November 2001
"I have your mattress pad," Hermione announced at their next lunch at the Indian Restaurant.
"Oh, uh, thanks," Harry replied, keeping his head down toward his Saag Paneer.
"How's the Saag?" Hermione asked.
"Good."
"Like, really, really good?"
"Uhh...three, maybe four. What did I rate it last time?"
"Three. But I ask because you've been staring at it this whole time. So, I'm thinking you find it fascinating for some reason. Hypnotizing, even, so maybe I should adjust your rating to five if it's able to captivate you so thoroughly."
Harry rolled his eyes, then looked up at Hermione. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Hello, Hermione," he said with a forced smile.
She returned his fake smile. "Oh, there you are."
"You were talking about my mattress pad? Thank you for getting that, by the way."
"I was about to tell you that I picked it up Sunday, then tried to Floo so I could bring it over, but your fireplace was locked. Then I tried to owl and you didn't answer."
"Oh," Harry shrugged. "I had Teddy Sunday." It was true but not an excuse. He'd invited Hermione to his place while Teddy was there several times before.
Hermione was regarding Harry critically and he wanted to look back at his Saag but forced himself to maintain her gaze. "Then, I planned to bring it by on Tuesday," she continued, "but you canceled."
Harry nodded.
"With an inter-office memo. You couldn't walk to the other side of the floor and tell me in person?"
Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've been really busy getting everything ready for Leeland's trial. You know what it's like to be caught up with work. Just give me the mattress pad this weekend when we see each other at the Burrow."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and said challengingly, "No. I want to bring it by tonight."
"Why do you so urgently want to get rid of this thing?"
"Why are you being like this?! Just tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong," he argued.
"Then why are we yelling at each other?" she snapped back.
"No idea! You started it!"
They both noticed then that they were causing a bit of a scene. Hermione waved apologetically to the owner and took a sip of water before turning back to Harry.
She leaned forward and said in a calm tone, "Since when do we talk in circles like this, Harry?"
Since I found out I was in love with you, effectively breaking our friendship.
Harry sighed. Why did she have to look at him like that? With those big brown sad eyes. It was impossible to lie to her when she was wearing that expression, but also impossible to tell her the whole truth, so he settled with a half-truth.
"I have to tell you something."
Hermione nodded, like she'd expected him to say something like this.
"Okay," Harry continued. "The whole Apothecary drama. I've been reviewing the memories in the pensieve and it's painfully clear that I made a number of mistakes that morning."
"Oh. Are you in trouble?"
"I wish," Harry scoffed. "You've seen the papers. It's like I defeated Voldemort all over again. And Robards is right there with them, praising me to anyone who will listen."
"What's the problem? You made some mistakes but ultimately emerged victorious. Everyone makes mistakes, Harry."
"It's not just that. I could have kept you from being hurt. And you were the reason I was so distracted in the first place."
"Me? Oh. Is that why you've been cross with me?" She looked hurt. Dammit, he was mucking this all up.
"No. I'm not cross with you. I'm angry with myself, I-"
He paused to take a deep breath. "Okay, here it goes. I was so distracted because I was working myself up to have this big conversation with you. And…uh…I was nervous about it."
"Oh. Okay. What was it about?"
"Us."
"Us?" she asked, clearly confused.
He sighed. All words were failing him. Well, this was embarrassing. Luckily, Hermione finally seemed to catch on.
"Oh, wait, is this about how everyone thinks we're dating and how that's keeping both of us from finding new partners?"
Harry's eyes widened. "You know that?"
She waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah. I mean, it's not a big deal. I actually talked to Theo a few days ago and he's taking me out to dinner tomorrow night. I think if we do that a few more times the rumors will go away. Why were you so nervous about telling me that?"
"Well - do you think maybe we spend too much time together?"
She shrugged. "No. It's probably not a good idea to attend public events as a couple but who cares if we hang out at each other's places if no one else knows?"
"But it's not sustainable," Harry pointed out. "Eventually we'll date other people and spend our time with them." Just the thought of that happening one day hurt and he was hoping she'd deny it, but she didn't.
"Yeah, that's true. Once we move on, we won't have as much time to hang out with each other. But now we do have time, so why not? Especially since the alternative is just sitting alone at home. Are you-"
She cut off and this time she was the one looking down at her plate like it was very intriguing. "Are you trying to tell me you want to hang out with me less? Is that why you were so nervous?"
"I don't want to hang out with you less," Harry said quickly.
"Okay." Hermione lifted her head and searched his face. He seemed sincere, but she could tell there was still something he was holding back. "Can I bring the mattress pad to your place tonight?" she asked.
Harry sighed. "I'll stop by your flat to pick it up after dinner. Is eight o-clock good for you?"
"Yeah. It's a date." She'd hoped that would make him smile, but instead, he winced slightly. Hermione let out a sigh and motioned toward his plate. "How would you rate the Saag?"
Harry looked down. "Four. If I was going by flavor alone, I'd probably give it a three, but I do find it quite captivating."
He gave her a small smile, which encouraged Hermione to try another joke. "You're making your fake girlfriend jealous of a plate of Indian Food."
His smile widened. "Don't worry, Korma, you're the only one for me."
"Korma? Is that your Indian food pet name?"
"It was either that or Biryani. Which do you prefer?"
"Biryani."
"Korma it is," he said cheekily.
Hermione kicked him under the table and he kicked her back, then they shared another smile. It wasn't the same as before, but Hermione could tell they were getting closer. Now, if only she could get Harry to tell her what was really bothering him.
Harry arrived at Hermione's flat promptly at eight o-clock. He was worried if he was just a second late, Hermione would show up at his place, and he preferred to have it the other way around so he could make up some excuse and run home if he needed to.
Hermione opened the door before he had a chance to knock. "Hi," she said, looking a little surprised to see him.
"Hi."
Hermione opened the door wider, but Harry made no move to go inside.
"Are we going to do this mattress pad exchange in the hall or can I convince you to step inside?"
Harry nodded and followed Hermione into her flat. She went straight to the kitchen but he stayed near the door, scanning the area for the mattress pad that had caused so much trouble. He spotted a Muggle shopping bag near the side table and figured that was it.
"Do you want anything to drink?" Hermione called from the kitchen.
"No."
She returned a few moments later holding a steaming mug. She leaned against the wall and took a sip of her tea, silently regarding Harry, who looked like he was cataloguing all of her flat's exits so he could make a quick getaway.
"I sort of missed you," Hermione admitted after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.
Harry's heart jumped. Was she trying to kill him? He leaned against the wall nearest him, mirroring her pose and trying to keep his face blank. "We saw each other a few hours ago," he countered.
She sighed and looked down at her tea. "I meant before, when you were avoiding me." She waited for him to deny it. When he didn't, she looked up and caught him watching her curiously. His expression cleared when he saw her looking at him.
"And it's been especially bad since I've been seeing your face everywhere," Hermione pressed.
Harry nodded and cringed slightly. "I know. It's been awful."
"A lot of fan mail?"
He nodded again. "You have no idea."
"Any more moaning howlers?" she joked.
His face twisted in disgust. "Unfortunately, yes."
"And here I thought that was a very creative use of a howler and to hear that you don't like my gift..."
Harry let out a laugh and covered his face with his hand as he straightened and crossed his legs. Yes, she was absolutely trying to kill him and doing quite a good job of it.
He felt Hermione nudge her foot against his and when he looked up, she was giving him an encouraging smile. "Crack a smile…" she coaxed. "I know you can do it, Sweetheart."
He gave her an obnoxious smile, showing all his teeth. She put her mug down and went to stand in front of him, then said seriously, "I know last weekend we went through a lot together in a short amount a time. I know you're still beating yourself up about those mistakes you made and I know you're probably hating being widely famous again-"
And I realized I love you and you don't love me back, but I guess you don't know that one, he added bitterly in his mind.
"-but seeing you sad like this is sort of breaking my heart," she finished.
Harry was quiet for a few seconds, then said sarcastically, "Noted. I'll try to stop being sad since it's affecting you so much."
She laughed and he grinned at the sight of it.
Hermione squeezed his cheek. "Finally! A real smile. Of course it was from one of your own jokes. You're so self-centered. Come on." She picked up her mug and walked into the main room. "Let's watch something stupid."
Harry took a deep breath before going to join her on the couch.
After turning the television on, Hermione Summoned her gold scarf, wrapped it around her neck, activated the warming charm, and pulled a blanket over herself.
Harry shook his head as he watched her. "Why do you need the scarf and the blanket?"
"The scarf is warm," she explained, "and the blanket is soft."
"Why not just the blanket then?"
"It doesn't get my hands and feet as warm as the scarf does." She lifted the side of the blanket closest to him. "But the good news with this configuration is that now that the blanket is just for softness and not warmth, I don't mind you letting the cold air in, so we can share."
Harry hesitated and Hermione noticed. "Harry," she said gently, "it's not going to get better if we don't power through the awkwardness. I think we both learned that from our break-ups."
Harry bit his lip and searched for a good excuse to say no, so he could stay a safe distance away from her. But there was no good excuse and she was giving him that sad, pouty look he couldn't resist.
He sidled next to her and pulled the blanket over himself, then turned to her and said with a soft smile, "Sound advice as always, Peanut."
His words had the desired effect of cheering her up. She smiled widely, then snuggled closer to him, leaning her knees onto his lap. It took all of Harry's self control not to pick his arm up and wrap it around her. Instead, he placed his hands on her knees, which were technically in his space, so in his mind, fair game. She didn't seem to mind. She was focused on the television.
Harry couldn't focus at all. He was relishing the feeling of her, against his side, on his lap, and a faint tickle every so often of her hair against his cheek. Damn, they were close. Yep, he decided then, this was definitely how he was going to die.
It was ironic, after surviving the Killing Curse with Love Magic, that it would ultimately be love that would do him in. He wondered what Dumbledore would say. He'd probably have a good quote about it.
Just then, Hermione turned to him. She was just inches away and he could feel her breath on his cheek. "That was clever, don't you think?" she asked with a wide smile. Harry nodded, even though he had no idea what was clever, but figured she was as good a judge of cleverness as anyone. She gave him another pretty smile before turning back to the television.
He caught a whiff of her hair as she turned her head and sighed inwardly. Oh, well. If this was how he had to die, it wasn't the worst way to go.
A week later, Harry was testing the new kitchen sink he'd just installed. He'd followed all the directions to the letter, but the whole time, he'd had no idea what he was doing and didn't have high hopes for this test. He stared at the tap for a few seconds, then took his wand out of his pocket and held it at the ready, just in case.
He turned the tap and a jet of water shot straight at his face. He jumped out of the way just in time, then there was a scream. Harry cried out in alarm and cast a Shield Charm. He turned, in his dueling stance, to face the source of the scream. He saw Ginny getting sprayed with the stream of water.
He laughed and went to turn off the tap, then handed her the small towel he'd draped over his shoulder earlier. She gave him a look that clearly said, You think this small towel is going to be enough?
Harry laughed again and she scowled at him as she started drying herself with her wand, but he could tell by the way her lips were turned up that she wasn't seriously angry.
"I don't think it's supposed to do that," she said matter-of-factly as she worked on drying her hair.
"No. I meant for that to happen." Harry was wondering if they had plumbers in the Wizarding World. He'd ask someone at work tomorrow.
When Ginny was mostly dry, she started walking around the demolished kitchen. "Um, it's nice."
Harry shook his head. "I think it will be. But right now it looks like a pile of rubbish."
She nodded and leaned against the stove. She was running her fingers through her damp hair and staring at the table, giving no indication about what she was doing here and why she'd shown up unannounced.
"Hey, why don't we go in there," Harry cocked his head toward the Sitting Room, "away from this mess and you can tell me why you broke in."
She gave him a small smile and followed him into the hall. "You weren't answering your door," she explained.
"Right. I disarmed the doorbell and put a Silencing Charm up too, so I can't hear knocking."
It took Ginny a second to puzzle it out, then she nodded. "Oh...adoring fans?"
Harry nodded darkly.
"Sorry, Harry. I know how much you hate that." Ginny took a seat on the sofa and sighed heavily, then turned to look out of the window.
Harry leaned against the arm of one of the chairs and waited for her to say something else. When she didn't, he said, "I don't mean to sound rude, because you're welcome here anytime, but, er, why are you here?"
She kept her eyes on the window. "I have to tell you something."
"Okay."
She finally looked back at him and motioned toward the spot on the sofa next to her. "Can you sit?"
Uh oh. This was a bad sign. Harry took the seat she'd indicated and turned to her.
Ginny took one more breath before turning to Harry and announcing, "I made the Spanish team."
That wasn't what Harry had been expecting her to say. "Oh. That's great. So…you're moving?"
"Yes. Once the season starts back up in February."
"Wow. Congrats, Gin."
She gave him a forced smile and looked down at her lap.
"Is your mum still giving you grief? Because I'm sure she'll-"
"No," Ginny cut in. "I mean, she is, but not for that. There's something else."
Harry waited patiently for her to continue. He hadn't seen her struggle to speak this much since her early years at Hogwarts.
"When I move to Spain I'm going to live with Ruby, one of my teammates on the Harpies."
Harry nodded. "Reserve Keeper, right?"
Ginny smiled. Trust Harry to know everyone by their Quidditch position. "She was promoted recently to our main Keeper. She played during our entire last game."
"Oh, that was the one I missed. Sorry about that. I was, uh-"
Ginny waved her hand. "No need to explain. That was the night of the big Apothecary Drama. Completely understandable that after that you didn't want to go to your ex-girlfriend's Quidditch match."
Harry nodded, unsure what to say to that. He was remembering the revelation he'd had that night, during the very match she was talking about.
"Anyway," Ginny continued, "I'm trying to tell you something else."
"Yes. Trying and failing," he said with a smile.
She didn't return it. Another bad sign. "I'm just going to say this all in one go and if you could, uh, hold comments for the end, I'd appreciate that."
He nodded, concerned now, and waved for her to continue.
"Okay, here it goes. Ruby, uh, the reason I'm living with her is because she's my girlfriend. I'm bisexual. I started to realize it earlier this year and then proceeded to deny what I was feeling for months. But during that time we were becoming closer and closer. And I told myself we were just friends, teammates, but it was more and a part of me knew that, but I was lying to myself."
Harry knew that feeling well.
"Then, about a month before we broke up, she kissed me. That's when I knew for sure. And at that point I should have told you, but I, well, I was awful. I was confused and embarrassed and - and - scared. And I took all of those bad feelings and pushed them onto you. I was feeling terrible about myself so I convinced myself it was your fault, somehow, and that our relationship was bad, so it wasn't a big deal that I had inadvertently fallen in love with someone else in the middle of it."
Ginny dropped her head into her hands. "I was terrible to you near the end and you fought back, understandably, then, later, actually apologized. To me! The person whose fault it was."
Ginny was crying now and paused to take a breath. "I feel terrible. You can't imagine how terrible. And I - I don't know," she ended lamely.
Harry was quiet as he watched Ginny cry. This was a lot of information to take in. Putting aside the fact that Ginny was attracted to witches now, she'd cheated on him. She said she'd fallen in love with her friend. Harry could empathize with that, but he hadn't done it while he was in a relationship with someone else.
"You can talk now," Ginny said, wiping her eyes with the towel Harry had handed her before.
"I don't know what to say," Harry said honestly. He stood up and started pacing the room. Ginny picked on a loose thread on her jeans.
"You cheated."
Ginny nodded.
"Honestly, that part I can forgive," Harry continued. "It was just a kiss, yeah? One kiss?"
Ginny nodded again.
"But the rest of it." He continued his pacing and was raking his hands through his hair now. "You made me feel like our whole break-up was my fault. Saying I only loved you for your family, that I was distant and that I never confided in you and trusted Hermione and Ron more."
Ginny kept her head down and Harry saw a few tears fall into her lap.
"Do you see how fucked up that is, Gin? This whole time I've been convinced I'm such a rubbish boyfriend and that I have serious flaws that are probably going to carry over into my next relationship."
She winced and nodded again, then pulled her hands up to her face and started sobbing. Harry paced the room once, twice, then went to sit next to her.
"You should have just told me right after the kiss," he said gently. "It would have still hurt, but, been better, I think." Ginny was nodding but couldn't say anything through her sobs.
Harry sighed and pulled her against his chest. "Sorry for yelling," he muttered into her hair.
"You have every right to yell," she managed to choke out.
"I know."
She cried for a very long time and Harry was relieved to have the time to process everything. As he'd already told her, the act of falling in love with her teammate and kissing her was something Harry could forgive.
Making him feel like shit at the end of their relationship was a lot harder to forgive. But as he held her and remembered how incredible she'd been to him at the beginning, his heart softened. She'd patiently dealt with his panic attacks and nightmares, encouraged him to see a mind healer, and had simply loved him when he was struggling to love himself.
And it was painfully obvious how sorry she was. He'd never seen her lose it like this. So, he decided that because he loved her and still wanted her in his life, that he'd forgive her for this. It would probably take several months for the bitterness to completely go away, but he'd try.
When her sobs had finally begun to subside, he whispered, "I forgive you, Gin."
She leaned back and looked at him with shock. "Why?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm a very nice person."
She smiled and started wiping her face.
"So…you like witches," he said, leaning his head back on the sofa.
"And wizards," she added.
"Who else knows?"
"Ruby."
Harry let out a laugh. "I'd gathered that."
Ginny laid her head back on the couch next to Harry and said in a pained voice, "Also, my mum and dad. I told them yesterday."
Harry turned his head and saw a tear fall down Ginny's face. He grabbed her hand. "Tell me."
Ginny closed her eyes. "My mum said something like, 'If you're going to do this thing, I guess it's good you've chosen the "bisexual route." You can get this out of your system, then settle down with a nice wizard when you're ready.'"
Ginny started rubbing away the tears that had sprung into her eyes. "She was acting like she was being so supportive because she wasn't making a big deal about Ruby or us living together, but - she completely missed the point. This isn't a choice! And I may not end up with a wizard. What if the person I want to 'settle down with' is a witch? What happens then?"
"What did she say?" Harry asked.
"I didn't say any of that."
Harry squeezed her hand. "You should. When you're ready."
They were quiet for several minutes, then Harry turned his head and was glad to see Ginny wasn't crying anymore. She just looked pensive. "You have my support. If that counts for anything."
Ginny smiled and turned to face him. "Harry Potter."
"Ginevra Weasley."
She sat up and pulled her legs up onto the couch. Harry straightened and turned to face her. "You are without question the best wizard I have ever and probably will ever know," she announced.
Harry smiled, unsure what he was supposed to say to that.
"I'd say 'person,'" she continued, "but I know Hermione and she's quite remarkable too."
"She is." Harry dropped her gaze but before he did, Ginny sensed a hint of longing in his eyes. They hadn't figured it out yet, she thought to herself.
"You forgive me, just like that? I thought you'd make me work harder for it."
He looked up at her and grinned suggestively. "What are you offering?"
She pushed him and he let out a laugh. When he sat back up, he shrugged and said seriously, "You fell in love with your friend. It's not something you did on purpose. You should have ended our relationship differently, but you know that and it's not worth beating the point to death. Just, tell me this, it was good, right? Our relationship? If you discount the last few months?"
"Yeah," Ginny said quickly. "It was a really good first relationship."
Harry looked relieved and settled back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling.
"That happened to you, yeah?" Ginny asked.
"What?" Harry kept his gaze up.
"Falling for your friend without realizing what's going on."
"What?!" Harry snapped up and looked at her, alarmed.
Ginny smiled inwardly. So, Harry knew he loved Hermione. But obviously they hadn't talked about it since he'd looked sad when Ginny had mentioned her. Harry was probably thinking she didn't love him back. Or maybe that he wasn't good enough for her. He had a flawed view of himself and Ginny knew she was a big reason why.
Ginny decided at that moment that she'd help the two of them figure this out. It was the least she could do, after everything.
"I was talking about how you fell for me," she continued. "We were just friends, then, one day, you realized you liked me. Who were you thinking about?"
He laid back down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No one," he muttered.
Ginny nudged his side. "You seem down."
He shrugged. "I lost my break-up."
"You were down before," she countered. "You've been more withdrawn over the past few weeks."
"Maybe," he allowed. "It'll pass."
He sighed and Ginny bit the inside of her cheek, considering, then asked, "What do you want, Harry?"
This was a familiar question for them. At the beginning, when everything was chaotic and Harry was getting over the aftermath of the war while Ginny was getting over Fred's death, they'd ask each other this, usually at night, while lying in bed. It helped ground them when everything felt bad to think, what, realistically, do I want right now?
Sometimes the answer was simple, like, Chinese food. Sometimes it was more complex. Ginny remembered him saying once that he wanted to be understood.
"I want my kitchen to be put back together," he said eventually.
Ginny waited. She knew there'd be a deeper answer if she gave him time to formulate it. After several more seconds, he let out a heavy sigh and added, "And I don't want to feel alone anymore."
Ginny let his words hang in the air between them. He looked at her a little guiltily and added, "I guess I can admit this now, but even when we were together, I felt alone a lot of the time."
A part of her had known that but this was the first time he'd admitted it out loud. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've been alone from the beginning and even with friends who love you, you've always been set apart from the rest of us, mostly because of that prophecy."
Harry nodded and Ginny sighed, trying to figure out the right way to word her next question. "Have there ever been moments when you haven't felt like that? Alone?"
He was quiet, then his eyes flashed to something on the side table. He studied whatever was there for a few seconds before looking down at her hand, which was still on his shoulder, and saying softly, "There have been glimmers here and there."
Ginny leaned over to see what he'd been looking at. It was a book. She'd bet a hundred Galleons it belonged to Hermione. That hurt more than she'd expected.
She almost snapped back, "More so recently? Now that you've been spending so much time with Hermione?" Then she wanted to go on to point out that perhaps she wasn't the only one who'd been falling in love with a friend while they were together, since this 'Harry loves Hermione' thing had probably been going on for years.
But she caught herself and tried to calm the crazy part of her brain, the part she'd always assumed she inherited from her mother.
Ginny sighed and pulled her hand back. "I think you'll get what you want sooner than you think."
He shook his head. "What, are you a Seer now? This has been quite the year of self-discovery for you."
She began to hit his arm but he dodged the attack.
"Anyway," she continued. "My prediction is that this loneliness thing will be resolved by January 1st."
"This upcoming January 1st?" The disbelief was evident on his face.
"Yes," she said confidently.
"Why so specific?"
Ginny thought back to her bet with Neville and Hannah and shrugged. "Just a hunch."
Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "This new girlfriend of yours. Do you do illegal potions together? Or maybe some Muggle drugs?"
Ginny hit him again and this time, it landed.
They shared a laugh and Ginny leaned back on her heels. She was wondering if she should press more on this Hermione thing right now but ultimately decided to let it go. Harry looked knackered and she figured she'd put him through enough today.
"Do you want to hear about the game you missed?"
Harry nodded. "A full play by play, please. I want to feel like I'm there."
Ginny smirked and donned her announcer voice. "Tonight's game is between the Harpies and the Tossers - oh, wait - I mean Tornadoes."
Harry smiled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
"The Tornadoes take possession after the toss-up, but the Quaffle's gone to that dolt, Norman, so-"
Harry lifted his head and interrupted Ginny. "One more thing."
She switched to her normal voice. "Yeah?"
"Was I such a bad boyfriend that I made you want to swear off wizards altogether and date witches from here on out?"
Ginny considered the question, then deadpanned, "Yes."
Harry's lips turned up and he settled back and closed his eyes again. "Just wanted to be sure. Continue on with the game, please."
Ginny smiled and shook her head. This man, more than anyone, deserved a happy ending, and she would do anything in her power to help him get it.
December 2001
It was a few more weeks before Harry's kitchen was finally finished. As it turned out, there were plumbers in the magical world. Also, electricians, which Harry was grateful for since he didn't fancy being electrocuted. It was a Saturday afternoon and he'd invited Hermione over but hadn't told her why.
She'd been obviously excited when he'd asked her to come over during their weekly lunch and Harry had felt a little bad. Besides their Tuesday dinners (which had moved to her flat, since his kitchen was in disarray) and their Thursday lunches, they hadn't hung out alone together since Harry's revelation.
Harry had been spending all his free time on the kitchen and now that it was finished, he was trying to think of some new hobby to occupy his time. He didn't think it was healthy to spend too much time with Hermione, although he really wanted to.
It was obvious she was confused about the new arrangement and she'd dropped a few snide remarks about him cutting her out of the kitchen renovation, but he'd just ignored them. He wondered what she thought was behind his change in attitude toward her.
She was really perceptive, so it was possible she'd guessed at the real reason. But if she knew, she wasn't giving any indication.
[She didn't know. She was still too busy lying to herself.]
As soon as Hermione walked into the kitchen, she gasped and her face broke in a breathtaking smile. "Oh my God, you finished it! It's beautiful, Harry!"
She ran her hand along the edge of the stove. "You found a way to keep the stove and the table!" She was turning around, trying to take in every detail.
He nodded. "I refinished the table, like you suggested, and after I did that, I got the idea to paint the stove too. It works fine and just needed to be spruced up a bit. And I like how there are things from the old kitchen so it's not completely forgotten."
"It's perfect. Though Kreacher will hate it."
Harry let out a laugh. She'd moved on to inspecting the cabinets and he saw her notice Teddy's "art" on the end. He expected her to frown slightly, but her smile widened. "I see even Teddy had a part," she laughed.
"Yes. That wasn't planned. There was an incident with a pack of markers but once I put them up, I sort of liked it. The Dursley's kitchen was always so immaculate and I wanted something more…" he paused, searching for the right word.
"Natural?" she provided. "Lived in?"
Harry nodded. Hermione turned back to the scribblings on the side of the cabinet. She loved the whole kitchen. It wasn't too perfect or modern but rather, a nice blend of new and old. And there were pieces of people Harry loved here, the table where he'd spent many nights talking to Lupin and Sirius, the stove Molly had used to cook delicious meals, and even something from Teddy.
[Hermione forgot to name herself, but certainly deserved a spot on that list. For years to come, every time Harry opened a cabinet in this kitchen, he'd think fondly of Hermione and the afternoons they'd spent assembling them together. He'd remember how she'd spent hours getting the color changing charm just right and he'd smile at the thought that, all the while, they'd been falling more and more in love with each other without even realizing it.]
As Hermione marveled at the kitchen and how perfectly it had come together, Harry marveled at her. He couldn't imagine how he could possibly find another witch out there as perfect for him as Hermione.
He could picture finding someone he got on with who could perhaps look past the famous Harry Potter to who he really was, but they'd never understand why he'd wanted so badly to keep this stove. Or why even though this house still had a very "dark wizard vibe," Harry would work tirelessly to renovate it, instead of just selling it and getting a nicer place, because he loved constantly being reminded of Sirius.
But it was more than just the fact that Hermione knew Harry even better than he knew himself. There were countless other qualities that set her apart from any other witch he'd encountered. Like how she was so kind, compassionate, and unapologetically herself. How she was brave and would do anything for her friends and how she found joy in simple things, like a renovated kitchen with décor created by a toddler.
When Hermione turned back to face Harry, her heart stopped. He was giving her that look she'd come to refer to as the 'I think you're beautiful' look. She blushed and dropped his gaze, focusing on the tile floor under her feet.
When she looked back up at him, he was staring out the window with a forlorn look on his face. She walked to his side and placed a gentle hand on his arm. He covered it with his own hand and turned to face her. "Hi."
"Hi," she smiled.
"I'm glad you like the kitchen."
She nodded and squeezed his arm. "You seem down."
He let out a sigh and turned back to the window. Ginny had said the same thing. Was he really that obvious? "I've been feeling a little off lately but it's not from anything in particular," he lied.
"It always passes eventually, right?"
Harry gave her a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Do you want a hug?" she asked.
Harry pulled her into his chest almost before she finished her question. He felt immediately better once he was holding her in his arms but knew the pain and longing would return as soon as she stepped away. He ignored that thought and tried to enjoy the embrace for as long as it lasted, which, like most of their hugs, went on longer than was normal for two friends.
They spent the next few hours making an elaborate meat pie from a recipe passed down to Hermione by her late grandmother. They'd been putting it off for weeks since it sounded daunting, but it seemed like the perfect meal to break-in Harry's new kitchen.
As Hermione rolled out the pastry dough, she said gently, "Ginny told me everything."
Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on the vegetables he was cooking in the pan. He didn't know what to say to that or what "everything" meant.
"It's a lot," Hermione continued. "It must have been hard for you to hear."
Harry sighed and turned to her. Her hands were covered in flour and she had a bit on her cheek too. He smiled and leaned forward to wipe it away with the back of his hand.
"I was angry," he admitted. "At that moment, I was trying to be understanding and supportive, but as soon as she left I felt miserable and bitter every time I thought of it. But now…I'm okay."
"Yeah?"
Harry shrugged. "It's actually nice to have a bit of clarity about what happened with the two of us. It seemed like we were doing well, then it fell apart so abruptly. I was thinking I was this terrible partner and it's nice to know that wasn't the case or the reason we didn't work out."
"That's so mature of you."
"Yeah? You think I'm mature?" he grinned as he discreetly picked up a handful of flour.
"I do."
Harry opened his palm and blew the flour into her face.
Hermione squealed and slapped his arm. "Harry James Potter!"
"Hermione Jean Granger!" he mocked, stepping back out of her reach.
He picked up his wooden spoon and pointed down at the pan. "Before you retaliate, I should point out that I'm at a very critical step here and one wrong move could be the difference between a delicious and inedible pie."
She glared at him and he had to try hard not to laugh at her face, which was still covered in flour. He eyed her wand, which was lying on the counter and felt his own wand in his back pocket, ready for her attack, but none came.
She wiped her face with a towel and stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to her pastry dough. She had no plans to retaliate. She was just glad he didn't seem too upset by the whole Ginny situation.
Several minutes later, when Harry was finished with the vegetables and had removed them from the heat, he felt Hermione's eyes on him. He suspected she was about to punish him for earlier but when he turned to face her, found her wearing that expression she had when she was trying to work up the courage to say something.
"I have a thought," she began carefully.
"Yeah, you have that 'I'm about to deliver some unsolicited advice' look," he quipped. "Lay it on me." He leaned back against the counter.
"When we were coming back from lunch Thursday, we were in the lift with that new witch in Arthur's Department, Persephone."
Harry vaguely remembered a witch with short brown hair and a purple blouse. "Okay…"
"She was trying to talk to you and you blew her off."
Harry thought back. "Didn't she start the conversation with something about how impressive it was that I'd detained Leeland?" Harry looked to Hermione for confirmation. He didn't remember the specifics but knew she would.
Hermione was looking at him critically, then she motioned toward the pile of fan mail at the edge of the table that he hadn't had a chance to destroy yet. "I know all of that is crazy and that there really are some nutters out there. But that doesn't mean every witch who approaches you and talks about some impressive case you solved or your accomplishments from the war is crazy."
Harry crossed his arms and stared down at a spot on the floor. He didn't like where this was going.
"Harry, you're famous," she continued. "Everyone knows what you've done. Persephone was just trying to kick-off a conversation, so of course she started with what she already knew about you from the paper. If you write off every witch who knows about your past and admires you for it, then, well, you'll have written off every witch."
Harry scowled. Her message was clear. She wanted him to be happy, just not with her. "So what, Hermione?" It came out harsher than he'd meant it to.
She let out a sigh. "Next time someone young and attractive who you think you could like talks to you, hear her out. Everyone has to endure awkward small-talk at the beginning. Yours just happens to include mentions of why you're famous. But you should try to push past it and see if they have anything interesting to say. If not, then, sure, blow them off."
"Yeah, okay." Tears stung Harry's eyes and he turned back to the stove to start on cooking the meat. Harry knew she was right (she was always right), but he didn't want to hear any of this right now.
But his next question (the answer to which he wanted to hear even less) was out of his mouth before he could consider it. "How's your boyfriend search going?" Harry wondered if maybe he wasn't a little masochistic.
He saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye and she grunted noncommittally. She went back to pressing the dough into the pan and he could tell by the slump of her shoulders she was discouraged.
Are you as lonely as I am, Hermione? Because if so, we can solve this easily. Be with me. Look past the fact that I'm broken and emotionally unstable and that it would kill Ron, and just, take a chance, please. Because I love you, and with each passing day I'm realizing that I'll probably never love anyone else the same way.
Harry sighed and turned back to the stove. He wondered if he'd ever had the courage to say that aloud one day.
Later, they were sitting at the table, about to take the first bite of the long-awaited meat pie.
Harry motioned for Hermione to start. "Ladies first."
She took a small bite and chewed thoughtfully, then her face twisted and she shook her head.
Harry took a bite and said immediately, "It's gross."
"Yep."
"It's even worse than my Aunt Petunia's and she was an awful cook. Is this what it's supposed to taste like?"
"Of course not. You obviously messed it up." She was poking at the pie with her fork, as if looking for the culprit of the failed meal.
"Me?" Harry took another bite. "Uh uh. It's the crust that's off. It's too salty. And see this bit here," he tapped at the bottom of the pastry. "It's soggy. It's not supposed to be like that."
Hermione took another bite of the inside of the pie. "The inside is bad too. I think the meat is underdone and you may have missed some seasoning. Did you add any salt?"
"Maybe you took all my salt and put it in the pastry dough," he retorted.
Harry was about to take another bite, just so he could formulate a counter argument, then realized if they kept at this, they'd just end up eating the gross pie. "Oh, well," he shrugged. "What an underwhelming first meal in the kitchen. Do you think it was the kitchen's fault?"
Hermione shook her head and put her fork down. "No. It was definitely us."
Harry knew what his problem was. He'd been distracted by all that talk of them dating other people. But what was her excuse?
Harry got up and went to search through the fridge to see what else they could eat for dinner. "I have bread, one orange, and ice cream," he announced.
"Ice cream please," she called from the table.
He looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
She shrugged. "Why not? We're celebrating the new kitchen, aren't we?"
They each grabbed a bowl and loaded it up with ice cream, then agreed to eat in the Sitting Room, so they could escape the scene of the cooking disaster. Hermione said she was cold within two seconds and Harry threw the blanket on her and resumed his spot on the opposite end of the couch.
She was eating slowly, staring at her spoon, then said, seemingly out of nowhere, "You don't tell me I'm beautiful anymore."
Harry started, but luckily Hermione was looking down at her bowl and didn't notice. "Are you worried I changed my mind?"
[No, that wasn't why she'd asked. It was just a puzzle she'd been wondering over the past few weeks and had finally worked up the nerve to ask about. It was a puzzle she had all the pieces to and the brainpower to solve, but because of her mental block, couldn't.]
"It was just something I noticed," she replied.
"I'm trying this new thing. I just look at you, and you know. Is it working?"
Hermione raised her eyes and saw him appraising her. She smiled and looked back down at her bowl. "Yeah, actually. I think I can tell when you're thinking it." She was remembering the way he'd looked at her in the kitchen earlier.
"How do you not know?!" a voice in Harry's mind screamed. "You're the smartest person alive and this - this eludes you. Come on, Hermione! Just get there and save me from the hassle of having to tell you."
Hermione kept her gaze down and added, "I have this fear that if I do ever get a new boyfriend, he won't look at me like that."
Harry nudged her foot, which was under the blanket, and waited for her to look up at him before responding. "Then he's not worth your time. Also," he added with a grin, "give me his name and I'll get him on a list."
That made her smile, but soon, her expression was sad again. "What if I never find someone?"
"You will."
"You're a Seer now?"
Harry thought of Ginny and her odd prediction. "Actually, Ginny's the Seer."
"Oh, she is?" Hermione said doubtfully.
"I admitted to her I was feeling lonely and she made a prediction that I would be better by January 1st."
"That's oddly specific."
"That's what I said. Anyway, I'll go ahead and predict your problems will be solved exactly one day before mine on December 31st. You'll have a new boyfriend who thinks you're beautiful, is incredibly well read, will wrap you in piles of blankets, and let you watch stupid Muggle television to your heart's content. Oh, and he'll be straight, of course."
That finally made her smile. Harry was smiling too, but only on the outside. On the inside, he was thinking, If all that happens, I will probably spiral into a dark depression. So it seems like either Ginny's prediction will come true or mine. They can't happen concurrently.
"December 31st," Hermione was saying thoughtfully. "That's less than four weeks away."
"The Seer has spoken," he said in his best impression of Trelawny. "All there is to do now is wait and see."
She rolled her eyes and put her empty bowl on the table behind her. "It won't be the worst thing if this prophecy doesn't work out and extends another month or so. I don't completely hate these dates with my fake boyfriend."
Harry's chest clenched painfully. She was seriously trying to kill him. He didn't have to worry about what would or would not happen December 31st or January 1st, at this rate, he wasn't going to make it that long.
Hermione kicked him and the shock of the cold snapped him out of his thoughts. He pulled his knees up. "Get those blocks of ice you call feet off me!"
"This is why I need a scarf and a blanket," she explained. "You were making fun of me for it before, but now you see the blanket doesn't adequately heat my extremities."
"Then go get your scarf."
Hermione burrowed further under the blanket. "It's too far away," she moaned. "I left it at home."
"You know magic," he joked, remembering her saying the same to him months before.
"I'm too lazy."
Harry let out a laugh. She was a lot of things but lazy wasn't one of them.
Harry got up and grabbed his wand and she started to protest. "Harry! You don't need to-"
He was already gone and a few minutes later, returned with her gold scarf. He wrapped it around her neck and activated it with a tap of his wand, then settled back on the sofa.
She was shaking her head, trying to suppress a smile. "Tell me, Seer. Will my new boyfriend be as chivalrous as you?"
"No mere wizard can meet the high standard of chivalry I set," he said seriously. "But he'll be decent. If not, give me his name and I'll get him -"
"-on a list," she finished for him.
Her eyes were sparkling with mirth and Harry noticed they looked especially bright next to the scarf. She looked ridiculous, wrapped in a blanket and a scarf, even though they were inside and it wasn't cold, but she was still gorgeous.
Hermione could tell he was thinking she was beautiful. She was getting better at picking it out and even though she didn't realize it, these little moments were working as he'd intended. Every time she noticed him admiring her, a layer melted away from that cold feeling of self-doubt and insecurity that lived like a glacier in her heart.
In addition to admiring Hermione's beauty, Harry was wondering how long he could keep this up before he finally caved and blurted out the truth. Then he wondered which would come first: Hermione finally figuring it out, him working up the courage to confess his feelings, him doing something rash like grabbing her and kissing her, or her finding a new boyfriend and causing Harry to do the second or third thing.
Unfortunately, Harry wasn't a Seer, and resigned himself to the fact that he'd have to take his own advice and "wait and see."
A/N: I bet some of you wanted a narrator's note right there, didn't you? Sorry. You will also have to wait and see, but not for long.
When I sent this chapter to my beta, my note said: "Here's 8k words of dialogue that doesn't move the plot forward at all. Sorry."
For those of you who told me, "the longer the better," this is for you! For those of you thinking, "What the hell? When are we getting to the good stuff?" I promise the next chapter will be better.