Chapter II: Harry Arrives
Hermione nervously tapped her foot on the sidewalk outside of the Leaky Cauldron, darting glances from side to side. She had finally gotten her hair to do one of those coils, and it shone in the light from the streetlamps. Her cinnamon colored dress and matching wrap were pressed and pristine and to any muggle passerby she looked very stylish and modern, but Hermione felt like a big spice cabinet. She tugged on her dress which she thought was much too short.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" Hermione looked up to see Oliver walking towards her, clad in his same black coat and a green scarf that matched his eyes…like Harry. Hermione blushed as Oliver walked up to her and stood in front of her, grinning the grin that made her heart melt.
"So, er, shall we go inside then?" Hermione moved towards the door but Oliver got there before her and held it open. "Oh, well, um, thanks!" She stammered, and walked into the Leaky Cauldron.
After paying for their stay, and an hour of chatting, and eating in between silences, they finally stood up to go. Before Hermione could stand up, Oliver had pulled out her chair for her, giving her a hand to help her stand up. As they strolled out into the chilly night air, a question popped into her head.
"How are you going to get home?"
"The question is, Hermione, how are you going to get home?"
She reddened at his question. "Well…I was going to take the Knight Bus…" she said, pondering. She had made it clear to herself before she left that she would not let Oliver take her home after dinner. Repeat: not take her home. She had seen romance movies before where the guy had taken the woman home after their first date; Jerry McGuire, anyone? Oliver chuckled, and put his arm around her shoulder. "Well, I thought I'd take you home," he whispered into her ear.
Her shoulder trembled in his grasp. She clenched her eyes shut in thought. Okay…maybe Jerry McGuire was not as realistic as it seemed…she hoped. No, she could back down. She would take herself home. His grip tightened around her shoulder. Okay…maybe…she would let him take her home, but that's all that would happen.
"O-okay. How'll you take me home?"
His grip loosened again. "We'll fly home, with my broom."
Her eyes popped open in alarm. She looked over, and there it was. A broom. She never did like brooms, but, she couldn't just tell him she was dead afraid of them…she would have to just swallow her fear and go.
"Okay…shall we go?"
"Yeah, sure. Be sure to get on towards the tail of the broom."
Trembling, she mounted the broom, and gripped it tightly. She felt him get on in front of her. He turned around and grabbed her hands.
"Grab onto me, okay? It's 'safer' that way," he said light-heartedly. She couldn't see through the dark, but she knew that he was grinning at her again. She reached her arms out around his taut stomach, and clasped her hands in front of him.
"Don't worry. It's a firebolt. Though it's fast, it's smooth. So, unfortunately, don't look forward to a bumpy ride."
"Mm…good," she said frantically.
"Ready?" he called.
"…sure…" she gripped him tightly as a rush of air flew into her face.
----
They landed in front of her apartment house fifteen minutes later without any trouble-thankfully. He helped her to the door, and gazed at her intently. Hermione felt herself reddening, and she knew her hair was getting frizzier by the moment. She had to get inside A.S.A.P.
"Well, g'night," she said in a fake light-hearted voice to cover up her frantic behavior. She pulled out her keys, and started to drive them into the key hole, when she felt a light touch on her cheek, pulling her into Oliver's face…no…not his face…his lips. Her lips landed on top of his, and they stayed there. How long they stayed there, however, she didn't know. Suddenly, there was a loud crack, and Hermione was sharply pulled apart from Oliver, and shoved into her door. She glanced at Oliver in alarm, and found the back of a fairly tall man with messy black hair standing where Hermione once was with Oliver's lips still rolling along his scar. It was Harry. Her heart lifted up into the middle of her throat in joy. She couldn't believe it; Harry had finally come. Harry gave a cry of alarm.
"Hermione, your voice is deeper, do you have a cold?" Oliver said concernedly, pulling away from Harry. His eyes widened at the sight of his old Quidditch team mate. His face turned a crimson red at the thought of what he just did.
"Yeah, I thought this was Hermione's apartment…where is she?" Harry asked, trying to ignore his embarrassment.
Hermione uttered one of her famous squeals, and dashed up to Harry. He spun around to face a tearful Hermione with unusually frizzy hair. She sniffled, and threw herself around Harry, squeezing him very tightly, like she would never let him go again. He stood there, shocked, trembling, and lifted his arms around her back, returning the embrace.
Hermione thought she could never let him go; she was perfectly content where she was. For some reason, she found it even better than what she had just done with Oliver…surprising. Then, she remembered. She was clutching another man very tightly right in front of her date. She soon remembered what she was doing with Oliver…her joy at seeing Harry had soon turned into irritation. She yanked away from him, with an angry face.
"Harry! You…"
Harry knew instantly that she was furious with him for not communicating nearly as often as he should have. It occurred to him that maybe he knew his bushy-haired friend a little too well.
"Hermione, I'm really sorry, I should've floo-"
"Can't you see that Oliver here has been…escorting me back here?" She cried shrilly.
Harry's eyes seemed to pop out of his sockets. Hermione dating Oliver Wood-his old team mate? He felt a flash of anger, then pity rushed through his body. He knew how she felt. The instant she got a moment alone with her date, and she's interrupted. Harry was reminded of his disastrous first (and last) date with Cho Chang. Ironically, it had been Hermione who had forced him to join her at the Three Broomsticks; he was now very thankful for Hermione for doing that.
"Sorry…I didn't know that…he was here…" he knew what he just said would start yet another argument.
"You probably would've known he was here, if you kept up with me!" she shouted shrilly. He knew this was coming, but he would not go down without a fight.
"Well…it's been hard, you know? I've been at auror training, which is even harder than our sixth year at school! It's consumed the majority of my time! I'm really sorry! But, you know, it's not like you've been communicating with me either!" Hermione turned a deep shade of red, and stomped up to him.
"You…" He knew he was winning the argument. When Hermione couldn't come up with a response, he was usually the winner. She exhaled, lifted her hand a bit…and slapped him across the face. He lost the argument. There was a little ahem behind the two of them. Harry and Hermione snapped their heads in Oliver's direction.
"I think I'll go…now. Floo me when you can, Hermione," he said. He smiled, and leaned down, gave her a quick kiss, and casually walked down the stairs of the apartment.
"…So when did you start dating him?" he asked as casually as possible, but he wasn't able to stop the small crack in his voice.
"Oh…this was my first date," she said quietly. Harry lifted his eye-brows in surprise.
"You did all that…on your first date? Wow…"
She scowled at him. She decided to change the subject. "So, what are you doing here?"
"I got evicted," he said simply. "Landlord hadn't renewed the lease of the apartment house, so it cost everybody who lived there their apartments." Hermione's heart melted. She couldn't believe that she had hit him when he had just lost his apartment.
"…I'm sorry…" she said quietly. He gazed at her in surprise.
"For what?"
"Slapping you! Look, you even got a red mark from my hand!" She rubbed the place where she slapped him; he went scarlet. "And then you up and tell me that that you lost your apartment-haven't I a right to feel guilty?"
"Em…sure…" he stuttered. Hermione stepped back with a worried expression on her face, which soon switched to an expression of mild annoyance.
"So you're here to see if you can stay with me?" she asked offhandedly.
"Eh, yeah. Could I?"
"Certainly not. I thought you noticed long ago that I was a girl?" Harry flushed.
"Of course I did! But, I'm not going to invade Ron's privacy! He told me that Luna just moved in with him-I don't want to walk in on them…you know…" he finished, unsure of what he should say. Hermione's face returned to that deep shade of crimson she had worn when he had first arrived.
"Oh, so you don't want to walk in on them? And you think that living with me would be any better?" She regretted what she said instantly, and the deep crimson turned to a sheepish pink.
"N-no! Not at all…it's just…I figured…well…the possibility of that…is…" he finished sadly. He knew he would never have a chance.
"S-so…you think…that there's no chance that I would do anything?" She said, her voice reaching an unnaturally high pitch. "I think not!" she said, flustered, and stood up on her tip-toes so that she was almost level with Harry's face…why was he so red? Did she do anything to make him angry? She leaned over so their noses were millimeters apart. "Don't think that I might not do anything," she said darkly…and her sheepishly pink face turned sheepishly magenta. Why was she saying all these things? She was obviously making Harry very uncomfortable…she just found it fun.
"W-well, if you do want to, you know, DO anything, we'll need to go inside." Harry joked after a few moments of awkward silence. Hermione rolled her eyes.
They went inside Hermione's apartment, and Harry was immediately greeted with a wave of nostalgia. Stacks of textbooks were in neat rows on shelves lining the walls.
"This brings me back to Hogwarts."
"Well, too bad, you're just in my apartment. Do you want some tea?" Hermione stepped into the tiny kitchenette, pulling out a kettle and two mugs. Harry nodded, and wandered over to her desk, where an open textbook lay. A half-written scroll sat next to it; Harry squinted to read what it said.
"Honey?"
"Huh- what?!"
"Do you want honey?"
"Oh…er, sure." Harry blushed, and then looked at the scroll again.
THE COMPLETE HISTORY OF PIGGLESNORTS
By Hermione Granger
Pigglesnorts are extremely precocious-
"Never mind," Harry muttered, turning away. He had no interest in reading a 20 foot long essay on Pugglesnouts or Pigglesnorts or…. Well whatever they were. He wandered back into the kitchen.
"Where's Crookshanks?"
Hermione was finishing up the tea and had just pulled out a box of biscuits.
"Oh, probably wandering around the neighborhood. Do you want some biscuits?"
"Yes please!" Harry said eagerly, moving in closer to examine the biscuits Hermione had just put out on the small table. Harry leant down to pick up a biscuit, when Hermione crossing her arms caught his eye. However, it was not her crossing her arms that caught his eye, it was Hermione…in a dress…that showed half of her chest. He froze, his face expressionless, except for the mild shock that was clearly etched along his face. He was unaware of the amounts of blood pumping into his head. Hermione frowned, worriedly. He had never done this before; why was he getting so red over a mere biscuit? It was ridiculous!
"…Harry? Are you okay?"
Harry heard a distant voice calling him…but, it was not important. Hermione looked down to where he was staring, and gasped in shock.
"Harry!" she called loudly. No boy was to stare at her! Harry jerked his head to gaze at her face. "Are-you-okay-Harry?" she poked his arm cautiously.
"Hm? Yeah." He said breathlessly.
"Okay, well, take your tea and some biscuits. I'm going to go change out of these ridiculous clothes." She went into her room and closed the door quickly.
Now what? She rummaged through her pajama drawer, searching for something decent. Cow print pants… no. Pink lace slip that she had received as a joke present from Ginny last year? Certainly not. She frowned, pushing past a few pairs of old and unattractive gray sweat pants. She was pretty sure that those were Dudley's, and Harry snuck them into her trunk before leaving Hogwarts for the final time after the death of Voldemort. What in the name of Godric Gryffindor was one supposed to wear to sleep in, when one's best male friend was sleeping over? She rolled her eyes, and pulled out the cow print pants. Odd as they might be, they were a better choice than those sweatpants… or that see-through pink lacy slip. What if…she blushed, pulling her hair out of its clip. She forced that thought to the back of her mind, and shrugged into a light blue shirt. She checked herself in the mirror. Well, she definitely looked like a fashion disaster, but Harry probably wouldn't notice anyway.
She left her room, tucking her hair behind her ears self-consciously.
Harry was munching on a biscuit, extremely involved in an essay she had written for Muggle Sciences on the Physics of Quidditch. She could see his jaw tensing as he chewed, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Harry?"
He looked up and smirked. "Nice pants."
She blushed even more and smacked his shoulder. "Oh shut up. They're comfortable."
"Oh yes, and very sexy too. I'm sure Olive adores them." He teased. Hermione glared.
"He hasn't seen them yet!"
"Yet? So that means he will see them." Hermione noticed that his tone was significantly colder this time and she sighed.
"I don't know, Harry. It was a simple date."
"Who said it wasn't? Speaking of Quidditch, that essay that you wrote is very interesting."
"Thank you. And we weren't talking about Quidditch."
"We were talking about Oliver, who is a Quidditch player."
"True."
They both sighed at the same time, and laughed. "Well, Harry, I think it's time we both went to sleep. You can sleep on my bed for now, and I'll sleep on the couch-"
"No! I'll just sleep on the couch." He interrupted, hopping over the back of the couch and plopping down into the soft cushions. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Well you can't just sleep like that! I'll be right back; I'll get you a blanket and a pillow."
"I'll help." He followed her into her room and stood behind her as she searched her closet for an extra pillow and blanket. "Your room is very… Hermione-ish."
"Very descriptive, bright one." She teased, in search a pillow and a pink blanket. "Now be quiet, there should be some sleeping materials in here…" she trailed off, lost in her closet. Harry wandered around her room, and end up at her dresser. He pulled open her pajama drawer and searched through, until he spotted the frilly, pink night slip. He blushed, but maintained his composure enough to tease her about it.
"OH-HO-HO! Did you buy this just for Oliver?" He said, putting it in front of him as if he was trying to see how he looked with it. Hermione came out of the closet with the sleeping materials, yanked the slip out of his arm and shoved the blankets into his arms. "Be quiet! Ginny gave that to me as a joke! Now go sleep. I have to get up bright and early tomorrow, and I might wake you up by accident, too!"
"Yeah. But I'd like to see that on you sometime!" Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry trudged into the living room again, curling up on the couch with the pillow and blanket. The blanket and pillow smelled like Hermione's shampoo. He sighed, burying his face in the pillow. It was going to be a long couple of days, staying here.
---
Harry couldn't sleep. It was not because Hermione was in the other room, with those sexy cow-print pants; oh no, that was only the short end of the stick. It was also because Crookshanks had finally found his way home, and was quite content on sitting on Harry's neck, and scratching his face into a dirty, furry mess. Also, when Harry finally decided he could not put up with it any longer, Crookshanks leapt off his neck, and scampered away furtively. Now, Harry sat on Hermione's couch, fuming towards Crookshanks. He had almost always liked that cat…but for some reason, he was utterly annoying and obnoxious. Eventually, his anger got the best of him, and he stood up, and stomped around the apartment in search for the damn cat.
'Oh no…' thought Harry after he couldn't find Crookshanks anywhere, 'what if the cat's in…her room…' He stood at the door of Hermione's room for what felt like hours trying to decide if he should dare go into a girl's room…but, he wrestled in his mind, a very voluptuous girl…who's not really a girl, anymore, but someone that he'd really like to-NO! He shouted to himself aloud.
He clamped a hand over his mouth terrified that he'd woken her up…but he didn't here anything on the other side of the door, so he dropped his hand from his mouth, and proceeded to bang his head at the thoughts of this girl he had grown up with. But when he saw blood on his hand after withdrawing his hand from his head, he decided yes, it was time to teach that stupid cat a lesson.
He silently opened the door, and tiptoed around her room, searching every crook and cranny-very careful to avoid her large double bed. Dread crept upon him when he realized that the cat had been hiding on Hermione's bed the whole time he'd been looking for her when he heard a very loud and smug purr. He growled, marched up to the foot of her bed, and reached for the cat. But before he could grab him, he scampered up on to her chest, with an even smugger purr etched into his voice. Careful not to shout in frustration, he climbed upon her bed, and crawled up to Crookshanks…and Hermione.
"Gotcha," Harry said a little louder than he meant to, scaring Crookshanks away…and waking Hermione up.
"GAAH!! BURGLAR!" She shot up, waving her arms around wildly. She whipped out her wand, and silently cast a spell which knocked him across her chest. Harry could feel his face growing hotter and hotter by the second. Once again, Harry could not tell how long he laid across Hermione's chest. Eventually, the excess blood flowed out of his head as he enjoyed the pleasure of lying across a grown woman's chest. A scent of honeysuckle soap, and wizard-stain-removal wafted up through his nostrils. He let out a sigh of quiet joy.
"WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?" shouted Hermione, snapping Harry out of his trance. Harry looked up to Hermione's face right as she began to lift her wand up again.
"NO!" shouted Harry, as his auror instincts took over. He whipped out his wand, and silently cast his famed expelliarmus charm. Hermione's wand flew across the room. An uncomfortably long silence settled among them. "Harry?" Hermione said so quietly, Harry would not've been able to hear it without the silence. Then,
"HARRY! WHY THE HELL WERE YOU LAYING ON MY CHEST?" she screamed.
"Um…well, there was the cat…and he scratched me, and then…well, I had enough…and then, I chased him in room, and he jumped up on bed…and…and um…he jumped, I fell…your…er…chest..." he finished with a smile.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, Harry." She sighed and grabbed her pillow. Harry blushed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Hermione smiled…she whacked him across the face with the pillow.
"Ow!! I'm sorry!!!" Harry fell backwards and off her bed, while Hermione grinned evilly. Harry crawled over to the edge of Hermione's bed, and got to his knees, with his head on her arm.
"I'm serious! I'm sorry!" Hermione knelt down so her face was nearly an inch from his.
"Well," she said, pulling some unknown feathers from his hair, "maybe if you had been careful not to let the couch's feathers into your hair, this would've never happened!"
Harry knelt in closer. "That's an excuse…those feathers are from your pillow." He said, kneeling in closer. "No…" she said, bringing them even closer. Harry reached up and stroked Hermione's cheek, as Hermione inched closer.
Wait a minute…she had a date with Oliver…which was wonderful. Realizing this, she pulled away, and the blood rushed into her face. Harry sat, kneeling, a stunned expression on his face. Hermione shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes from embarrassment.
"Good-night, Harry…" she muttered.
"Yeah…g'night…" he responded quietly. With that, he stood up, crept out of her room, and shut the door, leaving a stock still Hermione on top of her bed.