. "I won't break, Harry. Please..." She sighed into his mouth as he began stroking his hands up and down her back tenderly. While she was kissing him, her hands slowly moved forward, attacking the button on his jeans. He leaned back slightly, staring into her eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"Oh, god, yes!" She moaned, quickly attacking his lips again. She tugged pathetically at his jeans, only to squeak into his mouth as she finally got them down to his knees. She reached out with a trembling hand, taking hold of the newly-arisen monument to masculinity.
She took a deep breath and leaned forward, taking as much into her mouth as she could. She could hear and feel Harry moan, prompting her to look up with a naughty smirk. "Oh, Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Happy New Year."
Harry looked down at a sight he'd been waiting years to see; Hermione Granger being naughty. "You know... I think it will... be..." He trailed off as Hermione's head began to bob again, robbing him of thought.
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