A/N: The process of writing is a funny thing. A few weeks back the Harmony discord (discord. gg / 9VpavADtER) started a fun community 'Bingo' event for its members. Anyone who wanted could get a randomly generated bingo card full of Harmony fanfiction tropes, with the goal being to work toward a Bingo by writing, reviewing, or creating art based on the tropes available in the squares.
The Bingo route I decided to work toward included 'One Night Stand' and I immediately plotted out a course: Write a funny, frivolous 500 word drabble and then move onto the next bingo square. But as I began writing it grew, and grew, and grew. So while it's still (hopefully) funny and a bit frivolous, my initial plan for one act expanded to three, and an honest to goodness one-shot (and title) was born!
Thanks as always to Nauze for the beta.
Act I
As Hermione entered the Hog's Head Tavern, she basked in the tidal wave of nostalgia that hit her in full force. In many ways, this is where it had all started: The moment where she, Ron, and Harry had taken charge of their own destiny.
She'd had some embarrassing stumbles along the way, her sixth year madness and brief romantic dalliance with Ron after Voldemort's defeat had been particular sore spots, but they had made it through…smarter and wiser and, in most respects, whole. Not because of Dumbledore…or McGonagall…and certainly not because of the incompetent Ministry, but because of the revolution they had sparked. And it all had started in a corner of this dingy tavern.
The grouchy barkeep gave her a nod of acknowledgement and she grinned and waved…reveling in the smile that appeared. He'd done his best to conceal it, putting his head down and wiping up the bar, but she'd seen it.
She wondered how many patrons passed through this place with no idea how brave and steadfast of a man Aberforth Dumbledore was. As much as she admired her former headmaster, it was clear to her from the off that, despite how pure his intentions were, he reveled in the spotlight and enjoyed being in charge. But Aberforth was just as brave…just as determined…and just as pure of heart in the end.
Perhaps it was being a muggleborn, or existing in Harry's orbit for the last eight years, but she had a soft spot for the quiet ones in the room. In her entirely biased opinion, the greatest heroes were the ones who fought simply because it was the right thing to do. And when the fight was over…when the war was won…they went back to their 'normal' lives: tending bar, resuming their academic studies, or sitting quietly in the corner.
She spotted the group of Slytherins huddled together in a corner table. Their numbers were smaller and, unsurprisingly, they seemed to be keeping to themselves, but over the last year Hermione had learned they had been just as brave: Assisting Neville and Ginny in their acts of rebellion and slipping medical supplies to the students subjected to the Carrows' torture while they were hunting Horcruxes…blocking the path of their Death Eater housemates, eager to join the fight after McGonagall's banishment at the final battle…inspiring their fellow housemates that had chosen to sit on the sidelines to make the hard choice to finally choose a side and make a stand.
But as proud as she felt…as much as her selfish side wanted to take credit for what this extraordinary group of people had accomplished…her logical and sentimental side knew the truth: That it all came down to the junior auror with the ridiculous hair ensconced in the corner, silent and grinning at the scene playing out around him. Despite his best efforts, he stood out amongst all the chaos and noise that surrounded him as Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas led Harry's Army in a drunken sing-along. Harry always stood out.
Her excitement dimmed slightly when she spotted Padma Patil sitting beside Harry. To everyone's surprise, she'd begun Auror training in January, and Harry had been assigned to work with her. She was his cadet, and if the Hogwarts rumors were true, perhaps something more. This irritated her, because according to the Ministry regulations she'd come across entirely by chance, interdepartmental romantic relationships were frowned upon.
A year ago Padma sitting next to Harry would not have bothered her nearly as much. But as Hermione had painfully learned after being separated from Harry over the last year, absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder. The times they had spent together since she'd returned to Hogwarts for her final year were utterly brilliant, entirely too short and had awakened long-dormant thoughts of what could be with her best friend. And why was Padma now looking at her and whispering in Harry's ear? If she thought she was going to monopolize Harry, she had a-
"Oi! Prefect!" a booming voice interrupted her thoughts. She tore her eyes away from the blatant disregard for Ministry policy and saw Aberforth waving for her to come to the bar.
"I'm actually Head Girl," Hermione advised as she approached, annoying the man. At least she thought it annoyed him…it was hard to tell because he always looked annoyed.
Aberforth's actual state of mind continued to be a mystery as he remained silent and slid a glass that appeared to contain firewhisky across the bar. She was all set to gracefully decline the drink, but decided a bit of liquid courage could help her relax enough to drop the bombshell on Harry regarding the longing in her heart, not to mention the longing in various other parts of her body.
"Your galleons are no good here," Aberforth grunted as he turned and resumed wiping down the bar.
"That's not necessary," she said.
"I know it's not necessary, but you three have more than earned it, and besides, I'm making a fortune off your drunk, idiotic friends. So take the drink, and tell your boyfriend to lighten up and actually take a sip."
"Oh! Ron's not my boyfriend. Technically he was my boyfriend, but it was a bit of a disaster, and we quickly realized we were better off as friends."
Hermione's small glimpse into her love life had most definitely annoyed the man. He'd stopped his cleaning and was now staring at her, looking very annoyed.
"I wasn't talking about Red; he's had no problem enjoying himself, I'm talking about Golden Boy."
"Harry isn't my boyfriend, and don't call him that." He didn't seem interested in her denial. If she had to guess, he simply wished for her to go away. It was difficult to be sure because he always looked like he wished she would go away.
"Just tell pretty boy to lighten up, enjoy his drink, and have a bit of fun. That goes for you as well, Head Girl. When you're in the Hog's Head, you're both off duty. Just pretend I'm my brother and follow whatever dumb instructions I give you."
"Fine," she said with a grin before dutifully taking a sip of the drink, enjoying the lovely warmth gliding down her throat.
"Very good, now go help your not boyfriend remove that wand he's forcefully stuck up his arse." Hermione didn't think it was physically possible to smile and look annoyed, but Aberforth was currently disavowing her of that notion. She shot him a wave of thanks and quickly made her escape before his sort of smile disappeared.
Hermione was so busy devising a plan to claim the seat next to Harry as she weaved through the crowd, she failed to notice that Padma had disappeared. Harry was now grinning and motioning for her to join him. She took another sip and felt herself grinning from ear to ear. It had been months since she'd seen Harry and she missed him…desperately.
"I was starting to think you weren't coming," he said in a near shout to be heard over the revelry.
She pulled out her wand and cast a charm, lowering the volume to manageable levels.
"Nice," Harry complimented.
"It's a modified version of the standard silencing charm, it doesn't-"
"Eliminate all the noise," Harry interrupted, "it's useful for large crowds when you want to have a conversation but remain aware of the noises around you as well."
"That's right," Hermione answered. "How did you know that? It isn't taught as part of the normal curriculum."
"I learned it in fancy Auror school," Harry proclaimed with a grin, playfully puffing out his chest.
"Well aren't you the clever one," she replied.
"You'd be surprised at all the things I've learned," Harry replied as his grin morphed into…something entirely different. Was he flirting with her?
She pointed at his drink. "How many of those have you had?"
"None. I've been waiting for you," he replied, still sporting that new look. She'd spent over seven years cataloguing all of Harry's looks but could never recall getting to witness this one. She would have remembered this look.
"What?" Harry asked as she continued to bask in the new look. "Do I seem drunk to you?"
He wasn't defensive…or paranoid…or any of the other entirely earned expressions he had worn throughout the years. He simply looked happy and present and Hermione did her best to push back on the thought that, absent of alcohol being in his system, she was the sole reason for this amazing, life-affirming, ten out of ten would gaze at again, look.
"Honestly? Kind of," she replied. "You just seem very engaged. I was worried you'd be a bit uptight. I know you hate crowds and I know you were worried about your speech, which was brilliant by the way."
"This is different," Harry answered with a casual wave. "These are my friends. I've been looking forward to this for a few months and," Harry paused and held up his drink, "someone decided to come fashionably late, delaying my fun. I'm just happy to finally get started."
That look could be the death of me, Hermione mused, doing her best to conceal how much she wished for it to be the death of her. She held up her glass. "To getting started," she declared before downing the remainder of her drink in one shot.
Harry grinned and repeated her action. Hermione glanced at the bar and caught Aberforth watching them before he went back to pretending to clean up.
"Mr. Dumbledore was worried you weren't going to have any fun and practically ordered me to ensure you loosened up."
Harry laughed. "He yelled at me too. Did he tell you about the free drinks?"
Harry's use of the plural form of drink caught her by surprise. "He gave me a drink on the house. Are you saying he's giving us more than one?"
Harry didn't answer, opting instead to point toward the now empty glass she'd placed on the table. Except it wasn't empty. It was now filled to the brim once more.
"You, Ron and I have earned a bottomless tab for life from Mr. Dumbledore. You should have seen Ron's face when he told us…I think he might be naming his firstborn after Abe now."
Oh dear, Hermione mused. All she'd hoped for out of the evening was an honest declaration of her feelings and the potential for something more down the line. Things were escalating at a rapid, bottomless access to alcohol rate.
She pushed those thoughts aside…things were going too well and there was no use worrying about things that she wouldn't allow to happen. She was smart and responsible, and despite how amazing Harry's new look was, she would maintain control. She was the smartest witch for her age and Head Girl of the finest magical institution in Europe. She could do this.
"Where is Ron anyway?" Hermione asked. This was an excellent first question in maintaining control of the situation.
Harry grinned and pointed toward the far corner of the room. Hermione's hopes soared.
"Is that?"
"Parvati Patil attached to his lips?" Harry supplied. "He started sharing his bottomless glass with her about thirty minutes ago. They stopped drinking after ten minutes and have been doing that ever since."
Hermione fought the urge to curse at getting her hopes up that it had been Padma attached to Ron's lips. She hated twins so much.
Hermione forced herself to squash any thoughts of that absolute cow Padma Patil to the background and refocus on the here and now. Her plans were well ahead of schedule and Padma's blatant disregard for Ministry policy was not going to stop her from progressing her relationship with Harry tonight…responsibly.
She was roused from her thoughts by a gentle nudge. Harry was holding up his full glass again, still sporting that look.
Hermione raised her glass and did her best to affix Harry with her best responsible, serious, brightest witch for her age and Head Girl of the finest magical institution in Europe gaze. "Just one more," she declared.
"Just one more," Harry repeated before downing his drink, his eyes never leaving her.
As she took her drink and felt the welcoming warmth, she once again reminded herself about how serious, bright and responsible she was. There was also a bit about Hogwarts being good at teaching magic but the specifics were rapidly slipping her mind, because Harry was grinning…and she felt herself grinning…and it probably wasn't important anyway.
Act 2
She and Harry had done very well at being responsible…neither had pushed the other to have another drink…simply content to catch up on all that had happened over the last few months.
The flaw in her plan, however, was the group of inebriated peers that surrounded them on all fronts. It was as if they'd set up a schedule and were methodically taking turns coming over and wanting to down a drink with them. She'd imbibed before and on one occasion had even been outright drunk…but this was different. While those other experiences had been fun…this was FUN.
Ron had told her that Harry was an affectionate drunk and now she was getting to see it first hand, as he took turns with his arm around her shoulder…or grabbing her hand. Although to be fair, she might have been responsible for some of those bits as well.
She didn't have enough history to know whether it was solely the alcohol at play, or the fact that Harry was involved, but at some point she'd leaned into his side and laid her head on Harry's shoulder. As she dug in a bit further, she felt rather than heard Harry let out a chuckle.
"What?" she asked.
"If you'd told me when we were all set to go through that portrait tunnel with Neville that we'd be drinking in Abe's bar a year later, I would have thought you were mad."
Whenever she'd thought about that day, the vision of Hagrid carrying Harry's still body out of the forest always came rushing back, and today was no different. Her instinct over the last year was to visually seek out Harry and get tangible proof that he hadn't died, only to realize he was hundreds of miles away in London.
But not today. Today he was right here. She snaked her arm around his back and squeezed, pulling him as close as possible.
"I wish you weren't an Auror," she blurted. She'd wanted to say the words since he and Ron had said their farewells at King's Cross at the beginning of term...and then when she'd seen him during the first Hogsmeade weekend…then during the Yule holiday…and earlier that day at the ceremony. "I wish you had come back to Hogwarts with me."
"I'll be alright…I like it and I think I'm good at it. Besides, I haven't almost died once. In a typical Hogwarts year I reckon I'd be on about near-death experience four or five by now."
She snorted again.
"I do miss it more than I expected though. I kind of wish I'd gone back. We could have been doing this way sooner."
Between the alcohol and Harry's words…not to mention the unfairly chiseled thanks to auror training torso she was embedded in, her plans to be responsible and mature were vanishing into the ether, replaced by the endless possibilities this could lead to.
"Do you want to get out of here?" Harry asked.
"Yes!" she said in a near shout before her logical side kicked back in. It was time to move to Phase Two of the plan.
She had discovered a small café off Hogsmeade's main street that would be the perfect place to broach the topic of her and Harry embarking on a relationship/jumping each others' bones. She was a bit more inebriated than originally planned, and as such, she was much more focused on the jumping, but she could still make this work.
Hermione was all set to casually mention said café, she had opened her mouth speak and everything, but Harry was shooting her that look again, and the gazing took precedent.
"I'll be right back," he said before standing and making his way to the bar. It was a bit difficult to make out, but Aberforth looked to be smiling before handing over another bottle.
Before she could react Harry had returned, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up from her seat. She vaguely recalled Harry saying their goodbyes to several people, but it was all becoming a blur, her thoughts consumed by the very real fact that she and Harry were leaving a party and heading to parts unknown, together. She wanted to remind Harry that she couldn't leave the school and that apparating would be too dangerous to attempt but she kept silent. She did her best to remind herself how crucial it was for the relationship conversation to happen soon, but she couldn't stop thinking about jumping Harry.
Hermione had a profound sense of déjà vu as she realized all of her careful planning was shot to hell and she was now, once again, relying on whatever insane idea Harry had come up with. The typical life and death stakes were entirely absent, but nevertheless, she was bursting at the seams in exhilaration and excitement.
This was the point where she'd normally be fighting against the desire to panic. But Voldemort was long gone and Harry was holding her hand, and not the way he'd done when they were running for their lives, this time their fingers were properly intertwined, and he was rubbing his thumb ever so-
She caught herself before she started thinking about jumping Harry again. It was much more difficult to stick to the plan than she'd imagined, but she could do this. Hermione's attempt at maintaining any semblance of self-control had distracted her sufficiently enough for her to miss that Harry wasn't headed toward the exit, rather he was leading them behind the bar and up a set of stairs.
Oh god.
The words "Harry, I'm Head Girl," escaped her lips on reflex without a thought. "There is no acceptable scenario where I should be sneaking you into Hogwarts."
She'd said the proper words, the words that her position required, but she hadn't meant them. Hermione could think of no better scenario than sneaking Harry into her very private quarters.
So they could talk.
She reminded herself that it was the perfect place for having a private conversation, ignoring what a splendid destination it would be for jumping as well.
Harry stopped walking up the steps and turned back to look at her. "How many rules have you broken this year?"
"None," she immediately replied, at once proud and embarrassed at stating that revelation out loud.
"You've only got a bit over a month left. You don't want to break your streak of doing something outrageous and against the rules every Hogwarts year, do you?"
It was a horrible, idiotic argument; the kind of argument that would have set her off immediately if Ron had tried something so stupid. But this was Harry...and she really, really, really wanted to get Harry back to her quarters. To talk. Just to talk.
"Did you bring your cloak? If not we'll have to disillusion ourselves and that's much more-"
Harry grinned and immediately reached into a previously unseen pocket, a look of triumph on his face as he pulled out the magical object.
"I've put an expansion charm on all my trousers so I can keep it with me at all times. A friend of mine taught me to always be prepared."
Hermione desperately wanted to jump him then and there…on this rickety staircase in this dingy tavern…but she was so close. She was mere minutes away from having her long-awaited conversation with Harry…then perhaps a bit of jumping.
She resumed her trek up the stairs, pulling Harry with her, doing her best to avoid eye contact in order to stave off the jumping urges.
As if she was expecting them, Ariana nodded in acknowledgment before the portrait swung open. Hermione could have sworn Ariana had been smirking but she put it down to her alcohol riddled imagination.
The ten-minute trek through the tunnel was made in silence as Hermione pondered the monumental precipice she was poised to leap over with Harry. He had given every indication that he was just as willing to take the leap with her, but eight years of insecurities stopped her from truly believing it. She could not wait to take that leap.
After you have a proper conversation, her responsible side reminded once again, but it was very difficult to hear, because as they had made their way through the tunnel, Harry had pulled her close…or maybe she had done it herself. It was most likely the alcohol, but she couldn't quite keep track of which person was taking the initiative. It was intoxicating.
She could not wait to get back to her quarters. If she had her way, despite her responsible side's pleading, they were going to have as short a conversation as possible before they got to the 'jumping'.
She felt her heart plummet into her stomach as she crossed the threshold into the Room of Requirement and realized, to her horror, it had transformed into an exact replica of her bedroom. Not the Gryffindor common room, or the common room she shared with the Head Boy, but her bedroom. Apparently the sodding room had ignored all the bits in her mind about talking and expressing feelings and had gone with the fooling around in her bed bits. This was entirely the room's fault.
She dared to look at Harry, afraid of what she would see, and it appeared that he was just as embarrassed.
"I am so sorry, Hermione!" he exclaimed. "I promise I didn't want to come back here just to get into your knickers. I mean…I was hoping for that at some point...but I just wanted to talk!"
Harry took a seat on the bed and buried his head in his hands. "I can't believe I forgot about the room changing. I should have thought about the library or something."
A million thoughts were swirling in Hermione's alcohol addled brain…all to do with Harry and the fact that, to her joy, apparently he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She looked at him sitting on the replica of her bed, in her bedroom, and wanted to jump him so badly. But they needed to have a proper conversation.
She sat next to him on the bed and grabbed his hand, purposely intertwining their fingers, not daring to look at him properly. If she looked at him she was finished. Harry's outburst was going to make her confession much easier.
"Harry, I was the first person to walk into the room, and this is an exact replica of my bedroom at Hogwarts. You couldn't have conjured this even if you'd wanted to."
She heard Harry's deep inhale as he realized the implications of what she was saying.
"You mean that you…that we…that you and I both…."
And like an idiot, on instinct, she broke her rule and looked at Harry. She gazed into his eyes…and the goofy grin he was now sporting at the revelation that she and Harry…that they…were on the exact same page…was amazing. By some miracle she successfully fought off the urge to jump.
And then it happened: The grin morphed into the look. And not only had the look reappeared, it was a new and improved Super Deluxe Limited Edition with all the bells and whistles. Hermione always thought of herself as someone unfazed by the flashy extras, but in this instance, she wanted to blow the whistle, and she really wanted to ring the bell.
Before she could gather herself…before she could remind herself of the very important, thoroughly planned-out conversation that needed to take place…Harry started leaning forward…and suddenly the mere thought of ruining this moment with words seemed ridiculous. She and Harry had spent almost eight years either having conversations or running for their lives. She was tired of talking and she was bound and determined to never run again. It was time to jump.
Act III
The first thing Hermione noticed as she slowly returned to consciousness was how fuzzy her tongue felt. It felt inordinately fuzzy…which was quite a thing, because she couldn't remember a time when she'd even pondered the fuzziness of her tongue, let alone how inordinately fuzzy it felt at the moment.
The second thing she noticed was that the thought about the inordinate fuzziness of her tongue seemed to be floating through treacle in her brain. The thought was most definitely there…and it had eventually made it to the forefront of her mind…but it seemed a bit hazier and a bit slower to process than normal. She sat up, realized she wasn't wearing any clothes, and slowly the foggy memories from the prior evening came back to her.
She'd slept with Harry. She'd had more firewhisky than she'd planned, then snuck back into Hogwarts, and slept with Harry. She'd slept with Harry without having any actual conversations about what the implications were, what they meant to each other, or where they were headed. The only words spoken after she'd jumped him were her quick muttering of the contraception charm before flinging her wand aside.
That wasn't technically true, she realized. She'd repeated 'yes' and 'more' and other short bursts of commentary during the amazing proceedings as they unfolded, but that didn't count.
This was all wrong…so very wrong. She'd had a well thought out plan for last night and Harry and his blasted look had wonderfully shot it all to hell.
Her heart sank as she glanced to her side and realized Harry wasn't beside her; and not only was he not in bed, it appeared he'd gone. She had a fleeting thought that Harry had panicked and ran but she quickly disavowed herself of that notion. This was Harry, and if there was one immutable fact, when it came to the important things, Harry never ran. Never.
She spotted a green bottle and note perched on a nearby table and quickly lurched at it. Based on the current fogginess of her mental state, lurching, and especially doing it quickly, had been a mistake. Her head reacted to the sudden movement by sending shockwaves of pain through her skull.
Hermione caught herself and began moving much more slowly, as if there was a literal wall of treacle standing between her and Harry's missive. This slow, steady pace was much better, and within seconds the note was in her hands. She girded herself for the worst before beginning to read.
I'm sorry I had to leave, but I had to be somewhere early this morning, and I couldn't miss it.
I'm guessing you aren't allowed to travel to London, but hopefully another evening in Hogsmeade is allowed? If so, meet me at The Three Broomsticks at 6:00 tonight. We need to talk.
Love,
Harry
P.S. The bottle contains a hangover potion. Aberforth had a feeling we would both need them.
P.P.S. You have a message on your coin.
As validating as it was to learn that she had been right, that he hadn't run, Harry's cryptic message left his feelings frustratingly open ended. Did he think last night had been a mistake or did he think it was life-altering? Was he excited? Terrified? Confused? All of the above?
She knew Harry better than anyone, and based on his behavior the prior evening, her instincts told her that he felt the same; that last night was amazing, exciting and terrifying, but not confusing. But given the enormous stakes involved, and without being able to properly talk to Harry, she couldn't fully convince herself that she was correct.
She slowly reached for the bottle, no need for a repeat performance of those shockwaves, and hungrily swallowed the potion, exhaling as the cerebral treacle faded away and her tongue returned to its standard non-fuzzy state. Hermione was so wrapped up in her regained sense of normalcy and non-fuzziness, she briefly forgot about Harry's second postscript.
Oh god.
She reached for the communication coin that Harry had helpfully placed on the table and her stomach sank at the message.
I thought we'd planned on reviewing the agenda before our meeting with McG but I couldn't find you this morning, so I guess I'll see you there.
Michael
It was the first Saturday of the month. She and the Head Boy met with Headmistress McGonagall every first Saturday of the month, precisely at 10:00 in the morning, for a general discussion and status update on the happenings within the castle. Between Harry, the alcohol, and the jumping, she'd forgotten entirely about the meeting; the meeting that was due to begin, she looked at her watch, in fifteen sodding minutes.
Now that her brain, thanks to Aberforth Dumbledore, was fully functioning once again, seemingly a million thoughts hit her at once. The fifteen minutes she had to work with were barely enough time to make herself presentable and get to the Headmistress' office on time. And getting a change in clothes, or grabbing the meeting notes she'd written out days prior, weren't even worthy of consideration.
Hermione leapt from the bed and found her clothes carefully folded in a nearby chair, most likely thanks to Harry. As she dressed she exulted in the magnificence of the room as a hairbrush appeared. Showing up for her meeting in a disastrous state was inevitable; but thanks to the room and a bit of wand work, it would at least be slightly less disastrous.
After spending a few minutes doing the bare minimum to achieve slightly less disastrous status, Hermione headed for McGonagall's office in a sprint, ignoring the confused and amused students she passed along the way.
She blurted 'Fly On, You Bats" to the gargoyle and fought the urge to scream as she waited for the statue to allow her entrance. In the past, she'd never had an issue with the gargoyle's methodical machinations, but today his excruciatingly slow pace sent her around the bend. As she (finally) bounded up the steps, she checked her watch.
10:03
All things considered, it wasn't as disastrous as it could have been. She did her best to ignore the fact that she was arriving ten minutes later than any other meeting this year and focused on the fact that she'd somehow managed to only be three minutes late.
Hermione entered the room and found Michael and the headmistress engaged in a casual conversation on the current Quidditch season. At once, their conversation ceased and both pairs of eyes turned toward her. Michael looked relieved while the headmistress' attitude remained inscrutable beyond one slightly raised eyebrow.
"My apologies for being late," she mumbled, taking her seat and reflexively casting her eyes down toward her nonexistent notes. She felt thoroughly exposed and could practically feel McGonagall's eyes boring into her. Despite how stupid she knew it looked, Hermione continued to consider her empty lap filled with her imaginary notes.
"Mr. Corner, I would suggest you lead today's meeting. Any objections, Miss Granger?"
"No, ma'am," she replied, "none at all."
The meeting topics had been relatively benign and, thanks to Mr. Dumbledore, she'd been able to speak cogently whenever prompted for her input. The problem was, for the first time all year; she couldn't have cared less about anything being discussed.
The truly difficult parts of being Head Girl, navigating the minefield of interschool politics due to the sea change Harry's heroics had spawned, were for the most part, over, and the only things left were logistics: Insuring the proper scheduling and classroom assignments for N.E.W.T.'s and O.W.L.'s, providing feedback on next year's Head and Prefect assignments, discussing the timeline for the Leaving Feast and Hogwarts Express departure. Exceedingly routine, non-Harry related things.
The logical part of her brain knew these things were important…that she and Michael had laid a very tenuous and unstable foundation for what would hopefully be the 'new normal' at Hogwarts and beyond, and it was important to finish what she started to allow it to flourish and grow as much as possible. But the illogical, irrational and selfish side of her brain couldn't stop thinking about Harry and her future. Not the future of Hogwarts…or the Wizarding World…or her fellow muggleborns…or house elves…Hermione Jane Granger's future.
But beyond a hopeful future, her thoughts were consumed with the present. Last night had provided an amazing preview of what she could be experiencing once again mere hours from now. From everything she'd seen and read, one night stands were supposed to send you running for the hills, but it had only fueled the repressed desires she'd been experiencing over the last year. She'd been patient and bided her time regarding Harry, and now that she'd allowed herself one unselfish night, she needed more. Not in the future. Now.
But despite how amazing the prior evening had been, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about the very real possibility that she'd simply caught Harry at an alcohol induced moment of weakness and that he wasn't interested in the more she so desperately craved.
In spite of her brain's insistence on pondering Harry, she muddled through all the topics, interjecting just enough to pretend she was interested and engaged, and had even managed not to leap out of her seat when the headmistress called the meeting to a close. She had been so close to a clean getaway.
"Miss Granger, before you leave, may I have a word?"
As Michael shot her a look of sympathy before departing, Hermione fought the urge to actually leap and sprint out of the room. She opted to keep those thoughts to herself and replied "Certainly," before sinking back into her chair.
Instead of looking at her non-existent notes, she picked a spot just over the headmistress' left shoulder. Hermione watched Headmaster Dumbledore peacefully slumbering in his portrait and felt herself calm. When the school year had begun she'd expected the portrait to chime in early and often whenever there was a discussion to be had, but Dumbledore had remained silent the entire year, always opting to quietly observe the proceedings, or sleep. Mostly sleep.
"You seemed a bit distracted this morning. Is everything all right?" McGonagall asked.
"Oh, yes," Hermione reassured, trying and failing to come up with a lie, opting instead to provide a very watered-down version of the truth. "Just had a bit of a late night."
"Hmm…I trust the gathering at the Hog's Head went well?"
"Yes," she replied. Short and sweet answers were the best option.
"And Mr. Potter enjoyed himself? He seemed a bit nervous when I spoke to him yesterday."
Despite herself, Hermione grinned as her mind thought back to how much Mr. Potter had enjoyed himself. Twice.
"Yes. If that is all you need I really need to-"
"I have one more item I wanted to make you aware of, Miss Granger; something I suspected you wouldn't want Mr. Corner present for."
"Certainly," she repeated, once again fighting the urge to leap and run.
The headmistress reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a newspaper. McGonagall shot her a cryptic look as she slid the paper across her desk.
"Page Five."
As she processed the contents of Page Five, it felt as if fourth year was playing out all over again.
Love At Long Last For Our Heroes?
It wasn't even a real article, just a few words about the after-party at the Hog's Head the previous evening. The words were irrelevant, because the accompanying picture was worth a thousand words.
It was her and Harry. Harry was saying something while she listened on, embedded into his side, smiling and rubbing his arm, seemingly oblivious to everything and everyone surrounding the pair. She recalled being fascinated by Harry's bicep and wanting to touch it, and thought she had successfully fought off the urge. This picture told an entirely different story. Her fingers seemed to be examining every inch…on repeat.
This was bad. Very, very bad. Not only had she jumped Harry before having a proper conversation, her groping had put Harry's love life on display yet again. Thanks to a slightly friendlier version of The Daily Prophet, it was tucked away on Page Five amidst the overall coverage of yesterday's festivities, and the caption had been relatively benign, but this was the last thing she needed. She was tired of Harry having to be in the spotlight, and her dreamy smile and examinations had once again put his love life front and center for all the world to see.
"I believe you are aware that a few of us in the Order have continued to meet?" McGonagall prompted.
Hermione nodded as she continued to stare at the picture.
"One of our main focuses is to increase protection of the castle while still allowing for emergency escape routes should they be necessary. As such, Aberforth and I have set up a system: We've left the tunnel from his tavern unblocked in case it is needed, and I am also alerted by the Room whenever it is entered. If it is an authorized use, Aberforth sends me a Patronus, informing me of who is entering the castle."
Oh god.
McGonagall continued. "If it had been anyone else this discussion would be quite different. I would be deducting points, levying detentions and threatening expulsion if anyone was foolish enough to try such a thing again."
"I can explain-"
McGonagall held up her hands, signaling that she wasn't finished speaking. Hermione was grateful for the additional time to concoct a believable lie.
"I don't expect my Heads to be perfectly behaved. Given their age and service to the school, I've always afforded them a bit of leeway and freedom when it comes to rule enforcement; in fact I encourage it. Based on the reports I've received from the elves, Mr. Corner has had no problem striking a healthy balance between his duties and enjoying himself, but I've been concerned about you."
Hermione finally dared to look at the Headmistress. "You're saying you wished I had broken more rules?"
McGonagall chuckled. "This year has been difficult, unlike any I have ever experienced at Hogwarts, and you and Michael have provided a great service to the school. I am simply saying that I would have been happy if you had taken more breaks and enjoyed yourself a bit more along the way. Based on what Kingsley has shared, Mr. Potter seems to be suffering from a similar affliction in his new position, and I was hoping, at the very least, that your rule-breaking last night resulted in you both enjoying yourself."
She felt her face warm and noticed in her periphery that Dumbledore was now awake and waiting on her answer. She'd always suspected the portrait had been feigning sleep over the last year and it appeared her suspicions were correct. Hermione fought through the utter bizarreness of her current situation and forced herself to respond.
"Yes," she finally managed, "we both had a lot of…fun; so much that I'm hoping to meet Harry tonight in Hogsmeade. Will that be a problem?"
McGonagall smiled. "As long as you inform Mr. Corner I have no issues with you spending the entire weekend outside of the castle. Such a break is long overdue."
Hermione's heart soared at the thought of spending the entire evening and next day with Harry. "Thank you, ma'am."
"That is all," McGonagall informed. Hermione didn't need to be told twice, anxious to end this awkward yet empowering conversation.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall called moments before she made her exit, "please inform Mr. Potter that he is welcome to visit the castle whenever he'd like, but I'd prefer if he used the front gate going forward."
ONS ONS ONS ONS
Hermione could practically feel her heart bursting out of her chest. While she'd initially been perfectly content to wait until 6:00, their appearance in the Daily Prophet, McGonagall's weekend pass, and her desire to confirm exactly where she stood with Harry, made the wait unbearable.
Was it a date? A polite conversation to discuss that, while the prior evening had been fun, they were better off as friends and couldn't risk trying for more, not to mention their potentially disparate plans for the future? And what of that Ministry policy disregarding slag-
She tried once again to stop the constant buzzing of these thoughts repeating on a loop in her brain. That infernal loop and her impatience had led her here, in front of Harry's flat, a full two hours before their planned reunion.
As she knocked on the front door, she desperately wished she had access to Aberforth's bottomless firewhisky glass to help settle her nerves. As the seconds passed, and the door remained unanswered, Hermione's anxiety soared to new heights. Just as she was about to give up hope, the door opened.
"Hermione!" Harry greeted with a surprised smile before glancing back over his shoulder. "Oh shit," he blurted before disappearing back into his flat.
"Come in!" she heard him call, "and sorry about the mess."
She'd expected to find dirty clothes or empty takeaway boxes strewn about, but was met with an entirely different sort of chaos. Throughout the room, various muggle and magical toys seemed to cover every square inch of the floor. Hermione barely had enough time to process this situation before a small boy with hair very similar to Harry's whizzed into the room on a toy broom, quickly followed by Harry.
"Gotcha," Harry exclaimed as he snatched the boy off the broom and into his arms, causing the young child to scream in delight.
"Could you do me a favor and levitate the broomstick into that box up there?" Harry asked as he pointed to a nearby shelf. "I left my wand in the other room and Ted will summon it again if I turn my back for a second."
She did as Harry requested and sent the toy broom on the way to its cage, causing Teddy's laughter to instantly disappear. It was clear that Teddy considered that box to be his enemy, and that the enemy had won. And worse still, she herself had aided and abetted the enemy.
"Here it comes, might want to cast that sound dampening spell from last night," Harry muttered before his godson let out an unholy wail.
Teddy was staring at her now, enraged and utterly forlorn at her betrayal. She hadn't seen Teddy for six months and the first thing she'd done was destroy all his hopes and dreams. Not the best of starts.
As she cast the spell and the wails faded to a dull roar, Teddy buried himself into his godfather's side. Harry began rubbing his back and speaking softly into his ear, and his godson eventually calmed down. After several moments Teddy exclaimed, "Train!"
"Could you do the honors again?" Harry asked as he gestured to the miniature version of the Hogwarts Express sitting on the floor nearby. "Just give it a tap."
She did as requested and the train instantly came to life, floating along on its invisible track as small puffs of smoke began billowing out of its chimney.
"Toot!" Teddy said in a near shout as he looked at her expectantly.
Not knowing what to do and desperate not to waste this chance at redemption with Teddy, she acted on her first impulse.
"Choo choo?"
It wasn't very good and it only served to confuse Teddy. Clearly this was not what was expected of her. Harry, on the other hand, looked very amused as he mimicked waving a wand in the direction of the train. She did as instructed and the train whistle began to sound, causing Teddy to begin clapping and give shambling chase as the train disappeared into the kitchen.
"He'll be fine," Harry informed, "every inch of this place has been charmed with safety spells. Andi wouldn't let Ted within five miles otherwise."
An awkward silence settled on the room. This was the first time they'd been alone since the jumping, and suddenly, inexplicably, she was at a loss for words.
Best to get what she hoped would be the worst part over with. "Have you seen today's Prophet?"
"Haven't read a copy in months. Why?" Harry replied as one eyebrow quirked ever so slightly upward.
"Page Five," she muttered, handing over the copy she'd brought with her.
She'd expected Harry to be angry…or annoyed…or embarrassed, but he was none of those things. He simply examined the picture, then once again leveled her with the look.
"Harr-"
She was interrupted by an alarm sounding, followed immediately by Teddy scrambling as quickly as he could manage back into the room.
"Bus!" he declared in an exultant scream and latched onto Harry's leg once again.
Just as she was set to look for a toy bus amongst the maelstrom Harry provided the answer.
"He's talking about the Knight Bus. That alarm means it's time to go back to Andi's. Ted hates app-, the 'A' word, but loves the Knight Bus. Would you mind waiting here for a few minutes while I take him back?"
"Bus!" Teddy repeated, now with a bit of fire. It was clear that he did not appreciate the delay in getting to ride the Knight Bus.
"Get your jacket," Harry informed, causing Teddy to scurry across the room.
"Did you need any help packing up?" she offered.
"Nah, all of this stuff stays here. I've ended up buying all these toys over the last few months. Andi would throttle me if she knew about the broom."
"Nappies?" she asked.
"Have my own supply," Harry replied as he zipped up Teddy's jacket. "Ready to go?" he asked his godson.
"Bus!" Teddy exulted again as he lifted his arms, expectantly waiting for Harry to pick him up.
Hermione had no plans to have children of her own for at least a decade, but seeing Harry and Teddy together stirred something unique and new inside her. She mentally chastised herself for not only getting ahead of herself again, but in an entirely new way. Imaginary futures of black-haired, green-eyed children running about would need to wait until, at the very least, they'd had their conversation.
"I'll be back in ten minutes, do not go anywhere," Harry informed. "Say goodbye, Ted."
Teddy didn't speak, it was clear his mind was focused on the exciting journey he was about to embark on. The best the boy could manage was a distracted wave as he and Harry exited the flat.
She moved to the nearby window and watched as Harry lifted Teddy onto his shoulders and the boy latched onto his ride's hair. It was an extraordinarily mundane and ordinary moment. Harry wasn't jumping around or acting silly to entertain the toddler, and Teddy wasn't giggling or bouncing in joy. Their ease and nonchalance spoke to how often such a scene had played out over the last few months, and she profoundly felt the weight of how much of Harry's life she had missed over the last year.
She'd known all of Harry's foibles and routines, but time had moved on and there was so much she now didn't know. She hated not knowing things in general, especially when it involved Harry. Thanks to his letters she knew that he spent every Saturday with Teddy, but seeing it with her own eyes had seemingly done the impossible: It had somehow made her even fonder of Harry Potter.
The minutes seemed to tick by at a glacial pace as she waited for Harry's return. She'd done her best to pass the time by placing all of Teddy's things back into the nearby toy box but, thanks to magic, that task had taken mere seconds. She took a seat on the sofa in an effort to force herself not to wander and explore Harry's flat.
Did he have a picture of them in his bedroom similar to the one on her bedside table? If she accidentally/on purpose took a peek in his bathroom cabinet would she find an extra toothbrush for a recurring nighttime guest? The answer was so tantalizingly close, but she bit back on the urge. She refused to get caught snooping despite how strong the desire pulled at her consciousness.
Her anxiety eventually got the best of her and she allowed herself to venture into the kitchen. She hadn't been in Harry's flat since the week he'd moved in, and marveled at how 'lived in' it now felt. She'd missed so much.
She was all set to look in Harry's icebox when she heard the familiar crack of apparition coming from Harry's bedroom. Remnants of the paranoia and fear that had been ingrained into her consciousness during their year on the run still remained, and someone apparating into a nearby room would normally have put her on alert. But she knew what Harry's magic felt and sounded like: It was strong and safe and comforting and she could feel it practically calling out to her. She leaned against the kitchen counter and faced Harry's bedroom door, waiting for him. This was it.
When Harry appeared, he didn't seem to be anxious at all. There were no furtive glances or shy grins, only that look as he made his way across the room, placed his hands on her waist, and began to lean in. Yes.
"Wait!" she managed to spit out moments before they made contact. Between the look and Harry's hands on her waist, she'd barely been able to coherently form that one word sentence. If they had actually made contact, her vocabulary would have instantly reverted back to only a few words (yes, more, right there, etc.).
At her words, the uncomfortable look she'd anticipated earlier appeared as Harry took a step back and pulled his hands away as if he'd touched a hot stove. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "I thought after last night that you and I…that we- I'm sorry."
Hermione could not believe how thoroughly she had bollixed this up with one word. To be fair, the actual word hadn't been the problem. If she'd managed to say in a slightly less banshee-like manner Harry more than likely wouldn't be currently standing on the opposite side of the room.
"Wait," she repeated in a much softer, non-banshee like tone. She'd thought about this moment for months and had come up with multiple ideas for what she could and should say, going so far as to write down several drafts, but whatever words she'd planned and plotted out were lost to time as she looked into Harry's eyes. Planned and plotted out speeches weren't necessary, because this was Harry, and Harry was strong…and safe…and comforting. And he would never run away.
"We skipped ahead so many steps last night. I need to know how you feel about me. I need to know what last night meant."
Harry slowly began making a silent return trip across the room, and in no time those amazing hands were back on her waist.
"Do you know what the biggest rumor about me at the Ministry is these days?" he asked. "Most people there are convinced I'm gay because I haven't dated for months and I'm clueless when women flirt with me. If Padma's to be believed, there's a fairly large pool at work on which bloke I'm secretly dating. Ron is the odds on favorite."
Harry took one of his amazing hands off of her waist and she instantly missed its presence. He began idly playing with a lock of her hair and she fought the urge to lean into his touch.
"I sorted something out during the Christmas hols, but I was too much of a coward to act on it at the time. I'd meant to wait until after term was over because I knew you'd be focused on exams, but between Andi and Padma telling me how stupid I was being, and then getting to properly spend time with you last night, I found a bit of courage, and I ended up having the best night of my life."
Harry's hand was back on her waist now and he was gently pulling her away from the counter. She didn't resist.
"I don't think you're right…about us skipping steps. I think we were both too stupid or too scared to realize how many steps we'd taken already. You're it for me, Hermione, and I feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Last night was the next step after taking the wrong ones for years and then standing still for entirely too long."
Whenever she had imagined how this conversation would go, be it positive or negative, or any of the possible permutations in between, she'd always imagined it would last much longer. But as her heart filled to bursting from only a few spoken sentences, she realized that Harry was right; she hadn't jumped Harry, she'd merely taken the next step. She also realized that he was taking entirely too long with his drifting and took her own step forward.
Her last conscious thought was how grateful she was for thinking to bring her beaded bag, packed with a fresh set of clothes, her toothbrush, and the worn Quidditch jersey she'd nicked from Harry last year, because she had no plans on leaving Harry's flat anytime soon.