Disclaimer: Yup, it's all mine, and nobody else's! *Eyes lawyers who suddenly surround her* Oh, did I say that I owned it? That was a mistake! It's all JK Rowling's! *Kicks a lawyer* Title is a line taken from "Your Body is a Wonderland" by John Mayer.
***
Discover Me, Discovering You
Chapter 1
by: Jenny
***
Hermione Granger was standing in the doorway of her flatmate's bedroom, her hands clasped together as she pleaded, "Harry, you simply must come out with me! This man is such a pervert. You need to be my bodyguard."
Harry Potter stared at Hermione with his striking jade green eyes as if she were crazy. Before saying anything in response, he pulled his black sock onto his right foot and then slipped his feet into his black dress shoes, bending down to lace it up. When he was finished, he stood up. As he strode across the room, he answered, "If he's such a perve, why are you even going on a date with him? Stay home if you're so worried he's going to try something."
Letting out a ferocious growl, Hermione stomped her foot as she rolled her eyes. "Harry, it's not that simple and you know it," she whined. "This is business. If I want the job at A Witch's Life, then I have to show! I would be your bodyguard if some tart with big breasts and bleach blonde hair wanted to get you in bed with her."
Harry raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at his female friend. She seemed intent on getting him to go with her; he would have, too, if he hadn't had a date with his current girlfriend, Hannah Hathaway. "Hon," said Harry, pulling her into a protective embrace, "I can't and I'm terribly sorry. Hannah would be horribly upset if I cancelled our date in order to protect you from the big bad scary man. It's our sixth month anniversary, after all."
"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "I can't believe you're abandoning me and my well being for an anniversary dinner followed by some good sex! Please?" She forced her glossy red lips into a pout and looked up at Harry with her puppy dog brown eyes.
He sighed. He was beginning to lose his resolve and Hermione knew it. She was his best friend, after all, and he would do anything for her. Harry shook his head; this was his six month anniversary with a woman he loved very much... he couldn't cancel the date just to baby-sit Hermione, no matter how good of a friend she was!
"You're not being fair, Hermione," pointed out Harry. "And you know I can never resist some good sex." By the way Hermione screwed up her face into the most awful expression, Harry knew that he was making her angry.
"You're not being fair, either," countered Hermione, rather lamely. "Postpone your date till tomorrow; tell Hannah that something came up."
Growing increasingly agitated with Hermione, Harry pushed past her into the hallway, heading to the small sitting room which was in quite a messy state at the moment: thick, hardback books that could only belong to Hermione were scattered all over the place, as well as film negatives, a couple of Hermione's older cameras, and various clippings from newspapers which Hermione took pictures for. Adding to the clutter were Harry's Quidditch magazines and a few bags of fanmail that he had received that week and had yet to read. Neither had found the time to clean up after themselves.
It hadn't taken the trio of friends (including Harry, Hermione, and Ron Weasley) long to find careers once they left Hogwarts. Harry signed a contract to play Quidditch professionally with Puddlemere United, alongside his former Quidditch captain Oliver Wood, before his seventh year was even over. He had been ensured the position of Seeker after he left Hogwarts, and within a few months he had established quite a reputation in the world of Quidditch, with thousands of devout fans sending him fanmail daily. He still hadn't adjusted to the sudden increase of his worldwide popularity, but he had made a valiant effort.
Hermione had taken a bit longer to find a steady job. It was nearly a month of living with her parents and depending on them like she was a little girl again before she got her break as a freelance photographer. She had been denied several jobs at several wizarding papers before the Daily Prophet accepted her on their staff. Her first job was covering a Puddlemere United versus Chudley Cannons Quidditch match; the incredible shots she had taken put her at the top of the "wanted" list of many of the prestigious other newspapers that had turned her down at first due to her lack of experience.
Ron had sat back and watched his friends successfully locate jobs for a while before his mother finally convinced him that he needed to get out of his orange Chudley Cannons pajamas and get out there in the business world. He searched for quite a while, putting in applications in various businesses before an opening at his brothers' joke shop was made known. Now, he was a proud co-owner of one-third of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which was more commonly called the 3W.
The three friends had purchased the flat once they each had a steady income that could pay for it. It was by no means extravagant, but it wasn't a filthy hole in the ground, either. Hermione often described it as "picturesque" and "quaint". It had two bedrooms, which was sufficient for the three of them; Harry and Ron shared the biggest while Hermione had the smaller to herself. There was also a rather large kitchen. Adjacent to the kitchen was a small dining area which housed a round table that could seat four. The sitting room was by far the favorite part of the flat for all of them, and that was where they spent most of their time.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had lived in the flat for close to three months when the joke shop got big news: a wizarding village in America wanted to open a franchise of the highly successful 3W. Fred, George, and Ron were ecstatic; the already flourishing shop would flourish even more with a franchise in America! However, they needed an overseer at the American shop. Ron had volunteered, and so he moved out of the flat the trio shared. Now, he had been living in America for about a month, saying how happy he was to be there. Hermione would have killed for Ron to be there at this moment, so that he could be her bodyguard since Harry was blatantly refusing.
"Harry?"
"No! I am not postponing my date with Hannah and I will not follow you and whoever-the-hell around to make sure he doesn't make a move on you," snapped Harry. He had seated himself heavily into one of the large, overstuffed armchairs that he and Ron had bought cheaply at some rummage sales. No matter how much Hermione begged him to remove the ugly chairs from the room, he refused, saying they connected him to Ron and they were comfortable besides.
Hermione feigned tears as she gazed at Harry. Pursing his lips, he softened his voice, "I am sorry. You know that I would do anything for you, but this is pushing the limit. I love you, but I love Hannah too, and I don't want to disrupt our relationship. She already thinks that you and I have a 'thing' for each other, and it's everything I can do to convince her that we have a strictly platonic relationship. It would arouse suspicion if I were to go on a date with you, don't you think?"
Although Hermione was still very upset at Harry's refusal, she gave in. "I'm sorry that I'm behaving so childishly. You'd think that I would have gotten over that. I am eighteen, an adult, so I need to start acting like one."
Harry nodded his agreement. Once again, he stood up and embraced her. This time, he gave her a soft kiss to the top of her head and squeezed her tightly to him before letting her go. "That's my girl," whispered Harry, bringing her close to him again and patting her encouragingly on the back. "It's just selfishness. You want me all to yourself, so you can kiss me senseless and make me forget all about Hannah."
In mock surprise, Hermione gasped. She pulled away from Harry and put a hand to her mouth. "How ever did you guess my plan? I'm absolutely crushed now, Harry!"
"There's not a witch in the world who can resist the dashing, charismatic, devastatingly handsome Harry Potter," said Harry arrogantly.
There was a silence before Hermione finally poked Harry in the chest and said clearly, "You, my dear friend, are incredibly conceited."
"What? You know it's all true!"
"That doesn't mean you have to be pompous about it!" returned Hermione, laughing. She laughed even harder when a huge, ear to ear grin lit up Harry's face. Putting her arms around Harry's neck, Hermione whispered, "You are dashing, you are charismatic, and you are handsome, and I really don't think there's one witch who could resist your charms if you were to come on to her." Almost as an afterthought, and in a softer voice, Hermione added, "I know I couldn't."
Before Harry had a chance to think about what Hermione meant by her words, the Muggle phone that they kept in the flat for quick contact rang. Once. Twice. Neither Hermione nor Harry made a move to get it. Thrice. Finally, Harry let out a small growl from deep within his throat and exited the room, heading toward the kitchen where the cordless phone was located. He appeared moments later wearing a devastated look.
"Who was it?" While he was gone, Hermione had seated herself on the cluttered couch and had began reading an article in one of her newspapers.
Harry ran a hand through his raven black hair slowly. He only did that when he was upset about something, Hermione knew. Taking a wild guess, she asked, "Was it Hannah?" The only response she received was a nod. "What did she say?"
Harry fixed his gaze on Hermione. "What do you think she said, Hermione?" he snapped hatefully. "She's been suddenly hit with a terrible cold and now we can't go on our date that I made reservations for at that new expensive restaurant in Diagon Alley. Dammit."
Hermione couldn't stop the huge grin from forming on her face, "How convenient! Now you can come with me!"
Harry looked at Hermione for a moment. And then he groaned and buried his head in his hands. "Just peachy," he murmured, his voice slightly muffled.
Hermione clapped her hands and let out a happy squeal.
***
An hour later, Hermione was dressed in a strapless black dress which fell to a few inches above her knees, showing off her naturally dark long legs. On her feet were a pair of strappy black shoes with a low heel. Completing the ensemble was a black chiffon shawl which she wrapped around her narrow shoulders.
Hermione had spent most of her time for getting ready on doing her hair and make-up to get them both just so. She had used a series of charms to pull her hair into a complicated French twist, leaving curly tendrils to frame her face. Her make-up had taken a long time to do, as she had done it the Muggle way. It was dark yet natural. Hermione had dusted shimmer powder across her collarbone, and, as a last minute decision, had clasped a simple gold chain with a gold cross around her neck. Taking a last deep breath and another look in her mirror, Hermione grabbed her handbag and headed to the door to see if Harry was ready yet.
Sure enough, he was standing outside her door with his hand raised in the air in a fist, as though he was preparing to knock. When Harry's eyes met Hermione's, she could tell that he thought she looked nice, and she smiled. "Ready?" asked Hermione, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
Letting out a breath, Harry replied, "As ready as I'll ever be. Now, lovely lady, would you allow me to escort you to the sitting room?"
"Of course, gentleman," said Hermione, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her from her room. She pulled the door closed behind her and allowed him to lead the way.
Once the pair reached the sitting room, Harry pulled his wand out of one of his pockets. "I'll Apparate us to Diagon Alley, if that's all right with you." When Hermione nodded her consent, Harry gripped her hand tighter and then they disappeared with an audible pop, reappearing moments later in the middle of the crowded Diagon Alley street. Several witches and wizards pushed rudely past the young couple who had suddenly appeared in the way.
Shaking her head at how appalling some people's rudeness was, Hermione turned to Harry, "OK, remember that you're my cousin who is visiting me and I just felt dreadful for leaving you behind, so I just brought you along."
"Sounds good to me," said Harry, shrugging. "But you're sure this fellow won't recognize me?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "There you go, getting conceited again! Just because you're the Harry Potter doesn't mean that everyone knows who you are. That scar of yours gives your identity away; so do your eyes."
Harry looked offended. "I didn't ask Voldemort to put a scar on my forehead, nor did I ask my mum for her green-eyed gene."
"I didn't mean it like that, Harry, and you know it," replied Hermione. She checked the silver watch she always wore on her left wrist - it had been a birthday gift from her late grandmother - and grimaced. It had taken a bit longer than she'd anticipated for her and Harry to get ready, and so they were due at the restaurant, which was on the other side of the Diagon Alley street in just about two minutes.
Harry must have noticed the unpleasant look on her face, because he looked at her worriedly, "What's the matter, Hermione?"
Sighing, Hermione began to pull Harry in the direction of the restaurant, trying to avoid the throngs of people milling about. "We're late because our disagreement about whether you would come with me ate up the valuable time we could have used to make ourselves look presentable," she explained to the man. "But no matter! Mr. Kingsly should understand." As she said this, she bit her lip.
They reached the restaurant just a few moments later. It was quite huge, and the outside was very fancy. Hanging above the restaurant, undoubtedly suspending in midair by some magical spell or another, was a large sign with flashing lights that illuminated the street around it, which proclaimed "Maurice's".
Harry opened the glass door for Hermione, sweeping into a grand bow, "After you, fair Miss Granger."
Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes at how silly Harry looked as she walked past him. He joined her at her side, and, smiling broadly up at him, she said, "Why, thank you, handsome Mr. Potter."
Together, Hermione and Harry walked to the podium at the front of the restaurant. A regal-looking wizard with slicked-back black hair and a mustache peered at them expectantly, and Hermione informed him, "My friend and I are supposed to meet a Mr. Peter Kingsly. He has reservations under his name."
After consulting the reservation book atop the podium, the man smiled warmly at Hermione and Harry. "Ah, yes. Mr. Kingsly has been expecting you, Miss Granger. Right this way."
A few minutes later, Hermione and Harry were seated at a small round table near the back of the restaurant. Mr. Kingsly, who, after the introduction of Harry, looked rather displeased that Hermione had brought a friend along, causing Hermione to apologize profusely; Harry looked rather embarrassed at his intrusion, but finally Mr. Kingsly said it was not a problem.
"Now, Miss Granger-"
Smiling brightly at her prospective employer, Hermione asked, "Please call me Hermione. Miss Granger makes me feel as though I'm at school again."
Mr. Kingsly smiled back and reached across the table to take Hermione's hand, "And you are to call me Peter, Hermione."
Harry, who had been munching on the complementary basket of bread that had been brought to them, added, "You can both call me Harry."
"Harry!" hissed Hermione, kicking him under the table as she pulled her hand from Mr. Kingsly's. Satisfaction came over her when she saw Harry wince in pain, and she smirked at him as if to say, Behave! He must have got the message, for he sat back quite huffily and poured himself a second glass of champagne.
Mr. Kingsly shook his head amusedly before continuing, "As I was saying: the recommendation that the Daily Prophet sent to me was nothing short of glowing. There's no doubt in my mind that you are more than qualified for this position, but my stuffy boss has made it mandatory that I ask you to submit some shots of yours as well as a resume where we will be able to 'check up on you', so to speak. You've just completed your last year of school, have you not?"
As Hermione sipped her water to nurture her parched throat, she nodded, "Yes, a little over a year ago."
"New blood is always refreshing." Once again, the man reached for Hermione's hand. "While we're waiting for our dinners, why don't you let me have this dance?"
Trying desperately not to make a face, Hermione declined, "I don't think so; I would feel terrible if I were to leave Harry sitting here alone."
"I'm sure Harry won't mind!" protested Mr. Kingsly.
"Oh, but-" It was then that Hermione noticed Harry's glazed expression as he stared off to the other side of the restaurant. "Harry? Are you all right?"
Harry looked visibly angry, "Is it just me or does that woman look uncannily like Hannah?"
Both Hermione and Mr. Kingsly followed Harry's gaze to a booth across the room, where a pretty young woman with long, straight blonde hair was seated with a handsome man with brown hair. She was giggling, as was her companion, and looking positively not sick, as she had claimed when she had called Harry.
"Maybe she has a reasonable explanation, Harry," offered Hermione, but it was too late. Harry had pushed his chair back so roughly that it almost toppled over to the floor - Mr. Kingsly had gracefully caught it before it did so - and had begun to stride over to his girlfriend. Looking back on it, the scene that unfolded was rather amusing to Hermione: Harry walked right up behind Hannah and tapped her on the shoulder. Hannah, looking a bit angry at being interrupted, turned around to face the intruder, obviously intending to say something rude. However, once she realized who had caught her in the middle of cheating, her pouty glossed lips formed themselves into a perfect "O" shape. Hermione heard her stutter in a panicked voice, "H-Harry! Hullo!"
As they, along with most of the other attendents of the restaurant, watched the ensuing argument between famous Harry Potter and his girlfriend, Mr. Kingsly leaned over, "It's harsh to find your girlfriend out with another man when she claimed to be sick." He sounded as though it was something he'd experienced quite a few times; that wasn't surprising to Hermione, who knew that there was only so much blatant groping that a woman could stand.
Several angry words, a few tears (on Hannah's part), and couple photographs of the scene later, Harry returned to the table with Mr. Kingsly and Hermione. He was positively fuming as he reached for his wand and drained the last bit of champagne in the glass. He glowered at Hermione, "I'm leaving, with or without you. It's your decision."
Hermione hurriedly apologized to Mr. Kingsly as Harry stalked off and as she pulled on her coat and grabbed her handbag. "He might do something rash, and that would be tragic. You know how to contact me, all right!" With that, she dashed after her raven-haired friend, throwing one last disdainful look at the woman who was wrapped up in another man's arms.
***
Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were both seated on stools in a bar. For the past hour and a half, Hermione had been trying to comfort Harry by telling him that Hannah most definitely did not deserve such a wonderful, caring, amazing guy as him, but her words didn't seem to be helping. Harry had almost immediately taken to drowning his sorrows with the most potent drink the bar had, the female bartender (who was openly flirting with Harry, although he didn't seem to notice, nor care) delighting in refilling his glass every time he asked her, which was quite often. Harry, who had just guzzled the last of his fifth drink, slammed the glass on the counter and demanded for more.
"Harry," warned Hermione, patting Harry's arm, "I really don't think it's wise that you keep this up. You're going to get horribly plastered."
The blonde bartender refilled his drink again. "There ya go, hon," she said happily, snapping the wad of gum in her mouth.
"I'm okay, 'Minnie," slurred Harry. He looked puzzled for a minute before correcting himself, drawing out each syllable very carefully, "Her-me-own, I mean." It still wasn't the correct pronunciation, but at least it wasn't "'Minnie".
Hermione sighed, "Correction: you're already plastered. We should get you home and into bed." She reached into her handbag and pulled out a few Knuts and Sickles, setting them on the counter and hoping that it would cover the immense bill Harry had created. After pulling on her coat, Hermione helped Harry into his, tucking his wand into the pocket of his black trousers. She then carefully led him out into the chilly October air. A few minutes later, Hermione Apparated them into their flat.
Their coats and Hermione's shawl were discarded at the door. Hermione stumbled with the weight of Harry, who was breathing quite heavily into her ear. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and grimaced; he'd had quite a lot and was probably going to be suffering a hangover tomorrow.
"Here, Harry. Sit down on the couch," instructed Hermione once she had pulled the man into their sitting room. She glanced at it, and then shook her head, pointing her wand at it to clear the clutter. Harry tried to sit, but, unfortunately, he brought Hermione down with him, landing on her stomach. Hermione let out a small cry as the air was knocked out of her.
Hermione spent the next few minutes trying to untangle her limbs from Harry's, but she didn't succeed, finally surrendering. She rested her head on the top of the sofa and had began to drift off into dreamworld when Harry's soft voice brought her back, "'Mione?"
Hermione raised her head, "Yeah, Harry?"
Harry sat himself up, untangling his arms from Hermione's without much trouble, and stared at her, "You're beautiful."
Hermione was taken aback by Harry's comment, and at first she thought he might have been telling her the truth. But then she remembered how much he had to drink, and her hopes fell, "You're drunk, Harry, you don't know what you're saying."
There was a long pause as Harry appeared to be contemplating what Hermione said. Then he brought one hand up to caress her cheek and tuck a curly tendril of hair behind her ear, "I don't have to be drunk to know how gorgeous you are, Hermione."
After a moment of hesitance, Hermione gave in and tilted her head to meet Harry's. Their lips came closer and closer, until they met in the first electrifying kiss of the night.
***
Author's Notes: If the Harry-drinking scene didn't seem very realistic, it's probably because I (being 15) have never been to a bar, nor have I got myself drunk. I have had my boyfriend cheat on me before, though, and I got mad. Very mad. He hasn't talked to me since. =)
I'm going to use this space to vent about something that's confusing me greatly right now. My best friend is Becca, and we tell each other every thing. Well, Becca has a younger brother named Daniel, who plays snare drum in the marching band (I'm in colorguard, with Becca and Elizabeth). Lately, I've found myself actually liking Daniel more and more (keep in mind that he's 2 years younger than me, making him 13, and that Becca is very protective of him)... today, before practice, Daniel and I were standing in the percussion section of the band room, and he was helping me play the bells, and he just sort of... kissed me. I'm very confused as to whether I should pursue this relationship or let it go, as he is younger than me (and still in middle school) and my best friend's younger brother; also, I'm not sure if I want to tell Becca about it... grr! 15-dom sucks, especially when you like a 13-year-old! (Don't think I'm weird, please... I am perfectly normal!)
Don't forget to write a review! (And, if you're feeling especially charitable, go read my D/Hr fic, Time Of Your Life.)
*Jenny
Author's Notes: Second fic... before I begin writing chapter 2 of TOYL, I'm going to take a day or so off.
(This takes place in October, 1999, one year and 4 months following the conclusion of their seventh year.)
Due to some rather unfounded accusations that I have plagiarized another story (because since this has the same title as one story (and probably several others) out of thousands on this site, as well as a similar line in my summary, that obviously means I copied everything... *roll eyes*), I have decided that I am changing the title as well as my summary. Thanks for understanding. =)
Summary: 19-year-olds Hermione and Harry find themselves re-evaluating their feelings for one another when their actions force them to deal with some unexpected repercussions. H/Hr
This has not been Beta read! Excuse any mistakes!
Chapter 1
by: Jenny
Hermione Granger was standing in the doorway of her flatmate's bedroom, her hands clasped together as she pleaded, "Harry, you simply must come out with me! This man is such a pervert. You need to be my bodyguard."
Harry Potter stared at Hermione with his striking jade green eyes as if she were crazy. Before saying anything in response, he pulled his black sock onto his right foot and then slipped his feet into his black dress shoes, bending down to lace it up. When he was finished, he stood up. As he strode across the room, he answered, "If he's such a perve, why are you even going on a date with him? Stay home if you're so worried he's going to try something."
Letting out a ferocious growl, Hermione stomped her foot as she rolled her eyes. "Harry, it's not that simple and you know it," she whined. "This is business. If I want the job at A Witch's Life, then I have to show! I would be your bodyguard if some tart with big breasts and bleach blonde hair wanted to get you in bed with her."
Harry raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at his female friend. She seemed intent on getting him to go with her; he would have, too, if he hadn't had a date with his current girlfriend, Hannah Hathaway. "Hon," said Harry, pulling her into a protective embrace, "I can't and I'm terribly sorry. Hannah would be horribly upset if I cancelled our date in order to protect you from the big bad scary man. It's our sixth month anniversary, after all."
"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "I can't believe you're abandoning me and my well being for an anniversary dinner followed by some good sex! Please?" She forced her glossy red lips into a pout and looked up at Harry with her puppy dog brown eyes.
He sighed. He was beginning to lose his resolve and Hermione knew it. She was his best friend, after all, and he would do anything for her. Harry shook his head; this was his six month anniversary with a woman he loved very much... he couldn't cancel the date just to baby-sit Hermione, no matter how good of a friend she was!
"You're not being fair, Hermione," pointed out Harry. "And you know I can never resist some good sex." By the way Hermione screwed up her face into the most awful expression, Harry knew that he was making her angry.
"You're not being fair, either," countered Hermione, rather lamely. "Postpone your date till tomorrow; tell Hannah that something came up."
Growing increasingly agitated with Hermione, Harry pushed past her into the hallway, heading to the small sitting room which was in quite a messy state at the moment: thick, hardback books that could only belong to Hermione were scattered all over the place, as well as film negatives, a couple of Hermione's older cameras, and various clippings from newspapers which Hermione took pictures for. Adding to the clutter were Harry's Quidditch magazines and a few bags of fanmail that he had received that week and had yet to read. Neither had found the time to clean up after themselves.
It hadn't taken the trio of friends (including Harry, Hermione, and Ron Weasley) long to find careers once they left Hogwarts. Harry signed a contract to play Quidditch professionally with Puddlemere United, alongside his former Quidditch captain Oliver Wood, before his seventh year was even over. He had been ensured the position of Seeker after he left Hogwarts, and within a few months he had established quite a reputation in the world of Quidditch, with thousands of devout fans sending him fanmail daily. He still hadn't adjusted to the sudden increase of his worldwide popularity, but he had made a valiant effort.
Hermione had taken a bit longer to find a steady job. It was nearly a month of living with her parents and depending on them like she was a little girl again before she got her break as a freelance photographer. She had been denied several jobs at several wizarding papers before the Daily Prophet accepted her on their staff. Her first job was covering a Puddlemere United versus Chudley Cannons Quidditch match; the incredible shots she had taken put her at the top of the "wanted" list of many of the prestigious other newspapers that had turned her down at first due to her lack of experience.
Ron had sat back and watched his friends successfully locate jobs for a while before his mother finally convinced him that he needed to get out of his orange Chudley Cannons pajamas and get out there in the business world. He searched for quite a while, putting in applications in various businesses before an opening at his brothers' joke shop was made known. Now, he was a proud co-owner of one-third of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which was more commonly called the 3W.
The three friends had purchased the flat once they each had a steady income that could pay for it. It was by no means extravagant, but it wasn't a filthy hole in the ground, either. Hermione often described it as "picturesque" and "quaint". It had two bedrooms, which was sufficient for the three of them; Harry and Ron shared the biggest while Hermione had the smaller to herself. There was also a rather large kitchen. Adjacent to the kitchen was a small dining area which housed a round table that could seat four. The sitting room was by far the favorite part of the flat for all of them, and that was where they spent most of their time.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had lived in the flat for close to three months when the joke shop got big news: a wizarding village in America wanted to open a franchise of the highly successful 3W. Fred, George, and Ron were ecstatic; the already flourishing shop would flourish even more with a franchise in America! However, they needed an overseer at the American shop. Ron had volunteered, and so he moved out of the flat the trio shared. Now, he had been living in America for about a month, saying how happy he was to be there. Hermione would have killed for Ron to be there at this moment, so that he could be her bodyguard since Harry was blatantly refusing.
"Harry?"
"No! I am not postponing my date with Hannah and I will not follow you and whoever-the-hell around to make sure he doesn't make a move on you," snapped Harry. He had seated himself heavily into one of the large, overstuffed armchairs that he and Ron had bought cheaply at some rummage sales. No matter how much Hermione begged him to remove the ugly chairs from the room, he refused, saying they connected him to Ron and they were comfortable besides.
Hermione feigned tears as she gazed at Harry. Pursing his lips, he softened his voice, "I am sorry. You know that I would do anything for you, but this is pushing the limit. I love you, but I love Hannah too, and I don't want to disrupt our relationship. She already thinks that you and I have a 'thing' for each other, and it's everything I can do to convince her that we have a strictly platonic relationship. It would arouse suspicion if I were to go on a date with you, don't you think?"
Although Hermione was still very upset at Harry's refusal, she gave in. "I'm sorry that I'm behaving so childishly. You'd think that I would have gotten over that. I am eighteen, an adult, so I need to start acting like one."
Harry nodded his agreement. Once again, he stood up and embraced her. This time, he gave her a soft kiss to the top of her head and squeezed her tightly to him before letting her go. "That's my girl," whispered Harry, bringing her close to him again and patting her encouragingly on the back. "It's just selfishness. You want me all to yourself, so you can kiss me senseless and make me forget all about Hannah."
In mock surprise, Hermione gasped. She pulled away from Harry and put a hand to her mouth. "How ever did you guess my plan? I'm absolutely crushed now, Harry!"
"There's not a witch in the world who can resist the dashing, charismatic, devastatingly handsome Harry Potter," said Harry arrogantly.
There was a silence before Hermione finally poked Harry in the chest and said clearly, "You, my dear friend, are incredibly conceited."
"What? You know it's all true!"
"That doesn't mean you have to be pompous about it!" returned Hermione, laughing. She laughed even harder when a huge, ear to ear grin lit up Harry's face. Putting her arms around Harry's neck, Hermione whispered, "You are dashing, you are charismatic, and you are handsome, and I really don't think there's one witch who could resist your charms if you were to come on to her." Almost as an afterthought, and in a softer voice, Hermione added, "I know I couldn't."
Before Harry had a chance to think about what Hermione meant by her words, the Muggle phone that they kept in the flat for quick contact rang. Once. Twice. Neither Hermione nor Harry made a move to get it. Thrice. Finally, Harry let out a small growl from deep within his throat and exited the room, heading toward the kitchen where the cordless phone was located. He appeared moments later wearing a devastated look.
"Who was it?" While he was gone, Hermione had seated herself on the cluttered couch and had began reading an article in one of her newspapers.
Harry ran a hand through his raven black hair slowly. He only did that when he was upset about something, Hermione knew. Taking a wild guess, she asked, "Was it Hannah?" The only response she received was a nod. "What did she say?"
Harry fixed his gaze on Hermione. "What do you think she said, Hermione?" he snapped hatefully. "She's been suddenly hit with a terrible cold and now we can't go on our date that I made reservations for at that new expensive restaurant in Diagon Alley. Dammit."
Hermione couldn't stop the huge grin from forming on her face, "How convenient! Now you can come with me!"
Harry looked at Hermione for a moment. And then he groaned and buried his head in his hands. "Just peachy," he murmured, his voice slightly muffled.
Hermione clapped her hands and let out a happy squeal.
An hour later, Hermione was dressed in a strapless black dress which fell to a few inches above her knees, showing off her naturally dark long legs. On her feet were a pair of strappy black shoes with a low heel. Completing the ensemble was a black chiffon shawl which she wrapped around her narrow shoulders.
Hermione had spent most of her time for getting ready on doing her hair and make-up to get them both just so. She had used a series of charms to pull her hair into a complicated French twist, leaving curly tendrils to frame her face. Her make-up had taken a long time to do, as she had done it the Muggle way. It was dark yet natural. Hermione had dusted shimmer powder across her collarbone, and, as a last minute decision, had clasped a simple gold chain with a gold cross around her neck. Taking a last deep breath and another look in her mirror, Hermione grabbed her handbag and headed to the door to see if Harry was ready yet.
Sure enough, he was standing outside her door with his hand raised in the air in a fist, as though he was preparing to knock. When Harry's eyes met Hermione's, she could tell that he thought she looked nice, and she smiled. "Ready?" asked Hermione, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
Letting out a breath, Harry replied, "As ready as I'll ever be. Now, lovely lady, would you allow me to escort you to the sitting room?"
"Of course, gentleman," said Hermione, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her from her room. She pulled the door closed behind her and allowed him to lead the way.
Once the pair reached the sitting room, Harry pulled his wand out of one of his pockets. "I'll Apparate us to Diagon Alley, if that's all right with you." When Hermione nodded her consent, Harry gripped her hand tighter and then they disappeared with an audible pop, reappearing moments later in the middle of the crowded Diagon Alley street. Several witches and wizards pushed rudely past the young couple who had suddenly appeared in the way.
Shaking her head at how appalling some people's rudeness was, Hermione turned to Harry, "OK, remember that you're my cousin who is visiting me and I just felt dreadful for leaving you behind, so I just brought you along."
"Sounds good to me," said Harry, shrugging. "But you're sure this fellow won't recognize me?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "There you go, getting conceited again! Just because you're the Harry Potter doesn't mean that everyone knows who you are. That scar of yours gives your identity away; so do your eyes."
Harry looked offended. "I didn't ask Voldemort to put a scar on my forehead, nor did I ask my mum for her green-eyed gene."
"I didn't mean it like that, Harry, and you know it," replied Hermione. She checked the silver watch she always wore on her left wrist - it had been a birthday gift from her late grandmother - and grimaced. It had taken a bit longer than she'd anticipated for her and Harry to get ready, and so they were due at the restaurant, which was on the other side of the Diagon Alley street in just about two minutes.
Harry must have noticed the unpleasant look on her face, because he looked at her worriedly, "What's the matter, Hermione?"
Sighing, Hermione began to pull Harry in the direction of the restaurant, trying to avoid the throngs of people milling about. "We're late because our disagreement about whether you would come with me ate up the valuable time we could have used to make ourselves look presentable," she explained to the man. "But no matter! Mr. Kingsly should understand." As she said this, she bit her lip.
They reached the restaurant just a few moments later. It was quite huge, and the outside was very fancy. Hanging above the restaurant, undoubtedly suspending in midair by some magical spell or another, was a large sign with flashing lights that illuminated the street around it, which proclaimed "Maurice's".
Harry opened the glass door for Hermione, sweeping into a grand bow, "After you, fair Miss Granger."
Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes at how silly Harry looked as she walked past him. He joined her at her side, and, smiling broadly up at him, she said, "Why, thank you, handsome Mr. Potter."
Together, Hermione and Harry walked to the podium at the front of the restaurant. A regal-looking wizard with slicked-back black hair and a mustache peered at them expectantly, and Hermione informed him, "My friend and I are supposed to meet a Mr. Peter Kingsly. He has reservations under his name."
After consulting the reservation book atop the podium, the man smiled warmly at Hermione and Harry. "Ah, yes. Mr. Kingsly has been expecting you, Miss Granger. Right this way."
A few minutes later, Hermione and Harry were seated at a small round table near the back of the restaurant. Mr. Kingsly, who, after the introduction of Harry, looked rather displeased that Hermione had brought a friend along, causing Hermione to apologize profusely; Harry looked rather embarrassed at his intrusion, but finally Mr. Kingsly said it was not a problem.
"Now, Miss Granger-"
Smiling brightly at her prospective employer, Hermione asked, "Please call me Hermione. Miss Granger makes me feel as though I'm at school again."
Mr. Kingsly smiled back and reached across the table to take Hermione's hand, "And you are to call me Peter, Hermione."
Harry, who had been munching on the complementary basket of bread that had been brought to them, added, "You can both call me Harry."
"Harry!" hissed Hermione, kicking him under the table as she pulled her hand from Mr. Kingsly's. Satisfaction came over her when she saw Harry wince in pain, and she smirked at him as if to say, Behave! He must have got the message, for he sat back quite huffily and poured himself a second glass of champagne.
Mr. Kingsly shook his head amusedly before continuing, "As I was saying: the recommendation that the Daily Prophet sent to me was nothing short of glowing. There's no doubt in my mind that you are more than qualified for this position, but my stuffy boss has made it mandatory that I ask you to submit some shots of yours as well as a resume where we will be able to 'check up on you', so to speak. You've just completed your last year of school, have you not?"
As Hermione sipped her water to nurture her parched throat, she nodded, "Yes, a little over a year ago."
"New blood is always refreshing." Once again, the man reached for Hermione's hand. "While we're waiting for our dinners, why don't you let me have this dance?"
Trying desperately not to make a face, Hermione declined, "I don't think so; I would feel terrible if I were to leave Harry sitting here alone."
"I'm sure Harry won't mind!" protested Mr. Kingsly.
"Oh, but-" It was then that Hermione noticed Harry's glazed expression as he stared off to the other side of the restaurant. "Harry? Are you all right?"
Harry looked visibly angry, "Is it just me or does that woman look uncannily like Hannah?"
Both Hermione and Mr. Kingsly followed Harry's gaze to a booth across the room, where a pretty young woman with long, straight blonde hair was seated with a handsome man with brown hair. She was giggling, as was her companion, and looking positively not sick, as she had claimed when she had called Harry.
"Maybe she has a reasonable explanation, Harry," offered Hermione, but it was too late. Harry had pushed his chair back so roughly that it almost toppled over to the floor - Mr. Kingsly had gracefully caught it before it did so - and had begun to stride over to his girlfriend. Looking back on it, the scene that unfolded was rather amusing to Hermione: Harry walked right up behind Hannah and tapped her on the shoulder. Hannah, looking a bit angry at being interrupted, turned around to face the intruder, obviously intending to say something rude. However, once she realized who had caught her in the middle of cheating, her pouty glossed lips formed themselves into a perfect "O" shape. Hermione heard her stutter in a panicked voice, "H-Harry! Hullo!"
As they, along with most of the other attendents of the restaurant, watched the ensuing argument between famous Harry Potter and his girlfriend, Mr. Kingsly leaned over, "It's harsh to find your girlfriend out with another man when she claimed to be sick." He sounded as though it was something he'd experienced quite a few times; that wasn't surprising to Hermione, who knew that there was only so much blatant groping that a woman could stand.
Several angry words, a few tears (on Hannah's part), and couple photographs of the scene later, Harry returned to the table with Mr. Kingsly and Hermione. He was positively fuming as he reached for his wand and drained the last bit of champagne in the glass. He glowered at Hermione, "I'm leaving, with or without you. It's your decision."
Hermione hurriedly apologized to Mr. Kingsly as Harry stalked off and as she pulled on her coat and grabbed her handbag. "He might do something rash, and that would be tragic. You know how to contact me, all right!" With that, she dashed after her raven-haired friend, throwing one last disdainful look at the woman who was wrapped up in another man's arms.
Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were both seated on stools in a bar. For the past hour and a half, Hermione had been trying to comfort Harry by telling him that Hannah most definitely did not deserve such a wonderful, caring, amazing guy as him, but her words didn't seem to be helping. Harry had almost immediately taken to drowning his sorrows with the most potent drink the bar had, the female bartender (who was openly flirting with Harry, although he didn't seem to notice, nor care) delighting in refilling his glass every time he asked her, which was quite often. Harry, who had just guzzled the last of his fifth drink, slammed the glass on the counter and demanded for more.
"Harry," warned Hermione, patting Harry's arm, "I really don't think it's wise that you keep this up. You're going to get horribly plastered."
The blonde bartender refilled his drink again. "There ya go, hon," she said happily, snapping the wad of gum in her mouth.
"I'm okay, 'Minnie," slurred Harry. He looked puzzled for a minute before correcting himself, drawing out each syllable very carefully, "Her-me-own, I mean." It still wasn't the correct pronunciation, but at least it wasn't "'Minnie".
Hermione sighed, "Correction: you're already plastered. We should get you home and into bed." She reached into her handbag and pulled out a few Knuts and Sickles, setting them on the counter and hoping that it would cover the immense bill Harry had created. After pulling on her coat, Hermione helped Harry into his, tucking his wand into the pocket of his black trousers. She then carefully led him out into the chilly October air. A few minutes later, Hermione Apparated them into their flat.
Their coats and Hermione's shawl were discarded at the door. Hermione stumbled with the weight of Harry, who was breathing quite heavily into her ear. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and grimaced; he'd had quite a lot and was probably going to be suffering a hangover tomorrow.
"Here, Harry. Sit down on the couch," instructed Hermione once she had pulled the man into their sitting room. She glanced at it, and then shook her head, pointing her wand at it to clear the clutter. Harry tried to sit, but, unfortunately, he brought Hermione down with him, landing on her stomach. Hermione let out a small cry as the air was knocked out of her.
Hermione spent the next few minutes trying to untangle her limbs from Harry's, but she didn't succeed, finally surrendering. She rested her head on the top of the sofa and had began to drift off into dreamworld when Harry's soft voice brought her back, "'Mione?"
Hermione raised her head, "Yeah, Harry?"
Harry sat himself up, untangling his arms from Hermione's without much trouble, and stared at her, "You're beautiful."
Hermione was taken aback by Harry's comment, and at first she thought he might have been telling her the truth. But then she remembered how much he had to drink, and her hopes fell, "You're drunk, Harry, you don't know what you're saying."
There was a long pause as Harry appeared to be contemplating what Hermione said. Then he brought one hand up to caress her cheek and tuck a curly tendril of hair behind her ear, "I don't have to be drunk to know how gorgeous you are, Hermione."
After a moment of hesitance, Hermione gave in and tilted her head to meet Harry's. Their lips came closer and closer, until they met in the first electrifying kiss of the night.
Author's Notes: If the Harry-drinking scene didn't seem very realistic, it's probably because I (being 15) have never been to a bar, nor have I got myself drunk. I have had my boyfriend cheat on me before, though, and I got mad. Very mad. He hasn't talked to me since. =)
I'm going to use this space to vent about something that's confusing me greatly right now. My best friend is Becca, and we tell each other every thing. Well, Becca has a younger brother named Daniel, who plays snare drum in the marching band (I'm in colorguard, with Becca and Elizabeth). Lately, I've found myself actually liking Daniel more and more (keep in mind that he's 2 years younger than me, making him 13, and that Becca is very protective of him)... today, before practice, Daniel and I were standing in the percussion section of the band room, and he was helping me play the bells, and he just sort of... kissed me. I'm very confused as to whether I should pursue this relationship or let it go, as he is younger than me (and still in middle school) and my best friend's younger brother; also, I'm not sure if I want to tell Becca about it... grr! 15-dom sucks, especially when you like a 13-year-old! (Don't think I'm weird, please... I am perfectly normal!)
Don't forget to write a review! (And, if you're feeling especially charitable, go read my D/Hr fic, Time Of Your Life.)
*Jenny