A/N: I'm sorry for the wait, but it's been a hectic week. Not that you care, or want to hear about it. I certainly wouldn't. Anyways, here's the fourth installment.

Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she inspected her newly washed hair, finding it perfectly clean and muffin-free. However, she couldn't seem to get rid of that tinge of pink that still painted her cheeks. She'd forgotten, until Harry had doused her with ice-cold water, that in the course of the day, she'd removed a certain undergarment, so as to make the sweltering heat from the July afternoon a bit more bearable. Then, as it got colder at night, she just hadn't bothered to put it pack on.

And then, of course, he had to do that.

Now, Hermione had never viewed physical appearance as a major priority. She didn't track the latest trends, didn't buy the lacy lingerie, never cared enough to buy that adorable blouse. No, her priorities were family, friends, work, and then clothes. And her attire consisted mostly of fitted T-shirts, jeans, and a few pantsuits for work.

But admittedly, she'd always been a bit self-conscious about her body. Though she'd never thought it important enough to do anything about it, she couldn't help but feel inferior compared to the more voluptuous forms of Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley, and the Patil twins. Hermione was slender in the right places, but then lacked the curves in others that made up for it. She was practically a straight line up and down, with small hips, skinny legs, and a chest that resembled a two-by-four. And her skin was a blinding, pasty white.

It didn't make any sense to her, though. She'd never been a particularly healthy eater; her parents did restrict the amount of sweets she ate, but they never really banned them. Her exercise routine consisted of the effort it took to walk down the stairs to get her coffee, and then back up as she got ready for work. Yet somehow, she was still as skinny as a string bean. And she knew it wasn't attractive.

Thus, she was mortified to know that Harry had seen, to some extent, the absolute shapelessness of her figure.

Not that she believed Harry would think any less of her for it. Harry was one of the few men in the world who judged on personality, rather than appearance. Hence, the reason they had been best friends since they were eleven years old. Neither of them had been particularly attractive upon that first meeting. She was the skinny, buck-toothed know-it-all, and he was the scrawny, messy-haired, bespectacled boy.

Now, she was no longer buck-toothed, though still quite thin, and just as much of a know-it-all as ever. Harry, on the other hand, had filled out considerably from his years playing Quidditch, and had found a vision-correction spell that allowed him to dispose of the glasses (though, Hermione had to admit, she missed them). And his hair actually suited him now. Or maybe she'd just gotten used to it, along with the rest of the world. Either way, he looked good now. And Hermione was still . . . well, she was still Hermione.

Plain, boring, nagging, book-obsessed Hermione.

Why should she care what Harry thought of her, though? It wasn't as if he was a prospective boyfriend. He was her best friend. They'd been through everything together. Their opinions of each other could never worsen. Or could they? The very thought made Hermione cringe, despite the fact that she knew it was ridiculous. It didn't change her feelings, though. And what exactly were her feelings? She had always had a small crush on Harry, but she didn't think it would ever go past being that: a crush. Besides, he thought she was all heartbroken over Ron, didn't he? Well, she'd just have to prove him wrong.

"Hermione?" a familiar voice called from the door to the bedroom.

"Yes?" she shouted back.

"Are you decent?"

Hermione glanced briefly down at her current ensemble: a towel. "Er, no."

"Erm . . . well, whenever you're ready, I have somewhere I'd like to take you. Unless you already had plans."

She grinned. "No, no plans so far. I'll be there in a bit."

He didn't say anything else, so she started to get ready. Hmm, she thought. How do I convince my best friend I'm not pining for my ex? Of course! Dress like I'm looking for a date! Hermione didn't have much in the way of date-worthy clothes, but she pulled out everything she had, ready to make some alterations if necessary. In the end, she chose a yellow sundress—a gift from Ginny—lengthened the skirt a bit, and put it with a white shrug. After that, she dried her hair, and did her best to soften the bushy curls into gentle waves. She'd never really bothered to wear makeup, except on special occasions and holidays, but today, she dabbed on a little mascara and clear lip gloss.

Finally, she pulled on a pair of simple, white sandals, and headed downstairs.

Harry sighed, wondering what was taking Hermione so long. She never took this long to get ready. Usually, she just threw on whatever clothes she touched first—which, they all sort of matched, so it worked—did nothing with her hair, and was ready in ten minutes. According to his watch (yes, he'd been counting, so what?), she had already taken nearly twenty-five minutes. He was starting to get paranoid. Maybe she had fallen and hurt herself? He decided he'd go upstairs and check. It couldn't hurt, he thought.

No sooner had he put his foot on the bottom stair, than he heard the opening and closing of her door. He looked up . . . and his breath caught.

Merlin.

She looked absolutely stunning—dressed fairly casual, but still beautiful.

Harry took a moment to take in her appearance, starting at her feet. The sandals were simple and comfortable-looking, but they accentuated her ankles and calves in a way that left his mouth watering. The flowing sundress stopped at her knees, and she'd added a white shrug to it, which was tied into a knot just below her bust line, accenting that, as well. Her hair, now almost waist-length, rippled down her back in rich, caramel waves, untouched by elastic or any other hair adornment. And . . . was that makeup she was wearing?

Too late, he realized he'd been staring at her. He cleared his throat, attempting to hide the blush that, once again, burned his cheeks. "Erm . . . you look good," he mumbled, staring pointedly at his shoes. Nice one, Potter. You're a real charmer.

He heard her giggle softly. "Thanks."

Bugger. She'd seen right through him, hadn't she? Well, he'd keep trying to distract himself from her until he knew she had. After a few moments, he'd regained some of his composure—enough to pretend his hormones weren't going into overdrive—and smiled affably at her. "Ready to go?" he asked in a pleasant voice.

"Where are we going?"

He grinned. "Oh, you'll see. You're going to love it."

With that, he took her hand and led her outside. Hermione wasn't sure where he was taking her, but surprised herself by not caring. She trusted him not to put her in harm's way, and also trusted his assurance that she'd enjoy herself. After all, he'd never lied before.

Besides, she would be with Harry. That was enough.

A/N: And the romance begins! Honestly, this isn't my best work. This is basically just a filler chapter, leading up to the juicy stuff, which will be coming up next. I haven't decided exactly what said juicy stuff will be, but rest assured, it will be juicy! Sheesh, how many times can I say the word "juicy" in a single paragraph? :P Ahem. Anywho, the next chapter will be up . . . soon-ish. Not sure exactly when. Loves! XOXO