A/n: First of all - thanks again to everyone leaving reviews. They are greatly appreciated. Secondly - sorry about the formatting issues in the last chapter. My original doc. wasn't like that. I've heard that text misalignments can happen, but I've never had it happen before. And thirdly - I may have taken just a little bit of liberty with the workings of the Floo system in this chapter.
Once again, I own nothing. Now - on to dinner.
Chapter five
Hermione sat up abruptly, wand in hand before she was fully awake. She'd not intended to doze off, but her eyes had grown continually heavier until she'd finally given in.
Now, however, she was fully alert, scanning the room for whatever had thrown her senses into overdrive. A single second later she'd identified the source; a pale green glow from her fireplace indicated that someone was waiting for clearance to floo in. Another second gave her the identity of her visitor - Harry Potter.
'I told you I was fine, Harry,' she thought to herself, smiling warmly at his tenacity.
"Come on through, Harry," she called out, wand still in hand.
A moment later, her fireplace radiated a bright green, and Harry stepped out easily, only slightly sooty for his efforts.
"Scourgify," Hermione uttered, flicking her wand, removing all traces of Harry's 'trip'. Harry noted the wand in her hand, and the fact that she'd already had it out when he arrived.
"Very good, Hermione; 'constant vigilance'. Good to know you listened to Moody."
"I happen to be the one who always listened, if you remember correctly."
"Very true," Harry grinned. "But it puts my mind at ease knowing you still practice what he preached. Sorry if I startled you, by the way."
"It's all right. I'd just dozed off. What are you doing here, Harry? And by the way, don't you look…."
"Charming?" he interjected. "That's what Eileen thinks of me."
Hermione ignored his smug grin, even as she eyed the rest of him appreciatively. He was dressed quite sharply, wearing a gray dress shirt and black slacks - which, Hermione noted, were quite a nice fit.
"What do you want, Harry?" she asked with mock annoyance, though she couldn't help thinking that he looked incredibly sexy.
She quickly averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks flush at the notion that she'd just been thinking of Harry as sexy. She sincerely hoped that Harry hadn't noticed her ogling him, and that he hadn't seen her blush. In fact, he had, but he didn't let on. He realized that it had embarrassed her, and that if he wanted this evening to go the way he'd planned, calling her on it would be counterproductive. He couldn't, however, stop the slight swelling of his chest.
"What I want, Miss Granger, is for you to come with me." As he spoke, he took several strides toward her, taking her hands and pulling her up from the sofa.
"Harry, I told you I'm not…."
"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer," he stated, cutting off her protest. "You are coming with me."
But, Harry, I…."
"Hermioneeee," he whined, giving her a look remarkably like that of a lost puppy.
"Oh, all right!" She relented with mock irritation. "But don't whine, Harry. It makes you seem like a spoiled child."
"It worked though, didn't it." He grinned triumphantly. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.
"Now who's acting like a child?' he challenged.
"Do you want me to come with you, or not?" she huffed, hands on her hips.
"Okay, okay. Truce!" he chuckled. He stepped close to her, staring intently into her eyes, which Hermione found suddenly and inexplicably unnerving. "Yes, Miss Granger, I would like the pleasure of your company. Now, if at all possible."
"O…okay. But I can't go like this when y…you look so…."
"Dashing?"
"… and I look so…."
"Gorgeous, as usual."
"Harry!"
"Okay, okay. I'll wait while you change."
"But I don't even know what to wear. Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
"That doesn't help."
"All right, then. Ummm - you know that black dress that you wore to the Ministry Victory thingy?"
She nodded.
"Wear that one."
"Okay, Harry, whatever you say," she sighed. "Why that one, if I might ask?"
"Because I like it," he grinned. 'Or more precisely,' he thought, 'I like you in it.'
"Give me ten minutes," Hermione called over her shoulder, already moving toward her bedroom.
She was back in less than that, wearing the requested dress, hair pulled up and clipped in a loose twist, and carrying a pair of black heels in her hand. She quickly slipped them on. Harry couldn't help but notice the way the dress hugged her figure, the heels accentuating her slender, shapely legs.
"Stunning!" was the only coherent word he could spit out. Hermione blushed under his approving gaze.
"Thanks, Harry," she replied shyly. She took a deep breath, then stepped directly in front of him.
"Now Potter, what's this all about?"
"You're about to find out, Granger." He pulled her close to him. She drew in a breath as she felt his hands slide to her waist.
"Hang on tight." And with a slight twist, they disapperated.
When they reappeared, Hermione recognized instantly that they were in Harry's flat. It took her several seconds longer, however, to realize why - and to recognize the significance for her.
Her eyes scanned her surroundings: from a candle-lit table set for two, to the bottle of wine chilling on the sideboard, to a vase of the most beautiful roses she'd ever seen, complete with a card with her name on it. With tear-filled eyes, she turned back to Harry, who still held on to her, finding herself unable to speak.
"Happy Birthday, Hermione," he stated softly.
"Harry…." Was all she managed to gasp.
"You can't be alone on your birthday."
Those same tears spilled down her cheeks, but it was her brilliant that had Harry mesmerized. Hermione threw her arms around him, hugging him so tightly that he was finding it difficult to breathe. She released him all too quickly, for he would have gladly passed out from lack of oxygen just to continue feeling her pressed against him.
"No one has ever done anything like this for me before," she breathed, hands resting lightly on Harry's chest.
"Well, they should have. I … should have … a long time ago," he stated earnestly, his own hands gently clutching her slender shoulders, his eyes locked on hers.
Hermione suddenly dropped her eyes to escape his intense gaze. Sensing her discomfort, Harry stepped back from her.
"Dinner will be ready soon," he said, a forced lilt to his voice. "Would you like a glass of wine?"
"That would be great," she answered, smiling. 'Maybe it will help calm my nerves,' she thought, trying to comprehend why she was suddenly so edgy around Harry.
While Harry worked at removing the cork from the wine bottle, Hermione meandered around the room. She glanced at the elegantly set table, then moved to the roses.
"Harry, these are beautiful! Thank you!"
"I'm glad you like them," he acknowledged. "Funny thing - they're not what I went in for. I know you don't usually go for roses, but - I don't know - something about them made me think of you. They just seemed right."
"They're perfect, Harry, they truly are," she declared, her genuine delight evident in her voice and smile. She lifted the card, reading the handwritten note.
Hermione,
No one should be alone for their birthday. Tonight is for you. You deserve so much more.
Love, Harry
Hermione felt an overwhelming flood of emotion. She turned abruptly, biting back the protest that was forming on her lips. Harry was there, mere inches separating them. There was something in his eyes that drove whatever she'd been about to say completely out of her head. She felt as though her insides were turning to liquid, and the only coherent thought she could muster was, 'Oh my God!'
"I have your wine," he murmured, slipping the glass in to her hand without breaking eye contact.
"Th… thank you," she managed to sputter, unable to tear her eyes from Harry's. She watched the corners of his mouth turn up in the slightest of smiles, and for the second time in less than an hour, Hermione found herself applying the term "sexy" to her best friend.
Startled and overwhelmed by what she was experiencing, Hermione took a step backwards. At the same moment, a timer buzzed, saving her from the awkwardness she was feeling.
"That would be dinner," Harry stated, turning and heading to the kitchen.
Hermione closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear her head. She felt confused and threatened, as if some external force was attempting to overpower her. Hermione Granger had to regain control, be in charge of her own psyche. She felt a compelling need to dispel the intensity of the last few minutes.
"Whatever we're having smells wonderful," she called. "You've certainly been full of surprises tonight."
"And the night is young," Harry retorted with a chuckle, relief washing over him. She sounded as though she'd recovered. He'd been kicking himself soundly for letting his emotions show so openly. He'd obviously taken her by surprise and propelled her out of her comfort zone. He'd sworn before the evening began that he wouldn't let that happen, that he'd keep his feelings in check. He'd been doing it for months now. Why, tonight, was he finding it so bloody hard?
Hermione sipped her wine, smiling in delight as she recognized it as her favorite. She glanced at the bottle for confirmation. My God, he was getting everything right! At that moment, Harry stepped next to her, grinning playfully.
"M'lady," he quipped, offering her his arm. He escorted her to table, pulling out her chair and seating her in true chivalrous fashion.
"Be right back," he winked. Moments later he returned bearing a tray from which drifted the most mouth-watering scents. Hermione was delighted to discover that dinner consisted of her favorite seafood pasta, along with steamed vegetables and fresh parmesan breadsticks.
Their dinner conversation consisted of light-hearted reminiscing. All topics were confined to their school days - before the dark times, before the war. That subject remained, for the time being, off limits; an unspoken agreement among the trio. It was still too fresh, the losses too recent, the pain too raw.
When they'd finished eating, Harry cleared away the remains. He made quick work of the cleanup using spellwork, not wishing to waste any of Hermione's evening doing dishes by hand.
Deciding they were too full at the moment for dessert, they opted to have it later, though Harry refused to tell Hermione what "it" was. For the moment, each opted for a glass of wine, settling in side by side on Harry's sofa. Harry toed his shoes off, propping his feet on the coffee table in front of them. Hermione soon followed suit.
Harry found himself admiring her slender legs; the long expanse of smooth, soft skin that he wanted so badly to touch.
Hermione dropped her head against the back of the sofa, closing her eyes.
"Mmm, this is nice, Harry," she murmured, causing him to shift his attention.
He took in her features, smiling appreciatively at the beauty she'd become: her long, full eyelashes, the curve of her brow, the slight up-turn of her nose, with its faint smattering of freckles. His eyes traced the slope of her cheek to her delicate chin. Her flawless complexion was creamy, her lips a soft pink.
Harry smiled, suddenly realizing what had drawn him to the roses, exactly why they'd made him think of her. He continued to stare at her, aware that at any moment she might open her eyes and catch him, yet unable to turn away.
"Ron's a fool," he uttered, unaware that he'd spoken aloud. Hermione opened her eyes, raising her head.
"Why?"
"What?"
"You said 'Ron's a fool'. Why?" Hermione queried.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to say it out loud. But he is. He's an idiot for breaking things off with you."
Hermione frowned.
"He didn't break it off, Harry - we both did. It was mutual." She dropped her eyes and her voice. "If anything, I was the one who pushed it."
Harry took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly.
"Are you really okay?"
"Yeah," she replied. "I am. It's a relief, actually - in a way." She flashed him a quick, sad smile. "That sounds awful, doesn't it."
"I understand," he assured her. This time her smile was one of gratitude.
"So what went wrong?" he asked. "Besides Ron turning into a complete arse."
"Harry, will you stop putting it all on Ron!
I'm at fault too, you know."
"Okay, okay," he grinned. "But he's still an arse. So what did go wrong?"
"Huh," Hermione grunted. "What didn't? Honestly? If I'm really truthful with myself, it was probably wrong from the start."
"Then why?" Harry began. "I mean, I knew Ron fancied you as far back as fourth year. And later, well - it seemed as though you fancied him. Though you two did seem to fight all the time," he added, grinning. Hermione grew thoughtful for a moment.
"Ron was there … and he fancied me. For once I didn't feel … overlooked."
Harry experienced a pang of remorse.
"Are you saying you … settled?"
"No! Not really. He really could be sweet and funny and … and, I don't know. Maybe he was what I needed at the time. It seemed easy when we started. But now, looking back, I'm not sure it was ever right." Hermione sighed, dropping her head to her hands. "I think we're just two very different people. We have very different expectations - for our lives and from a partner. I'm just glad it's over." She gasped, realizing what she had just said.
"Oh, Harry! Please don't think ill of me. I really did love him in a way … just not the right way. Oh God, when I say it now it all sounds so wrong."
"Hermione, I'd never think ill of you. So it was wrong. Better that you realized it early on, before it turned into a disaster. I've had a couple of wrongs too, you know. It seems to me we're no different than anyone else. I mean, technically, aren't all relationships wrong, until you find the one that's right?"
"I suppose. It all sounds perfectly logical when you say it like that. I just … I've been feeling so guilty, especially when I think about the fact that I might be the reason Ron got suspended. I feel like such a horrible person."
"Hermione, even if that is the reason Ron got into the fight, it's nothing different than any of us would have done - have done - for anyone. That doesn't mean you should stay together if you're not happy."
"I guess not. You're right; I know you're right." She paused reflectively.
"Do you know what the last thing was that Ron said to me before he left? He said that my heart had never truly belonged to him - that I'd always held it for someone else."
Harry looked away, not wanting to ask the question, yet unable to stop himself.
"Who? I mean … was he speaking in generalities or what>"
"I asked him that. His answer was that I had to figure it out, and until I did I would never be happy." Now it was Harry who turned thoughtful, his musings broken by Hermione's next comment.
"I guess we've trounced Molly Weasley's plans for one, big, happy family, haven't we," she observed, flashing a wry smile.
"Yeah, I suppose we have. I think she's still pissed at me for not getting back together with Ginny. In fact, I think she's more upset than Ginny."
Hermione was well aware of Harry's reasons for not rekindling his relationship with the youngest Weasley. He'd confided in her on several occasions. His list of reasons for not getting back together with her continued to grow, while his 'reasons to' list remained at - two.
" 'She's pretty' and 'a good snog' ?" Hermione had questioned, eyebrows raised.
"See what I mean," Harry had stated. "Not exactly the best foundation for a relationship, is it?"
In reality, Harry had simply discovered that he was a changed person; he no longer felt the attraction for Ginny that he once had.
"We tried, Ginny and I. We tried to get back what we had - but it's gone. There's a part of me I can't share with her. I think she wants her hero, 'The Chosen One', and I want to - I need to - put it all behind me."
Hermione placed a comforting hand on Harry's arm, hearing the sadness and disappointment in his voice. She knew that one of Harry's insecurities was that he'd never find someone who loved him for himself - not for his fame, image, or wealth.
He turned, meeting her eyes, placing his own hand over hers. Slowly but surely, a smile found its way to his lips.
"What a piece of work the two of us are, eh?"
Hermione gave him a warm smile in return. It was taking everything within Harry's power to fight the urge to kiss her.
"What do you say, Birthday Girl, ready for that dessert?"
He was answered with a quick nod and another dazzling smile. Harry stood, uncharacteristically pulling her up and into a hug in one seamless move. He held her tightly, as though afraid she would disappear. Sensing his need for comfort, Hermione tightened her hold on him, all the while thinking how good, how natural it felt to be in Harry's arms - and that thought slightly unnerved her.
"What would I do without you, Hermione?' Harry breathed.
"You'd be totally lost," she quipped.
"That I would," he chuckled, releasing her reluctantly. He headed to the kitchen to obtain her mysterious dessert. She stayed as he'd left her, as if frozen.
"So would I," she thought aloud, a myriad of conflicting thoughts and emotions coursing through her head.