All of her life Hermione had been told that she was gifted. As a child, she was the fastest reader in her class, completing the assignment before others had reached the second page. She was praised for her beautiful penmanship, and often helped the other students around her with their cursive…something her classmates weren't as grateful as their teachers for. Throughout her time at Hogwarts, she became known for her intelligence and quick thinking. And she wasn't just gifted in academic areas…although many didn't know it; she was a more than fair piano player.
She opened her closet and sighed. Yes, Hermione Granger was know for many things…
…but none of those things would help her create an outfit for her Uncle's wedding. She stared at her closet and frowned, not knowing where to begin. Hermione had never been the type of girl to wear dresses. Lazily, she searched through the closet, stopping on one of the two dresses she owned. She gently reached out and touched the delicate fabric of her Yule Ball dress. She allowed the memories of the evening, some better than others, wash over her. She smiled softly at the dress and moved onto the second dress she owned. Magically, she placed the red dress she had warn only once before on her bed. She studied the dress, lovingly touching soft fabric, rubbing it between her fingers. Hermione remembered the night she had warn the dress, sincerely hoping this wedding would not end in a similar fate.
She slid the dress on and studied herself in the mirror. She frowned, something about this dress didn't feel right. It wasn't that she didn't look pretty. No, it was something else. She let her head tilt to the side; what was it? It wasn't the style. No, the dress hugged her body modestly without exposing anything. She held her fingertips at the side of the dress and frowned once more. It wasn't the length. The dress fell at the father approved length of barely above her knee, flowing out ever so slightly. "Is it the color?" She asked her reflection.
When she had originally bought the dress it was not red. She remembered getting ready for Fleur and Bill's wedding with Ginny. When the redhead had seen Hermione in the dress she immediately shook her head, informing Hermione that she should not wear that color. Having no sufficient knowledge on dresses, she trusted Ginny's advice. She asked the younger girl what color should she choose, to which she answered, "Red," and with a wink she added, "It's Ron's favorite color."
Hermione smiled sadly at the mirror. Yes, that's why the dress didn't feel right. She raised her wand and closed her eyes, concentrating on the dress' rightful color. Slowly opened her eyes, smiling slightly at her emerald green dress.
Mrs. Granger studied the young man in front of her in amazement, "This use to be a t-shirt?"
Harry looked down at the dark grey suit, "Does it look like it?" He mentally cursed himself. He should have let Hermione help him after all.
"No, no," Mrs. Granger insisted, "You look very handsome Harry." She admired his suit for a moment more, "Magic never ceases to amaze me." She looked over to the grandfather clock and frowned. She smiled kindly at Harry, "Excuse me Harry," She quickly left the room calling out for her husband, "William, Love we need to be there in a half an hour!"
Harry listened as Mrs. Granger's voice grew quieter with distance. He smiled to himself, knowing that if Mrs. Granger was anything like her daughter, Mr. Granger was probably getting an earful for running behind on the day of his brother's wedding. He remembered all of the times Hermione had lovingly scolded him for being late.
He shook his head angrily. He should not be thinking about Hermione this much. He sat down on the couch and forced himself to stare at the wall and not think about Hermione. He glared at the wall. His mind focused on every small detail of the wall. Hermione's wall.
He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated that he couldn't even go a minute without thinking about her. It was like someone had slipped him a potion so all of his attention was focused on her. But no, that wouldn't be possible. For one, Hermione would never do that. For another, the only potion that could do that would be a love potion…and by thinking that he had drank a love potion would mean that he loved his best friend.
…And that was not something Harry was willing to admit. Because admitting that would create a world of trouble.
Despite the hours that had passed, he could touch the exact place where she had kissed him. Despite having a girlfriend, he dreamed of Hermione. The entire dream all they did was sit under Hermione's favorite tree by the lake and read silently as Dumbledore's words echoed repeatedly. As far as dreams go, it was simple…disguising itself as boring. And yet, it was better than any dream he had had of Ginny.
He sighed, maybe it was because he was spending so much time with Hermione lately. Surely his feelings for Ginny hadn't changed…right?
He shook his head, now was not the time to try and figure that out. For now, he would just take things a day at a time. And today, he was going to have a good time with Hermione at her Uncle's wedding. He ran his hand through his hair one last time before freezing in place. He groaned. Harry was never one to care about his hair being flawless…but half way decent might be nice. He walked into the hall, stopping at the hallway mirror. Just as he had expected, he had managed to make an even bigger mess of his hair. He attempted to flatten the pieces that were stubbornly sticking up in every direction. He smiled triumphantly at his progress, perhaps finally breaking his messy hair curse. Footsteps drew his attention away from the mirror. He looked towards the stairwell for a moment before returning his attention back to the mirror. He froze. Slowly his head turned once more.
"Having trouble with your hair?" Hermione asked from the stairwell. She walked towards Harry, gently raising her hand to smooth down one particularly vertical strand of hair. Harry leaned into her touch, watching the look of concentration on her face. She stepped back and smiled, "You look very handsome Harry."
Harry was too stunned to say anything; all he could do was stare at Hermione. Her hair fell in frizz free ringlets that landed just below her shoulders, swaying gently as she walked. Her emerald green dress suited her perfectly. It was elegant and tasteful, without being bold. That being said, it was the type of dress that seemed to make everyone stop and stare. That dress was Hermione. Harry had seen Hermione dressed up before…but this time wasn't the same.
This time it felt like someone had sucker punched him, making him unable to breathe, while someone else made his heart so heavy, the simplest movement would surely cause it to shatter. Did she have any idea how amazing she looked? Unknowingly he reached his hand out, gently touching her hair. His hand burned where he accidentally brushed her shoulder. He blinked quickly, snatching his hand away. He blushed like a mad man and looked anywhere but at Hermione. "Sorry 'bout that. That was…" Stupid? Yes, that was stupid. He blushed once more, "Sorry."
Hermione laughed softly, "It's fine Harry," she insisted, hoping not to further embarrass her friend. Harry laughed. With anyone else that situation would have been nothing but awkward…but with Hermione…
He erased the thought from his mind, "You look beautiful Hermione."
Hermione smiled softly, "Thank you Harry." She looked down at her heels, "These heels will be the death of me. Voldemort was nothing compared to heels." She took small, steady steps, demonstrating just how hard it was to keep her balance. She slid, stumbling forward. Harry caught her without hesitation. He helped her up, holding onto one of her hands, gently twirling her as she stood. She laughed, "Good catch."
"I promised you yesterday that I wouldn't let you fall."
Hermione blushed, "Yes you did."
"-Honestly William, you look dashing!" Mrs. Granger quickly walked down the stairs. She spotted the two teenagers and hurried to their sides, "I need your help," she looked back to the stairwell, "William is having a hard time getting use to his tuxedo."
"Really?" Hermione asked skeptically, "Dad never seemed to have a problem before."
"-That's because you haven't seen the bloody color!" Mr. Granger hollered good-humouredly from upstairs.
"William!" Mrs. Granger scolded, "Don't use that language in front of a young lady!" She looked at her daughter and smiled tearfully, "Love, you look so beautiful." She motioned for Hermione to turn. She watched, as Hermione's dress gently poofed out. Mrs. Granger reached out for her daughter's hands, "You're all grown up," she choked out.
"-Honestly I have no idea what Cynthia is thinking. Men do not like to wear pink. The only color a tuxedo should be is black. Black is timeless! There's a reason why James Bond never wore a pink bloody tux-" Mr. Granger appeared at the bottom of the stairwell and instantly became quiet. Despite need to let the world know about his displeasure with his future sister-in-law's choice for the groom's men, all words faded from his mind. He walked to his daughter's side, placing a delicate kiss on top of her head before pulling her into a hug, "Bookworm, you look lovely."
Hermione laughed at her father's nickname, "Thanks Dad." She pulled out of the hug, getting a proper of her father. "You look handsome," she paused, "and," her expansive vocabulary couldn't help her with this one, "Pink."
Harry attempted to stifle a laugh, which set Hermione into a fit a giggles as well. Mrs. Granger gave the two silent looks of disapproval as she ushered her husband to the car, reassuring him that he looked dashing in pink.
Mrs. Granger was a quiet type of strong. After everything that had happened to Hermione over the years, one would have to be. Whenever her daughter had a problem, she taught her how to come up with solutions. "Love, save your tears," she would often say, "There are only two times for tears, when one is so happy they may burst, or when one has run out of solutions." It wasn't meant to be harsh, on the contrary, it taught her to rely on herself…to become emotionally strong. "And love," she would say, "When you meet someone who knows you're going to cry before even you do, hold onto them, and cry because you are so lucky to have them in your life."
Tearful wedding exchanges echoed in the small church. Mrs. Granger watched her brother-in-law repeat his vows and smiled to herself, remembering when she had promised the same. Her attention shifted to the best man in the bright pink tuxedo. She smiled brightly, tears filling in her eyes. After all this time, he still knew. His attention was on her, his smile kind, comforting…as if he knew her thoughts. As the vows continued he silently mouthed, "Till death do us part."
She smiled and mouthed them back to him. With one last smile, his attention shifted back to the wedding. She let a single tear fall silently down her cheek. She felt a soft hand hold onto hers. Mrs. Granger looked to her daughter, feeling more tears threatening to fall. Just as Mr. Granger had known and been there for her, Harry was there for Hermione. His arm wrapped around her shoulder supportively; resting his head on top of hers. Mrs. Granger gave her daughter's hand a gentle squeeze. Without turning her head Hermione looked to her mother. Her eyes held tears that were threatening to fall, but none had. Hermione squeezed her Mum's hand in return, allowing the first tear to fall.
The two continued to hold hands through out the rest of the ceremony. Mrs. Granger watched the ceremony, but her mind wandered to the people in her life. Although her daughter may not know it yet, Hermione had found someone who knew her better than she knew herself. Hermione had finally found someone who knew she was going to cry before even she knew. The grin on Mrs. Granger's face grew as she let the tears fall softly down her face, with no intention of stopping. After all, she was incredibly lucky, and she had tears of joy that needed to be cried.
The small reception that was held afterwards was held in a small event hall. Five large tables circled around a small dance floor, creating an instant closeness between all of the guests. Hermione looked down at her name place, "Table five?"
Harry looked down at his own, "Table five," he confirmed. The two walked around the tables, passing table after table until they finally reached theirs. Hermione looked down at her name place once more and looked up at the table. Confusion littered her face. She looked to Harry, whose face mirrored her confusion. They were placed at the children's table. Five of the seven seats were taken by children, all under the age of ten. After a moment, Hermione laughed, receiving many odd looks from everyone else at the table. "I guess this is our table," she said in between breaths.
Something about her laugh always seemed to lighten any situation. He found himself smiling, and laughing with her. He pulled out her chair, "For you."
Hermione slid into her chair, "Thank you kind sir."
"Why did you call him sir?" a young girl with bright blonde hair asked.
"-Yeah, he's not old," a boy nodded in agreement, "Only old people are sirs."
A loud excited gasp came from the youngest member at the table. She had bright blonde hair, similar to the girl next to her, and her brown eyes were hidden behind thick round glasses, clearly too big for such a tiny face, "Maybe he's a knight!" She looked intently at Harry, "Are you a hero?"
The oldest of the boys rolled his eyes, "Heroes don't wear glasses idiot."
Hermione watched the young girl frown, blushing with embarrassment. Hermione scolded at the oldest, "He is a hero." Her attention shifted to the young girl with the glasses, "You're very bright to see that," she said softly. The young girl smiled shyly before looking away.
"No way," the older boy insisted, "Heroes aren't real."
"Yeah," the other boy at the table agreed, "They're only in the stories girls read."
Harry felt a tug on his sleeve. A young boy with bright blue eyes stared at him in fascination, "Did you have to fight a dragon?"
Harry looked to Hermione, unsure of what to say. Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly, considering their choices. She met Harry's eyes and shrugged, giving him a half smile. Harry nodded in understanding. He looked back to the boy beside him, "Yes I did."
The table gasped collectively. Five pairs of tiny eyes stared intently at Harry. He looked back to Hermione, making sure he had done the right thing. "Do you want to hear the story?" He asked, his eyes never leaving hers. The table erupted in excitement.
Harry cleared his throat, "The dragon was outside of my school," He thought back to his first challenge in the tri-wizard tournament, "She was bigger than a house, with long sharp horns on top of her head. And her tail was bigger than this room!" The children's eyes grew larger. "Did you kill it?" the older boy asked.
"No," Harry answered honestly, "I just had to steal its egg."
"Why?" he asked quickly.
The oldest girl rolled her eyes, "Because he needed the egg to help the princess!" Her blonde hair whipped as she looked to Harry, "Did you save the princess?"
Harry's story had certainly taken quite a turn. He looked to Hermione, and smile to himself as an idea came into his head. "There was a princess," he answered.
Hermione looked at Harry questioningly. He smiled slightly, focusing on her, "She was the smartest princess at my school." Hermione looked away, blushing madly, knowing exactly what story Harry was going to tweak.
Harry looked back to the children at the table, "The princess had been put into a deep sleep by a very powerful monster."
"The dragon?" The youngest boy asked.
Harry shook his head, "This monster was a giant snake." The girls at the table all made faces of disgust, sprinkled with fear, while the boys grinned, eager to hear more about this monster. "The snake's eyes were poisonous. If you were to look at them you would fall asleep."
"Like the princess," the four year old confirmed.
Harry nodded, "Right, just like the princess. The princess had warned me about the snake before even the grown ups knew. I found the snake in a hidden chamber and killed him with my sword."
The children talked excitedly with one another, believing every word Harry had said. "Why did you need the egg?" the four year old asked as she pushed up her sliding glasses.
"A nurse turned the egg into soup," Harry decided, "And when the princess ate the soup, she woke up." Harry watched as the children collectively frowned.
"Wait," the older blonde interrupted, "You didn't wake up the princess with true love's kiss?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged embarrassed looks, "No," Harry said shaking his head, "Once the princess ate the soup she was back to normal."
"No, that's not how the story goes," the oldest boy insisted, "You killed the snake and got the dragon egg…but really all you needed to wake the princess was a kiss." He crossed his arms, "The hero always gets to kiss the princess."
"-The hero and the princess were just really good friends," Hermione said coming to Harry's rescue. Harry felt himself frown, finding himself just as confused as the children at the table. Suddenly, it all made sense. The children had been able to figure it out in moments…and it had only taken him eight years. The children were right, the hero should have kissed the smartest princess in the entire school.
A silence hung over the table as the band began to play. The room watched as the bride and groom danced their first dance together. It started out slowly, but with each chorus it sped up. As the song progressed, couples began to join them on the dance floor. Harry watched as Mr. and Mrs. Granger joined the other couples. He turned to Hermione, who smiled brightly at her parents. He leaned in closer to her ear, "Would you like to dance?"
Hermione jumped slightly in shock, causing another wave of laughter between the two. She nodded her head and accepted Harry's hand, letting him lead her onto the dance floor.
The children at the table watched the hero closely. "Do you think she's the princess?" Older blonde asked.
"She's pretty like a princess," The oldest boy answered.
"And she's nice," the four year old with glasses added. She smiled at the young couple dancing, "She's nice like a princess." She sighed happily, "I think she's a princess."
"She's not the princess," The youngest boy argued. He shook his head, "Remember? She said that hero and the princess were just best friends!" The table of children looked back at the hero and the pretty lady he was dancing with. They watched them dance three songs in a row, a smile never leaving the dancing pair's faces. As the music changed to a slow song, they watched the hero ask the pretty lady to dance again…but this time was different. They danced closer. Instead of taking turns to spin one another like before, the hero held the pretty lady close to him. For the first time, they danced seriously.
"You're right," the oldest girl said disappointingly, "There's no way she could be the princess."
Hermione loved dancing with Harry. She always felt so carefree whenever she danced with him. Sure, he wasn't exactly the best dancer…but he wasn't trying to be. And that's exactly how she preferred it. When they danced, there was no pressure, it was just…fun. The must look crazy to everyone else in the room, but honestly, Hermione was having so much fun, she didn't care. And judging by the smile on Harry's face, he didn't care much either.
The two swayed back and forth, smiling brightly at one another. "Are you having a good time?" She asked.
"No," Harry joked as he spun her out, quickly pulling her back to him, "Are you having a miserable time as well?"
"Yes," she said with a straight face. Harry nodded approvingly, "Good," he dipped her towards the floor, "Just wanted to make sure."
Hermione laughed, allowing her head to dip closer to the ground. The music slowed considerably and a voice came over the microphone, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the bride and groom invite everyone to dance the final song of the evening." Harry slowly brought Hermione up to a standing position. Hermione looked up at Harry, mesmerized by his emerald green eyes. She gasped softly, his eyes were the same color of her dress. Was that why she liked the dress initially?
"Are you all right?" Harry asked, bringing Hermione back from her thoughts. She smiled slightly, "I'm fine," she assured him, although she suddenly felt light headed. She tried to convince herself that it was surely because she had let too much blood go to her head as Harry dipped her…but somewhere deep inside, she knew that wasn't the answer.
Harry didn't buy it, "Would you like to sit down?"
"No," she answered quickly, surprising Harry with its urgency. To be honest, she surprised herself as well. She cleared her throat, "There's just one last song," she said gently, "Would you dance with me?"
Harry smiled softly, "Always." He held her close, so close their cheeks nearly brushed against one another. They gently swayed back and forth, never really moving anywhere. For the first time that night, they danced in silence. Harry felt her gently rest her head on his shoulder, and subconsciously he rested his cheek on her forehead. He closed his eyes and allowed himself not to think. Instead he swayed and listened to the song.
I hope that you see right through my walls
I hope that you catch me, cause I'm already falling.
I'll never let a love get so close.
You put your arms around me and I'm home.
Harry's eyes opened wide. The song's chorus replayed in his mind as something inside him clicked. He thought Hogwarts had been his only home, but he realized this wasn't true. He looked down at Hermione, "You're my home." Hermione lifted her head off his shoulder so she could look into his eyes. "When I'm not with you, something feels wrong," he continued. "That's why I couldn't spend Christmas with the Weasleys, Hermione." He looked deep into her eyes, "You've always been my home," he shook his head, "I just didn't see it until now. Right now, actually."
"-Harry-"
"-I mean, I guess I'm just trying to say that I," his mind froze. Nerves took over his body and he frowned, "I'm glad I have you in my life," he said lamely.
"Oh," Hermione said softly. She plastered a smile on her face, "I'm glad you're in my life as well," she said sincerely. She returned her head to his shoulder and closed her eyes. It was very kind what Harry had said…so why did she feel so…disappointed? Tears began to build behind her eyelids, but she willed them away. "You're my best friend Harry."
The sentence near killed him. What once use to make him grin tore him up inside, and it was his fault entirely. Why was he such a coward to tell her what he was thinking…what he was feeling. He mentally kicked himself until his head actually swelled with pain. He rested his cheek on her forehead once more and sighed, "You're my best friend too Mione."
Ginny sat in the Leaky Cauldron sipping lukewarm tea. For the past two hours she had sat in the same booth, mentally preparing herself for the interview that would take place in less than an hour's time. She took calming breaths, trying to settle her nerves. She distracted herself by thinking of France.
Her time with her family had done wonders for everyone. For the first time in months George had his old spirit back, and it seemed to ease all the tensions the family had felt. The only thing missing from her wonderful vacation was Harry. She smiled contently at the thought of her boyfriend. The time apart had done them some good. They kept the writing to a minimum, making the separation seem longer than a few days. Over the past week, Ginny had watched her brother begin anew without Hermione and it made her realize something.
Ginny was never going to experience that pain.
"Miss Weasley?"
Ginny looked up at the young reporter and smiled kindly. She gestured for the reporter to take a seat. The reporter situated her notepad and quill in front of her, "Ready?" Ginny nodded.
"Ginny, you requested this meeting to set the record straight. So tell me," her quill dipped itself in the ink beside the notepad, "What is the real story?"
"Well, there's quite a bit to clarify," Ginny laughed, "One, things between Harry and I have never been better. In a few months we will have been dating for two years."
"That's exciting," the report lied, pretending to be interested. Happiness doesn't sell papers. Fighting, betrayal, lies…they sell papers, "So what really happened that night in Diagon Alley?"
Ginny brushed it off, "It was nothing really," she smiled sweetly, "I can have quite a temper sometimes. I thought Harry didn't want to marry me but I later learned he just wants to wait until I'm done with school."
The reporter nodded, "Witnesses told us that you said Harry wouldn't marry you because of Hermione Granger. Why is that?"
"Hermione is one of Harry's best friends. Harry, my brother Ron, and Hermione have been there for each other since they were first years at Hogwarts. Harry trusts them; their opinions matter a great deal to him." She paused, "Since the attacks on the school, Hermione and Harry have grown closer. Not romantically," she added quickly, "but more as siblings." Ginny laughed, "These stories of Hermione being pregnant and Harry being the father are simply ridiculous."
"Forgive us for implying that there was something romantic there," the report apologized, sarcasm dripping with every word, "It just seems reasonable that two people who care that deeply for one another may eventually develop feelings for one another." The reporter swirled the ink with her finger, "And with Hermione ending her relationship with your brother, it seemed that it may be because she couldn't trail Ron along anymore," she paused, "Not when she had feelings for Harry."
Ginny had been expecting all of this. She sipped her tea once more, "Hermione ended things with Ron because she wasn't ready to get married." She smiled once more at the reporter, "And like I said earlier, Harry and I have never been happier."
The reporter nodded, "Well I am happy for both of you." Her quill wrote rapidly, "And I just to say how much I admire you." For the first time, she smiled at Ginny, "I would not be so understand."
Ginny frowned, "Understanding?"
"Of course!" The reporter shrugged, "I would never allow my boyfriend to spend Christmas with another girl," she paused, "best friend or not."
Ginny's face paled, "He spent Christmas with Hermione?"
The report's grin twisted evilly; perhaps she was going to sell some papers after all.
