A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own anything. Except a crappy scooter that has a crappy gas gauge on it.
Let's get right to it!
Harry had been in the hospital for two days, but he felt like he had been there for a few weeks. His burns were almost completely healed and the venom was nearly out of his system. He was ready to see the outside world. Was the sky still blue? Was the grass still green? Were goblins still assholes? He had no idea.
Healer Alvarez walked into his room, dark blue robes flowing behind her. Every time that Harry's door opened, he hoped that he'd see long, flowing blonde hair and ice blue eyes that could freeze and warm at the same time. Ever since he was admitted to St. Mungo's, his thoughts kept venturing to Daphne; he couldn't help it. She hadn't been back to visit him since he first woke up and it bothered him.
"Well, Mr. Potter. I think that it's time for you to go home. There's nothing that we can do here that you can't do from the comfort of your own home. We'll give you the burn paste and a few potions to ensure that the venom is completely removed from your system. I'm going to firmly order that you refrain from any auror missions for two weeks. Only desk work if you can help it. Are there any questions?" Alvarez asked, her eyes skimming over her clipboard.
Harry shook his head and even though Alvarez wasn't looking at him, she continued.
"Good." Alvarez scribbled on her clipboard and once she was finished, handed the paper to Harry. He saw that they were his discharge papers. He sighed a breath of relief. He was finally getting out. Hospitals weren't his favorite place to be.
He was itching to get back into action. He became an auror so he could be out on the field and make a difference. Although, he supposed after his last mission, he could manage to handle boring paperwork.
"Have a nice day, Mr. Potter. Be sure to stay away from apparating for a few days. We wouldn't want your shoulder to pop out of place again." Healer Alvarez warned before turning around and exiting the room.
Harry couldn't believe his good luck. His injuries were pretty severe, but he didn't have to stay admitted very long. Harry was very familiar with how his luck worked; at any given moment he was either the luckiest man on the planet or the unluckiest. There was no inbetween.
As Harry was leaving St. Mungo's, he tried to keep his head down. Ever since Harry was introduced to the magical word, he'd been a celebrity, something that he'd never truly gotten used to. He was in a hurry to get home and didn't want to be stopped by people wanting to shake his hand and patting him on the back. He just wanted to lay down in his own bed or eat something that wasn't whatever St. Mungo's passed for food.
"Harry!" someone called. He cringed at the loud exclamation, but he looked for the source of the voice. He recognized it immediately; it was hard to forget the voice of someone that was as close to a sibling as he was ever going to get.
"Hermione," Harry greeted, before enveloping her in a hug after striding up to her.
"I'm sorry that I hadn't been to visit you earlier. Ron told me what happened and I figured that you'd need your rest more than anything. Wait, are you leaving right now?"
Harry nodded his head and laughed at Hermione's defeated look.
"Drat! I brought you flowers and everything," she complained before handing him a bouquet of flowers that were meant to brighten up his now vacant hospital room.
"Thanks," Harry said, still chuckling. "They'll look great in my kitchen."
"And you won't even have to water them. These flowers can survive with very little water. They're naturally found in the desert. I figured they'd be the best for you," Hermione teased. Harry couldn't argue with her. Usually, he was so busy that he barely had time to feed himself. He couldn't be expected to keep something else alive when he was having a hard enough time with himself.
"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked. "I worked through lunch so I'd be able to get off earlier so that I could visit you." Harry nodded quickly. He was in need of food that didn't taste like glue.
Harry and Hermione found themselves at a burger joint in muggle London, where they could both relax without having to worry about people gawking and asking for photos. Harry was too busy shoveling fries in his mouth and slurping down his shake to notice that Hermione was looking at him with a disgusted look on her face. When he noticed, he made a purpose to slow down. He knew how much poor table manners bothered Hermione and he didn't want to put her off of her appetite.
"So, how's work?" Harry asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand instead of using the napkin right in front of him. Hermione frowned at Harry's "Ron-like" mannerisms but broke into a smile before diving into work discussion.
"You won't believe how poorly minotaurs are treated on the continent," Hermione commented, her eyes vibrant with passion. When Hermione decided to work for the Ministry, Harry was not surprised that she decided to pursue a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the Being Division. Hermione wouldn't be herself if she weren't fighting for the equality of everyone. Harry remembered that Hermione even had a problem with the title of her job. "Regulation and Control? Stating that is demeaning in itself," she had complained.
"Aren't minotaurs a little… I don't know the proper word for this… dangerous?" Harry asked before stuffing more fries in his mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Now you're starting to sound like Draco. Honestly, Harry, they're just misunderstood. You shouldn't be so judgmental. Have you ever even talked to a minotaur?" she quipped.
"No," Harry confessed. He didn't think that they could be talked to. Although, he wasn't sure that he'd be too worried about having a conversation with a man with a bull's head if he ever came into contact with one. "But you're starting to sound like Hagrid. What? Next, you're going to tell me that Blast-Ended Skrewts are really great at poetry and have a great respect for opera."
Hermione threw a handful of her fries at Harry's face and he attempted to (and failed to) catch some in his mouth.
"I didn't even know that minotaurs fall in line with your division. I thought that they'd be more Draco's, since he's in the Beast division," Harry said.
"They're in both of our divisions. It's why we've been working together so much lately," she explained. Harry couldn't help rolling his eyes and Hermione glared at him. Harry felt like that was bullshit. As much as Harry disliked Draco and would have been happier if Hermione had decided to enter a relationship with one of the minotaurs that she was fighting for, he knew that it was only a matter of time before they started to become more than friends. Harry was getting used to the fact that he'd have to get used to the fucking ferret if he wanted to continue having Hermione in his life. She was worth it.
"Anyway," Hermione continued, "They are actually fascinating people. And they CAN speak English, by the way."
"Well, I'm happy if you're happy, Hermione. Just don't wave any red capes in front of them, I suppose," Harry teased. Hermione rolled her eyes again for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "I haven't heard that one before," she said sarcastically.
"Since we're on the topic of blonde Slytherins-," Hermione started. "No, we're not," Harry interrupted before taking a big gulp of his milkshake. Harry didn't want to talk about Draco with Hermione and he definitely didn't want to talk to Hermione about Daphne. The gorgeous healer, healer-in-training, hadn't been back to visit him since he was first admitted to the hospital. Harry was stuck in a hospital bed, but she wasn't and she never came back to see him. Harry's face reddened in embarrassment as he thought of what an arse he made of himself. He was so out of his wits thanks to the drugs and he was filled with false confidence. He should've known better than to hit on her.
"She told you about that?" Harry asked after a few moments of silence. Hermione shrugged, but a smile crept on her face. "I thought we weren't talking about blonde Slytherins."
Harry rolled his eyes but then continued to stare at Hermione. He couldn't help himself. He was curious even though he was far from optimistic. He was both terrified and intrigued by whatever Hermione knew.
"It doesn't matter anyway. I bungled things up right and proper. I can't believe I asked her out on a date. I was off my rocker. You'll tell her that won't you?" said Harry, quickly losing his nerve. Harry hadn't been on a date in a very long time. So long, in fact, that he forgot what it was like to actually be on one. Ever since his breakup with Ginny, he awful, terrible breakup with Ginny, he hadn't been interested in anyone enough to pursue any form of companionship.
"No, you haven't Harry," Hermione argued. "Daphne is almost as weird about dating as you are." Harry scowled, but he couldn't argue. He was weird about dating.
"You should ask her again… you know… while you're sober and not lying broken in a hospital bed," Hermione advised. "She might actually take you seriously if that were the case."
"Yeah, but what if she still says no?" Harry asked. "Then you move on and ask someone else. That's typically how dating works," Hermione teased. Harry scoffed.
"How would you know? Where did you get your dating degree?" Hermione laughed and threw more fries at Harry's face. "I'll have you know that I've been on a few dates lately. And before you ask, they're not with Draco!" Harry didn't believe her, but he wasn't about to argue with Hermione. She was running low on fries and once she was out of them, she was liable to find another form of ammunition.
"If it means anything, I think that you and Daphne would make a really great couple. You both have quite a bit in common." Harry's ears perked up at that.
"Do we really?" Hermione nodded. "You have similar senses of humour. And you both have complex personalities."
"Are you saying that I have some sort of complex?" Harry asked, an eyebrow raised.
"NO, you prat! I'm saying that there's more to the both of you than meets the eye. Daphne is more than just a pretty face with pureblood lineage and you're not just the hero of the wizarding world; you are also a bit of a git." Harry laughed but didn't dispute with her. He knew he could be a bit of a git sometimes. It was something that he had to actively work on.
"I wouldn't even know how to go about asking her again. I wasn't in my right mind, Hermione. I don't think I would've had the guts to ask her if I weren't filled with false confidence," Harry confided. Hermione raised her eyebrows and laughed. "Well, are you a Gryffindor or aren't you? Seriously, Harry, you're an auror. You face danger whenever you wake up and go to your job every morning. But now you're afraid to ask a pretty girl out on a date?"
"I don't have the best track record with women, Hermione," Harry reminded her. Hermione frowned a bit and reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Harry's. His failed relationship with Ginny Weasley had completely slipped her mind; it was such a long time ago and there were so many things going on within her own life that their breakup almost seemed like a dream.
"Not every woman is going to be Ginny, Harry," she told him softly. Harry gripped her hand a bit tighter before letting it go. He knew that. At least on a realistic level. He just wasn't so sure that he was willing to take the chance that he could be hurt again.
"I know Daphne. She's not like that." Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione also knew Ginny. That didn't stop her from stepping out on him with a professional Quidditch player while she was away playing the game professionally.
"You should ask her, Harry," said Hermione, pulling her hand away from Harry's and reaching for her purse. "You might actually be surprised." Harry didn't really care for surprises. He'd rather regularity and knowing how things would work out. He didn't like being left in the dark.
Harry stood outside of the burger joint, confused and worried. He looked to his left; he could go home and relax, perhaps get started on the paperwork that he was sure was ceiling high. He could delude himself into thinking that he was going to talk to Daphne Greengrass another time, when it was more convenient for him. He looked to his right; or he could walk back to St. Mungo's and look like the biggest idiot on the planet by asking Daphne out on a date right then. He looked up to the sky, almost as if the answer to his problem were going to fall from it and hit him in the head.
With a sigh and a throw of caution to the wind, Harry walked towards his right, regretting his decision with every step he made but too stubborn to turn back now. Hermione was right. He had faced scarier things than this.
Harry walked back into St. Mungo's, the familiar smell of miscellaneous potions and stale salves assaulting his nose immediately. Healer Alvarez just so happened to be walking by at the moment and she stopped when she saw him, a questioning eyebrow raised.
"Is everything alright, Mr. Potter?" she asked, walking towards him and placing a hand to his forehead. "I'm fine," said Harry, taking a step back and contemplating scrapping this whole cruddy idea. "I just… I um… wanted to talk to Daph- I mean, Miss Greengrass. Healer Greengrass. Healer- In- Training Greengrass," Harry stumbled over his words. He mentally slapped himself on the forehead. What was he doing?
"Healer Alvarez, I have the paperwork on Mrs. Heart that you wanted me to get for you," the reason for Harry's racing heart said walking up to Healer Alvarez. When Daphne noticed Harry, she quickly looked at a spot on the floor, her face turning a shade of pink. Healer Alvarez took the papers from Daphne's outstretched hand and skimmed over them.
"Thank you, Greengrass. You have a visitor," and without another word, she strutted off down the hall. Daphne's blue eyes locked with Harry's emerald ones and she let a small smile take over her face. Harry took a deep breath and allowed himself to smile as well. Well, there was no turning back, he figured.
"Anything that I can help you with, Mr. Pot- Harry?" Daphne asked. Harry nodded. He felt like he just swallowed a bunch of pygmy puffs. This was a lot harder than he initially thought that this would be; and he thought it would be hard to begin with.
That's it for this chapter! I realize that this is moving a bit slowly, but it's my first story and I'm still trying to get in the swing of things.
I'm still looking for someone to proofread my work, if anyone's willing. I'm an American, so my British slang is only what I've picked up from tv shows.
Please review and let me know what you think! Shoutout to all of the followers and favoriters. I appreciate it!
Thanks x
