A/N: Hope you listened to Stephen Speaks' "Out Of My League" like I told
you to. Probably my most romantic - and heartbreaking - chapter yet.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.
CHAPTER 7:
"I don't think they're coming," I said hopefully, fidgeting the hem of the white tablecloth for the billionth time. David smiled at me, his left arm draped over my seat.
"It's only seven-thirty, 'Mione," he told me, lifting his glass of champagne to his lips. "I wouldn't expect them to be here on the dot."
I tried to smile, but ended up doing a winced expression on my face. Here we were, Saturday night at Thatcher & Atwood's, the newest, live-band restaurant in London - and I was praying fervently to anyone above who was listening to not let Harry and Ron show up.
I don't know why I don't want them to come. I've argued about it in my head since I visited Hogwarts and I've come to the conclusion that it was, perhaps, because I had the sinking feeling that something bad will happen tonight. All right, 'bad' may not be the greatest word for it, but something, well, not nice, is going to happen. I can feel it in my bones.
"There they are!" David exclaimed, waving to them at the front door. I could see nothing but the maitre'd's back and Ron's flaming red hair. *Maybe Harry decided not to come,* I thought. *Maybe he had an emergency Quidditch practice...*
It's just too bad that imagination and reality hadn't gotten together. I saw the maitre'd turn around to lead the new arrivals to our table. Ron was looking quite dashing in a dark blue suit. I had rarely seen him in your usual Muggle clothes and he always wore his dress robes to formal wizarding events. Harry must have told him about Muggle formalwear. And speaking of Harry, he was more than handsome in his black suit that hung to his every asset perfectly. He looked like he just stepped out of a GQ cover. I felt my mouth drop a little as I gave him a once-over, my eyes roving over the straight-cut trousers that showed off a little of his perfect backside, the crisp, forest green, button-down shirt whose two top buttons were sexily undone and the black jacket elegantly draped over his tapered shoulders.
/Nobody,/ I thought with longing. /Nobody should look *that* good. Guys like him should be made illegal./ I felt my thighs tighten involuntarily while I watched him saunter over to us and he brushed his hair back with a free hand.
He just took my breath away and for the slightest moment, I was convinced that I was marrying the wrong guy. Of course, that was before I saw the girl clutching his arm.
/Who the heck is that?/ my brain started to scream. I looked at her - shiny, long, blonde hair, two, violet-blue eyes framed by foot-long eyelashes, a pouty mouth, a sexy body hidden under a cut of pink chiffon fabric that barely qualified as a dress, breasts from here to New Zealand, miles of smooth leg under that 'dress' and finished off with a pair of dainty pink heels. /No way did he meet someone like *that* in the wizarding world. Did he?/
I felt my heart constrict painfully - a feeling that had been familiar to me four years ago. I realized with a pang that the girl was Harry's every fantasy come true.
I closed my eyes to blink back the tears that were forcing their way down my cheeks. /Get a grip on yourself, Hermione. You should be happy for him now that he's found the perfect girl./
"Hey, glad you could make it," I managed to say cheerfully. That was one aspect of me that never changed. I still looked happy even when I was hurting. "Hi," I said, directing the greeting to the girl in question.
"Everyone, this is Elizabeth Wilson," Harry introduced the blonde to David and me. "Elizabeth, this is Hermione Granger, one of my best friends, and her..." he paused, his face taking on a pained look that was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. "Her fiancée, David Callaway."
Perfect Elizabeth held out one hand for us to shake. "How do you do? Harry's told me so much about you, Hermione."
I gave her a small smile. "I wish I could say the same about you."
"Sit down, sit down," David said, gesturing for the three of them to take their seats. "No date, Ron?"
"No," he answered, shaking his head. "I prefer going stag you know. You never know if you're going to meet a lovely woman - or women - in places like these."
I had to laugh at what Ron said. He's become quite the Casanova since he became Keeper for Gryffindor and got a much-needed ego boost. But I had a hard time trying to pry my eyes away from Harry and his date. She had the cutest little laugh, like the one those girls in society circles had. /Maybe they all went to the same finishing school,/ I thought dismally.
One of Elizabeth's ultra-thin straps slid down her shoulder and I held my breath as Harry rearranged it for her, his fingers brushing her skin. She smiled at him graciously, mouthing a 'Thank you' under her breath. I began to feel old and dowdy in my black dress that I had spent hours at the mall choosing. /Perhaps I was wrong not to choose the red one with the really low neckline./
David was hardly noticing me. He and Ron were talking animatedly, about what? I don't know. Harry was obviously engrossed with his date and I - I was left alone with my thoughts.
/And you could've used with showing some leg, Hermione,/ my brain added as I glanced at the long skirt of my dress. /The red one would have been so perfect./
"Hermione," David said softly, tapping my shoulder and I snapped out of my trance. "What would you like to drink?" It was then that I noticed the waiter standing over me with a smile.
"Scotch," I answered immediately. Damn it, I need something strong. "Straight, please."
The three men at the table looked at me with a mixture of shock, surprise and curiosity. Elizabeth, however, was busy teasing Harry's ear and I glared at her. "I didn't know you drank scotch," David finally spoke after several moments of silence.
"I also drink bourbon and I have tequila shots on occasion," I told him, not really caring about what he'd think of me after this particular revelation. "My liver is deteriorating as we speak," I added, putting in a lighthearted joke. Unfortunately, no one seemed to find it funny.
"But - but you don't drink," Ron pressed in a concerned voice. "What about all those litanies you gave me on how drinking is bad and that I should avoid it like the plague?"
"Well, we all have to eat our words sometime, Ron," I replied smugly. Harry, I could see, wasn't very pleased with my confession but I ignored him. I think I'll leave the champagne-drinking to Little Miss Perfect over there, thank you very much.
When our drinks arrived, I downed mine just as another waiter approached our table to take our food orders. David had asked for the pasta Alfredo, Ron, the filet mignon, Harry took the baked ziti, Elizabeth chose a light salad (surprise, surprise) and I had asked for another round of scotch.
"'Mione, you can't not eat tonight," David told me, smoothing my back. "And you also shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach."
I patted his hand. "Don't worry about me. I've not eaten on several occasions before. I just feel like drinking tonight."
"Well, at least have some of the pasta," he pressed, lifting a forkful of noodles from his plate and directing them carefully to my mouth. Knowing David, he wouldn't let up until I've taken at least one bite from him so I opened my mouth and let the tasty pasta slide down my throat. He smiled at me, like I was a sick kid in pediatrics who had just taken her yucky medicine. "Didn't that taste good?"
I nodded a little absently, looking over to see what Harry's reaction was to our little feeding session.
None at all. Harry was being fed himself with a forkful of lettuce from Elizabeth's pale salad. Damn. What was taking my scotch so long?
"How about another one, 'Mione?" David asked, ready to twirl his fork again.
I shook my head this time, looking around for the waiter and finding him stationed at the bar. I waved to him and he immediately came over with my scotch. I took the golden liquid from him and slid the whole thing down my throat. Its fire and bitterness burned my throat but I didn't care. I longed for the warm, numbing feeling to take its effect on me, and it didn't take long before it did. Scotch always calmed me somehow.
After dinner, which, by the way, consisted of two glasses of scotch and a forkful of pasta, David stood up and tapped his knife at the side of his wine glass. I looked up at him and he smiled down at me and that's when I knew - the 'something bad' was going to happen now.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I asked all of you out for dinner tonight," David began, grinning. I felt my heart thump loudly inside my chest. "First of all, I would like to thank you both for obliging to come to this special occasion for me and my 'Mione." He paused and I saw Harry glance my way. "Second, I am pleased to say that you two are as wonderful friends as 'Mione's ever told me you'd be." David looked down at me as he said this before taking my hand in his. "Which is why, Ron and Harry, I would like to formally ask you to be the best men at our wedding."
I stared at David with wide eyes, then to Ron and to Harry. /No, no, no! This isn't happening! He didn't just ask what I thought he asked! What is he thinking?/ All the calmness that the scotch had provided me vanished into oblivion and I was left feeling cold, sweaty and nervous. *This* is why I hate surprises!
Ron looked at Harry with probing eyes, searching for an answer. But Harry's emerald eyes remained vacant as he looked at me with an expression on his face that I just couldn't place. David was looking at Ron expectantly. "Well?" he pressed.
"S-Sure," Ron agreed nervously, still looking at Harry's probable reaction.
"Wonderful!" David exclaimed. He shifted his sights on Harry. "What about it, Harry? Hermione would just be thrilled if both of her best friends would be at her wedding."
"Harry..." I whispered, making a move to grasp his hand. "You don't have to do..."
"Yeah," Harry answered, his voice emotionless and his stance rigid. "I'll do it."
"Brilliant! Everything's set with the two of you then." David turned to me and gave me a kiss on the lips. "Aren't you happy, love? Two of the most important people in your life will be there for the most important day of your life. I just knew they wouldn't say no."
I couldn't clearly register what he was trying to say. Everything was a big blur to me now, nothing was clear except the image of Harry leaning back in his seat, refusing to look at me. I know that he thinks it's all my idea, which is the reason why he said yes. And I also know that he probably won't believe me if I said I didn't know anything about it before tonight. But he has to believe me.
He has to...
Before I could say anything, David pulled me to my feet and twirled me around. He was always such a great dancer. In fact, he was a great everything. I could hear the piano chords reverberate in hidden speakers around the room, as David led me to the center of the dance floor.
Here, beside me, is the most perfect man in all of England. The man who wants to marry me and cherish me for the rest of my life. This man treated me like I'm a princess and would give me everything I ask for.
What was wrong with me then? How can I not appreciate a man like this?
He pulled me close to him, our bodies swaying to the light, acoustic rhythm of the music. "Are you happy, my darling?" he asked me softly, his head resting on top of mine.
I nod because it is easier than actually telling him how I *really* feel.
"I'm glad," he replied simply, before leaning down and covering my mouth with his.
* * *
Harry turned his head away from Hermione and David, not bearing to see the two of them do things that he would like to be the one to do to her.
/How did it come to this?/ he thought sullenly, unable to contain himself from looking back at the dancing couple. /How the heck did I agree to be the best man?/
He retraced his thoughts to some two hours ago, when he and Ron had first arrived at Thatcher & Atwood's. Elizabeth Wilson was Sirius' girlfriend, a girl who was at least half his age who worked as a specialist for the Care of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry. He had asked her if she would like to accompany him to dinner that night, in hopes of making Hermione jealous - jealous enough to drag him outside and confess her feelings to him.
Well, at least, that's what he'd been hoping for.
She had agreed, but was a little reluctant. Elizabeth was in favor of what Sirius had told him before - that if he loved Hermione, he'd have the guts to tell her face-to-face. He also warned Harry that bringing Elizabeth might make his plan backfire on him, to which Harry paid no heed.
Upon entering the restaurant, Harry felt himself lose his nerve when he saw Hermione. She couldn't see him where he was standing, or Elizabeth, because the maitre'd and Ron were blocking her view. But he could see her clearly.
She was, still is, the most beautiful woman Harry had ever laid eyes on. The woman of his dreams and fantasies. It almost hurt him to look at her. She looked so innocent, yet seductive in that long, black dress. Her hair was up in a circle of curls behind her head. She wore little make-up, something Harry always found so attractive on her. Just enough to highlight her already bright eyes and to further enhance her soft lips. She epitomized grace and perfection and Harry could feel himself positively melting when she turned to meet his gaze.
He had seen her mouth open a little when she looked at him and he was very pleased that she liked what she saw. He had spent a lot of time trying to decide what to wear tonight, and her appreciation made it all worth it. And when he saw her look at Elizabeth with a cleverly-disguised glare, he thought that his plan was working perfectly. He was even a little happy when she asked for scotch to drink. It meant that she was bothered.
His plan was going perfectly - or so he thought.
It started to go downhill when Hermione ordered her second glass of scotch and refused to eat anything. He wanted her to feel bothered, but not like this. He watched out of the corner of his eye when David gently persuaded her to eat some pasta and felt a deep longing in the pit of his stomach when she had finally agreed. When her lips had closed around the fork and slid it out of her mouth, the longing turned into desire - the exact desire he felt when Hermione had laid herself on his bed. Her lips had consumed his thoughts all week, wondering how they would feel against his, what they would taste like, what sweet moans will come out of them as he kissed her senseless.
Elizabeth had felt his change of mood and owed it to the girl sitting across them. Well, she *was* there to try and make Hermione jealous so, as if on cue, she speared a crouton and a piece of lettuce and fed it to Harry. Not exactly her best move of the night, but it did make Hermione sit up and notice - or more correctly, sit up and *glare* at her again.
She couldn't place her finger on it. What was Hermione doing with this guy - David, was it? - when it's so obvious to her that she's in love with Harry? Don't get her wrong, they've only just met but she *is* a woman, too and she knows the symptoms of true love, having gone through it once before.
And the fiancée unnerved her. There's something very...strange about him. She could sense it, but could hardly say it aloud. Hermione just might pounce on her if she badmouthed her lover.
Elizabeth watched with slight amusement when David got to his feet, champagne flute in hand. Looks like she was going to have a lot to tell Sirius tonight.
Harry looked at Hermione, who, in turn, was looking at David as he stood up. /My God, she's beautiful,/ he thought to himself, taking in the way the soft lighting illuminated her already-perfect features. He observed her carefully, noting the tiny shiver she felt and wishing he could just put his arms around her and make her feel warm for the rest of their lives.
/If only you had gotten to her first.../
/You did get her to her first,/ another part of his brain taunted him. /You were just stupid enough to let her go./
"...Ron and Harry, I would like to formally ask you to be the best men at our wedding!" David announced, grinning cheekily at them both.
His words stung him, like someone had just plunged a knife into his heart and was twisting it mercilessly. He looked at Hermione, hoping for a sign - any sign - that would tell him that he still had hope to make everything all right for them. To love her.
But she had only looked up to David, her eyes closed and Harry thought she was happy that David had decided to be the one to twist the knife in his heart.
He barely heard Ron mutter in agreement and could hardly see straight when David rounded on him to get his confirmation.
"What about you, Harry? Hermione would just be thrilled if both of her best friends would be at her wedding?"
"Harry," she had whispered, brushing her hand over his. "You don't have to do..."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, not wanting to hear what Hermione had to say. Just hearing her speak hurt him. "I'll do it."
Then David had led Hermione out of her seat toward the dance floor where the band was playing the first piano strains.
And, for the first time in four years, Harry felt tears in his eyes as he watched the two of them hold each other close - Hermione's arms around his neck and David's arms around her waist - and sway to the music. The song, it seemed, was made for him and he listened to it, like he never listened to anything like it his whole life:
It's her hair and her eyes today
That just simply take me away
And the feeling that I'm falling further in love makes me shiver, but in a good way
All the times I had sat and stared
As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair,
When she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me,
Sitting there, slack-jawed and nothing to say
'Cause I love her with all that I am
And my voice shakes along with my hands
'Cause I'm speechless to say what I'm feeling today
But I'm out of my league once again...
Harry closed his eyes as he felt the music swell and his mind filled with thoughts of him and Hermione - at Hogwarts, spending the summer at Ron's, playing the giant chessboard in their first year, seeing Hermione petrified in their second year, watching her dance with Krum in their fourth...
It's a mistiful melody,
When she calls out my name to me
As the world spins around her,
She laughs, rolls her eyes
And I feel like I'm falling, but it's no surprise
'Cause I love her with all that I am
And my voice shakes along with my hands
'Cause it's frightening to be swimming in this strange sea,
but I'd rather be here than on land
Yeah, she's all that I see and she's all that I need
And I'm out of my league once again...
...the kiss she gave him on the platform at the end of their fourth year, seeing her drop the silver platter that night at the Common Room and turn away...
It's her hair and her eyes today,
That just simply take me away
And the feeling that I'm falling further in love makes me shiver, but in a good way
All the time I had sat and stared
As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair,
As she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me,
Sitting there, slack-jawed, and nothing to say...
...Hermione smiling at him, hiding her pain, that day in Hogsmeade, when she had witnessed him kiss another girl by the lake that night before she left him...
'Cause I love her with all that I am
And my voice shakes along with my hands...
...and when she ran away...
'Cause it's frightening to be swimming in this strange sea, but I'd rather be here than on land
Yeah, she's all that I see and she's all that I need
And I'm out of my league once again...
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters.
CHAPTER 7:
"I don't think they're coming," I said hopefully, fidgeting the hem of the white tablecloth for the billionth time. David smiled at me, his left arm draped over my seat.
"It's only seven-thirty, 'Mione," he told me, lifting his glass of champagne to his lips. "I wouldn't expect them to be here on the dot."
I tried to smile, but ended up doing a winced expression on my face. Here we were, Saturday night at Thatcher & Atwood's, the newest, live-band restaurant in London - and I was praying fervently to anyone above who was listening to not let Harry and Ron show up.
I don't know why I don't want them to come. I've argued about it in my head since I visited Hogwarts and I've come to the conclusion that it was, perhaps, because I had the sinking feeling that something bad will happen tonight. All right, 'bad' may not be the greatest word for it, but something, well, not nice, is going to happen. I can feel it in my bones.
"There they are!" David exclaimed, waving to them at the front door. I could see nothing but the maitre'd's back and Ron's flaming red hair. *Maybe Harry decided not to come,* I thought. *Maybe he had an emergency Quidditch practice...*
It's just too bad that imagination and reality hadn't gotten together. I saw the maitre'd turn around to lead the new arrivals to our table. Ron was looking quite dashing in a dark blue suit. I had rarely seen him in your usual Muggle clothes and he always wore his dress robes to formal wizarding events. Harry must have told him about Muggle formalwear. And speaking of Harry, he was more than handsome in his black suit that hung to his every asset perfectly. He looked like he just stepped out of a GQ cover. I felt my mouth drop a little as I gave him a once-over, my eyes roving over the straight-cut trousers that showed off a little of his perfect backside, the crisp, forest green, button-down shirt whose two top buttons were sexily undone and the black jacket elegantly draped over his tapered shoulders.
/Nobody,/ I thought with longing. /Nobody should look *that* good. Guys like him should be made illegal./ I felt my thighs tighten involuntarily while I watched him saunter over to us and he brushed his hair back with a free hand.
He just took my breath away and for the slightest moment, I was convinced that I was marrying the wrong guy. Of course, that was before I saw the girl clutching his arm.
/Who the heck is that?/ my brain started to scream. I looked at her - shiny, long, blonde hair, two, violet-blue eyes framed by foot-long eyelashes, a pouty mouth, a sexy body hidden under a cut of pink chiffon fabric that barely qualified as a dress, breasts from here to New Zealand, miles of smooth leg under that 'dress' and finished off with a pair of dainty pink heels. /No way did he meet someone like *that* in the wizarding world. Did he?/
I felt my heart constrict painfully - a feeling that had been familiar to me four years ago. I realized with a pang that the girl was Harry's every fantasy come true.
I closed my eyes to blink back the tears that were forcing their way down my cheeks. /Get a grip on yourself, Hermione. You should be happy for him now that he's found the perfect girl./
"Hey, glad you could make it," I managed to say cheerfully. That was one aspect of me that never changed. I still looked happy even when I was hurting. "Hi," I said, directing the greeting to the girl in question.
"Everyone, this is Elizabeth Wilson," Harry introduced the blonde to David and me. "Elizabeth, this is Hermione Granger, one of my best friends, and her..." he paused, his face taking on a pained look that was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. "Her fiancée, David Callaway."
Perfect Elizabeth held out one hand for us to shake. "How do you do? Harry's told me so much about you, Hermione."
I gave her a small smile. "I wish I could say the same about you."
"Sit down, sit down," David said, gesturing for the three of them to take their seats. "No date, Ron?"
"No," he answered, shaking his head. "I prefer going stag you know. You never know if you're going to meet a lovely woman - or women - in places like these."
I had to laugh at what Ron said. He's become quite the Casanova since he became Keeper for Gryffindor and got a much-needed ego boost. But I had a hard time trying to pry my eyes away from Harry and his date. She had the cutest little laugh, like the one those girls in society circles had. /Maybe they all went to the same finishing school,/ I thought dismally.
One of Elizabeth's ultra-thin straps slid down her shoulder and I held my breath as Harry rearranged it for her, his fingers brushing her skin. She smiled at him graciously, mouthing a 'Thank you' under her breath. I began to feel old and dowdy in my black dress that I had spent hours at the mall choosing. /Perhaps I was wrong not to choose the red one with the really low neckline./
David was hardly noticing me. He and Ron were talking animatedly, about what? I don't know. Harry was obviously engrossed with his date and I - I was left alone with my thoughts.
/And you could've used with showing some leg, Hermione,/ my brain added as I glanced at the long skirt of my dress. /The red one would have been so perfect./
"Hermione," David said softly, tapping my shoulder and I snapped out of my trance. "What would you like to drink?" It was then that I noticed the waiter standing over me with a smile.
"Scotch," I answered immediately. Damn it, I need something strong. "Straight, please."
The three men at the table looked at me with a mixture of shock, surprise and curiosity. Elizabeth, however, was busy teasing Harry's ear and I glared at her. "I didn't know you drank scotch," David finally spoke after several moments of silence.
"I also drink bourbon and I have tequila shots on occasion," I told him, not really caring about what he'd think of me after this particular revelation. "My liver is deteriorating as we speak," I added, putting in a lighthearted joke. Unfortunately, no one seemed to find it funny.
"But - but you don't drink," Ron pressed in a concerned voice. "What about all those litanies you gave me on how drinking is bad and that I should avoid it like the plague?"
"Well, we all have to eat our words sometime, Ron," I replied smugly. Harry, I could see, wasn't very pleased with my confession but I ignored him. I think I'll leave the champagne-drinking to Little Miss Perfect over there, thank you very much.
When our drinks arrived, I downed mine just as another waiter approached our table to take our food orders. David had asked for the pasta Alfredo, Ron, the filet mignon, Harry took the baked ziti, Elizabeth chose a light salad (surprise, surprise) and I had asked for another round of scotch.
"'Mione, you can't not eat tonight," David told me, smoothing my back. "And you also shouldn't be drinking on an empty stomach."
I patted his hand. "Don't worry about me. I've not eaten on several occasions before. I just feel like drinking tonight."
"Well, at least have some of the pasta," he pressed, lifting a forkful of noodles from his plate and directing them carefully to my mouth. Knowing David, he wouldn't let up until I've taken at least one bite from him so I opened my mouth and let the tasty pasta slide down my throat. He smiled at me, like I was a sick kid in pediatrics who had just taken her yucky medicine. "Didn't that taste good?"
I nodded a little absently, looking over to see what Harry's reaction was to our little feeding session.
None at all. Harry was being fed himself with a forkful of lettuce from Elizabeth's pale salad. Damn. What was taking my scotch so long?
"How about another one, 'Mione?" David asked, ready to twirl his fork again.
I shook my head this time, looking around for the waiter and finding him stationed at the bar. I waved to him and he immediately came over with my scotch. I took the golden liquid from him and slid the whole thing down my throat. Its fire and bitterness burned my throat but I didn't care. I longed for the warm, numbing feeling to take its effect on me, and it didn't take long before it did. Scotch always calmed me somehow.
After dinner, which, by the way, consisted of two glasses of scotch and a forkful of pasta, David stood up and tapped his knife at the side of his wine glass. I looked up at him and he smiled down at me and that's when I knew - the 'something bad' was going to happen now.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I asked all of you out for dinner tonight," David began, grinning. I felt my heart thump loudly inside my chest. "First of all, I would like to thank you both for obliging to come to this special occasion for me and my 'Mione." He paused and I saw Harry glance my way. "Second, I am pleased to say that you two are as wonderful friends as 'Mione's ever told me you'd be." David looked down at me as he said this before taking my hand in his. "Which is why, Ron and Harry, I would like to formally ask you to be the best men at our wedding."
I stared at David with wide eyes, then to Ron and to Harry. /No, no, no! This isn't happening! He didn't just ask what I thought he asked! What is he thinking?/ All the calmness that the scotch had provided me vanished into oblivion and I was left feeling cold, sweaty and nervous. *This* is why I hate surprises!
Ron looked at Harry with probing eyes, searching for an answer. But Harry's emerald eyes remained vacant as he looked at me with an expression on his face that I just couldn't place. David was looking at Ron expectantly. "Well?" he pressed.
"S-Sure," Ron agreed nervously, still looking at Harry's probable reaction.
"Wonderful!" David exclaimed. He shifted his sights on Harry. "What about it, Harry? Hermione would just be thrilled if both of her best friends would be at her wedding."
"Harry..." I whispered, making a move to grasp his hand. "You don't have to do..."
"Yeah," Harry answered, his voice emotionless and his stance rigid. "I'll do it."
"Brilliant! Everything's set with the two of you then." David turned to me and gave me a kiss on the lips. "Aren't you happy, love? Two of the most important people in your life will be there for the most important day of your life. I just knew they wouldn't say no."
I couldn't clearly register what he was trying to say. Everything was a big blur to me now, nothing was clear except the image of Harry leaning back in his seat, refusing to look at me. I know that he thinks it's all my idea, which is the reason why he said yes. And I also know that he probably won't believe me if I said I didn't know anything about it before tonight. But he has to believe me.
He has to...
Before I could say anything, David pulled me to my feet and twirled me around. He was always such a great dancer. In fact, he was a great everything. I could hear the piano chords reverberate in hidden speakers around the room, as David led me to the center of the dance floor.
Here, beside me, is the most perfect man in all of England. The man who wants to marry me and cherish me for the rest of my life. This man treated me like I'm a princess and would give me everything I ask for.
What was wrong with me then? How can I not appreciate a man like this?
He pulled me close to him, our bodies swaying to the light, acoustic rhythm of the music. "Are you happy, my darling?" he asked me softly, his head resting on top of mine.
I nod because it is easier than actually telling him how I *really* feel.
"I'm glad," he replied simply, before leaning down and covering my mouth with his.
* * *
Harry turned his head away from Hermione and David, not bearing to see the two of them do things that he would like to be the one to do to her.
/How did it come to this?/ he thought sullenly, unable to contain himself from looking back at the dancing couple. /How the heck did I agree to be the best man?/
He retraced his thoughts to some two hours ago, when he and Ron had first arrived at Thatcher & Atwood's. Elizabeth Wilson was Sirius' girlfriend, a girl who was at least half his age who worked as a specialist for the Care of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry. He had asked her if she would like to accompany him to dinner that night, in hopes of making Hermione jealous - jealous enough to drag him outside and confess her feelings to him.
Well, at least, that's what he'd been hoping for.
She had agreed, but was a little reluctant. Elizabeth was in favor of what Sirius had told him before - that if he loved Hermione, he'd have the guts to tell her face-to-face. He also warned Harry that bringing Elizabeth might make his plan backfire on him, to which Harry paid no heed.
Upon entering the restaurant, Harry felt himself lose his nerve when he saw Hermione. She couldn't see him where he was standing, or Elizabeth, because the maitre'd and Ron were blocking her view. But he could see her clearly.
She was, still is, the most beautiful woman Harry had ever laid eyes on. The woman of his dreams and fantasies. It almost hurt him to look at her. She looked so innocent, yet seductive in that long, black dress. Her hair was up in a circle of curls behind her head. She wore little make-up, something Harry always found so attractive on her. Just enough to highlight her already bright eyes and to further enhance her soft lips. She epitomized grace and perfection and Harry could feel himself positively melting when she turned to meet his gaze.
He had seen her mouth open a little when she looked at him and he was very pleased that she liked what she saw. He had spent a lot of time trying to decide what to wear tonight, and her appreciation made it all worth it. And when he saw her look at Elizabeth with a cleverly-disguised glare, he thought that his plan was working perfectly. He was even a little happy when she asked for scotch to drink. It meant that she was bothered.
His plan was going perfectly - or so he thought.
It started to go downhill when Hermione ordered her second glass of scotch and refused to eat anything. He wanted her to feel bothered, but not like this. He watched out of the corner of his eye when David gently persuaded her to eat some pasta and felt a deep longing in the pit of his stomach when she had finally agreed. When her lips had closed around the fork and slid it out of her mouth, the longing turned into desire - the exact desire he felt when Hermione had laid herself on his bed. Her lips had consumed his thoughts all week, wondering how they would feel against his, what they would taste like, what sweet moans will come out of them as he kissed her senseless.
Elizabeth had felt his change of mood and owed it to the girl sitting across them. Well, she *was* there to try and make Hermione jealous so, as if on cue, she speared a crouton and a piece of lettuce and fed it to Harry. Not exactly her best move of the night, but it did make Hermione sit up and notice - or more correctly, sit up and *glare* at her again.
She couldn't place her finger on it. What was Hermione doing with this guy - David, was it? - when it's so obvious to her that she's in love with Harry? Don't get her wrong, they've only just met but she *is* a woman, too and she knows the symptoms of true love, having gone through it once before.
And the fiancée unnerved her. There's something very...strange about him. She could sense it, but could hardly say it aloud. Hermione just might pounce on her if she badmouthed her lover.
Elizabeth watched with slight amusement when David got to his feet, champagne flute in hand. Looks like she was going to have a lot to tell Sirius tonight.
Harry looked at Hermione, who, in turn, was looking at David as he stood up. /My God, she's beautiful,/ he thought to himself, taking in the way the soft lighting illuminated her already-perfect features. He observed her carefully, noting the tiny shiver she felt and wishing he could just put his arms around her and make her feel warm for the rest of their lives.
/If only you had gotten to her first.../
/You did get her to her first,/ another part of his brain taunted him. /You were just stupid enough to let her go./
"...Ron and Harry, I would like to formally ask you to be the best men at our wedding!" David announced, grinning cheekily at them both.
His words stung him, like someone had just plunged a knife into his heart and was twisting it mercilessly. He looked at Hermione, hoping for a sign - any sign - that would tell him that he still had hope to make everything all right for them. To love her.
But she had only looked up to David, her eyes closed and Harry thought she was happy that David had decided to be the one to twist the knife in his heart.
He barely heard Ron mutter in agreement and could hardly see straight when David rounded on him to get his confirmation.
"What about you, Harry? Hermione would just be thrilled if both of her best friends would be at her wedding?"
"Harry," she had whispered, brushing her hand over his. "You don't have to do..."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, not wanting to hear what Hermione had to say. Just hearing her speak hurt him. "I'll do it."
Then David had led Hermione out of her seat toward the dance floor where the band was playing the first piano strains.
And, for the first time in four years, Harry felt tears in his eyes as he watched the two of them hold each other close - Hermione's arms around his neck and David's arms around her waist - and sway to the music. The song, it seemed, was made for him and he listened to it, like he never listened to anything like it his whole life:
It's her hair and her eyes today
That just simply take me away
And the feeling that I'm falling further in love makes me shiver, but in a good way
All the times I had sat and stared
As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair,
When she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me,
Sitting there, slack-jawed and nothing to say
'Cause I love her with all that I am
And my voice shakes along with my hands
'Cause I'm speechless to say what I'm feeling today
But I'm out of my league once again...
Harry closed his eyes as he felt the music swell and his mind filled with thoughts of him and Hermione - at Hogwarts, spending the summer at Ron's, playing the giant chessboard in their first year, seeing Hermione petrified in their second year, watching her dance with Krum in their fourth...
It's a mistiful melody,
When she calls out my name to me
As the world spins around her,
She laughs, rolls her eyes
And I feel like I'm falling, but it's no surprise
'Cause I love her with all that I am
And my voice shakes along with my hands
'Cause it's frightening to be swimming in this strange sea,
but I'd rather be here than on land
Yeah, she's all that I see and she's all that I need
And I'm out of my league once again...
...the kiss she gave him on the platform at the end of their fourth year, seeing her drop the silver platter that night at the Common Room and turn away...
It's her hair and her eyes today,
That just simply take me away
And the feeling that I'm falling further in love makes me shiver, but in a good way
All the time I had sat and stared
As she thoughtfully thumbs through her hair,
As she purses her lips, bats her eyes and she plays with me,
Sitting there, slack-jawed, and nothing to say...
...Hermione smiling at him, hiding her pain, that day in Hogsmeade, when she had witnessed him kiss another girl by the lake that night before she left him...
'Cause I love her with all that I am
And my voice shakes along with my hands...
...and when she ran away...
'Cause it's frightening to be swimming in this strange sea, but I'd rather be here than on land
Yeah, she's all that I see and she's all that I need
And I'm out of my league once again...