Okay, I decided to update a few days earlier because I won't have time next week, so don't make a habit of this… XD. Aaaanyway, part 2, hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter (c) JKR. Plot (c) Me.
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"A Matter of Names"
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Part II
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"Harry?"
He starts at the sound of her voice, fearing she might have caught him staring at some point, and turns to look at her. "Yes?"
"I… Are you…?" she trails off, and then continues, "Do you need help?"
"I…" he pauses to look at her, standing there and fidgeting nervously, "Yes, I do."
Hermione nods and walks away from him to start sweeping from the opposite side. Harry watches for a few seconds, noticing for the first time since they started detention that she has been awfully quiet. Not knowing what to say though, he finally starts to sweep the floor. After a few minutes of sweeping in silence, they stand side by side looking at the clean floor.
This is it, Harry thinks suddenly. This is the moment when he should ask her about her confession at the Three Broomsticks, and about the meaning of the written scroll, or, at the very least, ask her out and work things from there.
Alright, here I go-
"Er… We did a good job, cleaning, don't you think?" Hermione said rather suddenly.
Blimey…
"Yes… I reckon we did, but Hermione-"
"Well, I suppose that is all, I… I'll see you at the Great Hall, Harry, for dinner," she said, cutting off his sentence, and walked hurriedly to the door.
Feeling slightly panicked and a lot more confused, Harry blurts out the first thing that comes into his mind, "Ginny told me what happened last week at the Three Broomsticks!"
She stops abruptly, halfway across the classroom, and Harry wonders why he hadn't thought of saying something before now to get her attention. Then, he feels the guilt twisting his gut as he realizes he probably shouldn't have said that, Hermione must has had her reasons for keeping the incident from him.
"She did, didn't she?"
She doesn't say it as a question, nor as confirmation, instead it sounds to Harry as a known fact, almost as if she has been expecting it to happen. Maybe she has been waiting for Ginny to tell him, knowing that she would, eventually.
"She wouldn't miss this chance, knowing that I haven't told you, would she?"
"Hermione…"
She sighs, but says nothing. She doesn't move either, doesn't try to escape like moments ago. And Harry can't help but feel hurt, if only a little, that she isn't facing him, that she isn't allowing him to look at her in the eyes and see what's there, what she's thinking.
"Hermione…" he says again.
Look at me. Why won't you look at me?!
"What do you want, Harry?"
Hermione sighs again, and he flinches.
Merlin…
She sounds so dejected, so… resigned. But resigned to what? Why would she feel that way? And why, goddammit, won't she look at him? What happened to his best friend, the girl that's always confided in him? The strong, confident, straightforward girl that he's grown to love? Where is his Hermione!?
Merlin…
Suddenly, Harry feels the panic coming back as a probable reason for her behaviour forms in his head.
Of course…
Maybe Hermione has realized that what she said last week was a mistake. Maybe Ginny misunderstood her. Or maybe… maybe she just doesn't fancy him anymore, and knows how he feels and doesn't know how to let him down without hurting his feelings… And, could someone blame her? Who would want to be with him, anyway? Sure, Voldemort's gone, but the media is not. The press, the constant rumours about him and his love life (which is nonexistent, by the way), the harassment.
Why would Hermione want that?
Ever since she met him, her life has been in danger. It's always one thing or the other. And now, she finally has the normality she has probably been yearning for, the peaceful life she deserves.
Of course, why give that up for a life with him and the craziness that follows him everywhere he goes? But…
But.
What about what she wrote then? I am Mrs. Harry Potter. What does that mean? Why write that if she doesn't want him?
"Are you?" he asked, feeling somewhat desperate, needing to know about the true meaning of that sentence.
Two words that could mean anything and yet Hermione finally turns to face him after hearing them, an odd expression plastered on her face, one that Harry finds cannot decipher.
"Harry…" she sighs.
He tries again, "Are you, Hermione? Do you really-?"
"Yes," she says quietly, solemnly, "I am in love with you, Harry. I love you."
He gasps, not quite believing his ears, and vaguely notices Hermione's frown.
Wha…? Love? What?
"Hermione, what…?"
Hermione raises her hand to stop him, rubbing her temple with the other, "Oh, bloody hell…"
Harry ignores the shock that sweeps over him at hearing her cursing, and focuses on the matter at hand, which is trying to make her confirm he didn't hear wrong. However, he will store that little bit of information for later…
"Hermione," he says, and it's surprised at how confident he sounds.
"What did Ginny tell you, exactly?" she asks, not looking at him.
"Hermione, look at me," his request goes ignored, and he feels some of his confidence leave him, "I… She told me that… that you fancied me, I… That's all she said."
"Darn it…"
"Hermione?"
When she finally meets his eyes, he sees only sadness in them, and it breaks his heart. He lifts his hand, trying to reach for her, but Hermione only shakes her head, stepping back.
"Just… forget what I said, okay, Harry? It's… It'll be better that way," with those words, she turns around and stalks towards the door again.
A sudden wave of anger washes over him, and, on an impulse, Harry withdraws his wand from his pocket and waves it in the door's direction. And watches, satisfied, as it swings close, locking itself with a loud click. Hermione spins around, looking at him, shocked at his actions. She opens her mouth to talk, but he cuts her off right away.
"No. You're going to listen to me now," Harry says, breathing deeply to calm down, "You can't just walk out on me after saying something like that!"
Harry tries to lower his voice, but the frustration, and what little anger lingers in him, prevents him from doing so. He just wants to…
"Harry, I told to for-"
"No! I won't forget it. I don't want to forget it, because," he takes a deep breath, and wills himself to say the words, to confess, but he can't, "Because… Well, just because! And you still haven't answered my question! And we're not going to leave this place until you do!"
"But I already answered it!"
"But that wasn't my question, you misunderstood me! Argh!"
"Well, then, ask!"
"I was going to ask about what you wrote on that scroll!"
Deep breaths, Harry, deeps breaths…
At last, he manages to calm down, however now he feels awfully tired.
"Oh…"
Her soft murmur brings back some of his energy, and he looks up only to find her looking at anything but him, trying to hide her blush. The sentence written on that blessed scroll seems to hang over them. He blushes too.
[I am Mrs. Harry Potter.]
So simple, yet so significant, those words.
"I…" he sighs, gathering enough courage for what he is about to do, "Are you, Hermione?"
His voice is soft and tentative. He observes her as she fidgets nervously, staring at something off to their side. Harry searches his pocket for the little box, pulling it out once he finds it. He measures the distance between them, calculating quickly the amount of strength he'll need…
"Hermione," he says, and throws the velvet box at her, pleased to see that her quick reflexes haven't been dampened for she catches it in midair, and continues, "Would you?"
Hermione looks at him, wonder and hope and love shining in her eyes, squeezing the object in her hands. Harry watches silently as she opens them, seeing what she caught, and gasps. Tears well up from her eyes, and she chokes back a sob.
"Oh, Harry…" she whispers, smiling tenderly.
He walks towards her, stopping once he is at a prudent distance, "I… It wasn't supposed to be this way, you know?"
She moves her gaze up at him, meeting his eyes, and smiles, ignoring completely the tears that blur her vision.
Harry fidgets a little, before speaking again, "I… We were supposed to go on a date first, and then, perhaps, our relationship as just friends could change to more than friends, and… maybe, if we think it's going to work, you know, you and I as a couple… we could, I don't know, marry. Someday."
Hermione closes the remaining distance, and rests her head on his shoulder, hugging the little velvet box to her chest tightly. Harry doesn't miss a bit, and puts his arms around her, albeit a little tentatively.
"The thing is… I am in love with you, too, Hermione," he says after a while, and pretends not to notice her stiffening at his confession, "I think I fell for you sometime during the hunt of the Horcruxes, but… I only realized it when I saw you at King's Cross last summer, September 1st. It was so simple, you see, no big explosion of feelings or nothing, no epiphany, just acknowledgement of a fact."
Relaxing quickly, Hermione giggles and he smiles in response, though she can't see it.
"I know, not romantic at all, but that's me, I'm not romantic, never learned how to be."
"Oh, Harry, it's alright. I love you anyway, always will."
He squeezes her in response, and drops a kiss on her head, "So, what do we do now?"
Hermione pulls away from him, and hands the box back, "First, you do this right."
"Do you want me to ask you out first?" Harry asks nervously, toying with the box.
"No. You propose to me the right way."
Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair, and nods, "I… alright, but… I was hoping to be somewhere a little less dark and cold…"
"Very well."
She withdraws her wand and points it at the ceiling. And before Harry can ask about it, the ceiling starts to reflect the darkening sky outside (with its shades of purple, red, and orange), pretty much like the ceiling of the Great Hall does. Hermione keeps pointing her wand around the dungeon, murmuring enchantments and soon, their surrounding looks exactly like the grounds around the lake. All in all, it is an excellent illusion, although if one stares hard enough, the walls surrounding the classroom could still be seen.
The setting, Harry has to admit, is pretty romantic, probably more than what he would've pulled off.
"All done," she says, and smiles at him, "Now you can propose."
Clearing his throat several times, Harry turns his attention to her, "I… I… I love you, you know," he pauses, and takes a deep breath before continuing, "You have been the first person to ever give me some kind of affection. My first hug, you gave it to me. My first kiss, though not on the lips, you gave it to me. Hermione… you are the only one that has been by my side no matter what, and… I think that… that thought, and the fact that I can actually see myself growing old with you… has helped me come to a decision."
He kneels in front of her, pulling the ring out of the box, and grabs her hands. Hermione's smile widens so much it threatens to split her face, but it doesn't and she's never looked better in his eyes. She looks beautiful and radiant and-and perfect. She's perfect.
Will you, Hermione? Will you really be Mrs. Harry Potter? Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?
Harry takes one deep breath, and is suddenly more than ready to pop The Question, "Hermione Jane Granger, please, allow me to spend the rest of our lives showing you how much I love you, how much you mean to me… Marry me."
Hermione tugs at his hands, making him stand up, and leans up to press one tender kiss to his lips, "In a heartbeat."
Before he can even react, Hermione jumps on him, quite literally, and wraps her legs around his hips, kissing him passionately. Harry hastens to grab her, to provide her of some sort of support other than her legs (her hands are too busy gripping at his hair), and kisses her back with equal passion. After a heavy round of snogging, (tongues battling for dominance, breaths mingling, hips rubbing enticingly against each other, moans and groans echoing in the room), they pull apart, gasping for air and grinning like idiots.
"Wow," he whispers, resting his forehead against hers.
She sighs and nods, and then starts to giggle softly.
"What?" Harry asks, barely opening his eyes.
She looks at him, smirking, "You, Mr. Potter, are wicked. I never thought you would take advantage of our current position to cop a feel."
Only then, Harry realizes what he is holding on to.
No wonder it felt so soft and squeezy.
"Oh."
"Yes, oh," she says, stifling her giggles.
Harry squeezes her bottom for good measure, and smirks smugly when Hermione squeaks a bit. And after squeezing her backside one more time, he puts her down, not being able to avoid the hit that connects with his arm. He laughs as she tries to hit him again, clearly flustered. He catches her hand a few seconds later, and slips the ring on her finger.
The loving smile that graces her face then as she looks at the ring, Harry decides, is worth the wait. Especially when her smile is directed at him, as it is now.
"It's beautiful, Harry, I love it," she says, giving him one of her crushing hugs.
He is about to say that it's not as beautiful as her, but decides against it; it'd be too cliche.
"I'm glad," he replies instead.
After sharing one last kiss, they leave Snape's classroom and head towards the Great Hall, where dinner awaits them, hand in hand.
For one brief moment, he pictures everyone's faces as they see him and Hermione walking in, hand in hand, as it was the most natural thing to do. He thinks of Ron's expression of disbelief, and Ginny's expression of anger, and the shock in the rest of the Gryffindors as well as the rest of the school.
He looks at their joined hands and at the ring adorning hers, and knows chaos will break loose once they set foot in the Great Hall.
But for once, he is beyond caring of what others may think. This is what he's been waiting for, and now has he has it, he's not letting it go.
Hermione Jane Potter… indeed.
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The End… not quite
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So, yeah, I lied, this is not quiet the end. I wrote an epilogue for this, just so it can explain a bit what happened here in case some of you didn't understand… And, comment please? =D
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