Two hours later, with full stomachs and nearly empty pocketbooks, the trio of friends appeared in the downstairs living room of Harry's and Ron's flat. Ron sank immediately into a soft squashy armchair and grunted. "Ugh. I feel like I've just eaten a hippogriff."
"You practically did," laughed Harry as he and Hermione both sat on a squashy loveseat piled high with pillows.
"Yeah, well, I skipped lunch, you know." Ron groaned and held his stomach.
Hermione grabbed a book from her Flourish and Blotts bag and nestled into the loveseat as she opened it to the first page. Harry leaned into her and looked over her shoulder at the book.
"You're not really going to start reading that now, are you?" Harry enquired.
Hermione turned her head to look at Harry and found herself only inches from him. She started to say something and then stopped as she looked deeply into his sparkling green eyes. She noticed tiny gold flecks that illuminated the surrounding emerald. Funny I've never noticed that before, she thought as she continued to gaze into the shimmering depths of his eyes. She noticed the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly and she realized he was smiling at her. Oh my goodness, am I staring? She quickly averted her eyes from his and brought them back to her book. "Yes, I am," she answered him rather hastily, knowing she had also just answered herself. She hoped he wouldn't notice her rapid breathing as she attempted to transfix her stare onto the book's first chapter. She tried to read the first sentence of the page, but couldn't seem to take in more than three words at a time. After about the seventh failed attempt to read she dared a glance over at Harry. She tried to look very nonchalant as she slowly drifted her gaze from the book to him, but jerked her eyes quickly back to the book when she saw Harry still playfully grinning at her.
She felt a warm tickling breath on her neck as Harry moved in even closer to her. She froze, staring blankly at the page in front of her, shockingly aroused by Harry's nearness. "Don't worry," he whispered low enough for Ron not to hear. "I think your eyes are beautiful, too." Harry slowly backed away and leaned against his half of the loveseat. Hermione let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding and began breathing again.
Was that what I thought it was? Her mind was swimming in the depth of his eyes and the warmth of his breath. Was I just flirting with…Harry? No, she decided. Harry and I are just friends. We weren't flirting. We were just noticing how nice each other's eyes are. She boldly turned her head to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed as he rested against the comfort of the cushion. He looked so relaxed. His hands sat gently on his stomach while his legs were propped up on an oversized ottoman at the base of the loveseat. She watched his chest softly rise and fall as he took long, easy breaths. Her eyes drifted to his face. His features were still boyish, but they had a strength to them that she had never really noticed until now. His jaw was more chiseled now, having lost some of the softness of youth. His cheekbones were also more pronounced. His whole profile seemed strong and solid. He looked much more mature than he had looked even just a year ago. But a boy couldn't go through all that Harry Potter had gone through and not come out of it a man.
Did I just think that? Hermione tossed her head back onto the cushion and closed her eyes. Oh, I'm in trouble.
Within minutes her breathing evened and she joined Harry and Ron in peacefully uncomplicated sleep.
----
The sun rose a bit early that morning Hermione thought as she tried to ignore the light that slowly crept through the window into the living room. She kept her eyes shut, hoping that she would be able to go back to sleep. She was warm, comfortable, and had just had the most pleasant sleep she could ever remember having. The last thing she wanted to do was get up and leave the inviting comfort of the loveseat. She opened her slightly closed hand and rested it against something warm. She moved her fingers lightly over the warm surface and felt smooth, toned muscles. Her eyes flew open and she looked at her fingers moving gently over Harry's strong chest. Harry was on his left side facing her, still asleep. She was on her right side facing him, and her head had found a very comfortable niche in the crook of his bent arm. Their legs were both propped up on the ottoman, but somehow during sleep they had intertwined and Hermione found one of his legs tangled between hers. His right arm was draped over her waist and his hand rested lightly in the small of her back. She would never have imagined that this would be a position conducive to sleep, but as she lay there with Harry she felt safe and protected. She absentmindedly continued to lightly stroke Harry's chest with her fingers as she marveled at how strange, yet wonderful, it felt to be lying so intimately with one of her best friends.
She raised her eyes from his chest to look at his face. She took in a startled breath as her eyes looked up to a grinning, awake face. Her fingers immediately stopped their happy exploration as she quietly asked, "How long have you been awake?"
"Since you started touching my chest," he answered, his eyes glittering with amusement.
"I'm…, I'm sorry," she stammered, a warm pink flush finding its way to her cheeks.
"Don't be," he responded gently.
As embarrassed as her pink cheeks indicated she was, she made no move to change her position. Nor did he. His fingers began tracing light circles on her lower back as her fingers resumed their light teasing of his chest. She closed her eyes and shivered as a chill raced up her spine and back again as she reveled in his touch.
What am I doing?, a small, faraway voice said in the back of her mind. This is Harry, your best friend. This isn't what best friends do.
Oh, but this best friend is doing it so well, said another voice in her mind. She nuzzled closer into Harry's chest and smiled. Gradually their fingers slowed and finally stopped their reverie as sleep once again overtook them.
----
Once again, Hermione awoke but continued to keep her eyes closed. She and Harry hadn't moved an inch since they had fallen back into sleep. She sensed that the sun was brighter now, but she also sensed something else. A presence. One that was very near.
She opened her eyes and saw Ron standing at the base of the ottoman, looking at her and Harry with a look of utter shock on his face. As soon as he saw her eyes open he looked nervously away and said, "Good morning," bending down to pick up something non-existent from the carpet.
"Good morning," she said back to him as she shifted to disentangle herself from Harry. As she did Harry also awoke and looked around.
"Morning," he said as he adjusted to help in the disentangling. "What time is it?" he asked, noticing how high the sun appeared to be from the filtering of it through the window.
"Uh, 10:00," Ron said distractedly, now straightening the pillows on the armchair he had slept in.
Hermione stood up and looked at the book she had unsuccessfully read lying discarded on the floor. She picked it up and put it back in its bag while she gathered her other Diagon Alley purchases into her hands. She looked at Harry, still sitting on the loveseat, and saw him looking right back at her. Their eyes met for a brief second, then they both looked away as they remembered their rather intimate sleeping position, and the fact that Ron had witnessed it.
Hermione turned towards Ron and watched him continue to tidy up an already tidy living room. He was obviously uncomfortable with what he had seen, and this made Hermione uncomfortable.
"Um, I'm going back to my place to get ready for the day," Hermione informed her two best friends. "I'll be back later."
Hermione had left Harry's and Ron's and now stood in her own living room. Her mind was racing as she struggled to recall exactly what had happened.
Well, I flirted with Harry, no, I just noticed his eyes, oh, all right, yes, I flirted with Harry, then I fell asleep and woke up all over him, well, he was all over me, too, and then we started touching each other, oh, no, that sounds bad, we were just enjoying being close, oh, that sounds bad, too, and then Ron saw us – oh dear, Ron saw us.
She collapsed onto her sofa, dropped her shopping bags, and put her head in her hands. What had just happened? She and Harry had walked the line between friendship and more than just friendship. What did this mean? Did she like Harry? Of course, she did. They had been best friends for seven years. No, she knew that wasn't what she meant. Did she like him? She didn't know how to answer that question. She knew she had felt safe being close to him. She remembered enjoying being in his arms. She felt a chill run down her spine as she recalled the feel of his hands on her. Her eyes shut and she exhaled a shaky sigh at the memory.
She opened her eyes and stared at the bookcase against the wall. Although she knew it was futile, she wished that one of the books lining the shelves held the answer to her question – Am I in love with Harry? She shook her head. This was one of those questions that no book could answer. For once her cleverness wouldn't be enough to solve this problem. Instead of her head, she was going to have to use her heart.
Well, she thought, rising to her feet and moving towards her bedroom, it's not like being in love with Harry would be a bad thing. After all, they were best friends. They enjoyed being together and knew exactly how to make each other laugh. They knew each other's hopes and dreams and encouraged one another. They were always there for each other, and they could count on each other to always come to one another's aid. They were very comfortable with each other. Obviously, she thought with a smile. They understood each other, probably better than anyone else, even Ron.
She stopped abruptly as she remembered the look on Ron's face. He looked at them in utter shock, his expression bordering on horrorstruck. He had looked as though she and Harry had betrayed him. All through their years at Hogwarts they had all been friends, and nothing more. It was virtually an unspoken law that no one was to develop feelings for one of the others, because, by so doing, one of them would inevitably become the "third wheel." Even in their fourth year, when Hermione believed that Ron had a crush on her, nothing ever happened. They all remained just friends, the inseparable trio. They liked it that way. And it worked for them.
Oh no, she thought, a feeling of dread permeating her mind. What if loving Harry meant losing Ron? He obviously felt uncomfortable just watching them lying together. What would he do if he ever saw them doing something more? How would he react? Would their friendship ever be the same? As much as she felt that loving Harry would be a good thing, she would never forgive herself if her actions cost her Ron's friendship. And, even worse, how could Harry truly love her knowing that his involvement with her had lost him his best friend? She knew she couldn't live with herself if she was the reason for the end of their friendship.
She momentarily closed her eyes and swallowed back the sadness creeping up to her heart. There was only one thing to do. She had to ignore the tugging at her heart and use her brain. How could she and Harry be happy if their other third was missing? No, they weren't ready for this next step. Or were they? She shook her head emphatically. It didn't matter, because Ron wasn't ready. Maybe someday, but not now. She and Harry would just have to put it on hold. They had to convince Ron that there was nothing going on between them. And then make sure that nothing did.
After Hermione had gotten herself ready for the Weasley gathering, she sat on her bed and stared at the wall. She thought about everything she had decided on earlier and tried to figure out how she felt about it. But no matter how hard she tried to feel something, anything, she just felt numb. For a brief moment she had thought she could actually allow herself to love and be loved. And then, just as quickly as the moment had come, it left. How could she have been so selfish? How could she have ever left Ron out of the equation? She knew that the three of them were destined to be friends from the beginning. And if a romance meant that one of them had to leave, then that romance could never be. Besides, who said that Harry actually loved her anyway? Maybe what had happened was just the result of hormones, not of true feelings of the heart. It was probably better this way. What if she had given herself to Harry and he had rejected her? No, it was better just to let it go.
As she sat musing she heard a faint voice calling her name. "Hermione? Hermione, where are you?" It was Ron.
Shaking herself from her trance, she raised her voice and said, "I'm up here, Ron!" She looked around her room and realized that she had been too busy thinking to put away her clothes from yesterday. A bit of a panic spread across her mind as she looked at the small mess piled at the side of her bed. Wand. Wand. Where is it? She spied it across the room on her dresser. It was too far away. She heard Ron's footsteps right outside her door. She quickly slid the rumpled clothes under the bed with her foot just as Ron opened the door.
"Hi, Ron. Come in," she said, forcing a smile.
"Um, okay." He stepped inside her bedroom and put his hands in his pockets.
She stood for a moment watching him look intently at the carpet. After a short silence she said the first thing that popped into her head. "Where's Harry?"
His head shot up to look at her and she immediately regretted having asked. "He's… er… at home still… taking a nap, I think." Ron shifted uncomfortably and looked back down to the carpet. Hermione could feel it coming, and she tried to prepare herself for the inevitable. "I've been meaning to ask you… um… is there something going on between you and Harry? I mean, you two looked awfully… close… this morning. Did you guys… do stuff… last night? I mean, together? You know, it's really none of my business, and I'll just go now –. "
"Ron," Hermione began, ending his uncomfortable stream of consciousness questioning, "There's nothing going on between me and Harry." Her heart beat hard and fast, threatening to give her away. She forced herself to take a deep breath and ignore the pang of loss she felt overtake her as she spoke those words.
Ron looked up, a wave of relief washing over him. "Really?" he asked hopefully, looking as giddy as if Hermione had just given him a room full of Chocolate Frogs. "You two aren't, well, getting romantic?"
"No." Hermione shook her head, fighting back the tears she could feel welling up in her eyes.
"Oh, well, that's a relief. I mean, if you two wanted to get together and all I wouldn't stand in the way. But that might be a little awkward, don't you think? But let's not talk about that. Are you ready for my mum's party?" Ron sounded much more chipper since Hermione had denied having feelings for Harry.
Hermione, however, had turned away from Ron and gripped the side of her nightstand. Ron's reaction had confirmed her worst fears – Ron would never be okay with her and Harry together. He said he wouldn't stand in the way, but she knew he'd never truly approve. She knew she had to squash the feelings she had for Harry.
"Hermione, are you okay?"
She nodded, still standing with her back to Ron. She willed herself not to cry, but found herself losing the battle as a tear rolled down her cheek. At that very moment a light tapping came from the window by her nightstand, and she was grateful to see a tawny owl hovering outside. She recognized the owl as Horatio, her parents' owl. Although her parents were Muggles, they had bought an owl so they could contact her easier than using the Muggle post. Hermione, glad for the distraction, opened the window and Horatio landed lightly on her windowsill, holding out his leg for her. She removed the parchment from the owl's leg, and, after a light pat from Hermione, Horatio flew back out the window and soared into the sky.
Hermione unrolled the parchment and read the first line of it. "Dearest Hermione, I am so sorry to have to tell you this…." She read a few more lines before feeling all of the strength leave her body. Her legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the floor. She dropped the parchment as her hands flew to her face. She no longer hid the tears as her body shook with her sobs.
Within seconds, she felt arms fly around her from behind in a tight embrace. The discarded parchment at her side remained opened a bit revealing more lines of text. "Your friend, Victoria Spencer, passed away in a car crash this week." The arms around her tightened, and she knew Ron had read the parchment.
Hermione continued to shake as an endless tide of tears poured down her cheeks. She remembered her best friend from Muggle school, with dark, almost black, hair and dark eyes to match. She remembered her laugh and her beautifully infectious smile. Snatches of their friendship played through her mind as she grieved for the loss of her young friend. She hadn't seen Victoria in years, but Victoria was an integral part of Hermione's past. The tears flowed freely as she grasped onto a strong arm wrapped around her.
Ron. She couldn't remember ever being so close to Ron before. He just wasn't a very physical or openly affectionate person. That was Harry. But she was so thankful for his presence there. She was also thankful for his silence as he let her grieve.
She cried for the only true Muggle friend she had ever had. She cried for her sudden sense of loneliness. She cried for Harry and for the thought that he wasn't the one holding her. Her grieving became mixed up in all the emotions she was feeling as her tears fell in a confused jumble.
Ron continued to hold her in silence, and she rested her head back against his warm shoulder. As her tears began to subside she closed her eyes and silently thanked Ron for his presence. She never realized how strong Ron was, and she felt comfortable and protected in his arms. As they leaned back together against the side of the bed she breathed in deeply. She could smell the faint hint of Ron's cologne and it comforted her. She never realized how well she knew Ron's scent, since they had never really been this close before. She had the feeling she would never need to worry as long as he was near. She felt him lace his fingers through hers as she cleared her mind and drifted softly into exhausted sleep.
Hermione didn't know how long she had been asleep when she opened her eyes and realized she was still sitting on the floor with Ron leaning against her bed. She sighed as she felt her head against Ron's shoulder and listened to the slow, rhythmic pattern of Ron's breathing. She wiggled her fingers and felt them linked with Ron's. They hadn't spoken one word since before her parents' owl had delivered her mom's letter, and in that time, Ron had expressed concern, empathy, and love all through his actions. She was impressed by how much he had matured through the years. He still had his moments of childishness, but he knew exactly how and when to be caring. And she had needed that from him today.
She sat gazing at the window when a soft voice caught her attention. She lifted her head away from Ron's shoulder to see Harry standing uncertainly in her doorway.
"Sorry," he said apologetically, as though he had walked in on a moment he shouldn't have seen. "Ron?"
Ron opened his eyes at the sound of his name and looked at Harry.
"Ron, your mum would like a word with you. She's in our fireplace."
Knowing that his mum didn't like waiting with just her head in the fireplace to talk with anyone, he knew he'd better hurry. Before he stood up he looked at Hermione to make sure she was all right. She looked into his eyes and gave him a look of pure gratitude. He squeezed her hand before getting to his feet and apparating back to his living room with a crack.
Harry still stood in the doorway, taking in what he had just seen. Hermione gave him a weak smile and realized that her eyes must be puffy and red from crying.
"Did I interrupt something?" he asked hesitantly.
Hermione picked up the parchment and feebly held it out for Harry. He walked over to her and took the parchment from her. As he read, comprehension spread across his face, and he looked down to Hermione with deep concern.
"Oh, Hermione," he breathed as he bent down to join her on the floor. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. His eyes were empathetic and worried as he lightly stroked her hands with his thumbs.
Her eyes brimmed with tears as she realized how blessed she was to have two such wonderful friends. A single tear ran down her cheek and Harry tenderly brought his hand to her face to wipe it away.
Hermione made a move to stand and, almost instantaneously, Harry helped steady her as she rose from the ground. Harry's hands held her arms as she faced him. She allowed him to gently steer her into his arms as he engulfed her in a protective hug. Her arms reached around his body and she pulled him more tightly to her. She was so glad to have Harry near her again. He slowly stroked the hair flowing down her back and whispered, "Hermione."
She loved hearing him say her name. Something about his voice calmed her and helped her relax. He put his lips to the top of her head and softly kissed her hair. He then rested his cheek against her hair and asked, "Are you okay?"
She pulled her head slightly away from him to look into his eyes and saw his worried look. She managed a small smile and said, "I am now."
They continued to gaze into each other's eyes, neither of them seeming to want to break the connection. Finally, Hermione loosened her hold on him and said, "Well, I guess the party will be starting soon."
Harry gave her a slight frown of concern and asked, "Are you sure you're up to it?"
She smiled the first genuine smile she had been able to muster the whole afternoon and answered, "Yes, just as long as you're with me."
"Then I won't leave your side the whole day." He flashed her a heart warming smile and led her downstairs to the living room, firmly holding her hand in his.
Harry and Hermione were sitting on the sofa when Ron apparated back into the living room.
"Everything okay?" Harry asked, as Ron sat down on the other side of Hermione.
"Oh, yeah," Ron said, swatting the air with his hand. "She just wanted me to ask Hermione if she would bring some cinnamon. She just ran out."
"Oh, of course," Hermione said standing up. "Let me get it, and then we can leave." Just as Hermione returned from the kitchen the clock on the mantle began to chime. "Ah, 3:00. Just in time," she said as she slipped the jar of cinnamon into her pocket. "I believe that is our cue. Shall we?" She walked towards Harry and Ron, who were now standing, and held out a hand to each of them. With a loud crack they disapparated to the Burrow.
They reappeared on the side lawn just outside of the house. The sight that greeted them was warm and welcoming. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood by two long tables that had been pushed together to accommodate the Weasleys and their guests, each of them smiling with happiness and pride. Bill and Charlie, Ron's oldest brothers, sat at the end of the table, enjoying a round of butterbeers. Ginny, Ron's younger and only sister, sat cross legged on the grass playing with a black and grey tabby cat. The twins, Fred and George, were standing under a floating banner that had colored sparks shooting out of the corners. They all looked at the trio that had just arrived and shouted in unison, "Surprise!"
Harry looked shocked as Ron and Hermione turned to him and also said, "Surprise!" He glanced up at the sparking banner that read "Happy 18th Birthday, Harry!" as a huge smile spread across his awestruck face.
"Happy birthday, Harry," everyone said in random timing as they made their way over to him.
"You knew?" he asked Ron and Hermione as the crowd gathered around them.
"Of course. Why else do you think we didn't wish you a happy birthday earlier?" Ron answered, giving Harry a pat on the back while Hermione beamed at him.
Mrs. Weasley approached Harry and gave him a lung constricting hug. "Oh, Harry, happy birthday! Come now. Time for a birthday dinner." Mrs. Weasley guided him and the rest of the group over to the table where platters of pork chops, roasted chicken, and various potato and vegetable dishes had suddenly appeared.
"Tuck in!" Mr. Weasley said jovially as the chattering group began filling their plates with the temptingly aromatic cuisine.
Hermione looked at Harry and a warm feeling spread through her as she saw his eyes bright and his face alive with happiness. Harry had never had an official birthday party before. Well, not since his very first birthday, that is, when he still had his parents. But Harry couldn't remember that one. The following sixteen birthdays were spent unnoticed with his horrible Muggle relatives, the Dursleys. Now that the threat of Voldemort had been extinguished and he no longer needed the protection provided by staying at the Dursleys, he was free to spend his birthday anywhere and any way he liked. As Hermione continued to look at Harry and mentally congratulate herself on coming up with the surprise party idea in the first place, Harry looked at her and gave her a wink. She turned quickly to her plate and felt her cheeks getting warm. She smiled into a spoon full of mashed potatoes and hoped no one noticed her blush.
After everyone was sufficiently filled and contentedly lazy, they made their way from the table to a huge blanket spread under a tree with dozens of oversized, overstuffed pillows scattered across it. Ron and Harry collapsed onto the pillows while everyone else, except Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, sat carefully down, mindful of their very full stomachs. Mr. Weasley conjured up two extremely comfortable looking armchairs and he and Mrs. Weasley sank into them, smiling down at their happy children and their friends.
When everyone had settled into their pillows Harry looked around and said, "Thank you all so much. This has been the best birthday of my life."
"Well, Harry, it's not everyday that you turn 18 and begin a Ministry job," said Mr. Weasley. "By the way, we are so proud of all of you," he added, looking in turn to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"Oh, yeah," Bill interjected. "Percy said he's sorry he couldn't be here but he had a Ministry Summit to attend in Paris. He said he's sure to see you at work next week."
Percy, the third oldest Weasley child, had had an unfortunate falling out with his family at the height of Voldemort's return to power, but had reconciled with them during Ron's, Harry's, and Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts. Although he was still quite ambitious at the Ministry (he had secured himself the Undersecretary to the Minister position), he was much more penitent and humble with his family.
"Wow. I can't believe we start tomorrow," Ron dreamily said.
"I know," Harry agreed.
"Two aurors in the family!" Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry and Ron and radiated pride. Harry grinned at her. Ever since his fifth year he knew that Mrs. Weasley considered him a son. Her comment reassured him of his place in the family.
"So, Hermione," Ginny asked watching her tabby cat bat at the string she held, "Are you excited to start tomorrow, too?" The cat caught the string between his paws and pulled it from Ginny's hands. She then looked up at Hermione.
"Oh, yes, of course," Hermione answered. She then let out an unconscious sigh which was not lost on anyone.
Fred raised an eyebrow and said, "Really? Well, what was that sigh about?"
Hermione stiffened momentarily as she realized that she had exhaled an audible sigh. She had wanted to keep it low keyed since she didn't want Harry and Ron riled up over it, but she had to explain herself.
"Well, it's nothing really," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and trying to sound aloof. "It's just that…Malfoyisinmydepartment." She mumbled the last part rather quickly.
"What?" Ron bolted straight up. Obviously he could interpret fast mumbling. "That git's in your department? I swear, if he even --."
"Calm down, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "He's not a threat to me. I can handle him."
"But that Death Eater's son—"
"—is righting his wrongs," Mr. Weasley said cutting him off this time. "Remember, he lost a father and mother at the hands of Vol…Voldemort, too." Even though Harry had defeated Voldemort, some of the older generations still had trouble speaking his name.
"He's right, Ron," Harry added. "Malfoy did show me the escape route instead of handing me over to his dad or Voldemort."
Mrs. Weasley looked amused at her son's punctured indignation. "And he surrendered all of his father's Dark Wizard artifacts to the Ministry without being compelled to do so."
"But…but," Ron sputtered, "What if he's just fooling us all and is really out to undermine the Ministry?" Everyone just looked at Ron and gave him exasperated stares. "Oh, all right," he conceded. "But I still don't like the idea of him working so close to you. I swear, if he even thinks about hexing you, I'll kill him."
"Fine, Ron. You do that," Hermione said flatly.
Ron eventually cooled his temper while everyone relaxed in the lazy afternoon sunshine. Harry opened his presents, among them a magical watch with a programmable schedule and a box of Honeyduke's chocolate large enough to last him a month, then happily made a wish as he blew out all of the candles on his birthday cake. The afternoon and eventual evening were absolutely perfect as the group laughed much and thoroughly enjoyed one another's company. Fred and George ended the evening with a literal bang as they shot off innumerable fireworks that changed to every color of the rainbow, zigged and zagged across the sky, and even chased George down the hill into a nearby stream. The grand finale was a series of fireworks that shot into the sky and formed the words "Happy Birthday Harry" while singing the "Happy Birthday" song.
By the end of the evening, everyone was exhausted. As much fun as the day had been, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were looking forward to returning to their respective homes. They expressed their thanks and bid their farewells before apparating back home.
They arrived back in Hermione's living room feeling happy, but tired. Ron let out a big yawn as Hermione squealed and said, "Oh, Harry, stay right here. I have your birthday present upstairs." She ran towards the stairs and disappeared from sight. A minute later she walked back down the stairs holding a large package wrapped in brown paper. As she reached the bottom stair she asked, "Where's Ron?"
"Oh, he was falling asleep standing up so I told him to go home," Harry answered, his eyes wide as he stared at the huge gift in Hermione's arms. "Is that for me?"
"Of course it is. Happy birthday, Harry!"
He took the package carefully in his hands and set it on the sofa to unwrap it. He gently removed the string from around it and pulled away the paper wrapping. He stood with his mouth open staring at the broom display case.
"Oh…wow…Hermione," he managed to choke out. "You really didn't have to."
"I know that, silly. But I wanted to. I know how much you love your broomsticks, especially the Firebolt Sirius gave to you. I figured you needed a really good way to show it off. What better way than in a display case?"
Harry turned to Hermione, his eyes glistening. He shook his head and pulled her into a big hug. As she wrapped her arms around him in response he nuzzled his face into her neck and whispered, "You are an amazing person, Hermione. Thank you so much. Thank you for always being here for me."
"You're welcome," she whispered back as she melted into his embrace.
After what seemed like a blessed eternity Harry pulled back slightly to look at her, his arms still encircling her. He looked deeply into her eyes and said, "You will never cease to amaze me."
"I hope not," she replied as she caught her breath. He was so close. His green eyes sparkled as they neared hers. He lingered just mere centimetres from her. Her pulse raced as she felt his breath quicken. They looked at each other, contemplating their next course of action, but neither of them advanced. Finally, Hermione reached her head up and kissed him on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Harry."
After Harry left to return home, Hermione sat on the sofa and put her hand to her chest, willing the butterflies in her stomach to end their fervent flight.
