A/N: I've returned, again! I'm sorry I didn't go any further with "The Goodbye Girl," but I was having a bit of a block on it. I might go back to it. But for now, here's the beginning of a new story. Hopefully I won't give up on this one … read and review!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters and most of the words/phrases that get spell-checked (i.e. Muggle, Diagon Alley, Weasley). This story is written as if the epilogue and certain other elements found in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows never happened. The plot is my own.

Hermione:

Certain friendships aren't meant to stay friendships.

Sure, you can sometimes ignore whatever it is that's changed, and you can go on as friends with this unspoken … thing between you. It's possible. I know people who have done it. And for a while, we tried. We really did. There were so many levels of awkwardness that I think both of us really hoped it would just die out. That it—whatever it was—would just fade away.

But it didn't.

I can tell you exactly when it started. I know because it came out of the blue. It didn't build from anything; it wasn't a gradual process. One day, he was just a friend. And the next day, I was hooked; I couldn't stop thinking about him.

And the day when everything changed was Ginny's wedding day.

*

'I can't believe they're getting married,' Ron muttered for the hundredth time that morning; Harry had lost track of how many times he had said overall. Granted, there hadn't been that much time: Dean had proposed to Ginny less than two months ago, and here they were, wearing Muggle suits (Dean's family had insisted on a Muggle wedding, much to Mrs Weasley's chagrin and Mr Weasley's endless delight) and standing in the Weasley kitchen the morning of the wedding.

Harry grinned. 'I can.'

'How?' Ron asked incredulously. 'It doesn't make you feel slightly uncomfortable that she went back to him after you two split, and now they're getting married?'

Harry shrugged. True, it had the potential to be extremely awkward. But Harry and Ginny had parted amicably, and he could tell that Dean really loved her, and that she loved him. 'Not really.'

Ron scoffed. 'Well, I think it's strange.'

'Ron, she and I broke up over four years ago, and she and Dean have been together for almost two and a half. That's enough time.' He looked at his watch. 'We should go soon,' he said. 'We don't want to be late. Aren't we supposed to be with Dean right now? Supporting him and everything? I'm sure Seamus has no idea what to say.'

'If Fleur didn't take so bloody long, this wouldn't be an issue,' mumbled Ron.

Just then, Fleur breezed in to the kitchen in a forest green, floor-length gown, half-dragging a laughing Bill into the room. 'I didn't take long,' she said crisply. 'Your brother, he hogged ze mirror.'

'Let's just go,' said Ron, frowning. Harry couldn't help but smile at how moody Ron was about this whole thing.

Bill seemed to be thinking the same thing. 'You'll get married soon enough, little brother,' he teased.

'Like I want to be married,' Ron huffed.

*

'What if this doesn't work out?' Dean asked nervously, pacing back and forth in the small room.

Seamus and Ron didn't say anything, so Harry cleared his throat. 'It's going to work,' he said awkwardly. 'You'll be very happy together.' Seamus and Ron nodded. 'And … and the wedding's going to be wonderful, and you'll … you'll be very happy together,' he repeated.

Dean rubbed his face and sat down. 'How can you be sure?' he asked weakly.

I'm not, Harry thought. 'Because—because I've seen how you are together,' he said. Oh, God.

'Yeah,' said Seamus helpfully. He opened his mouth to say something more, but closed it again quickly, clearly rethinking whether his two cents was actually worth anything at all.

'I need—I need something to drink,' Dean said, putting his face in his hands. 'Water, or something alcoholic. One of the two.'

Harry stood up. 'I'll get you water,' he said and hurried out of the room. Once in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and breathed heavily. This was harder than he thought it would be. It was strange, comforting the boy with whom he had shared Ginny on the day of his marriage to that girl. The same girl he had seriously considered spending the rest of his life with. And here he was, reassuring Dean, telling him that they were absolutely perfect together. Hadn't that been how everyone had described him and Ginny?

Not that he wanted to be with Ginny. He was relieved to find that he really and truly was over her, and that he didn't regret the end of their relationship. But all the same, it was incredibly … surreal to be in this situation. And to—

'Harry! Are you all right?'

Harry opened his eyes and blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked.

Hermione pressed a hand to his arm. 'Are you feeling ill?'

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked again. 'No, no,' he said slowly. 'I just—' He swallowed.

When the hell did Hermione start looking like that?

She was wearing a dress that matched Fleur's, and gold jewellery, with her hair piled on top of her head and strands falling down, and she was holding a bouquet of lilies.

'Harry?' she repeated.

He blinked again. 'I'm fine,' he said. 'I just—I need to get Dean water, and I'm not sure where to go.' He laughed. 'And I have no idea how to comfort him,' he added. 'None of us know what to say. Ron and Seamus were just sitting there like fools.'

'Oh,' she said, relieved. 'I just need to get these to Ginny.' She held up the bouquet. 'Beautiful, isn't it?'

He nodded and repeated the word, 'Beautiful.'

Inside, he thought, Oh wow.

*

The ceremony was taking longer than Hermione had anticipated. She tried not to yawn. It was beautiful, really. All of it was lovely. And Ginny looked amazing. It was just—taking too long.

Luna shifted next to her. 'Are they sure about those lanterns?' she whispered into Hermione's ear.

'Sure about what?'

'That they're not bugged.'

'Why would they be bugged?'

Luna shrugged. 'I don't know. I just heard that people had taken to hiding those microphones or recording devices in people's lights.'

'Yes, but that's when they want to spy on someone. No one would be spying on a wedding. There's nothing controversial surrounding this at all.'

Luna frowned. 'Not that we know of.'

Hermione smiled and glanced over to the boys. Ron looked like he was going to fall asleep. And Harry—he had looked down just as she turned her head. What had he been looking at? Her brow furrowed. The green ties that all the boys were wearing matched his eyes well. And his hair, as unruly as it was, looked—well, it looked good. He looked good. And she—why had she never looked at him like this before?

He raised his eyes and caught her looking at him. It was too late for her to pretend she hadn't been studying him, so she smiled. After a moment's pause, he returned her smile, but he looked confused. Why? She looked back at Ginny and Dean. They were kissing. I missed it, she thought. Because—because she had been staring at Harry Potter. How did that make any sense? And now Ginny and Dean were running down the aisle, and Seamus was waiting expectantly for Hermione to take his arm. She did quickly, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder at Harry.

But she wanted to, badly.

*

He was worried it was getting noticeable: he was staring at her. He just couldn't stop looking at her. Talking with Mrs Weasley. Laughing with the newlyweds. Brushing crumbs off of Ron's robes. This interaction made Harry feel anxious; he wanted to break it up, stop them from flirting. But Hermione had walked away moments later, and Ron was now chatting up Dean's younger Muggle sister.

And Hermione was dancing goofily with Ron's grandfather, shaking her hips and smiling encouragingly as he banged his cane around.

Harry finished his drink and walked over slowly.

She noticed his movement towards her, and hated herself for being so aware of everything he had done the whole night. She was aware of him and she was entirely confused as to why.

And it seemed to take him ages to reach them.

'Do you mind if I steal your dance partner, Mr Weasley?' Harry asked.

A slower song began. That actually happens? Harry thought in amazement, as couples trickled onto the small dance floor.

'Certainly!' He chuckled. 'She's a wonderful girl, and a talented dancer. You're a lucky man, Mr Potter.'

Harry and Hermione blushed. 'Oh, no,' they both started to say, but the elderly man hobbled away quickly. Hermione looked down at her hands awkwardly. Harry rubbed his neck. Now that he was over here, he felt like a complete idiot.

'Sorry for breaking that up,' he finally said, in what was (he hoped) a teasing voice. 'I just thought you might want, you know, at least one dance with someone from your generation.'

Hermione laughed. 'Yes, of course.' Slowly, carefully, she placed her hand on Harry's shoulder. He put his hand on her waist and took her free hand.

They didn't say anything the entire time, both wondering why the other was so quiet. Why did he ask me to dance if he wasn't planning on saying anything? Hermione wondered anxiously.

Why can't I think of anything to say? Harry thought desperately.

They danced for five songs in near silence, and then separated; Seamus asked Hermione to dance, and Harry moved to the bar. After getting a drink, he walked out of the tent and sat down on a bench near the fountain.

'Harry?'

He looked up. Ginny was walking towards him. Harry stood. 'Ginny!' He smiled. 'Congratulations.' He hugged her, somewhat awkwardly.

'Thanks,' she said, smiling hugely. 'I'm -' She broke off. 'I'm really glad you came,' she finally said. 'I know it's a bit—you know. Complicated. But it means a lot that you're here.'

'Of course,' said Harry. 'I wouldn't have missed it.' He paused. 'I'm happy for you, Ginny,' he said gently. 'Really, I am. '

She hugged her arms and looked down at the ground. 'Thanks,' she said softly. 'I promise I'll come to your wedding. Even if it's in twenty years,' she teased.

'You had better.'

She peered up at him. 'I'm going to go back in. Do you want to come?'

He shook his head. 'It's a bit warm in there. I need a few more minutes.'

'Okay.' She hesitated, and then hugged him tightly. 'Is it awkward to say you're still like a big brother, even after all that's happened?'

'That might have been part of the reason we split, Ginny,' he said teasingly.

She laughed as she pulled away. 'True.' She touched his cheek. 'I'll see you later.' He nodded and she walked away.

Harry exhaled loudly and sat down on the bench again, staring blankly at the fountain.

He was relieved to discover that the conversation with Ginny had proven what he had already been fairly certain about: his romantic feelings for her had dissipated entirely.

But now—now he couldn't stop thinking about Hermione. Even when he was talking to Ginny, he was wondering what Hermione was doing. Who she was dancing with.

It made no sense, this bizarre obsession. It was just so sudden. Just two days ago, they had gone to pick up a few things at Diagon Alley for the wedding, and they had stopped at the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. They had laughed about Hermione's horrible date the night before with a friend of a friend, and Harry had related his last extremely dull conversation with a girl Mrs Weasley had wanted him to date from the office. They had talked about Hagrid and Madam Maxime—or Olympe, which was what they were actually supposed to call her now that they were married, but were too scared to do—and speculated about what their child would look like.

Perfectly normal.

So why this?

'Hey,' said a voice behind him. Harry looked up. Hermione was standing next to the bench, a shawl wrapped around her. 'Mind if I sit?'

'No, no,' he said quickly, shuffling a little. She sat, and they both studied the fountain, waiting for the other to speak first. And then they both started at the same time.

'Is there -'

'I was -'

They laughed. 'Go ahead,' Harry said.

'I was wondering what you thought about the Muggle wedding,' Hermione asked. 'This is your first, right?'

Harry shrugged. 'They're not that different. I prefer the alcohol at Wizard weddings, though,' he added with a grin. Hermione rolled her eyes. 'What about you? Which do you prefer?'

Hermione sighed. 'When I was really little, I was the flower girl for my cousin's wedding. And I remember being so excited for it to be my turn to be the last one walking down the aisle. Everything seemed so magical about the whole thing.' She smiled. 'And then I became a witch, and somehow—obviously, I guess—it seemed a lot less magical.' Her brow furrowed, and she shrugged. 'It makes me a little sad, I suppose. I think my parents would love for me to have a Muggle wedding, too. But—but I think it wouldn't be as special for me.' She stopped. 'Sorry. That might have been a bit more in-depth than you had expected.'

Harry shook his head. 'It's fine.'

'What were you going to ask me?'

'That, actually.'

'Really?'

No. But he had lost his nerve to just blurt out, Is there something going on here, or have I gone totally and completely mad?

'Yeah. I was going to ask if there was anything about a Muggle wedding that you preferred to a Wizard one.'

'It's nice when the flowers don't move,' she said.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes.

'It's really beautiful tonight,' said Hermione finally, looking up at the sky.

Harry studied her profile. There were so many things he hadn't noticed, things even now he could hardly see in the fading light, but wanted to desperately. The freckles on her cheek, the curve of her nose, the slight upward turn at the corner of her mouth.

She was extremely aware of how close they were on the bench, and how a week ago she would never have noticed it. She turned to look at him and … and. He was staring at her, his face inches away. And he was moving closer, and so was she. She touched her fingers to his cheek.

And then they were kissing, slowly, shyly, delicately. It was unfamiliar, but it was wonderful.

And then they both realised what they were doing and jumped up.

'That was -' Harry began, and then stopped.

'I'm sorry,' said Hermione. She looked down at her hands. 'I don't know what came over me.'

Harry looked down at the ground. He was thoroughly confused, and so was she. This literally made no sense. None at all.

And what made even less sense was that when he looked up, Hermione grabbed his face and kissed him again. And his arms automatically went around her waist and pulled her closer, and they couldn't breathe but it didn't really matter.

And then—

'Harry! Hermione! Are you out here?'

For the second time in less than three minutes, Harry and Hermione jumped apart again. They stared at each other.

'We're over by the fountain!' Harry called, his eyes still focused on Hermione.

They heard Ron coming closer, and Hermione finally looked away.

'Thanks for escaping me and not telling me! You would not be-lieve what those Muggles do—some kind of stupid dance involving everyone lining up in a train -'

'Oh, no!' Hermione cried. 'That's my favourite part! Did I miss it?'

'There might be a few stragglers, but I think it died down,' Ron said.

'I'm going to go check!' Hermione hurried away.

Harry coughed and put his hands in his pockets.

'You all right?' asked Ron suspiciously.

'Yeah, yeah,' Harry said. 'I just—it was overwhelming in there. All those—you know,' he said. All those what? He had absolutely no idea.

'All those aunts,' said Ron disgustedly. 'I thought my family was ridiculous; Dean's family is -' He broke up. 'Serves Ginny right,' he said gruffly.

Harry laughed. 'I'm going to head back in. Do you want to come?'

Ron sighed. 'Okay. As long as you promise not to come out here without me again.'

'Promise.'

They walked to the tent. Hermione was at the back of a rather pathetic looking Conga line, laughing.

'Champagne?' said a waiter.

Harry took two flutes and handed one to Ron.

'This stuff is quite good,' Ron admitted, taking a sip.

Hermione saw the boys and waved. And then she smiled, and Harry was fairly certain it was directed at only him. A surprising, new smile he had never seen before.

Harry grinned back. He couldn't help himself. He could still feel her lips against his. He tipped back the flute and emptied it in one gulp. He had absolutely no idea what had happened with him and Hermione. But whatever it was, he liked it. A lot.