"There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature."
― Jane Austen
Bound To
Make It Better
Chapter 3
3 May 2008
Hogwarts, Great Hall
It was over.
The war had finally been won.
While the hordes celebrated the victory or mourned the lost, Hermione Granger sat silently at the end of the Gryffindor table. Blank eyes out of focus stared forward, not registering all the activity surrounding her.
She had been so close.
Hermione had almost performed the Killing Curse.
It became difficult to swallow as thoughts raced through her mind.
She should've felt disgusted with herself.
Felt guilty for almost using an Unforgivable Curse.
Felt remorse for being capable of conjuring so much rage and anger and hate…
She should've felt all those emotions for even considering using the Killing Curse. And yet, those feelings of disgust and guilt and remorse entered her psyche for an entirely different reason:
Wielding such darkness had made her feel powerful, and the intoxicating thrill of it scared her. When she gripped her pulsating wand as it hummed eagerly to unleash the violent lightning within, she felt like she could do anything. But she had no desire to use dark magic for personal gain. There was only one circumstance she'd ever use it.
To protect Harry.
Her heart clenched as the truth sunk in. She understood already that she was willing to die for the cause — to die trying to defeat Voldemort and his reign of terror. She also knew she would die for Harry in that context because only he could defeat Voldemort.
She wasn't ready to recognize, however, that no matter what the situation was, she'd go to extreme lengths to protect him. Die for him, kill for him — morality had no place if it meant he'd die. Ultimately, she'd gladly do either if he would be okay.
The thought that she'd be willing to rip her soul brought tears to her eyes.
Was love worth her soul?
A shiver trailed down her spine. Why did she feel this strongly for a man who wasn't even hers?
Cheers pulled her from reverie. Face blank, she turned her head to the entrance hall and saw Harry. While others patted his shoulders and backs and wherever they could touch, Harry ignored them all. Without a word to anyone, he found the Weasleys with the fallen members of the Order, lined side by side.
There lay Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin hand-in-hand with Tonks, and Severus Snape, a man whose name would posthumously implore respect and gratitude.
Hermione watched as Harry clutched the hands of the fallen he'd come to regard as his family. As the Weasleys cried, Mrs. Weasley stroking Fred's hair in anguish, Harry gave the woman a hug, which she leaned into, her sobs gaining strength. Mr. Weasley pulled her away, wrapping his arms around her as tears splashed down his face as well. Then, Harry frantically looked around. She could see him mouth,
"Where's Hermione?!"
His eyes swept around the entire Great Hall until they landed on her. Relief washed over his face as he made his way through the mass of people towards her.
Hermione couldn't muster a smile or any other facial expression. She just blankly watched as Harry bent down on one knee and hugged her. Her arms flopped by her side. She couldn't find the energy to remember that when people hug you, you should hug back.
Harry pulled away to look at her with furrowed brows. "Hermione. What's wrong?" He gripped her cheeks between both hands, his eyes scanning her body for any injuries.
She found it in her to pull one of his hands down from her cheek, holding it in her lap. "I'm okay. Are you? You defeated him, Harry. He's really gone."
He half-smiled. "Yeah. He's gone for good this time."
Instinctively, she now gave him the once over to make sure he was okay. When she was satisfied, she palmed his cheek, then let her fingers trace their way up to his scar. It felt smoother, but it'd never go away. Scars from dark magic never went away. Watching her, he reported, "Two broken ribs, displaced shoulder, lots of open wounds, a concussion, and my back has seen better days, too."
"Harry," so began her admonishment, "that's serious! You need to see a healer."
"You don't think healers bombarded me as soon as I left the battlefront? They already gave me some potions and fixed the bones. Bandaged me up tightly, popped my shoulder back in the good old Muggle way. And the pain-relieving potions have kicked into full gear. I refused to rest to heal my concussion. I needed to make sure you all were okay. And you're okay, right?"
Hermione couldn't coax a smile. As she stared at the boy, she could only see herself holding up her wand with the Killing Curse on her tongue's tip.
She felt Harry pull her to her feet and place his hands on her shoulders. "You must be in shock, Hermione. Come on, let me take you to see Madam Pomfrey."
Hermione put her hand on his chest, shaking her head. "No, she and the other healers have far more important work to do now. I'll be okay. I just need to breathe."
Harry nodded, then snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her into another hug. This time, she squeezed him tightly to her chest. Emotion hit her like a tsunami. Tears spilling on his shoulder, she whispered, "I thought you were dead. I-I thought I lost you. And I…" She couldn't tell him what she'd almost done. At least not now. He needed more consoling than she did. She pulled away with a laugh, wiping tears from her eyes. "But you're here! And you're fine. You're alive. You tricked us all, pretending to be dead. But I'm just happy you survived. That you're alive."
A sad smile crossed his face, but as he started to respond, someone else's voice sounded behind him.
"Harry?"
It was Ginny. Hermione realized then that the two hadn't yet spoken to each other.
Hermione took a step back as Ginny slid between her and Harry. She put her arms around the boy's neck and positioned herself against him just as Hermione had moments before.
The only difference was, Ginny was kissing him. As she cried, she pulled him deeper and deeper into a kiss.
As she turned to offer privacy, Hermione's stomach dropped somewhere near her feet, anxiety quickening her heart's pace. Another form of sadness sunk in as she forced herself to come to terms with reality:
She had almost killed for the man she loved.
And it was a man in love with another girl.
17 May 2020
Diagon Alley had never looked so posh. The once simplistic alleyway and shopping area had expanded dramatically. Calling it an alley made less and less sense, now that it had become a metropolis. The past decade saw the walkway modernized with cobblestone pavers, elevating the centuries-old alley street. High-rise flats also made homes next to shopfronts. More and more shops populated the area, too. The number of clothing stores had boomed, with many selling both wizarding and Muggle clothing. And the variety of restaurants was spectacular — you could have food from all over the world.
"Can you believe it?" Ron asked. He was taking her around the "revitalized" Diagon Alley. "After the war ended, the Ministry decided to revamp the area — they want it to be a symbol of wizard and Muggle harmony. And this is the perfect place. Diagon Alley has always been the center of Britain's wizarding world since Gringotts is the only bank we have. So now Diagon Alley is like a Muggle downtown. Wicked, huh?"
Hermione grinned. The morning after dinner at The Burrow, Ron insisted on showing Hermione around the upgraded Diagon Alley. After having breakfast at a new cafe, they ventured around the shopping area. He was particularly eager to show her the new bookstore, lined with books written by Muggles, witches, and wizards alike. They spent a good hour there as Hermione devoured as many books as possible before purchasing four of them.
Now, they were making their way to Ron's high-rise flat. And it was gorgeous.
Items from various parts of the country lined the walls of the 800 square foot space. While she thought so many artifacts would render the space cluttered, it was all arranged complementarily. As she ran her hand along the edges of a tabla from India, she said to Ron, "This is beautiful. You really did travel the whole globe, huh?"
He stood beside her. "Almost. There are still so many places to go."
She smirked, catching herself staring at him. A younger Bill, indeed. While his style wasn't that of a rock god, he had tapped into his own. He wore a white v-neck under a lightweight and unbuttoned flannel shirt. Skinny jeans led to plain, white sneakers. And an oversized beanie adorned his head, his red hair peeking out and falling at his shoulders. In Muggle terms, she might classify him as a hipster. And she appreciated it. He looked carefree, an attribute she'd always admired about him.
"I can't wait to hear more about your exploits. I think we covered Colombia, Brazil, and Argentina, right?"
"And it only gets better," he jerked his head over his shoulder. "Come over here, let me show you something."
He pulled out the chair at his dining table, which sat between the kitchen and sitting room. "Be right back!" He called over his shoulder as he ran to his bedroom. Hermione took the moment to appreciatively look around again. Everything from instruments to paintings to cultural garbs surrounded her. She was inspired to do more traveling at the sight. She'd been to a few countries in Europe, Asia, the States, and Kenya on safari with her parents. But she hadn't had any real adventures, hadn't the time to immerse herself in the culture since her trips were always so short.
She wished she could go to Australia to visit…
But she'd love to travel to as many places as Ron someday.
He jogged back to the table with a wide book in his hand. Hermione's interest was instantly piqued.
"So… I've only told Harry but… I'm publishing a book."
Hermione's eyes widened. "You're what?!"
He took a seat beside her, an offended look on his face. "Hey, I need you to not be so surprised."
A slow grin couldn't erase the shock on her face. "Well… it's how I feel. You barely touched any of your books at Hogwarts. Now you're publishing one?"
"Well, to help you make sense of it, there are minimal words." He slid the laminated book in front of her. "I didn't tell you this, but as I was traveling and seeing all these diverse people and cultures and architecture and landscapes, I decided to learn Muggle photography. I spent a year in Rome with an amazing wizard who lived there. He trained me, taught me everything he knows. And since then, I've been a travel photographer."
If someone tried, they wouldn't be able to knock the smile off of her face. "Ron! That's incredible! I never would've guessed you'd become a photographer."
He laughed. "Neither would I. I had to step outside my comfort zone to discover my purpose."
"Yeah, I feel that's sometimes the only way to do it," she said somewhat absently as she flipped through the book. There was no better way to word it. His photographs were, "Breathtaking."
Ron touched his hand to his chest. "Breathtaking? Why, I'm flattered, Hermione."
"Well, it's true!" She held the book tight to her chest. "When can I buy one?"
He scoffed. "Please! When they're published, you can get as many as you want for free. I just have to finish it first." He took the book and opened it again. "All of the pages on the right aren't empty by happenstance."
"I guess I assumed they'd be filled with descriptions, maybe a travel story."
"No words, purely visual save for a caption on location. What I'm going to do after developing the last batch of photos is add pictures of the wizarding worlds I visited. So, look here, Muggle Rome will have a magical photo of wizarding Rome next to it, capturing a similar image from separate worlds. You won't believe how many magical folk around the world are afraid of leaving their wizarding societies. This book is meant to bridge the gap, to show wizarding people that Muggles and magical people have more in common than we know. So many people — globally! — are still attached to pureblood thinking. I just hope this book can play a small part in fixing that. Showing the humanity we all share."
Hermione felt her heart swell. He wasn't kidding when he said he changed. Hermione hated to admit it, but this was the man Hermione hoped Ron had been all those years ago. If this was him then, Harry might've been a fleeting crush instead of the one she fell in love with.
"You know," Ron said quietly, casually flipping the pages of his book. "I wanted to visit a couple of years ago when I was photographing around London… But I wasn't ready to see you… and I didn't think you'd want to see me."
He wasn't wrong — back then, she wouldn't have.
She opened her mouth to respond, but Ron got to it first, a smile stuck on his face like a sticker. Forcing it. "Pretty cool, huh? I should have it finished next month and then published by the end of the year. I've got a great publisher, 'Mione. I bet she can hook you up with some unreleased books."
A ravenous look sprung to her face. "Really?! Who is this amazing woman?"
He laughed while slipping the book onto his bookshelf. As he entered the kitchen, he yelled, "She's a friend of Harry's, actually. He introduced me to her when I told him my idea."
Hermione cocked a brow, "The only way I can see Harry befriending a publisher is if she was trying to pull a biography out of him."
Ron returned with two cups of tea. "That's exactly how they met. But he turned them down, even when hefty galleons were on the table, far more than the fortune his Mum and Dad left him."
"Wow. Well, that contact came in handy! Now the world can see your photographs." Hermione shook her head, taking a sip of tea. "Ronald Weasley, a travel photographer. No wonder you can afford such a swanky flat."
"Being a partner at the joke shop helps."
She ran her finger along the rim of her cup. "My life's so boring compared to yours," she confessed. "I go to work, go home. Maybe have a drink with a coworker or two. And that's it for me."
Ron moved his mouth to one side of his face, pursing his lips. "There's a quick fix to that."
She smirked. Part of her hoped they could get deep, that she could further confide in him. But she was okay with this. "And what's that, Ron?"
"Move here!" he begged. "Come on! What's there to lose? Come be with people you love. Maybe your purpose is where you left it?"
He had a good point. Maybe it was here. With the people she loved. Love could ignite the spark that had been extinguished. If only she could move past the one whose love she wanted most.
Again pushing him out of her mind, she sipped more of her tea. "Listen, I'm honestly considering the idea. I just have to figure out if—"
Before she could finish her sentence, a loud banging sounded on his front door, startling Hermione. "Who is banging on your door like that?" she whispered, then her eyes widened, amusement twinkling in them. "Bill collectors? Do you owe somebody money? Is it mob-related?" Hermione feigned a gasp. "You're a capo, aren't you? Oh my Merlin, you're a capo!"
He shushed her with his finger to his lips. His face was pale, which made Hermione genuinely concerned. She thought maybe it was one of his siblings being obnoxious, especially since the knocking hadn't stopped… but the way he was reacting, this must've been serious. "Go into the kitchen," he whispered, which Hermione immediately obliged.
She heard Ron crack the front door open and ask, "What?!"
"WHAT?!" A shrill and frantic voice yelled. Then Hermione heard the front door hit the wall as someone barged in. "Don't WHAT me! Why haven't you called me today, Ron?!"
Oh shit. It was Lavender.
Hermione put her hand against her mouth to suppress her laughter. She was going to murder Ron.
She could hear his exasperation. "Lavender, I talked to you yesterday."
"Keyword, YESTERDAY!"
"Lavender—"
"We agreed you'd call me at least THREE TIMES a day! But you haven't called this whole weekend." Her voice now was coming out frighteningly cold, a chilling change from the emotion-filled rant seconds before. Barely above a whisper, "Is it because of… her? Are you ignoring me because Hermione's returned? Is that why you've become so distant?"
"I have not become distant. Come on, Lav, three times a day? That's already excessive."
"EXCESSIVE?!" The emotion was back full force. "It is not excessive to talk to your girlfriend, and it's not okay that you're putting her before me!"
"Lavender! I called you yesterday! So just stop it!"
Hermione could hear the girl begin to whimper. She really couldn't be here. They needed to work this out without an audience. So, though she knew doing so might cause more problems than solutions, Hermione stepped out of the kitchen. Ron and Lavender stared at her, wearing expressions of fear and fury, respectively.
"Lavender—" Ron began in a warning, but Lavender's anger had reached its edge.
"YOU LIAR!"
Before things got too heated, Hermione spoke up, "Lavender, you've got it all wrong, I promise!" The furious girl snapped her head to glare at Hermione, but before she could spat anything, Hermione continued, "I'm only visiting, okay? I'm leaving town tomorrow, and we only had a few hours to catch up. But nothing is happening here. We're just friends, okay?"
Relief washed over the girl. "Oh. You're not back for good?"
Instead of honestly answering that she was considering it, Hermione congenially shook her head. "No. Came for the funeral, leaving tomorrow."
The smile on her face seemed out of place after the funeral's mention. But Hermione could only laugh inside. Lavender had always been a girl driven by emotions, emotions she often struggled to control. She was fiery, a Gryffindor through and through.
Hermione stepped forward and hugged Lavender. Hesitantly, Lavender reciprocated. "It's good to see you. I hope your Mum's doing well."
A genuine smile came to her face. "She is, thanks." She beamed at Ron. "You told her about us, about my Mum? Oh, Won-Won."
Hermione inched towards the door, patting Ron on his shoulder. "Thank you for showing me around."
"I'll see you before you leave, alright?"
"Of course."
"Me, too!" Lavender piped up, looping her arm through Ron's. "I'll be there, too."
Hermione grinned. "That'd be nice. See you guys later."
Before either could say anything else, she stepped out of the door and apparated outside the building. It was a great morning! But it was already 2 pm. She wanted to jump on packing so she could leave early if she so chose.
Mood elevated, Hermione decided to walk to the inn — it was about 30 minutes away. Downtown Diagon Alley, she liked the ring of it, especially since the original shops still stood.
She turned a corner and saw bright red hair exiting a shop. As always, the girl was beautiful. Her red hair looked even more brilliant as the sun highlighted all the tones. She was wearing muggle clothes, a strapless high-low dress with heeled sandals. Straight out of a magazine she looked, so chic.
Hermione looked down at her clothes, annoyed that she was even comparing herself to the girl. She wore a random black t-shirt tucked into black high-waisted jeans, white chucks adorning her feet, hair pulled back in its usual French braid. When she wasn't in suits for work, she appreciated comfort above all else.
Half tempted to turn around and avoid the girl, she stopped herself, knowing that'd be petty. So with a deep inhale, she marched over to Ginny, a rehearsed smile in place. "Ginny! Hey!" She called as she crossed the street to greet her.
Ginny turned and grinned. "Hermione! Hi! I'd hug you, but," she lifted her arms — both hands clutched shopping bags.
"Oh, no worries. I just saw you, wanted to say hi. I'm on my way to the inn."
"So soon? No, Ron got to hog you all morning. We have to catch up. Want to grab a bite to eat? Late lunch?"
Hermione wanted to say no. Badly. But Ginny had been her friend. The least she could do was have lunch with her.
After finding a sushi spot, they quickly ordered. As they waited for food, Ginny started polishing off the bottle of complimentary sake. Hermione opted not to imbibe — she woke up that morning hungover. Ron was so psyched to hang, Hermione couldn't postpone their plans just to recover from the previous night's festivities. She instead powered through and had a pretty good time despite the headache. But Ginny seemed fine! It must've been customary for her because she was ordering another bottle.
"So," Ginny started. "I'm so happy you're back. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. None of us did."
"You can count me in that."
Ginny looked shocked. "Really? You didn't think you'd come back?"
Hermione shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with discussing it. She didn't want the conversation to turn towards why she left. She could never tell the younger girl the truth. So instead of answering, Hermione asked, "So what's going on with you? You know I'm a lawyer out in the Muggle world. What about you, are you working?"
"Actually," she said with a pleased smile. "I play for the Holyhead Harpies. Chaser."
Hermione never bothered learning the quidditch teams outside of Hogwarts. But she knew playing pro was a big deal. With a look of joy, Hermione exclaimed, "Ginny! That's incredible! That's what you always wanted."
Ginny waved her hand while putting sake to her lips. "It's great, yes. But I can't play next season. I took a rough enough tumble that they forced me to sit out - they don't want me injuring myself any further. I play rough, so they say."
Hermione chuckled. "Yeah, I remember. But that's too bad. Are you doing physical therapy?"
"Something like that." Her words rung dismissive as she popped some sushi in her mouth. Then a curious look crossed her face. "Hermione, I need you to tell me something."
Uh-oh. A sinking feeling was upon Hermione.
"Why did you stop talking to Harry? It made sense with Ron, but why Harry? What happened?"
Hermione knew it was coming, and yet she still wasn't prepared. But she had to say something. So slowly, carefully choosing her words, she said, "I'll just say that… there were certain parts of the war we saw differently. And the argument we had about it all got nasty. And when the chips fell, I needed space from him. And after Ron, I needed space from everybody."
Across the table, Ginny's eyes felt like they were piercing Hermione's skull, but she could've been imagining it. Her guilt was playing tricks on her. Ginny sighed, "It must've been bad. Neither of you is willing to tell anybody what happened." She shot a sly look at Hermione, and she immediately caught on. So Ginny was trying to make her feel guilty. Well, it was working.
"Yeah, it was pretty bad. I hope we can truly move past it."
"Well, Harry — and Ron — neither has been the same since you left. This weekend's probably the happiest I've seen them in a long time." Ginny quietly put her chopsticks down and stared off into space.
Hermione was uncomfortable.
Clearing her throat, she simply said, "I missed all of you, too. Where's Harry, anyway?"
Ginny came back to life. "He's in Scotland with the Department of Magical Creature Regulation and a few Obliviators. Apparently, the Loch Ness overpopulation issue is part of a breeding program. Some dark wizards want to use their eyes for a deadly potion of some sort."
That's terrible. I imagine Harry will be gone a while to deal with that. I was hoping I'd see him before I leave.
"Oh, he'll be back tonight. It's an ongoing problem, so he heads there about three to four days a week. But he's always back early on Sundays. We all go to the pub Sunday nights. Ron didn't mention it?"
"No, he was preoccupied with Lavender, I'm sure."
"Well, promise you'll come out. Tonight at 8. Promise?"
Again, the temptation to run away reigned. But Hermione knew she had to make changes, had to stop avoiding everyone and everything. "Okay, I promise."
Usually, she didn't care. She didn't! But tonight, Hermione wanted to break free from her humdrum routine. She wasn't Muggle-Hermione tonight. Before she returned to her dull life, she would tap into another side of herself — a part she hadn't seen since…
No. No memories of the past would interrupt achieving the goal. That was something Hermione prided herself on being — goal-oriented. And she would rise to the occasion and fulfill her mission to have fun.
And look good doing it.
She was no fashionista - what she considered dressing up was probably casual to someone like Ginny. But Hermione felt good in what she chose to wear: a short-sleeved white turtleneck that showed the curves of her waist tucked into a black skirt that made her legs look like they went on for days. Sheer black tights beneath heeled boots long enough to stop just below her thigh finished the look.
It was plain, but she felt cute. And how she felt mattered most.
She hadn't worn her hair down in years, but being back in wizarding London made her nostalgic. Only here did she wear her hair wild. Muggle product helped her manage, as it made her brown curls more defined, springy, and voluminous instead of frizzed.
Staring at herself in the mirror, she focused on her face. Her expression conveyed it all. She hadn't felt this good in a long time. Reuniting with mates she genuinely cared about enlivened her life instantly.
A passing glance was all she had for the wand on the nightstand. It would only impede the fun Hermione intended to have. With that, she headed out of the inn and apparated outside of The Three Broomsticks. Entering, she saw most of the gang crammed into a booth. Lav was seated on Ron's lap. She greeted them all but there was no room to sit. Hermione looked behind her shoulder and saw Harry at the bar. Ignoring the typical rush she felt whenever she saw the boy, she took the only seat beside him.
He turned to her. "Hermione, hey!"
"Glad to see I didn't miss you," she said. "Ginny told me you were in Scotland. The Loch Nesses aren't giving you too much trouble, are they?"
He shrugged. "I let the creature regulators handle them, now that I know how slimy they are."
She laughed. "Thank Merlin you're an Auror and not a creature regulator. Not much slime in that field, I hope."
"Unless a spell rebounds, no slime."
Hermione looked around The Three Broomsticks. It looked exactly the same, quaint as ever. She was glad one place had at least been untouched by modernity.
She turned back to Harry. He'd been watching her. Red heating her neck, she said, "Every Sunday, huh?"
"Each and every Sunday." He began to take a sip of his whisky but stopped himself. "Are you drinking?"
"I was so hungover. I'm not sure I should."
He raised a brow at her. "There are charms for that, you know."
She tried to play off her discomfort by smoothing the surface of the bar top. "I guess I've been in the Muggle world too long. Just had to grin and bear it."
"Hmm…" He could see right through her, knew something more was going on, but he said nothing. Calm washed over her. She appreciated his unobtrusiveness. She'd tell him when she was ready, and he knew that.
He brought his wand out and asked, "Do you want me to make it better?"
She didn't expect the sight of his wand to send dread through her body. But images of the war, of almost losing him, flashed through her mind's eye without permission. But then she focused on his words. Do you want me to make it better?
Of course, she did. Trying harder than she thought necessary to relax, she didn't notice Harry's hand was gently grabbing her arm. "Are you okay?"
Her forced smile was back. "Yeah, yeah. I just… Yeah, I'm fine! I'm fine. Alright, I'm ready. Go ahead."
Just as she started to squeeze her eyes closed, waiting for the spell to hit her, Harry looked at his wand, then back at her. He put it away. "You know, I forgot that Rosmerta keeps some hangover elixirs in the back." Harry turned and called the bar owner and ordered the elixir while Hermione placed her hand to her chest, attempting to quell her racing heart. When Harry turned back around, he had the potion and a glass of water. "Drink this. And drink some water, stay hydrated."
Hermione nodded wordlessly and gulped the water first. Water always helped when a panic attack loomed. She looked at Rosmerta, and Harry instinctively got her another. Once she downed that, her heart was beating at its usual pace. The room was back in focus, and she could see Harry's troubled face in her line of sight again. Her face reddened. "Sorry, I get…" she couldn't lie to him. "I still have anxiety. Even years after the war, it was hard to… It's been hard to…" She let her voice drift off — she didn't want to trigger a panic attack.
He put his hand on her back, rubbing his thumb in small circles near the small of it. Immediately, his touch soothed her. Without knowing, he was making it better. "You know, I couldn't leave the house for months," he confessed. "Even when we were touring, I couldn't get myself out of war mode. I was constantly waiting for the dominos to fall. If I hadn't spent seven years of my youth fighting Voldemort, I would've thought myself paranoid, but I had good reason. And so do you. What we went through? It was fucked up, to put it lightly. No one should've survived what we did."
"And look at us now," she smirked as she finally downed the hangover elixir. "We're all well-adjusted."
The two laughed. It was the first genuine laugh Hermione had experienced in a long time. Harry gave her back one final stroke before moving his hand back to the bar top. She didn't read into why he started fidgeting. "Alright, I think I'm ready for a drink." She flagged Rosmerta down, who looked as beautiful as she had a decade before. "I'll have elderflower wine, please." The woman was back almost instantly. "How much do I owe?"
Harry interrupted. "Don't worry. She's on my tab."
"Harry, no—"
"Yes. You're in town for one more night. Everything you want is on me."
She had to force herself not to run with his words, didn't dare explore what she truly wanted him to mean. "Well, thank you, Mr. Potter."
"You're welcome, Ms. Granger." The two clinked their glasses then sipped their drinks, peering at each other over the rims of their glasses.
She spun around on her chair and looked at their group of friends at the table. Apparently, a debate was going on — probably about quidditch. "I'm surprised you're not in the middle, as much as you love quidditch," Hermione said with a smile.
He shrugged. "It's not quidditch season, so there's not much to argue about except our same old arguments."
"It's a shame Ginny has to sit out the season. She told me about her injury — do you think she's okay to play soon?"
When Harry didn't respond, Hermione turned to him, confused. His body seemed to have stiffened. Something was off.
"What?" Hermione asked bluntly.
He shook his head and turned back to the bar. "Nothing. I just…" It was his turn to let his voice drift away, and Hermione's turn to let it go until he was ready to talk about it. She simply turned back to the bar, too, and put her hand on top of his. He slightly spread his fingers, causing Hermione's to fall between them, a motion away from intertwining. Then, he moved his hand and patted hers, grabbing his drink. "Thanks."
She didn't have time to process the moment. Everyone from the table had moved the party to the bar to order another round of drinks. Ron took a seat on the other side of Hermione. Smiling, she swung around to face him.
"Having fun?" He asked, already knowing the answer.
When she pursed her lips as if contemplating, he flung his arm around her shoulder. "Nope! I can see it all over your face. You're moving back."
Hermione sighed with a laugh. It was time to get serious. "Ron, I can't just up and leave. I have a job. I have a house. I have—"
"Please don't take offense, but I can't imagine anyone being there who cares about you as much as we do. Tell me I'm wrong."
Hermione bit her lip, wondering if she should share the one thing she hadn't told them. "Well… there's one person."
Ron's eyes narrowed as a slow scowl sketched its way onto his face. She could feel Harry's bar stool turn behind her. He was listening, too.
"Who?! Who's this one person?" Ron demanded.
She bit her lip. No hiding it now. "My boyfriend."
A/N: Reviews always appreciated! Thanks for reading :) — Reminder, this is a Slow Burn fic. It'll get grown and sexy soon ;)
Next Chapter — Bound To… Stay