Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, et al. Obviously.

Harry rushed into the cafeteria - he was fifteen minutes late for his lunch date with Hermione. Since the both of them worked out of the Ministry they met for lunch whenever they were both able, which was about twice a week if they were lucky. A quick scan of the area had him relaxing. She hadn't arrived yet either, so he headed to the lunch counter to see what the day's soup was.

"Harry!"

He whirled around at the sound of his name and saw that he'd walked right by Hermione, and his jaw dropped when he realized why. "Hermione! Your hair!" More specifically, it was gone. Or most of it, anyway. She raised a hand self-consciously to the hair that was now barely longer than his own. "I thought I'd try something different," she said uncertainly, the unspoken question hanging in the air. All Harry could do was gape at his best friend with the odd feeling that he was seeing her for the first time. Hermione's thick, slightly bushy hair was as much her trademark as the messy black hair was his, and he didn't know what to do with this short, sleek look. His staring had finally got to her and she sighed heavily. "Oh, it's horrible, isn't it? I could regrow it-"

"No! No, it's….it's brilliant! Makes you look very sophisticated." Even Harry, who was far and away the least fashionable person he knew, could tell that the short hair emphasized her features beautifully. Finally over the shock, he grinned. "Merlin, Hermione, you're hot." She blushed furiously but rolled her eyes at the teasing. "Oh, shut it. Sit down, would you? I've got you the soup." She nudged a steaming bowl across the table and he eagerly took up the spoon. "Thanks! You know me so well."

"Better than I know anyone," she agreed.

"So what does Ron think of this new look of yours?"

Hermione's smile faltered, then disappeared. Harry sighed. Of course Ron would have said something insensitive. "What's he done?"

"Nothing - well, nothing new." She paused to sip her drink or collect her thoughts, or both, then- "I've…I've ended it with him." Harry choked on his soup and after a moment of vigorous coughing and spluttering, demanded an explanation. "You've what? When? Why?" Since they'd got together at the end of the war, Harry had figured that was it for Ron and Hermione; that they'd be together forever after years of pining and surviving Voldemort together. Granted, things between his best friends weren't always rosy, but Harry had genuinely not expected this.

"I just got tired of it all," she explained dejectedly. "Constant arguing only works as foreplay for so long, you know. And he always takes me for granted - always has, really." (Harry couldn't help but agree with that.) "Not to mention that I work eighty hours a week, so we hardly see each other. That's not fair to either of us." Hermione was in her first year of working for Magical Law Enforcement and barely saw the light of day at the moment. Harry reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," she said honestly and for a moment Harry was worried she'd start crying. Hermione caught his look and laughed quietly. "Don't worry, I've had a good cry with my mum over the phone, so I won't break down on you."

"You can cry your eyes out all over my shirt if you need to," he assured her. It wasn't the first time Ron had made her cry, and something told him that it wouldn't be the last either. She smiled, obviously pleased, but spared his shirt the tears. "How did you manage it with Ginny, really? There's no way I can just stop seeing Ron; we've too much history to call it a day."

"I dunno," Harry said slowly, thinking of Ginny. They'd given it a go the year following the war, but then he'd gone to the Auror Academy and she'd been recruited by the Harpies, and they'd just drifted. The feelings were still there, though, and they remained great friends. Truth be told, Harry sort of expected that they'd find their way back to each other eventually - as it stood every time they met up they usually wound up in bed by the end of the night. "Ginny and I are different, I think." Hermione smirked. "I expect Ron and I couldn't handle a friends-with-benefits arrangement." Harry flushed slightly but pressed on. "So how'd Ron take it? I can't believe he didn't tell me, actually." Hermione winced. "Not well. He pretty much crawled into a bottle, and I think he's still in it. This happened four days ago…maybe you ought to go check on him?"

"I'll go after work today, but in the meantime, will you be alright?"

"I've survived a lot worse…it might take a bit of time, but yeah. I'll be okay. I've got work to distract me, except I'm being forced to take a vacation, if you can believe it! My boss is pushing a four-day weekend on me. I don't know what I did to deserve that." Harry couldn't help but grin. Only Hermione Granger would see a vacation as a punishment. "Well, instead of spending that time buried in books and the work I know you'll take home, maybe you should actually take a vacation."

"You're one to talk," she replied haughtily. "In the ten years we've been friends, you have never taken a break. If I have to go, so should you!"

"You think so, do you? And just what do you propose the two of us workaholics do for four days?"

"Well…" she said slowly, thinking. "My boss offered me his house in Spain for the weekend. Apparently it's right on the beach. If we went together we could prevent the other from sneaking in work."

Harry mulled the idea over. Hermione had made a very good point: he had never had a vacation in his life. They were at the tail end of the summer now, so it would still be hot and sunny, and Harry wagered that Hermione could really use a good distraction right now. "Hey!" he said suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "It's your birthday in a couple of weeks!"

"Don't remind me," she sniffed. "Twenty-two. I'm ancient!"

"Right. Well, we'll go for your birthday. Make it a happy one, you know? As happy as it can be, anyway." Hermione smiled brightly. "Thank you, Harry. That sounds wonderful." They finished up their lunch and headed back to their respective departments. They were actually on the same floor, but opposite ends, so shared the elevator up. Before the doors slid open to their level, Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry in a tight hug. "Thanks, Harry. I'm really lucky to have such a great best friend."

The feeling was mutual, though it had taken Harry a bit longer to figure it out. He hadn't realized until Ron had left the pair of them during their Horcrux hunt that Hermione was truly his best friend. His relationship with Ron was different - no less important, but different. Ron was his best mate; the guy he'd get into trouble with and have fun with and go to the pub or a Quidditch game. Hermione was the one person in his lifethat had never let him down. Ever. He made it back to his desk with a few minutes to spare and used the time to compose a letter to Teddy, his godson. Teddy lived with his grandmother, but Harry visited as often has he could and his desk was littered with photos of the boy, as well as some of his artwork and whatnot. There was one photo at the back that Harry studied now. It was him, Ron, and Hermione, taken during endless wedding preparations the summer before they'd gone on the hunt for the Horcruxes. They looked weary, scared, and determined, but at that moment, happy. Harry thought of the weeks he and Hermione had been on their own after Ron had left, and suddenly hoped this time around would be a lot more cheerful.

Harry banged on the door to Ron's flat, above the joke shop. "Ron! Open up!" There was no reply, so Harry tried the handle and found it unlocked. He stepped inside. "Ron?" The place was a mess - worse than Harry had ever seen Ron's room back at the Burrow - but empty. There were several empty liquor bottles lying around, but Ron was gone. Perplexed, Harry went down to the shop where he found a Weasley, just not the right one. "George, have you seen Ron?"

George Weasley shrugged. He wore his hair a little long to cover his missing ear, and there was less laughter from him these days, but overall he was still happy. "No. He moped around for three straight days drinking, but when I went up this morning, he was gone. He hasn't showed up at Hermione's?"

"Don't think so. She just told me today about all this and asked me to check on him." George shook his head. "Ron's a real git for losing a girl like her. Did she say what he did?" Harry felt badly for Ron that everyone's (himself included) knee-jerk reaction was to blame him. "She just said things weren't working anymore. Said they were never able to spend time together anymore, which wasn't fair to the either of them."

"I don't think Ron was all that surprised, to be honest, but it still hit him hard." George paused, then grinned cheekily. "I have to say, if I wasn't with Angelina I wouldn't be waiting too long to go for her." Harry blinked, shocked. George rolled his eyes as if Harry were an idiot. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed that Hermione's a good looking girl, to put it mildly. And any woman who could get you and my charming brother through seven years of school and a war is worth a second look, you know?"

"She's cut her hair really short," Harry said, for lack of anything else, and immediately felt absurd. George looked like he agreed with Harry's assessment of himself. "Oh, too bad. I always liked her hair - seemed kind of wild. Always made me wonder if there was anything else wild about her-"

"Hey!" Harry said sharply, annoyed and more than a little indignant. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Sorry, Mate," George said, not looking sorry in the slightest. "But come on, don't you wonder? They always say it's the tightly wound ones that are really great in the-" Harry's fingers itched to reach for his wand. "George," he said furiously. "If you value your remaining ear, you will shut up. Now." George pursed his lips and held his hands up in surrender. "Relax, Harry, I'm just winding you up."

Harry forced himself to calm down. He knew George was just having a bit of fun with him, but Harry didn't believe for a second that George didn't actually think those things about Hermione. This Weasley was just lecherous enough to have weird fantasies about his brothers' girls. "If you see Ron, let me know," he ordered, no longer feeling charitable toward George Weasley, who was still grinning like a fool.

When Ron still hadn't turned up three days later, Harry was on the verge of sending out a search party. He finally sent an owl to Molly and Arthur to let them know what had happened with their youngest son, and was surprised to get the reply from Ron himself. The note was short, and the gist of it was that Ron was licking his wounds at the Burrow and would let Harry know when he was ready to talk. That was fine enough with Harry, now that he knew his friend wasn't getting himself into trouble somewhere. And with Ron taken care of, Harry could focus his attention on the upcoming weekend getaway with Hermione. When he went out to buy some swim trunks one day after work, Harry realized he was excited. His first vacation ever was a pretty big milestone, but he was equally looking forward to spending some real time with Hermione. It had been far too long since they'd been able to just hang out.

Friday morning she showed up at number twelve Grimmauld Place promptly at nine a.m. Harry was still shoving last minute items in his bag when he heard Kreacher let her in, and hurried down the stairs to head off any uncomfortable conversation between the elf and Hermione. Harry nearly tripped over his own feet when he heard Kreacher compliment her new haircut. Normally the house elf choked on his own tongue trying not hurl insults towards her. Harry arrived on the scene in time to catch the stunned look on Hermione's face. "Well, thank you, Kreacher."

"Miss Granger looks much more respectable now, not like she is just finished wrestling a dragon."

"Kreacher!" Harry was on the verge of reprimanding his elf, but Hermione stopped him with a laugh. "Harry, it's fine. Thank you, Kreacher. I figured wrestling a dragon once in my life was enough; best not look like I'm making a habit of it."

"Hermione," Harry said slowly, carefully, as if she were unstable. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Really, Harry, do you think so little of me? I do have a sense of humour, believe it or not."

"Sorry, sorry. Where's your stuff?" She was wearing a sleeveless blouse, shorts, and strappy sandals, but there was nothing else. Then, with a sort of ironic smile, she held up a small, beaded bag. Harry stared at that bag as a thousand memories rushed back at once. "You kept it?" he asked, reaching for it. That little purple bag had saved their lives more times than he could count.

"Of course I kept it! How could I not?"

Harry knew the drill and shoved his own bulging bag into the tiny purse before passing it back. "You're great, you know that?" Hermione snorted. "Tell that to Ron. Sorry, I promise I won't mope about it this weekend. Anyway, all set?"

It was then that Harry realized he'd neglected to ask how they were getting there. This was nothing new for Hermione, of course, who'd learned years ago that Harry was a big picture sort of person. Thus the details part of the plan had always fallen to her. "Everett's house is connected to the Floo Network. It's too far to Apparate." She consulted a piece of paper as they approached the fireplace, then showed him the address written down. "You'd better go first."

With a flash of green fire and on a prayer he'd pronounced it right, Harry landed in the hearth of a rather magnificent house. He was so busy looking around that he neglected to move out of the way, and consequently Hermione came crashing into him. "Oof! Harry! What are you - would you get off?" They'd landed in a heap on the floor with Harry unfortunately crushing Hermione underneath him. He sprang to his feet and reached for her hand to pull her up. "Sorry. Look at this place!"

The house was a sprawling one-storey place. It was very open and airy with lots of windows and big, comfortable furniture. Hermione was equally impressed. "It's lovely! Oh, look, Harry!" She pulled open big sliding doors to reveal a large deck that led directly to the sandy beach. Harry couldn't keep the grin off his face. He kicked off his trainers and headed for the crashing surf. The water was warm, the sun hot on his face, and the beach was mostly deserted, save for a couple far down walking their dog. He realized he couldn't have picked a better place for his first vacation.

"Hermione, come down! It's perfect!"

They spent the day exploring the house and wandering around the little town and walking for miles along the beach. They picked up some groceries at the market and spent the evening making dinner. The experience was a lot more fun than the product, as neither he nor Hermione were very good cooks, but Harry hadn't laughed so much in as long as he could remember.

"You know what was the best part about today?" he said as they lounged on the giant white couch after dinner. "Nobody gave me a second look. Not one person we passed in town even glanced at my forehead."

"I reckon that's because this is just a Muggle town. Everett mentioned that he and his wife bought this place because there were no wizards in the area."

He craned his neck to give her a look. "That's weird. That they would want that, I mean." Hermione shrugged and stretched her bare feet closer to the open patio doors, where the ocean breeze was coming in. "It is kind of weird," she agreed. "But he said that when they mean vacation, they seriously mean it. They like to get as far away from their real life as possible, apparently."

"That's not a bad idea," he muttered. The anonymity was intoxicating. "I suppose that explains the TV in the back bedroom." They drifted into companionable silence for awhile, then Hermione spoke quietly. "Thanks for coming, Harry. I think I really needed this."

"I think I did too."

Harry woke the next morning to the sound of waves crashing nearby. He reached for his glasses and allowed himself a few moments to lay in the giant bed and stare out the windows. Finally he dragged himself out of bed and went in search of some breakfast. The kitchen was empty so he assumed that Hermione was still asleep. Wait, it's Saturday, he thought. Hermione's birthday! Well, there was no way he could not surprise her with a big breakfast. His years with the Dursleys had taught him how to make a good morning meal, if nothing else, so he set to work preparing pancakes the old fashioned way. He was just setting a plate onto a tray when the patio door slid open and Hermione came in. "I thought you were still in bed," he said, surprised.

"No, I was up early so I went for a walk, and there was a yoga class going on down the beach, so I joined in."

"Yoga?"

"Sort of meditation and stretching. What's all this?"

He presented the plate of pancakes with a flourish. "Happy Birthday! Done completely by hand, I'll have you know."

"Oh, you didn't have to do all this! But it's wonderful, thank you." As they ate, they discussed plans for the day. Hermione suggested spending most of it at the beach. "But we'll go to the one nearer to town, there'll be more people there. Might be more fun seeing as no one knows us." Harry shrugged. "Works for me."

There was something nice about sharing breakfast by the beach with no cares or worries or responsibilities weighing down on his shoulders. He liked that he was so comfortable with Hermione that he could walk around in his pajamas and get syrup all over his chin and share the newspaper without having to ask for a specific section because she just knew what he liked. That it was the Muggle newspaper didn't matter, and Hermione had performed a spell to translate the Spanish to English.

"Do you know," she said after awhile. "I don't think we've had a single breakfast together where we didn't have to plan for some sort of crisis. This is really kind of nice, isn't it?" Harry snorted inwardly. As usual, she'd read his mind, but didn't wait around for a reply. "I'm going to get ready." He cleared the dishes with a wave of his wand and went to change into his new swim trunks. When Hermione emerged from her room, she was wearing a floppy straw hat and a gauzy shirt down to her knees. Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. She looked adorable.

"You might want to wear some sunscreen," she advised and dug through her beach bag for the bottle. "You're so pale you'll burn in an instant."

"Gee, thanks." But Harry liberally smeared the cream on what skin was exposed, and they set off down the beach. They found a spot that wasn't too crowded, set up their towels and chairs, and settled in for the long haul. Hermione immediately pulled a book out of her bag, along with a wireless radio. "This reminds me so much of going on vacations with my parents when I was younger. We'd spend hours at the beach, sometimes from sunup to sundown. My dad loved to rent jet skis - maybe they've got them here."

"That'd be brilliant! I've never been on one." He paused when she cracked open her book. "Don't you want to go in the water?" She peered up from under the brim of her hat. "I'll get there. You go ahead, though." Harry pouted briefly before shrugging and peeling off his t-shirt and heading for the water. There were some kids playing around on boogie boards, which looked like fun, and Harry suddenly thought of Ron. Ron would have loved to be here…maybe when he got home Harry would suggest a similar sort of getaway for the two of them. Harry spent ages bobbing around in the ocean, and by the time he went back to their spot, Hermione was nowhere to be found. He wasn't concerned and dug through the bag for one of the sandwiches they'd packed, and after scarfing it back lay down and closed his eyes and just basked in the warm sun.

"You look like you had fun out there," came Hermione's voice some time later. Harry blinked a couple of times and decided he must have dozed off. His trunks were bone dry and his skin felt tight. He shaded his eyes with a hand and was about to reply when he caught sight of her, and wondered for an instant if he was dreaming. Gone was the adorable hat and shirt; in its place was a tiny red bikini, and adorable was not the word he'd use to describe it. She'd obviously just come out of the water as droplets clung to her skin and her short hair was slicked back. She was standing over him eating from a bag of crisps. George Weasley's voice suddenly sounded in his ear: "Don't tell me you haven't noticed that Hermione's a good looking girl, to put it mildly." Hermione shot him a quizzical look. "Are you alright?" Harry scrambled to his feet. "Er - yeah, fine. Just the sun, you know."

"You've been out for awhile," she nodded. "You probably need more sunscreen. Here, turn around. I'll do your back for you." And before he could protest, she had squeezed globs of cream on his back. He tensed when her fingers started to knead his shoulders. Merlin, he thought in a panic. Where the hell did this come from? He tried to reason with himself. So Hermione was attractive; it wasn't like he'd never noticed before. But you've never been attracted to her before, George Weasley's voice taunted him. Harry glared at the thought - it was fine, he assured himself. So he was momentarily attracted to a beautiful girl in a tiny little bikini. That it was Hermione was merely situational. This was nothing to get upset about, it was just a fleeting moment.

"Ok," she said. "Now do me."

What? "What?" His voice hitched and he cleared his throat. "What?"

She passed him the sunscreen along with a look of exasperation that brought him right back to Hogwarts. "Do my back now, would you?" He did, as quickly as he could manage, and thought of Ron, of Ginny, of Draco bloody Malfoy until the moment of insanity passed and she was regular Hermione again. He even made a flippant comment about Kreacher to get her lecturing him on Elvish rights to ensure that things wouldn't go weird again. Thankfully he was able to think normally after awhile, and suggested they look into renting those aforementioned jet skis.

By the time they made it back to the beach house the sun was dipping below the horizon. After a swig from the Pep-Up potion found in the kitchen to beat back the exhaustion from a day in the sun, Hermione was raring to go. "Let's try that Tapas place in town for dinner!" Harry took two swigs of the potion. "You're the birthday girl," he agreed. They retreated to their respective rooms and Harry just stood in the shower for awhile, letting the cool water soothe the angry sunburn on his shoulders and hopefully wash away any odd lingering feelings about Hermione and her attractiveness.

Harry figured it would take her ages to get ready, so after he'd dressed he flipped on the TV in the back bedroom. It had been years since he'd watched television, and doing so now felt strange, but he was not about to read a book on his vacation. He found a movie with lots of action and explosions, and got so involved that he didn't notice Hermione until she settled onto the bed next to him. "It figures you'd watch a movie like this," she joked. "You never like things to be boring."

Harry sheepishly turned the set off and got to his feet. "Wow," he said honestly when he got a look at her. "You look great." She was wearing a clingy white sundress, her hair was dramatically parted to one side, and she'd done something with her eyes to make them look all dark and mysterious. She blushed prettily. "Thanks. It takes so much less time when I don't have to do my hair. So, do you want to walk over or Apparate?"

"Well, we're not in any rush. Let's walk." To this day Harry didn't like Apparating, but more to the point, this was a vacation. Time to stop and smell the roses, as it were. He crooked his elbow in her direction. "Shall we?"

Hours later, Harry and Hermione collapsed through the door laughing. Hermione abandoned him to twirl around the room. "Oh, that was so much fun!" she giggled, stumbling a bit. Harry caught her hands and, with a grin, led her around in a dance. The dinner had turned into drinks, and the restaurant into a dance club and more drinks. Now they were both pleasantly drunk and riding on the high of dancing for hours. Hermione stopped suddenly and then marched into the kitchen. "I bet I can make those drinks we had, the fruity ones? Remember? I know Everett has a stocked liquor cabinet somewhere." She retrieved a couple of glasses from cupboard and waved her wand over them. Sure enough, they filled up with something pink. "Leave it to you to do perfect magic when you're smashed," Harry said admiringly, then pulled out his own wand. "Here," he said, and performed a spell on the cups that he and Ron had once learned from Charlie Weasley. "Now they'll just keep refilling, so we won't have to make more!"

Now, if they had been sober both of them would have decided this was a bad idea, but in their drunken states it was a fantastic one. They wound up on the deck sharing a lounge chair that Hermione had enlarged to fit the both of them.

"Thanks for a great birthday, Harry," Hermione said. "It was my best one yet."

"It was my best one of your birthdays too," he joked. "It's just too bad Ron couldn't be here for it."

"I know," she sighed. "That's the problem with dating your friends…even though I'm in the band, I feel like Yoko." Harry paused, then looked over at her. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Hermione burst out laughing. "Nothing, never mind. I just mean that when me and Ron broke up, you, me and Ron actually broke up." Harry patted her hand. "Don't worry, Hermione, you and me will never break up. George was right: if it wasn't for you I probably wouldn't have made it to my twelfth birthday."

"What? George?"

Harry filled her in on what George had said at the joke shop. He might not have if not for the alcohol, but his ability to reason was apparently also on vacation. "Yeah, George said if he wasn't with Angelina, he'd snap you up in a second. He said any girl who could get me and Ron through school and a war was worth a second look. Well, any girl with your looks, anyway." Hermione snorted. "With my looks? Right." Harry fixed her with a serious stare. "If you haven't noticed, Hermione, you're good-looking. Beautiful, actually." She rolled her eyes. "Uh huh."

"No, really!" he insisted, and took another drink. "I mean, I admit I didn't notice it until recently, but I think I've got blinders on where you're concerned. There wasn't a bloke at that club tonight who wasn't eyeing you." She studied him seriously for a moment, then broke into a grin. "Thanks, Harry. I think I needed to hear that. So," she said slyly. "You think I'm pretty, huh?"

"Came as a shock to me too," he said as he watched both their glasses refill themselves.

"I wonder what it would have been like if you and me had got together instead."

"Hard to say," Harry replied thoughtfully. "Anyway, it was always about Ron for you. You never fancied me." Hermione laughed. "Don't be daft!" Harry was surprised then by the disappointment he felt at that. Then she continued. "Of course I did!" Harry all but glared at her. "Oh, that's bollocks!"

"No, really. I wasn't in love with you for seven years or anything, but how could I not have considered it? I mean, you're you. The kindest, bravest, most selfless person I know. There'd be something seriously wrong with me if I didn't fancy you at some point." Harry realized for a moment that none of this would be coming out if not for the alcohol, but the thought was fleeting and unimportant right then.

"But that didn't matter," she was saying. "You had a lot on your plate, and it was you who never fancied me."

"Actually, there was one time," Harry said amiably. "Do you remember back when we were looking for Horcruxes, and Ron had left, and I made you get up and dance with me in the tent?" He could tell she was rifling through her memory and after a moment remembrance flickered in her eyes. "Oh yeah! You liked me then?"

"Well, I wanted to kiss you."

"Really?" she grinned and sipped her drink, not at all embarrassed. "Why didn't you?"

"Well, come on, it was not the time. You were miserable about Ron."

"True enough," Hermione agreed, then sat in silent contemplation for awhile. "Do you think we should try it out?" she said finally. Harry was curious. "What, kissing?" Hermione sat up and faced him. "I know I'm always going to wonder now, aren't you?" Harry sat up and turned to her. "Yeah. Do you think we should?"

"Why not? It's just an experiment between friends. Frankly I'm surprised this hasn't happened before." For some reason Harry couldn't find fault in her logic. "Alright then." They stared at one another for a moment, unsure how to proceed and both swallowing giggles. "This is so ridiculous!" Harry said with a laugh. Hermione collapsed with a snort, positively shaking she was laughing so hard. "Did you just snort?" That just set Harry off even further. "I have never heard you snort before!" Hermione collected herself as much as she was able. "Oh, shut up. Here-" she grabbed his face with her palms and pressed her lips to his. It was chaste and lasted about three seconds before the giggling forced them to break apart. "There!" she exclaimed to the world. "I have kissed the great Harry Potter!"

"Hardly," he said as they settled back onto the lounge chair. "You kissed the bartender longer than that tonight."

"Oh, damn, I forgot about that."

Harry woke with such a fierce pain in his head he was sure Voldemort had resurrected and was channelling all his anger through Harry's scar. It took him ages to figure out the blazing light was the sun burning through his eyelids. When he'd gathered the courage to open his eyes, the found he was still on the lounge chair. Hermione was sprawled out next to him sleeping with her mouth open and her makeup smeared all over the place. He went to sit up but that only caused him to see stars, so he collapsed back onto the chair. Suddenly Hermione bolted upright out of a dead sleep, shot him a look of panic, and then jumped up to race into the house. He heard her retch and hoped she'd made it to the sink at least. When she didn't reappear and he didn't hear any moving around in the house, he steeled himself and got to his feet. The world tilted on its axis and he gripped the chair for support. Merlin, how much had they had to drink last night? "Hermione? Are you okay?" He made his way slowly into the house and found her lying on the floor in front of the sink. "Hermione!" She moaned pitifully. "I'm not dead, Harry. I just wish I were at the moment." Harry decided the floor looked like a good place to be, so he lay down next to Hermione on the blessedly cool tiles. "Harry," Hermione said miserably. Harry grunted. It was all he could manage. "Did we kiss last night?" Memories of the night before flooded back, including a kiss. "I think so…yeah."

"Oh. Things aren't going to be weird, are they?"

"Nah. It was nothing, we were just being silly."

"Good," she sighed. "Please, dear God, let there be some sort of sober-up potion in that cupboard." Despite the head-splitting pain, Harry smiled. Hungover Hermione was certainly a lot more lowly human than her normal self. He found his wand in his pocket and pointed it in the general direction of the cupboard that had held the Pep-Up potion yesterday. "Accio sober-up potion."

"You can't expect that will actually work," she accused, but to his immense surprise a bottle flew into his hand. He handed it over. "Here." He watched from the corner of his eye as she downed half the bottle, then passed it back to him. He finished it off, and the effects were almost instant. His headache ebbed away, and while he was left feeling wan and tired, he also felt human again. Hermione hadn't made a move to get up from the floor yet, but he gingerly sat up. "Good birthday, huh?" Her eyes stayed closed, but her mouth curved into a smile. "It was brilliant…but whoever taught you that refill spell should be lynched."

"Charlie Weasley did."

"Figures."

Harry let her lie there for another few minutes before reaching for her hands to haul her to her feet. "Come on, it's already noon. We don't want to waste the whole day on the kitchen floor."

"Maybe you don't," she whined, but got to her feet nonetheless. She made a sour face at the sink where she'd been sick and cleaned up the mess with a wave of her wand. "We're going to have to restock Everett's liquor cabinet, I think. And his potions store."

"We'll worry about that later. Go have a shower, I'll make us some breakfast." He'd get cleaned up later; he was starving. As he set to work on the bacon and eggs, Harry thought back to what had happened the night before. Or more specifically, what had been said. He and Hermione had admitted to both liking the other, however briefly, at some point. Mostly he wasn't surprised - they were so close. Close enough that dozens of people over the years had assumed they were together. If all that business with Hermione in her bikini hadn't happened, he could have easily brushed it aside, but now the thought wouldn't leave him alone. Surely he didn't have feelings for her?

"Oh, that smells amazing."

Harry shook off the bizarre thought as she joined him and grabbed a piece of bacon. He pointed to a steaming pot. "There's coffee." She pounced on the pot as if it were ambrosia. "Never let me drink like that again, ok?"

"No promises. You have to admit we had a lot of fun."

She leaned back against the counter and sipped her coffee. "More fun than I think we've ever had together. I can't wait to see the photos."

"Oh yeah! I forgot you brought your camera! Where is it? Did you remember to bring it home?"

"It's around here somewhere. I put a Cinderella charm on it before we left." At his look she elaborated. "I charmed it to come back home on its own at a certain time. That's not what the charm's actually called but, you know, she had to leave the ball by midnight…?"

"Ha. Clever! As usual. Anyway, breakfast…or lunch…is served."

Harry had intended to just shut his eyes for a few minutes after eating, but when he came to on the couch he saw it was pushing four o'clock. The house was quiet but the patio doors were wide open, so he figured Hermione was around somewhere. He found her standing down by the water. Suddenly inspired, he crept up behind her and before she could protest, swept her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She shrieked as he headed for the waves. "Harry! Harry Potter, don't you dare!" She struggled half-heartedly. "Put me down this instant!"

"If you say so," he replied gleefully, and dropped her into the surf. She came up spluttering and ferocious. "You're going to pay for that!" Before he could jump aside she'd tackled him at the knees, and he tumbled into the water with her. They wrestled around for awhile, splashing and dunking each other with the abandon of five-year-olds. Eventually they collapsed on the beach, exhausted and laughing. They lay there in the sand, Hermione with a content smile and her head pillowed in her hands. Harry was propped up on his elbow looking down at her. "You seem happy," he commented. Her smile grew. "I am. Should I feel guilty about that?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"Never feel guilty about being happy, Hermione. We've earned it."

Her content smile returned and she closed her eyes. "I'm always happy with you," she said simply, honestly. Later, he'd spend hours trying to figure out what had possessed him, but right then, without a second's hesitation as to whether it was a mistake, Harry leaned down and kissed her. She froze for a moment so brief he barely noticed before her lips softened and her hand came up to tangle her fingers in his hair, and she kissed him back.

It was like no kiss Harry had ever experienced. There was no holding back - it was as if they were pouring every emotion they'd ever possessed into that kiss. She tasted salty from the water, and sweet, and Merlin did she know what she was doing. They broke apart reluctantly, gasping for air, and sat in silence with their foreheads pressed together. "Well." She said finally. "Well," he agreed. What else could be said at a time like this?

They sat on the couch, Hermione's head resting on his shoulder while she played with his hand, interlocking their fingers this way and that. Harry was reeling - he did have feelings for Hermione. That much had become clear when he'd kissed her, yet he could scarcely believe it. "Where do we go from here?" he asked quietly, afraid to break the spell of just being with her without having to face the real world. She sighed heavily but didn't let go of his hand. "Where can we go from here? Harry, we can't do this, you know that." Panic seized his heart, but he beat it back. "Why not?" he managed. "Because you don't feel…?"

"Oh, Harry, of course I do! I wouldn't have let you kiss me like that if I didn't! It's just…Ron. He would be destroyed by this, and I refuse to be responsible for ending your friendship with him."

"He'd get over it eventually." Harry knew deep down that Ron probably wouldn't ever get over it, but at the moment, he didn't care.

"Maybe," Hermione nodded. "But more to the point, I can't lose you. You're the most important person in my life. If we tried this and it didn't work then our friendship might be ruined. Could you live with that?"

No. The thought of losing Hermione in any capacity was inconceivable. But still, what if? "But could you live with letting this chance pass? Who knows what might come of it." Hermione didn't have an answer for that and they lapsed into silence. She tilted her head back to study him. "Where did all this come from?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his. Harry wasn't quite ready to open that can of worms so he shrugged. "I don't know, but I don't mind it. Do you?" She paused, then reached up and covered his mouth with hers. This time it was sweeter and slower, and had his blood pumping. She shifted around and before he knew it, he'd pulled her onto his lap and deepened the kiss.

"Harry," she breathed against his lips. "We can't- this is fast. Too fast." But she barely got the words out before kissing him again. Harry skimmed his hands down her back and she made a sound at the back of her throat. When he slid his thumbs under the hem of her shirt, Harry knew they were fast approaching the point of no return. Though it took more willpower than Harry knew he possessed, he pulled back. "I'm sorry," he said raggedly. "You're right." He became acutely aware that Hermione was straddling his lap and felt the desire surge through him again. "You need to move," he said hoarsely. "Or I won't be able to stop myself again."

Her eyes were dark, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen. She ran her thumb over his mouth lightly but slid off his lap. They sat shoulder to shoulder, and for several minutes the only sound in the room was the wind gusting in through the open doors. Hermione's voice shook when she finally spoke. "I…have never been so turned on in my life."

"Oh god, Hermione," Harry groaned. "Don't say that to me." Hermione dropped her face into her hands. "Harry…what are we doing?"

He was about to attempt a lame joke to ease the tension, but decided it probably wasn't the best idea. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him. "Can we just…have tonight? Can we worry about it all tomorrow and just enjoy this now?"

"Alright."

Harry woke first. Neither of them had wanted to move the night before so they'd fallen asleep on the couch. Hermione's back was pressed up against him and his arm was draped possessively around her waist. He wanted to stay that way forever, so he tightened his arm around her, pulling her just a little closer. It just felt right. He stayed that way until she woke up, when she rolled over and buried her face in his neck. Harry had the nearly irrepressible urge to kiss her and hug her and make love to her, but instead let her lay there just as she was. After an eternity she broke the silence. "We have to go."

They didn't say much as they cleaned up the house and packed their bags, but every so often would exchange a look that was loaded with emotions neither of them knew what to do with. Finally they stood in front of the fireplace, Floo powder in hand. "We could just stay," Harry said in a last-ditch effort. Hermione smiled somewhat sadly. "It would be a dream come true." She paused, then stepped into the hearth and disappeared in flash of green. Harry was seized with the fear that she wouldn't wait for him at Grimmauld Place and jumped in before the fire had completely gone out.

He tumbled out of the fireplace and was flooded with relief to see her standing near the sofa. "Okay," she said, her voice too bright. "I'm going to head home. Thanks for a great birthday, Harry."

"Wait!" He caught her arm angrily as she turned for the door. "You can't just leave like that!" At the look on his face, she deflated. "I'm afraid of what will happen if I don't."

"Hermione-" he said desperately, dropping her arm in favour of reaching up and combing back some stray locks of her hair. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. When she opened them they were flooded with tears. He pulled her close and captured her mouth with his. This kiss was deep and passionate and he didn't want it to end. But of course, it did. The tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, but she ignored them. "Harry, we can't. You know we can't." She took a deep, calming breath and dried her eyes. "I'm going to go home now. We'll have lunch this week and things will be like they always are. They have to be." She took his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, and then turned to the door. "See you later," she said with a tremulous smile, and then she was gone.

The anguish he felt was stunning. "Hermione!" But she hadn't heard, and the door closed behind her. "I think I'm in love with you," he finished to the empty room.

It took him about thirty seconds. He'd just had a monumental epiphany, and knew with one hundred percent certainty that this hadn't just developed over the weekend, but he would dissect his feelings later. Right now he had to catch her. He raced for the door and threw it open. "Herm- Ron?"

Harry was completely thrown off balance. Ron must have missed Hermione by a millisecond. "Ron, what are you doing here?" he demanded impatiently. He couldn't deal with this right now. But his friend was oblivious to Harry's inner turmoil and stepped past him into the house. "Ron, I really can't-"

"I'm a fool!" Ron wailed, completely ignoring Harry's protest. With a heavy sigh, Harry closed the door. "What have you done?" Ron looked at him as if Harry were a moron. "What have I done? I've lost her, that's what!"

Harry's heart sank. "Hermione, you mean."

"Yes, Hermione! Who'd you think I was talking about? I've got to get her back, Harry."

No. Jealousy and panic roared in Harry's chest. No, Hermione was his now. "Maybe it's better this way," he said slowly. Ron looked thunderstruck. "No, it is not better this way! She's everything to me, and I've screwed it up. Hermione's the best thing that ever happened to me…you of all people must understand that."

Harry understood that better than Ron would ever know.

"You've got to help me get her back," Ron begged. "You know her better than anyone. You can make her see that she should take me back." Harry felt numb. "What if I don't think she should?" he asked hollowly. "Hermione's far better than you deserve."

"Don't you think I know that?" Ron said pathetically. "My life is pretty meaningless without you and her, and don't think I don't know whose side you're taking, here. I just…I love her, Harry. I miss her."

Harry sank down onto the sofa and couldn't speak around the sharp lump in his throat. She'd been right, of course. It would destroy Ron if they made their feelings known…and it would destroy him not to. But this was what Hermione wanted. He took a deep breath to ease the lump away and fixed his best friend (because Hermione was so much more than that now) with his most serious look. "If you don't do everything in your power to make her happy every single day for the rest of her life, our friendship will be over. Understand?"

There was a brief flicker of something in Ron's eyes that made Harry question whether he really understood, but it was gone in an instant. "You don't have to tell me that twice, Harry. Thanks."

They didn't meet for lunch that week, but Harry knew that eventually they would ease back into the friendship that sustained them both. Instead he threw himself into work and ate at his desk, when he had the chance to eat at all. One day, about a week after their trip, the mail clerk stopped by Harry's desk. "Afternoon Mr. Potter," he said cheerfully, and passed over a thick square envelope. Harry pushed his sandwich aside and pulled a short stack of paper out of the envelope, only realizing when he flipped it over that it was photographs. There was no note attached, and none necessary. Harry leafed through the pictures from the night of Hermione's birthday with what felt like lead in his stomach and stopped at one that the bartender from that night must have taken. The Harry and Hermione in the picture were dancing and laughing with careless abandon, and every time they looked at each other it couldn't have been more plain. Even in a photo the attraction between them was palpable. Once again Harry wished with all his heart that he'd opened his eyes to the truth when it could have made a difference.

"Harry?"

His heart lurched and he whirled around.

It was Ginny. He forced a smile and tucked the stack of photos away in his desk. "Hey Gin. What are you doing here?" She grinned and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "I was in the area today and decided it had been way too long since I'd seen you. Fancy a drink later?" Harry thought of the dancing pair in the picture, and of Ron's heartfelt pleas the week before, and of her. He sighed sadly, then shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

End.