Triads and Tribulations

One

Hermione Granger cursed internally as the tower of books she was balancing on her arms tumbled down to the carpeted floor of the Ministry Library. "Fuck," she whispered, looking around to see if anyone heard her.

Sighing hopelessly, she pulled out her wand and levitated the books into the air, leaving them to trail behind her until she reached her table.

When she'd signed up for a career in Magical law, she never imagined it would mean spending two years trudging through paperwork on the most boring cases in the world.

It was all her fault, really. She could have been half way up the ladder by now, figuring out important cases and making a difference like she always dreamed of, but she'd refused any leg up the Ministry had offered in the name of equality. She was going to start at the bottom just like anybody else, and work her way up. So now here she was, reading up on any past cases where Flobberworms had defended themselves in court. She opened the first book and started reading. Even though she knew it was the right choice, she still regretted it sometimes.

The afternoon came and went and before she knew it, it was midnight.

The chair opposite her slid out as someone took a seat and she didn't even notice until a large brown hand gently laid on top of her. She jumped, letting out a small yelp.

"Woah, Hermione."

She exhaled in relief as the familiar face of Harry Potter greeted her.

"Sorry. I didn't see you there. What are you doing here?" she asked, too tired to even scold him for scaring her.

He looked at her like she was a small child. "I'm here to pick you up, just like pretty much every other day. Today is Friday. You haven't left this seat all day, have you?"

She shook her head.

"And I'm willing to bet you haven't eaten since breakfast, have you," he stated rather than asked. Without waiting for an answer, he reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a banana and slid it across the table. She took it and started peeling it, knowing there was no arguing with Harry when it came to this.

"Come on, let's go get dinner." He stood up and rounded the table, holding a hand out for her.

Hermione took a bite of the banana to get some strength and then stood up. Harry laced his arm with hers, giving her the support she secretly appreciated, as she didn't think she had the strength or energy to walk without it.

"No, wait," she started, pulling back towards the table. "I have to put the books back," she insisted, concern in her voice.

Harry sighed and held onto her arm. "Hermione, nobody comes to the Ministry library but you. When you come back on Monday, the books we'll be here waiting for you, I promise. Now let's go."

Hermione nodded weakly and let Harry drag her away, though she was still seeing lines of text in her head, all running together and mixing themselves up.

"You've really outdone yourself tonight. How long were you in there for, anyway?" he asked as they walked through the empty halls of the Ministry of Magic. She caught her reflection in a window and cringed; her blouse was rumpled and wrinkled, her skirt was sideways, and her hair was more inexplicable than usual.

"I don't remember," she confessed, turning her attention back to the banana and taking another bite. She never noticed how dizzy she was until she stopped reading and by then it was too late.

"Well, I guess a restaurant is out of the question at this time of night. Do you have food at your place?"

"Of course, Harry," she scoffed. "I am a functioning adult," she added in a whisper

Harry snorted. "Hermione, Hermione. What am I going to do with you?"

"The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world," she answered in a funny voice and Harry laughed, but most likely because he thought she had gone insane.

Stepping out on the street and into the breezy May air, they stood facing each other, Harry looking at her expectantly.

"I... Don't think I can do it," she admitted, blushing. "Can you?"

Harry smiled. "Just waiting for you to ask."

With a crack, they disapparated.

.

The next morning Hermione woke up groaning loudly into her pillow. Her head was pounding and her vision was hazy. Who would have thought that eight straight hours of reading could cause such a hangover?

She freshened up in the bathroom, and then got ready to make some coffee.

The first thing she encountered after stepping into the living room was Harry crammed onto her tiny sofa, fast asleep with his face pressed into its rounded arm and his mouth slightly agape. She smiled at his crooked glasses, carefully removing them and placing them on the coffee table. Seeing him there and remembering the night before suddenly made her feel a lot better.

She made coffee and breakfast for the both of them and Harry woke up with the smell of bacon. "Morning," he murmured.

"Morning," Hermione responded over her shoulder. "Pancakes?" she asked, turning with the pan in her hand to slide the last pancake onto the stack next to her.

"Otherwise I'm not getting up." He grinned as he stretched, then went to sit with her at the kitchen table. They ate silently for a while until Hermione spoke.

"Thank you for picking up what was left of me yesterday," she said with her mouth slightly full. She usually wasn't one to forget about manners, but she was with Harry, after all.

"You're welcome. You need to be careful, Hermione. You can't keep pulling yourself this thin."

"I know, I know. I just keep thinking, the sooner I finish these silly cases, the sooner I get to do the more important ones." She cut into her pancakes with a sigh. "I don't even know if that's true anymore."

"I'm sorry. It'll get better soon." He patted her hand. Hermione could see that Harry was trying to make her feel better, but it would take a lot more than a hand pat to make her stop feeling like her job was worthless, like she wasn't living up to the potential she'd set for herself. It was soul crushing and she didn't want to think about it anymore.

"So what are you up to today?" She asked, eating the last of her breakfast.

"Oh, you know, the usual exciting life of a War Hero; visiting Ron at The Burrow and hanging out with you until I fall asleep or you kick me out, whichever happens first." He pushed his food around.

Hermione rolled her eyes and reached across the table, sticking her fork in a stray piece of his pancake and taking it for herself. "When have I ever kicked you out?"

He gave her a face of mock outrage and stole a piece of hers in return. "There's a first time for everything," Harry joked.

Hermione stared at him, he always looked so different without his glasses; he looked older, his eyes slightly smaller and his other features more pronounced. Her stomach dropped unexpectedly and she averted her eyes, suddenly finding the patterns in her syrup worth studying

"We should go out," she announced, the idea leaving her lips and bypassing her brain all together

Harry frowned. "What?"

She frowned as well. "No." But then she realized that there wasn't a reason not to. "I mean, yes. Yeah, you, Ron, and me, we should go do something tonight."

He scratched a bit of his hairline and gave her a skeptical look.. "I don't know."

"I think it'll be good for you, for us. I haven't left the Ministry in two years and you haven't left your flat in almost one." She started picking up their dishes, as if it were already decided.

"Hey, I'm here now," he defended himself, picking up the mugs she left behind and joining her at the sink.

"My flat doesn't count. It might was well be yours too." She took the cups from him and ran the hot water. "Come on, Harry. I heard these girls at work talking about this new pub in Diagon Alley. We should check it out."

He scoffed. "Since when do you want to go 'check out' pubs?"

"Since I almost died of boredom yesterday and had an epiphany," she placed both hands over her heart dramatically.

Harry laughed softly and edged her away from the sink so that he could start doing the dishes. "Alright, fine I guess it can't be that bad."

Hermione clapped her hands together excitedly. "Great! I'll call Ron as soon as he wakes up to see if he's up to it." She reached past him to grab a dish towel and wet it. "Oh! Do you think Ginny would like to come?"

"I'm pretty sure she's left with Harpies for the weekend," he replied.

"Well, it's okay. She'll come next time," Hermione started wiping down the table. The great thing about cleaning with Harry was that they both preferred to do the chores the Muggle way. It was how they first learned to do them, an old comfortable habit to fall back on.

"There'll be a next time?" he asked, one eyebrow raised and suds up to his elbows.

"There's a first time for everything." Hermione smiled and poked him in the shoulder.

Harry laughed nervously. "Actually," he started, after a few moments of contemplation, "it might be a good idea for me to go out. I don't know if I told you, but-" he paused and bit his lip, staring into the soapy water.

"What," Hermione prodded, wiping crumbs from the table into her hand.

"Well, I sort of, maybe...kind of-" He couldn't say it, he physically could not form the words.

"Harry, tell me what?" Hermione was now standing beside him, hands on her hips and lips pursed.

"Idecidedtostartdatingmen!" He was staring straight down, avoiding her reaction and blushing slightly. Hermione froze.

"Um, no. You didn't tell me," she replied, a little put out. Instantly she regretted not being more supportive.

"I mean, you already know I'm bi!" he argued, putting the last dish in the drain rack.

Hermione let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I knew before you did," she muttered, tossing the rag in the sink. Harry could be so oblivious, even when it came to himself. Especially when it came to himself.

"Well… now I think I'm ready to actually date a man." He shrugged, and gave her a smile. He was much more confident now that it was out in the open. "So, yeah, I think it's a good idea to go out and meet some new people."

Hermione felt a small pang in her heart, but she smiled anyway. "Well it's about time," she joked, bumping his hip with hers to get him out of the way.

He laughed and stepped aside, leaning against the counter with his arms folded. "Hey, look who's talking," he accused her.

"What?" she defended, whipping her hair around to look at him. He raised an eyebrow. "What?" she repeated, turning back to put the syrup up. "I went out with that guy Jim a while ago," she reminded him, though she was barely audible.

"Please! He took you to lunch twice and all you did was talk about work. That doesn't count as dating," He grabbed the butter dish and put the lid back on it.

Hermione shut the cabinet door and placed her hands over her hips. "Okay, Mr. No-Dates-In-Over-A-Year, what counts as dating, then?"

Harry put the butter dish aside and turned to face her. "Kissing. Touching. Having sex."

She stood rooted and tried very hard not to blush. "That's it? That's all dating is to you?" she asked, her voice smaller than she'd have liked.

"No, of course not. But it needs to have a sexual element. At least for me," he replied, stretching his arms overhead and craning his neck. "Fuck, I am so sore."

"You can transfigure the couch, you know," she scoffed, ignoring the sliver of his stomach showing where his shirt had lifted. She sighed, admitting defeat to even herself. "Fine. Maybe I haven't dated much since Ron and I decided to call it quits."

Harry laughed. "Much? That was almost a year ago. We should both meet someone, it's a good idea. Although I don't know how many eligible men I can meet at a straight bar. Wait... Do wizards even have gay bars?"

Hermione nodded and rolled her eyes. "Of course, we've walked by plenty of them. Are you ever aware of your surroundings?"

Harry ignored her dig and walked over to the living room and started looking for his shoes. "I should get going, I have to do laundry if I want something clean to wear tonight."" He patted his chest, and then his back pockets as he looked around, squinting at the couch and floor. She chuckled and walked over to the coffee table, picking up his glasses and putting them on his face. He smiled brightly.

"Thanks for breakfast, you really need to teach me how to make those pancakes," Harry said and kissed her forehead.

"Sure. See you later." She walked him over to the door and watched him disapparate with a wave. Hermione closed the door and collapsed face down on the sofa. She groaned again, this time into the cushion.

Doubts about the night were already beginning to form in her head. For one thing it was going to take a lot of energy and effort; getting all dressed up, facing all of those people in the pub, putting up with all of the attention the three of them would inevitably draw; it was all already starting to be too much.

And then there was Harry. She wanted to see him have let loose and have some fun, she wanted him to be happy, truly. It was just that now that he'd decided to start dating, and men at that, which only increased his possibilities, well… She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was being selfish and she hated it.

The war had taken a lot of Harry, that much was to be expected, but the aftermath hit him much harder than anyone expected. For too long she watched him all but waste way, each day progressively worse than the last. It wasn't six months later that he and Ginny broke up, and he ran off on his own, travelling around Europe in some heartbreakingly languid attempt to avoid all of the expectations society was throwing at him. That too only lasted a few months, but for Hermione they were a very enlightening few months.

She had never missed anyone as much.

When he finally came back, all shaggy and scruffy and significantly more okay with his place in his life, she couldn't have been happier. They'd spent almost everyday together since, in one way or another, and although she'd only just now formally and officially admitted it to herself, she most certainly had a crush on him.

A big, fluffy orange ball landed sharply on her back, making her lose her breath. "Crookshanks," she whined, twisting around and putting him on her stomach. "You're too heavy to be doing that. Where have you been anyway?"

The cat jumped to the floor and she saw him pick up something with his mouth.

"What's that?" She pulled it from him. It was one of Harry's socks. He'd probably left it last night. Or the night before. Or the night before...

She sighed.

Balling up the sock, she threw it to the other side of the room and watched Crookshanks chase after it.

It was one sort of problem to have a crush on your best friend, it was another problem to have a crush on someone else as well.

A/N: Beta work by the wonderful Adrenne ( u/6865953/0bscurum)