Chapter 5
September 2001
At the Ministry Gala, Hermione was at the end of a twirl when someone (who wasn't her date) grabbed her waist and pulled her into them.
"I'm cutting in, Nott." Harry said challengingly over her shoulder as he stepped back and pulled Hermione with him.
Hermione turned and shot Theo an apologetic smile. He didn't look surprised. She'd already warned him something like this would happen. Theo shrugged and cocked his head toward the bar.
"Yeah, I'll meet you over there in a minute," she told him before turning back to Harry.
Harry was so angry that initially, he couldn't speak. He kept a hand on Hermione's waist to steady himself. With his other hand, he grabbed one of hers and started moving them around the dance floor as he tried to get his temper under control.
After half the song had passed, and Harry still hadn't said a word, Hermione spoke up. "You're angry," she stated, unnecessarily.
Harry set his jaw and said through gritted teeth, "Remember that murder/suicide thing?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Theo is not Draco Malfoy."
"He's close."
Hermione decided to stay quiet. She knew there was no reasoning with Harry when he was like this. She let him pull her roughly around the dance floor, his moves clunky and off the beat, and decided that once the song was over, she'd leave him and go back to her date.
"Are you just trying to upset Ron?" Harry growled after a while. "Memorizing Quidditch plays is one thing. This. I never pegged you as a-"
Hermione cast a quick silencing charm with the wave of her hand. "I'm going to stop you there. Before you say something you regret. Look at me. This is me, Harry. You know me."
She stopped in front of him and looked at him imploringly. Harry shook his head and removed her silencing spell.
"I thought I knew you," he said nastily. He was acting as if she'd personally offended him in some way. She was about to open her mouth to speak when he leaned in and sneered, "Are you really this desperate for a shag?"
As soon as he said it, Harry knew he'd gone too far. Hermione's reaction confirmed it. She pushed him and he stumbled backward. "Dammit, Harry! I know I said this was like the Yule Ball last week, but I didn't realize how close it would get."
Tears filled her eyes and her lip began to quiver, which finally snapped Harry out of his rage. "But I'm not a teenager anymore," she continued, "and I'm not going to let you treat me like this."
"Hermione," Harry said, reaching for her arm, "I -"
She pulled her arm violently from his grasp. Then, realizing people were starting to notice them, she took a step closer to Harry so they wouldn't be overheard.
"Listen to me, Pookie." Harry winced at the disdain in her tone. It was nothing like the usual levity with which they threw around pet names.
"Contrary to what's being said about us in the papers, we are not together, and you have no claim on me. I know you're going through something, Harry, and I'm committed to helping you. And I know you're lashing out right now because you're scared I'm going to leave you alone - but this is me. When have I ever not been there when you needed me? It's insulting that you think I'd abandon you now."
Hermione took a deep breath and dropped her head. "Bloody hell. Now I'm crying and people are going to see, and there's going to be an article later about some lover's spat between us, and if I leave now, like I really want to, it'll just make it worse."
Harry pulled her close, guiding her head to his shoulder, then started swaying with her on the spot. "Fuck. I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered in her ear. "You're right. Please forgive me."
She kept her forehead pressed against his shoulder while Harry looked around. A few people were watching them, but there were no cameras, and he hadn't noticed any flashes so far. As long as she recovered in the next few minutes, they should be able to avoid any unsavory articles about them. Some of the onlookers were already losing interest.
Harry focused back on Hermione. He had one hand on her back and could feel her taking deep, deliberate breaths under his palm. He felt like shit. She'd been smiling when he'd first grabbed her from Nott, and now this. He had done this.
"Okay," she whispered, then lifted her head. "Is my makeup all messed up?" She began swiping her bottom lashes with her fingertips.
Harry's chest clenched at the unmistakable pain he saw in her beautiful, brown eyes. He wiped a few errant tears from her cheek with the back of his hand, then a small smudge of makeup away from the side of her eye with his thumb.
"You're good," he said with a tentative smile. She didn't return it. She took one final, deep breath and stepped back from him, just out of his reach. The final notes of the song they'd been dancing to were echoing through the ballroom.
She gave him a small curtsy and said with forced politeness, "Thank you for the dance, Harry. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night."
"Wait!" Harry grabbed her arm before she could turn away. "Can we pretend the past few minutes didn't happen, and that I'm here asking you to dance with me for the first time tonight?"
Harry held his hand out to her and she narrowed her eyes at it. They both knew that by gesturing to her like this, in the middle of the ballroom, he was pretty much guaranteeing she wouldn't say no. Hermione took a deep breath and straightened her spine, then gave Harry one, slow nod before placing her hand in his.
He let out a sigh of relief and took her other hand. Before closing the space between them, he held her hands down at their sides as he took in her appearance for the first time that night. She was wearing a long, burgundy dress with lace along the sleeves and bodice. Her hair was down in loose curls and she was wearing a touch of makeup - just enough to accentuate her features, but not so much that she didn't look like herself.
"You look stunning," he said simply.
Hermione got the sense that it pained him to say so. She looked down at the dress she'd picked out with Ginny the weekend before. It was a very pretty dress.
"Thank you." Hermione took a step forward and placed one hand on his shoulder and repositioned the other one in his hand.
She felt stiff in Harry's arms, but at least she was here. He knew she'd only agreed to this dance because they were being watched, and for the first time in his life, he was glad for the spotlight that followed him everywhere he went.
They danced in silence and Hermione noted that Harry was a much better dancer when he wasn't stomping around in rage. His steps were lighter and he was moving in closer alignment to the music. Though he still missed a few steps and was pretty bad at cueing her to his next move. He was nothing compared to Theo, who had admitted earlier that he'd been dancing in ballrooms since he could walk.
"You're pretty bad at this," she said bluntly.
"I didn't grow up in an elite, high society like your bigotted date." Harry managed to catch the words before they left his mouth. He silently congratulated himself on his restraint as he said aloud, "I know."
Harry took a deep breath, then asked as evenly as he could manage, "How did you and, uh, Nott - um...How did this - "
"He's been helping me with my new law," she explained. "Remember how the Elders told me I needed a Pureblood perspective? Well, I started going around to every member of Pureblood society who works at the Ministry. Theo was the first one amenable to helping me. He's not as bad as you're assuming."
Harry had very few memories of Theo Nott from school. He was always in the background of Malfoy's gang, looking bored. When Harry had met him a few times since the war, during inspections of Nott Manor, he'd been cooperative with the Aurors, though extremely quiet.
His father was at Azkaban, leaving Theo behind to run the estate and try to rebuild his family's reputation. The Notts were taking the same course of action the Malfoys were, renouncing their previous errors and prejudices in an effort to regain their standing in society. And now the head of the Nott family was dating a famous Muggleborn, how convenient.
"I'm just going to ask this once, I promise," Harry said in a low voice.
Hermione pursed her lips.
"This has nothing to do with upsetting Ron?"
"No."
"And the fact that his father was a Death Eater, and that he was friends with those Slytherins who taunted you in school-"
"Harry…" she said warningly.
"Yeah, okay. I trust you. I do."
A silence settled between them again, but it wasn't comfortable, like most of their silences. This one was heavy and awkward. Hermione could tell Harry was feeling it, too. With the hand he had propped on her shoulder, he was nervously rubbing his thumb along the hem of her sleeve as he stared at it thoughtfully and chewed his lip. When he noticed her watching him, he gave her a small, tentative smile.
She was still angry with him for hurting her feelings earlier, but she could tell he was sorry for how he'd acted and was trying hard to make up for it. She returned his smile and Harry's shoulders relaxed. This was the first smile she'd given him since they'd started dancing.
"In this whole Yule Ball re-do, I never imagined you'd play the part of Ron," she teased.
Harry's smile widened. He recognized the jibe for what it was - a peace offering. "And I never imagined you'd play the part of Daphne," he replied with a wry smile.
Hermione hit him and let out a laugh. With that, they were back to their normal, playful selves. The awkwardness was gone, though it was still lurking just beneath the surface. Something had shifted between them, but they were both determined to ignore it, for now.
"How's it going with Malinda?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, okay."
"Really? That good?"
"I took her out for drinks just before this, and her first question was: 'So tell me, what was your life like before Hogwarts? You always gloss over that part of your past in interviews.'"
Hermione cringed. "Damn. She really put her foot in it. Twice! I should have prepared her better."
Harry smiled. "Twice indeed. First forcing me to think of the Dursleys, then admitting she'd read up on me."
"In fairness to her, everyone reads those articles about you."
"Not you."
"Yeah...well." Hermione sighed and looked around the ballroom. "Where is she now?"
"Who?"
"The person we were just talking about, Malinda."
"No idea," Harry replied, unapologetically.
"Harry," she scolded. "Give her another chance, okay? You need to be careful, if you're rude to too many witches tonight, we may write to Witch Weekly and have them dock your ranking on the eligible bachelor list."
He opened his mouth to ask who would replace him, then he thought of Nott, and wondered if he was on the list, but he didn't ask. He and Hermione were joking again, and he didn't want to do anything to muck it up.
"Noted. I'll find her after this song is over and apologize for leaving her alone. Now tell me, did I make up for being such a wanker, earlier? Or are you going to tell Witch Weekly on me?"
Hermione smirked at something behind Harry, then stopped in place. "I need you to do one thing for me, then you're forgiven."
"Anything. What is it?"
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then whispered, "Take care of this," focusing on something over Harry's shoulder.
Harry turned to find a very angry, red-faced Ron. Hermione patted Ron on the chest and mumbled, "Hi, Ron. Bye, Ron," before walking back to the bar to rejoin her date.
Ron looked at Harry, incredulous. Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of the room. "Come on, let's get a drink," he muttered under his breath. "Then you can help me find my date."
"I - what - you're just going to let her walk off? With a Slytherin?" Ron hissed. "His father was a Death Eater. He called her a Mudblood in school, and she-"
Harry turned toward Ron and said under his breath, "Not here. Believe me, I know, and there's nothing more I want to do now than to stun her and cart her off so that vile son of a Death Eater can't lay another hand on her. But this is Hermione. She's a grown witch, and she's not stupid, and we have to trust her."
Ron shook his head before storming off. He was in no mood for Harry's maturity right now. He needed a drink, and then a long walk outside before he did something he'd regret. Harry watched him leave and when it was clear he wasn't going to approach Hermione, decided to leave him alone. Ron would be fine. He'd come a long way since the Yule Ball. Too bad Harry couldn't say the same for himself.
He turned back to the couple that had caused all this drama. Hermione was laughing at something, her head thrown back. While she was distracted, Nott took the opportunity to sweep his eyes up and down her body. Harry knew from his expression exactly what he was thinking.
A dragon started to roar in his chest and Harry's eyes widened in alarm. Fucking hell, he knew this feeling, but it had been ages since he'd encountered it. It hadn't been since Sixth Year. But no, it wasn't that -
Just then, someone touched his arm, causing him to jump. He turned to find Malinda. "Oh, sorry to scare you."
"No, you're fine," he said, shaking his head. "Um - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run off. I had to tell Hermione something, uh, urgently."
"Right." Malinda took a sip of the Champagne she was holding. "Do you want to dance?" She motioned to the dance floor and was about to put her glass down when Harry shook his head again.
"I could use a drink first, if that's okay." Actually, ten drinks, he thought, but he'd start with one.
"Okay, sure."
An hour later, Hermione was on the edge of the ballroom, finishing off her wine, when Theo leaned in and whispered, "Your Auror ex-boyfriends are going to kill me."
She let out a sigh. She didn't need to turn around to see Harry and Ron. She could feel their eyes on her and had been catching them glaring at her and Theo all night.
"Only one of them is an ex-boyfriend. The relationship with Harry was fake, just something the papers made up."
Theo thought it looked like more but didn't say so. His attention was drawn back to Hermione, who had placed a hand on his shoulder and was leaning in to whisper something in his ear. "Do you want to go?"
"Absolutely." Theo wrapped his arm around Hermione and led her to the exit. He could feel her bodyguards shooting daggers at him but resisted the urge to look back and smirk. He had too strong a sense of self-preservation for a move like that.
Across the ballroom, Harry was half-listening to Malinda describe a recent trip she'd taken to France when he saw Hermione and Nott leaving the room. Nott had his arm draped possessively around Hermione, which awakened that dragon from earlier.
It was so odd that he was reacting to this Hermione and Nott situation with jealousy. He didn't like Hermione like that, did he? No, of course not. It was just like she said, he had become very close to her over the past few months and was panicking at the thought of losing her. But she wasn't going anywhere.
Logically, he knew that. He just wished someone would tell the angry, fire-breathing dragon in his chest.
Malinda watched Harry's expression harden during her recounting of her day-trip to Versailles. His green eyes were bright and fierce and his jaw was set into a scowl she'd never seen in any of his photos from the papers.
She thought to herself that she was finally seeing the Harry Potter capable of killing You-Know-Who. She wondered what had caused this reaction in Harry and turned her head to follow his gaze. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the source of Harry's ire: Hermione Granger and her handsome date.
Once they'd arrived, Harry had abandoned Malinda immediately to go dance with Hermione, leaving her all alone, in a room of people she didn't know. He'd apologized after and fed her some bullshit excuse, but since then he'd been kind and attentive, and she'd been ready to give him another chance. Maybe he had needed to discuss some urgent matter with Hermione. Who knew what sort of special Auror business he was taking care of?
But now, it was obvious what was really going on. She could read it off his face as clearly as if it were written there in bright, purple ink. The murderous look in his eye was directed at Hermione's date. It was clear Harry would kill for Hermione, and Malinda would have found that level of devotion sexy, had it not been directed at another witch.
Then, Malinda made a fatal error. She took her insecurities and projected them onto Hermione.
"It's a shame she doesn't make more of an effort."
"Who?" Harry asked. He turned back and looked almost surprised to see her there, which further annoyed Malinda.
She motioned toward the dark hall where Hermione and her date had disappeared. "Hermione."
Harry looked confused. "What do you mean? Hermione works harder than everyone."
Malinda shrugged and started running her finger around the rim of her glass. "I'm talking about her appearance. She looks pretty tonight, which just goes to show she knows how to do it all, but most days, at the office, she's just so...plain looking."
Harry's expression darkened and he stepped back, like he wanted to put as much distance between him and Malinda as possible. "What a terrible thing to say. Why would you say that? Aren't you friends with her?"
Malinda realized her error, too late. She tried to backtrack. "Hermione's great, of course. I'm just saying, for someone who works so hard, like you said, she sort of gave up when it comes to her looks. That's all."
Malinda shrugged and drained her drink.
Harry gave her a withering glare, and to Malinda's credit, she didn't cower. She straightened her spine and tried to smile as Harry raked his eyes up and down her body. He wasn't doing it in a lewd way, but it made her feel naked, nonetheless
She tried to look impassive, but internally she was kicking herself. She should have known better than to poke fun at Hermione. Malinda had been looking forward to this date all week, and to have Harry so interested in another witch had hurt, but making fun of said witch, who he clearly cared about, wasn't the way to win Harry's affections. She was wondering if she could still salvage this, when Harry continued speaking, his tone cold.
"I assume you're talking about how she doesn't usually wear makeup or do her hair up, but I prefer that. She looks like herself, all the time. Not like some witches who wear so much makeup, that when you see them in the morning, you wonder if it's the same person you were out with the night before."
Malinda's eyes widened. Her eyelashes were thickened with a spell, her lips were colored a deep maroon, and she had on a skin perfecting salve that made her face glow slightly. She pursed her colored lips and gulped, maintaining Harry's harsh glare.
"Is that something you've seen?" she said challengingly. "Hermione, first thing in the morning?"
If there had been any chance of salvaging the night, it was gone now. "That's none of your business," Harry growled.
Malinda crossed her arms and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "You'd rather be here with her, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he said quickly and without shame.
"Then why aren't you?"
He drained his drink before responding. "I waited too long to ask her."
Well, at least they were speaking frankly now. They both preferred it to the forced conversation from earlier. Malinda leaned against the bar, wondering where she'd gone wrong. It wasn't just the Hermione thing, even before then Harry had been distant. Maybe he was always like this.
He was nothing like the genial, charming Harry Potter she saw in the papers. This one was dark, with moods that changed on a sickle. If this was the real Harry Potter, Hermione could have him. Although it appeared that even she didn't want him.
"So what now, Harry?"
"Let's go dance. You can get photographed with me a few more times, which is all you really wanted, right?"
She rolled her eyes. "Fine."
Harry and Malinda ended up staying at the Gala until it ended. It was a pretty bad date, but not Harry's worst, and he was hesitant to end it, since he knew he'd just end up home alone. At least Malinda wasn't fawning over him. It was oddly refreshing being with someone who didn't like him, for once, especially since he didn't like himself much right now either.
He still felt awful for being rude to Hermione earlier, and another part of him thought her being with Nott tonight was somehow his fault, too. So he focused on Malinda for the rest of the night, even though they sort of hated each other, dancing and introducing her to colleagues and putting off the inevitable moment when he'd return home and have nothing else to do but think of Hermione and Nott, and where they'd gone, and what they were doing there.
It was Sunday night, and Harry was with Neville, in the small greenhouse behind his cottage. They were both sitting at a table touching the leaves of several small, potted shrubs. The shrubs had hundreds of light green, oval leaves the size of a fingertip and every time Harry touched one, it glowed a soft blue and made his finger tingle.
Neville had instructed him to touch all the leaves until the entire plant was glowing blue. It was oddly relaxing, which was just what he needed right now.
Harry hadn't seen Hermione since the Ministry Gala on Friday night. He'd sent an owl Saturday, to see if she wanted to hang out, but she hadn't responded, and she'd also skipped lunch at the Burrow earlier today. Was she holed up in some bedroom with Nott? Harry felt sick every time he thought about it.
Then, he felt guilty. She was his best friend and if she was moving on, that was a good thing, right? Even if it was with Theo Nott. The dragon roared in his chest again. Why couldn't it be someone else? Though Harry had a niggling feeling that the dragon would be here, making him feel angry, sick, and betrayed, no matter who it was.
"You okay, Harry?"
Harry hummed in response, then slid the pot he'd been working on across the table to Neville. Neville touched a few leaves he'd missed before placing it on a shelf behind him, then handed Harry a new plant to work on.
"What do these plants do?" Harry asked.
"They make a very powerful numbing salve, for healing. It's ironic, since they require human touch to grow, then later, go on to take it away."
"There's probably some metaphor there," Harry said absently.
"Yeah, also a few dirty jokes."
Harry let out a forced laugh then began touching the leaves on the next plant.
It was obvious Harry was down about something. He never called Neville up just to hang out alone, and when Neville had explained he had to work in the greenhouse tonight, and Harry had still wanted to come over and had even offered to help, Neville knew for sure there was something wrong.
Neville started reaching around in his mind for possible sources for Harry's bad mood. "Uh, how's Ginny?"
"Good. She's trying out for International Quidditch teams. I'm sure she'll make at least one, she's a brilliant Chaser."
Harry seemed sincere, and not upset. So he wasn't sad about Ginny. Then Neville remembered the article in the Prophet this morning with photos from the Ministry Gala. Harry had been with a tall, thin, and striking dark-haired witch. Maybe she was the problem?
"I saw photos in the paper today from the Ministry Gala." Harry's expression darkened and Neville knew he was on to something. "Uh, you were with a witch I've never met. Is that - er - a thing now? Are you dating?"
"No." Harry stopped touching the plant and leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips (which were still tingling slightly) together.
"She was awful," he went on to explain. "She called Hermione plain. Hermione. The nicest person; the one who had personally helped Malinda get acquainted with her new job and the person who had set us up. What is wrong with some people?"
Neville shook his head as he continued working on his plant. "Witches are like that sometimes, super mean to each other."
"They are?"
"Yeah. You should hear some of the things Hannah and her sisters say to each other. And they're all Hufflepuffs."
"Why are they like that?"
Neville shrugged. "It's a thing with witches. Like, when a bloke is feeling down about something, we just go sulk around, get a drink at the pub, or fly (if you're not awful at it, like I am). Witches attack other witches; it's how they deal with their own insecurities, sometimes.
"And Hermione's so brilliant and incredible with spells, and when you add on everything she did during the war, and her success at work so far - it's not surprising some witches would see that and be desperate to find some sort of flaw."
"I've never heard of that. Ginny and Hermione don't do that."
"Yeah, well, there are bound to be exceptions. Ginny grew up with all those brothers, so she's always acted more like one of the guys. And Hermione, well, you said it, she's the nicest person ever."
Harry hummed and went back to touching the leaves on his plant. Then, a little while later, he said out of nowhere, "Do you think Hermione's pretty?"
"What?"
"Do you think she's pretty?" Harry repeated. "When Malinda was calling her plain, all I was thinking was, 'Is she? Really? Because I've always thought she was pretty. Am I missing something?'"
Oh, you're certainly missing something, Harry, Neville thought to himself. There was a joke among Hannah, Luna, Rolf, and him that Harry and Hermione were dating without even realizing it, but maybe that was a lot closer to the truth than they'd realized.
"I do think she's pretty," Neville said eventually. "Her hair is nice and curly now, not all bushy like it was in school. And I like her eyes - they're expressive - you can always tell what she's thinking. And the rest of her face is all symmetrical and stuff, so I'd say you're right. She's pretty."
Harry hummed again as he worked on touching the back of the shrub.
"What about you?" Neville asked, trying to suppress his smirk. "Why do you think she's pretty?"
Harry was quiet and when Neville looked over, he saw he was chewing on his lip and looking thoughtful, like he was seriously considering the question. "I agree with you about her hair and eyes. I like those parts. Also, her mouth. She has a good mouth, too."
Neville had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Was Harry hearing himself? "Yeah?" he managed to choke out.
"What?" Harry looked up and found Neville smirking.
"You like her mouth."
Harry shrugged. "I mean, I like her smile. I don't like her mouth all the time, like when it's frowning or when it's calling me Pookie."
"Pookie?"
"It's my least favorite pet name. She called me that at the Gala, which is how I knew she was really mad at me. And I deserved it, I was an arse."
Neville didn't know where to start with the hundred questions that just popped into his head. He went with the most obvious one first. "You call each other pet names?"
Harry waved him away. "It's a long story." Neville shook his head. It didn't seem like they were even trying to pretend they were just friends anymore. This was definitely more serious than he'd realized.
"And why was she angry with you?"
"She showed up with Theo Nott and I lost my shit. I was rude to her, and, yeah…"
"So you were...jealous?"
"I don't think so," Harry said distantly as he focused on his plant. "It felt the same as jealousy, but I think it was just because I was worried she was going to abandon me, as, like, a friend, you know?"
"No, I don't know."
Harry tried to explain. "We've become really close lately as we've both been healing from our breakups. And the thought of her dating, it just scared me, since I thought she'd get all busy and stop hanging out with me. But just because she has a boyfriend, doesn't mean we can't be friends, right?"
Neville kept his gaze down on the plant, since he knew his expression would give him away. "Right," he said evenly.
Harry sighed. "Thanks for listening to my rambling, and for letting me touch your bush," he added with a smirk.
Neville rolled his eyes and went back to focusing on his Foliorum Tactio. He couldn't wait to tell Hannah about this conversation later.
Harry's mind drifted back to Hermione and the image that would not go away, Nott guiding her toward the exit with his arm around her waist. Hermione's your best friend. If she's happy, you should be happy. Maybe, if he said it enough, he'd finally start to believe it.
Harry was shocked to find Hermione on his doorstep the following Tuesday. "You're here."
"It's Tuesday."
"Yeah, you're right, I just - er -"
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No!" Harry opened the door wider and motioned for her to come inside.
She walked straight to the kitchen, put her bag down, then took off her robes and draped them over a chair. She turned to Harry. "What are we making?"
"I didn't buy any ingredients since I didn't think you were coming," he admitted.
Her face fell. "You thought I was just going to stop coming over? Just because I went on one date with a Slytherin? You don't think much of me, do you, Harry?"
Harry shook his head and started to reach for her, but dropped his hand at the last minute. "No no no, I think the world of you. I'm an idiot. Let's just go eat out, okay?"
She sighed and began to pick up her robes. "I don't want to go out. I'm just going to go. We can restart these next week when-"
"No, please, stay. I'll go pick something up. Stay here, read whatever book I'm sure you have in your bag, and I'll be right back."
He was already in the doorway but paused for a moment before disappearing into the hall. He wanted to be sure she wasn't going to leave. Hermione put her robes back down on the chair, but didn't make any movement to sit down. "Please, be here when I get back."
She gave him a small smile and finally took a seat at the table. "Okay."
Harry let out a sigh. Damn, he'd broken this, with one angry outburst over a stupid Slytherin. Damn Slytherins, even after Hogwarts, they were still a thorn in his side. But he was determined to fix it.
When Harry returned with the food, he was holding a bouquet of yellow roses. He handed them to Hermione as soon as he walked into the kitchen, then started pulling out plates and utensils.
"Ginny told me once that yellow roses mean friendship. I know I was a bad friend, but I have seen the error of my ways and am going to be better."
Hermione smiled. She put the magazine she'd been reading back in her bag and went to join Harry in the kitchen. She started looking through his cabinets for a vase as she said, "I think I'm the one who told you that, about the meaning of yellow roses. I'm pretty sure it's a Muggle thing."
"Oh, yeah, probably." She was reaching past him, having finally found the vase in one of the upper cabinets, and Harry paused. They were very close, which wasn't new, but it feeling strange, was new. What the hell?
"What's wrong with you?" Hermione asked, vase in hand now.
"You forgive me, right?"
She nodded. "I forgave you at the Gala."
"But, it's all weird between us," he motioned toward the space between them.
Hermione smiled and patted his cheek. "Relax, Harry. We'll be back to normal by the end of the night."
He nodded as he watched her go back to the table, where'd she'd left the roses. He sort of wished she'd used a pet name just now. Even one he hated, like Pookie. Was that weird?
[Yes.]
When she had the roses in the vase, she placed them at the center of the table and turned back to face Harry. He hadn't moved from the spot she'd left him in. "Now tell me," she clapped her hands in an effort to break Harry out of his trance. "What's for dinner?"
It took Harry twenty minutes to work up the courage to ask (as casually as possible) about Hermione's whereabouts this past weekend. "We missed you at the Burrow, Sunday."
Hermione hummed.
When it was clear she wasn't going to elaborate, Harry continued. "And I owled you Saturday, but you never responded. That's not like you."
She lifted her eyes from her plate and focused on him. Her expression was unreadable. Harry took a moment to study her. She seemed tired, more so than usual, but besides that, she looked like her normal self. Not upset, sad, or angry. But also, not overly happy. Just - normal.
"I was with Theo," she said before looking back down at her plate. She let her words sink in. She knew they'd upset him and sure enough, when she looked back up at him, he looked like he was grinding his teeth.
Harry was grinding his teeth. He was also focusing hard on keeping the dragon in his chest, which was awake again, under control.
After several, awkward seconds, Hermione decided to put Harry out of his misery. She'd never been a very spiteful person, and she figured he'd suffered enough for what had been, in reality, a rather small indiscretion.
"It's not what you're thinking, Harry. I was with Theo for most of the weekend working on the proposal for my law. I didn't answer your owl because I was busy working, and that's also why I skipped lunch at the Burrow. I have my second presentation for the Elders, tomorrow."
"Working on a proposal. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Harry grumbled into his plate.
Hermione burst into laughter. Harry just crossed his arms as he watched her. Usually, when she laughed fully like this, it was infectious and nearly impossible not to join in, but he was too upset at the thought of her shagging a Slytherin. And not just any Slytherin, but one whose father was in Azkaban for being a murdering Death Eater.
"Harry, Theo is gay."
"What?"
"He likes wizards."
"I know what gay means. But - wait - you didn't shag him?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not like it's any of your business, but no, I didn't shag him."
"Did you know he was gay this whole time?"
She sighed. "No, he didn't tell me until just after we left the Gala. I should have known, though. He was almost as well-read as I am and we got on so well, so quickly. Of course there was a catch."
Harry grinned widely as the dragon in his chest faded away, disappearing almost as quickly as it had appeared. Hermione huffed, annoyed that Harry looked so smug.
"Anyway, he needed to go on a public date with a witch, since his mum was starting to get suspicious and he's not ready to come out to her. So, that's why he asked me to the Gala. Then he felt really bad about using me. I told him if he'd just explained from that start, I still would have agreed to go.
"To make it up to me, he helped me with my presentation all weekend, and even let me into the library at Nott Manor, which has tons of arcane texts I've never even heard of. I was able to get loads of research done and found several arguments that I think will help tomorrow. And Theo let me practice my presentation on him a thousand times, so I think he's been properly punished for using me."
Harry was still smiling widely and she knew it had nothing to do with Theo helping her with her law. "You can stop smiling now, okay?" she snapped.
He bit the insides of his cheek, but there was still an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. "It's just - I was right, about Nott," Harry provided. "He was a wanker, using you like that. Typical Slytherin."
"Slytherins can be nice, you know."
"No," Harry shook his head. "I don't think they can."
"Whatever. Tell me about Malinda," Hermione said, eager to change the subject. "Are you going to see her again?"
That finally wiped the smile from Harry's face. "Oh, uh, no." He looked down at his plate and Hermione got the sense he was avoiding her gaze.
"Oh, shoot. I thought she was your type. Sorry about that."
"Do I have a type?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Harry put his fork down and cocked his head at her. "Based on what, my one girlfriend?"
"You don't count Cho?"
Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You do?"
Hermione let out a laugh. "Well, that relationship was doomed from the beginning. But she's still the first witch you ever liked."
Harry leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, Hermione. Enlighten me. What's my type?"
"You like witches who are beautiful, strong, and fun. Cho seemed like she was those things, but it turns out she wasn't very fun." Harry nodded as he recalled all the crying. No kidding.
"Ginny was definitely all of those things. And Malinda, I thought she was all those things, but maybe she wasn't. It's hard to suss out immediately."
"Huh." Harry stood up to take his plate to the sink. Washing dishes was one of those household spells he's never got the hang of. Molly made it look so easy, but every time Harry tried, he broke a plate. As if reading his thoughts, Hermione levitated her plate past him and it started washing itself once it reached the sink.
"Show-off," Harry grumbled under his breath.
When he turned back to face Hermione, her wand was still raised. "I could get yours, too," she teased.
"Fine." Harry held his plate out on his palm. The next second, it had left his hand and was getting washed in the sink alongside Hermione's plate. Harry turned back toward Hermione, propping his hands on the counter.
"So, what happened with Malinda?" she asked.
Harry shrugged and stepped back, leaning against the now-empty sink behind him. "She was jealous of you. It was like Cho all over again." Hermione frowned and he waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine, she certainly wasn't 'the one' or anything."
"Too bad I didn't tell you about your type earlier. You could have just explained how I don't meet the criteria."
"What?"
"What?"
"What are you talking about?" he asked. "You're all those things. Which makes sense, since we're former lovers and all," he added with a grin.
"Oh." A blush crept up Hermione's neck and she looked down at her lap, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm strong, for sure."
"And fun," he insisted.
"Okay," she allowed. "As long as it's planned."
"And beautiful."
Hermione scoffed and waved him away. Harry straightened and narrowed his eyes at her, but she was pointedly avoiding his gaze.
"Don't do that," he said briskly.
"Do what?"
When Hermione looked back at Harry, his green eyes were intense. "Why do you do that?" he asked, almost accusingly.
"Do what?" she repeated.
"Put yourself down like that. I don't like that."
Hermione shrugged and sat up straight in her chair, pulling her shoulders back. "I have a realistic view of myself. There's nothing wrong with that. Plus, appearances and all that, they don't matter. Beauty fades and if I had to choose between brains and beauty, I'd choose brains every time."
"Except, you have both, so you don't have to choose," he said matter-of-factly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, then reached into her bag for the magazine she'd been reading earlier. She opened it to an article about the Ministry Gala and laid it on the counter, then stepped back, motioning for Harry to read it.
He kept his eyes on her for several seconds before bending over to read the article. A few minutes later, she saw his eyes darken and figured he'd reached the lines about her. She didn't need to read them again, she had them memorized.
A full account of the night wouldn't be complete without a mention of Hermione Granger, everyone's favorite Muggleborn, who proved once again, that beauty isn't everything. How she managed to get two wizards from our most eligible bachelor list to date her (Harry Potter and now, Theo Nott), I'll never understand.
Harry's stomach turned. How did they get away with printing this crap? He checked the byline of the article, but didn't recognize the name: Regina Archibald, Fashion Expert. He wanted to find this witch and give her a piece of his mind, but he knew it wouldn't help, and he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing her insult had landed. She was just another nasty, jealous witch and didn't deserve a single second of his or Hermione's time.
When Harry looked back up at Hermione, she was standing with her arms crossed, wearing an expression that said, "See? Told you so." He could tell she was trying to look strong, but there was an unmistakable hint of pain in her eyes. Neville had been right. Her eyes were very expressive and she could never hide the emotions swimming there.
Harry recalled what Neville had said about witches being cruel to each other, and he thought again of Malinda. It was so clear to him what was going on here, but how did Hermione, who knew more spells than anyone and could probably do advanced Arithmancy problems in her sleep, not see it?
Harry walked around the counter and stopped when he was standing just in front of her. She kept watching him, silently, and he could tell she was trying hard to appear stoic. He gently moved her hair back behind her shoulders before placing his hands on the top of her arms.
"Do you remember what you told me at the Dursleys?"
She nodded.
"I've thought of what you said nearly every day since. How all that crap, the way they treated me, how it had nothing to do with me, or any failing of mine, but was about them. But you're not listening to your own words, are you?"
"I don't know what you mean." Hermione tried to shrug him off but he tightened his grip on her. She looked annoyed, but Harry knew it was a façade, some sort of defense mechanism.
"You are very pretty, Hermione." She started to argue, but he kept speaking, effectively cutting her off.
"No, you don't have the best clothes. You hardly ever wear makeup, and you wear your hair one of two ways, on a schedule. And for some reason, all of that offends some stupid 'fashion expert' because her whole life revolves around those things, and it makes her uncomfortable that you don't care."
Hermione turned her head to focus on the wall, but Harry grabbed her chin and gently pulled her back so she was facing him.
"She, and probably a lot of other witches, also hate that you're smart, incredibly powerful, and making a real difference with your talents. So they try to find things wrong with you to make themselves feel better. But that is about them - not you."
Hermione lowered her eyes and Harry saw a few tears fall onto her cheeks. "You. Are. Beautiful. I promise, and everyone who says otherwise is stupid. And, well, I have glasses, and am more observant than the average person, so you should listen to me - not them."
Hermione kept her eyes down on their feet. She knew Harry really meant what he was saying. Even without his words, she would have known by the way he'd been looking at her, like she was something exquisite that he didn't want to look away from. It was touching, but made her uncomfortable at the same time, and she suddenly had an urge to be far away from him.
"You don't believe me," he stated.
She shook her head. She believed he was sincere, but no, she didn't think she was beautiful as he was saying. She took a deep breath, then quickly wiped her eyes before looking up at Harry.
"Thank you, I appreciate what you're doing here." Hermione stood a step back from him and he dropped his hands from her arms. He was frowning and regarding her with a calculating expression. She wondered what he was thinking.
Harry was making a decision. He was resolving to fix this insecurity of hers, even if he had to remind Hermione she was beautiful every day. She was helping him get past the mess of his childhood, and he would help her with this. He knew he was part of the problem in the first place. Growing up, he'd never been one of the ones insulting her, but he'd also never stopped to reassure her.
And maybe, if he could get her to finally see herself the way he did, she couldn't be so damn insecure. Then the next time a Slytherin asked her out, she wouldn't feel compelled to say yes, believing, incorrectly, that she had no other options and should just take whoever she could get.
"Are we finished with this?" Hermione asked.
"No," Harry said simply. "First off, I made a lovely, very Hermione-esque speech, and you had nothing to say about it. No notes on the phrasing or delivery?"
Hermione cracked a smile and pushed him playfully. "I'll owl you some notes in the morning."
"Also, for the record, I'm not the only one who thinks you're pretty. There's Ron (obviously), and Neville."
"Neville?"
"Yeah, but don't tell Hannah I told you, or her sisters. I hear they're vicious."
"But, aren't they all Hufflepuffs?"
"Are Hufflepuffs not allowed to be vicious?"
Hermione shrugged. "Are Slytherins allowed to be nice?"
"Ugh," Harry groaned. "You really brought that argument around full-circle, didn't you?"
Hermione laughed and Harry was reminded of how beautiful her smile really was. "Okay, you won that round, Sweetums."
Hermione nodded. "I know."
Harry shook his head and walked past her toward the sitting room. "Let's go watch something stupid on the telly. But this conversation isn't over."
Hermione stood in place for a few moments before following him into the sitting room. She knew he wasn't talking about their conversation about Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, but the one about her being pretty.
Why did Harry suddenly care so much? He'd never brought it up before. And why did his attention make her feel so uncomfortable? She'd thought this was what she wanted, to be seen and understood. She knew that's what had been missing from her relationship with Ron. But now that she was finally getting the attention she'd craved for years (from the most unlikely place), all she wanted to do was run away and hide.
A/N: If you hadn't noticed by now, this is going to be a super slow burn. I just think that two people who have been "just friends" for so long would take a bit of time to get past that mental block. But I like how outsiders, like Theo, Malinda, and Neville in this chapter, see it immediately. Anyway, thanks for reading!