Chapter four
Harry and Hermione quickly decided on a small, nearby café, a particular favorite of theirs. After finding a table in a quiet corner, Harry discreetly cast a silencing charm around them to ensure their privacy. He waited until they'd placed their orders before bringing up the Ron issue.
"So," he began, "what's up with Ron? I tried to contact him through the club, but they told me he had a week off - which, by the way, he didn't bother telling me about."
Hermione could hear an undertone of both annoyance and disappointment in Harry's voice.
"Harry," she replied. "Ron wasn't merely on vacation. It was a disciplinary action. I expect he's been too embarrassed to tell you."
"Disciplinary action?" Harry looked puzzled. This seemed a little extreme, even for Ron. "What did he do?"
"Apparently, he got into a fight with the team captain. Ron said that the bloke was goading him, that he just wouldn't keep his mouth shut, but…well…Ron swung first."
Harry scowled. "I know Ron can be a little hot-headed at times, but it's not like him to use force - except defensively." He saw Hermione drop her eyes, a sign that she was holding something back. He continued cautiously.
"So… did he say what it was that this bloke said that set him off?"
"Not really - just that the guy was making rude remarks that he had no business making. He was 'talking trash' as Ron put it."
"About?" Hermione remained silent, her eyes downcast.
"Hermione," Harry prodded gently.
"I don't know for certain," she answered. "Ron wouldn't come right out and say. But I think it may have had something to do with…me - or more precisely, my parentage. It seems that a couple of Ron's teammates are pureblood supremacists and…well…."
Harry clenched his fists.
"I can't believe, after everything we've been through…." he hissed, eyes blazing.
Hermione placed a hand over his in a calming gesture.
"Harry, surely you didn't expect prejudices to just disappear simply because Voldemort's gone? I didn't. And besides, I can't help wondering if Ron was deliberately being provoked. A lot of his teammates weren't happy when he got the position. Maybe they were trying to get him removed. It doesn't take much to get him riled up these days. And you know how protective he gets," she added softly.
In her eyes, Harry caught a glimpse of sadness - and something else. Before he could comment further on the matter, their waiter came with their orders. As they settled in with their meal, Harry picked up the conversation, though with a slight shift in focus.
"I haven't been able to reach Ron at his flat, and his note said that he just arrived at the Burrow last night. Has he been staying with you?"
'Nice, Potter,' he silently chastised himself. 'That was subtle.'
"Why would he be staying with me?" she said rather sharply.
Harry winced at the tension in her voice. He was certain he'd offended her, or at least overstepped his bounds. But he plowed ahead.
"Well … you have … sort of been seeing each other and…."
"I don't know where he's been," she snapped. She exhaled, then continued softly. "Harry … Ron and I split up."
"What! When? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Three days ago. I haven't heard from him since. And I … I guess I haven't felt like talking much, either. You know I don't deal well with failure." She flashed him a brief, wry smile. "I haven't even told my mum and dad yet. And I suppose I made the same assumption Ron did - that he would have told you. Obviously, I wasn't thinking clearly."
"I would have been here for you, Hermione. We are friends."
"Ron's your friend also, Harry. And how would it look if I ran straight to you? You know what people would say. And you know how jealous Ron gets. I don't want to cause a problem between you two."
"To hell with what other people would think. And Ron gets how it is with you and me. He wouldn't mind."
'He minds much more that you think, Harry,' she said to herself.
"Maybe," she sighed. Once again, for just a moment, she let her guard down. For just a moment, Harry could see the emotions she continued to try to hide from him. It wasn't only heartache and a sense of failure, but also guilt. And now he knew the cause. Harry reached across the table, covering her small hand with his.
"Let's get out of here," he said. He left more than enough money on the table to cover their bill and a generous tip. He knew Hermione was a bit off when she didn't protest. She always insisted on paying her way.
Taking her by the hand, he led her from the café, maneuvering her across the street and down the block to a small park. He placed his arm around her shoulders as they ambled leisurely along a paved walkway, neither saying a word. He held her snugly against his side, and she was grateful. She welcomed the comfort, the human contact, especially from him. Eventually, they found a vacant park bench and sat down.
Hermione heaved a sigh, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Harry mimicked her posture. She wanted to talk - he was sure of it. But she seemed unsure of how to start: another sign that she wasn't herself.
Harry wasn't good at this sort of thing. He was the 'keep it all inside' type. But he was determined to support her; in whatever way she needed, just as she'd always done for him. Now if he could just figure out how to start.
"So," he began hesitantly. "You think it's for good then - the split?"
She nodded slowly.
"Yeah," she said, barely above a whisper. Harry waited, watching her out of the corner of his eye, but she said nothing more.
'God, I really suck at this,' Harry thought to himself.
"Hermione, I…."
He was cut off when she suddenly turned to him, pure anguish evident in her eyes.
"Harry, what if Ron and I … what if this ruins everything … the three of us? I couldn't…." She was close to tears.
"Hermione, it'll be okay. We'll be okay. We'll work it out, just like we always have."
Harry wrapped his arms around her. She slid hers around his torso, letting him pull her close, tucking her head into the side of his chest. He began gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm.
"Hey - at least there's no one trying to kill us anymore," Harry deadpanned.
"That was so not funny, Harry," she insisted, though she couldn't help a slight smile.
Within a short time, an elderly couple strolled by them, arm in arm. They both smiled at the pair on the bench, then at each other.
"How sweet," the woman crooned. As they moved past the young pair, the gentleman turned around.
"There's a good lad," he stated, patting Harry's shoulder, then moving on with his wife.
Seconds later, Harry began to feel movement from Hermione. At first he thought she was trembling, then realized she was giggling, which set him to doing the same. Once she was sure the elderly couple was out of hearing range, she looked up at Harry. That was all it took. Laughter burst forth from both of them, no longer able to be contained. They laughed freely for several minutes, a perfect catharsis, before finally regaining control.
"I really should get back to work," Hermione stated, still grinning.
"I guess you're right," Harry sighed dramatically. "It wouldn't do to have Eileen angry with me."
"Oh no, we couldn't have that," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes. Harry simply laughed, standing and pulling her to her feet. She gazed up at him, all traces of angst gone from her beguiling brown eyes - at least for now.
"Thank you, Harry."
"But I haven't really done anything," he insisted in a gentle tone.
"You've done exactly the right things," she answered, enveloping him in one of her trademark hugs.
Present
Harry shook his head. He had no idea how long he'd been standing under the shower spray, lost in thought - the last of which had left him grinning madly - but the water was significantly cooler. He did know that he couldn't shake the image of Hermione in the park: of her smile, of those eyes as she gazed up at him - and he didn't want to. Nor could he forget what he'd felt at that moment and what he'd wanted to do. He'd desperately wanted to kiss her. He'd wanted to kiss his best friend - who'd just broken up with his other best friend. What kind of a prat was he?
"Aaggh!" he groaned, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. He needed to forget about it, forget about his feelings, especially for tonight. Tonight was about Hermione, about her feelings.
"You're screwed, Potter," he thought aloud. "And you still have dinner to make."
Resume flashback
They walked together, back to the Ministry, stopping outside the public entrance. He usually left her here. Accompanying her inside simply drew more attention; more whispers and pointing fingers.
"So, do you have any plans for tonight?" Harry asked her.
"Just a nice, quiet evening at home," she replied.
"Not even a chat with your mum and dad?"
Hermione shook her head. "I was just there this past weekend - before … everything. Anyway, they're in Brussels at a conference. They're staying on through the weekend to enjoy the city."
"I see," Harry acknowledged. "Sure you wouldn't like some company?"
"You're very sweet, Harry, and I know you're worried about me, but I'm fine - really. I'm a big girl. I'll owl you tomorrow. We can make plans for the weekend."
"Well, I guess I'll just have to be okay with that," Harry sulked, dropping his head and feigning a pout. Hermione chuckled.
"Thank you, Harry. For lunch and the company." She rose up, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Anytime, Hermione." He waited for her to enter the Ministry before walking away, still not comfortable with the idea of her spending yet another evening alone.
Harry decided to walk for a while, rather than apparate directly back to Diagon Alley. He was enjoying the fresh air, plus he needed some time just to think. His personal life was in a state of upheaval, and showing no signs of calming down anytime soon. In fact, it looked as though it could get worse before it got better.
First, there'd been Ginny. He'd realized soon after the war had ended that he had no desire to resume his relationship with her. During the war, she'd been all he could think about. But something had changed; he'd changed. They'd tried, but something didn't fit right anymore, so he'd broken things off. An air of tension was still evident whenever he was at the Burrow, so he tended to avoid it
Then there was Hermione. He didn't know when or how he'd fallen for his female best friend. He assumed it had been a long, subtle process, and that he'd been too stupid, blind or preoccupied to notice. When he'd finally realized - well - that bit of his subconscious had exploded to the forefront like a supernova. But it had come too late. She was with Ron. So he'd become quite the actor, burying that part of himself, and deftly playing the role of devoted best friend. Oddly enough, there were times when he had the feeling that Ron suspected that there was something more. He almost seemed to watch the two of them warily.
Ron. Harry wasn't sure exactly where he stood right now on his feelings toward his best mate. He was frequently annoyed and frustrated with Ron's behavior. He was angry with him for the pain he'd caused Hermione; yet he'd also defended her, at a potentially high personal cost. Harry wanted their friendship to remain intact, but he supposed that what happened next between he and Ron would be determined by Ron.
Harry was startled out of his musings by the screeching of automobile tires and the furious trumpeting of the horn of the same vehicle. Angry shouts and gestures were exchanged between the occupants of that and a second vehicle.
Harry laughed nervously, realizing how fortunate he was that he hadn't been the cause of a similar incident. He'd just crossed several intersections without being consciously aware that he had. He found that fact a bit unnerving, deciding he'd do well to keep his mind focused on what he was doing.
As he waited to cross yet another intersection, he glanced down at a muggle newspaper box. His eyes wandered the page, taking in the headlines, then coming to rest on the date - September 19th.
Harry groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead.
"I'm such an idiot," he moaned aloud, causing several nearby pedestrians to eye him curiously. One middle-aged gentleman chuckled knowingly.
The traffic signals changed, and Harry started across the street with the aforementioned group of pedestrians. As he groaned and mumbled to himself, several were beginning to wonder if he were seriously disturbed. The middle-aged man, however, turned sympathetic eyes to Harry.
"Something to do with a girl, I'd wager," he observed, grinning. Harry nodded.
"A girl who may very well hate me right now." The man laughed, continuing on his way. Harry continued berating himself aloud.
"She must be thinking … God only knows what she must be thinking! She's either going to be super angry or terribly hurt. How could I be so stupid? And what…."
It was at that very moment that Harry came up with his plan - one that he would later consider to be a stroke of genius - and began to put it into action.
"A 'nice, quiet evening at home' … alone on your birthday? I think not, Miss Granger!"