A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been reading a few old fics by Ashwinder. If
any of you are HP/GW fans, check out "Ginny's Gift" and its sequel "The
Long Road Home." Good stuff. Also, dolphingirl79 has two good fics she's
working on. You can find all four of the above stories under my favorites.
Enough advertising, on with the reviewers:
The Keymaker: Thanks for your faithful reviews on both of my stories.
dolphingirl79: As always, thanks for your continued support. Now it's your turn to update.
Lemmy Jr: I agree, I think Harry should be allowed to have a little fun now that he's of age.
lanialle: I won't give away the ending, but I doubt you'll be disappointed if you keep reading.
Rlupin1003: Thank you.
Lymaris: Thank you.
Ms. Halley Bom-Bally: You crack me up. Thank you for your kind words, but I am by no means a great writer. However, if you want to think so, please feel free to do that and tell me on a continual basis. I agree, I don't think JKR will pair Harry with Hermione. And I'm usually a Harry/Ginny fan, but this story just sort of came to me, so I'm writing it.
roxy123: Thank you for reading; I'm glad you're enjoying the story (especially the detail). I hope I can keep the story up to your standards.
Anyway, on with the story.
Chapter 4: The Truth Is
"Harry won again. So far I'd say those Italians don't know what hit them," Ron was saying as he perused Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet. He was sitting at a small breakfast table in their roomy London flat. Hermione was attempting to cook him breakfast. He had to be at the ministry in just over an hour, and she wanted to do this friendly gesture for him. Today was Friday, and she wouldn't have to report to the ministry until the following Monday.
The Daily Prophet, along with many other British wizarding journals, had made a huge deal about following Harry's career. It seemed that they always had a reporter following the young seeker, chronicling his every move. Ron noticed how much this bothered Hermione. "Why don't they just leave him alone?" he would here her say every time she saw an article about him. Ever since they moved in together, Ron had been picking up signals from Hermione that her feelings for Harry were beyond that of mere friendship. He was slowly becoming sure that what she felt for Harry was what she thought she should have felt for him when they were dating. Then, last Saturday evening, he heard her quietly crying in their den. When he asked what was wrong, she just sat quietly, hoping he'd get the hint and go away. Ron persisted, and Hermione eventually gave in. She poured her whole soul out to him that night. Everything she had been thinking and feeling. All of her feelings for Harry, the thing he asked of her the day he left that she didn't have the courage to answer, her letters to him (even the ones she couldn't bring herself to send), her need to be with him. They stayed up that entire night talking. Ron tried to be the friend that she needed. He wasn't jealous at all, after all he and Hermione tried and it just didn't work out. No, he was just sad for his two friends.
"Your eggs are ready, Ron," Hermione proclaimed, bringing Ron out of his memory. She brought his plate of eggs and sausage to the table and smiled gently at him.
"Thank you, Hermione," he said as he pushed the Daily Prophet aside and reached for the new edition of the Quibbler.
Hermione clucked her tongue. "Why do you even bother to read that rubbish?"
"Hey, its not always rubbish. Remember Harry's story in our fifth year? That wasn't rubbish," he said as he glanced down. Noticing the cover, his heart began to race as he tried to find a place to hide it from view.
Hermione turned and noticed Ron's hand retreating from under the placemat, a look of concentration and panic on his face. "What is it?" she asked.
"What? Oh, nothing, just didn't want to read anymore," he answered too quickly.
"Let me see, Ron," she demanded.
"No, it's my magazine and I don't want you to read it."
"There is obviously something in there that must be important."
Ron grabbed the magazine and made to dash to his room, but before he could get two steps, Hermione had her wand raised.
"Accio quibbler!"
The magazine in question flew through the air towards Hermione. She didn't even have to open it to see what Ron didn't want her to see.
"The Quibblers 'It' Couple of the Week: Harry Potter and Bianca Rosabella"
There was a photograph of the two on the cover. They were sitting at a table in a restaurant. Harry's mouth would move in conversation and the other girl, Bianca, would laugh. Then Harry would reach forward and gently place a few strands of her hair behind her ear.
Hermione's face crumpled in pain. He had truly moved on, like he said he would. Why hadn't he mentioned anything about this in his letters? She had received a few letters from him in the two weeks since he's been gone, but no mention of a girlfriend at all. She retreated to the comfort of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Crawling on her bed, she shoved her face into her pillow and sobbed out in pain. Was he doing this to her on purpose? No, he didn't know how she felt. She never told him. In fact, she told him the opposite of what she felt. She brought this pain upon herself, and that fact made it hurt even more.
"Hermione, do you want to talk?" Ron called through the door.
"No," she answered with a shaky voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. "No, Ron. I'll be fine. I just need a little time."
"Okay, but if you need me today, don't hesitate to call me at the office."
"I will."
She heard Ron apparate away. How could Harry just stop loving her? If he loved her half as much as she did him, then there is no way he could be over her. She had to know for herself.
"I have to go see him," she said to herself as she wiped her tears away. She rose to her feet and went to take a shower. The hot water felt good on her puffy face. When she was finished, she dressed in muggle jeans and loose blue top. After packing a few belongings and leaving Ron a note, she went to the fireplace and started a fire with her wand. She then took a pinch of floo powder and threw it in, causing the flames to turn green.
"La Grazia!" she stepped in and shouted. Suddenly, she was flying through the floo network at a blinding speed.
~~~
"Was ein durch Ferrucio spart!" Harry heard the German announcer call over the crowd as Ferrucio made a spectacular save. This was Harry's third match as a professional quidditch player. So far, he was undefeated. This game was a little more difficult because he'd just played another game yesterday. This game was a friendly (exhibition) against Berlin. The German league was excited when they heard that Harry would be joining the team early enough to make the trip to Berlin for this game.
The game itself had been going on for almost an hour and a half. Not once had he seen any sign of the snitch. What was worse, Berlin's seeker seemed to like to tail Harry very closely. He felt that if he were to stop suddenly, the other seeker would be permanently implanted onto his back. When was this match going to end? He just wanted to be back at La Grazia, away from the press and the public.
Before Harry knew what was happening, the Berlin seeker shot past him like a rocket. He jolted his Firebolt after the other player, darting his eyes around for the snitch. There it was, off to his left. The other seeker was trying to feint him. Harry twisted his broom around, leaving the other seeker diving toward the ground. He shot off toward the snitch. It flew just a few feet in front of him, soaring toward the sky before diving down to the pitch below. Harry was gaining on it slowly. When it seemed like he wouldn't be able to pull up in time, he closed his fingers around the pesky golden ball, spinning and twisting to his right to keep from crashing. He landed on his feet in the middle of the pitch, hand held high.
"Harry Potter fängt den snitch, Milan das Gegenstück gewinnt!" Harry heard the announcer scream. Many of the German fans looked dejected, but most cheered anyway.
Back in the locker room, Harry was enjoying the feel of a hot shower raining down on him. The past few weeks have been nothing short of a whirlwind. He was happy to be in Italy, but he was confused by Bianca. He knew he didn't love her, there was no question. What he wanted to know was should he continue to see her even though he didn't. After all, Hermione was with Ron. She was never going to be his. He had to keep telling himself this; it was the only way he could keep away his feelings for her.
Bianca was nice, but being with her just didn't feel right.
*It feels good, * he thought, *but not right. *
No, he needed time to think about things. He turned off the shower and dried off quickly before changing and exiting the shower area. Bianca was waiting for him by his locker.
"Hey, Harry. Great catch out there," she said.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"You want to go out? I know of a few good clubs in Berlin," she said, smiling at him.
"No thanks, I'm kind of tired, I think I'll just go home and call it a night."
"Okay, I'll come with you."
"No!" he said, a little more forcefully than he meant. "No, I really just want to be alone tonight. Please understand."
Bianca looked very put out.
"Fine!" she yelled and apparated away.
Harry just sighed and shook his head. He gathered his things and apparated away from the locker room.
~~~
He appeared on the doorstep of La Grazia. It was dark in Milan. Harry wasn't quite ready to go inside yet, so he walked the short distance into town and enter a local muggle pub. He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. He just sat at the bar and drank while watching football on the telly. He used to enjoy that sport as a child. Playing at school and watching snippets when he could at the Dursleys'. When he discovered quidditch, he initially lost all interest in football. However, recently he was beginning to appreciate the sport again.
He finished his beer and ordered one more. He wasn't going to get piss drunk tonight, he just thinks better with a few in him. The sports channel was now showing scores from the English League. Harry watched for the team he supported as a child.
"Hey," he said where only he could hear. "What do you know, Fulham pulled out a win over Arsenal." Harry smiled. That didn't happen often.
Harry paid the bartender for the beer in European muggle money; he always kept some on him just in case. He slowly made the trek back to La Grazia.
"Why can't I get you out of my mind, Hermione? Why? Why do you haunt me day and night? Why do you invade my dreams? Why won't you just leave me alone?"
These questions just seemed to flow out of him while he walked. He was truly perplexed by these things. Would he ever get over Hermione?
"Just stop!" he told himself. "It's not like your going to open the door to your house and Hermione's going to be there waiting for you."
Finally, he arrived at the entrance to La Grazia. He waved his wand, opening the door. When he entered, he could see a light from a fire in the fireplace dimly lighting the living room. He shut the door and progressed slowly, wand held at the ready. As he swiftly entered the den, he noticed a mound of familiar curly brown hair hanging from the edge of the couch.
"Hermione!" he said quietly. She didn't stir. "She must be asleep." He lowered his wand and set his bag down. Walking quietly, he knelt down by the couch, staring at her peaceful face. Harry raised his hand and gently caressed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered a little before opening and taking in the man kneeling down before her.
"Harry," she said.
"Hermione, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," she said, her eyes never straying away from his.
"Where's Ron?"
"He's in London."
"His mum said you two were living together."
"Harry, I need to talk to you about some things."
Harry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not now, Hermione. You're here, that's all that matters right now."
He bent down and hugged his love. She relished in his embrace as he did in hers. The moment was perfect.
"Are you hungry?"
"I haven't eaten all day," she said.
"C'mon, let me make you some supper."
They both went to the kitchen where Harry began to make pots dance as he used his wand to prepare a delicious pasta dinner for two. He soon had everything cooked the table set with candlelight and everything.
*Being a little obvious, are we? * he asked himself.
When everything was prepared, they sat down together and ate and talked about what they had been up to since parting. Harry didn't mention Bianca to Hermione; he didn't see the need to.
"So, Harry, have you learned any Italian yet?"
"A little bit."
"Tell me something it Italian."
"I don't think so."
"Please, Harry, for me."
"Okay. Lei sono le donne più belle mai ho collocato di occhi su."
"What does that mean?"
"You have pretty eyes," Harry lied. What he said was that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on (in very broken Italian).
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione blushed.
They continued to eat and talk for quite a while before Hermione looked at Harry with a mixture of anxiousness and fear. Before she could say anything, Harry cut her off.
"So, how are you and Ron doing?" he asked.
"We aren't," was her reply.
"What do you mean, Hermione?"
"We broke up the day we left Hogwarts."
"What? Why?"
"Because I don't love him, not like that."
Harry wanted to throw something. He had come to Hermione with his feelings, and she turned him away for nothing.
"Do you remember, a few months ago, when you told me about your feelings?" Hermione continued.
Harry visibly stiffened. "Yes."
"Well, things have happened since then, things that I can't explain. But the truth is, Harry. . ." she trailed off.
"What is it Hermione?"
Hermione steeled herself, gathering all of the Gryffindor courage she could muster. "The truth is, Harry, that I love you."
Silence surrounded the pair. Harry could do nothing but stare straight into Hermione's eyes. Why was Ron's timing so good and Hermione's so bad? Why couldn't she have told him this weeks ago, when he was still at Hogwarts?
"Hermione, I don't know what to say."
"Do you still love me?"
"Yes, of course I do, but things have changed. Our situation is no longer simple."
"Do you love her?"
Harry flinched. How did Hermione know about Bianca?
She must have read his mind, because she quickly said, "I saw a picture of you two in a magazine. Apparently you are the Quibbler's new 'It Couple.'"
"No, Hermione, I don't love her."
"Then why are you with her?"
"Because I thought you were with Ron. I thought you loved Ron. All I know is that you told me you didn't love me. I was trying to move on."
"I'm sorry for lying to you, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to tell you about my feelings. I got too caught up in trying to do the right thing, and I let the right thing slip away from me in the process. Can you please forgive me?"
"Of course," Harry replied softly, placing his hand on hers. "My house isn't called 'La Grazia' for nothing."
Suddenly a new voice made its presence known from the den.
"Harry, I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I wanted to surprise you."
Harry turned to see Bianca walking through the kitchen door wearing a very thin, lacy teddy.
"Who the hell is this?" she asked
"Erm. . . Bianca, this is my friend Hermione. Hermione this is Bianca," he said as he thought to himself:
* This is going to be a long night. *
A/N: This fic will probably be wrapped up in the next chapter or two. It was never meant to be a long story. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.
Enough advertising, on with the reviewers:
The Keymaker: Thanks for your faithful reviews on both of my stories.
dolphingirl79: As always, thanks for your continued support. Now it's your turn to update.
Lemmy Jr: I agree, I think Harry should be allowed to have a little fun now that he's of age.
lanialle: I won't give away the ending, but I doubt you'll be disappointed if you keep reading.
Rlupin1003: Thank you.
Lymaris: Thank you.
Ms. Halley Bom-Bally: You crack me up. Thank you for your kind words, but I am by no means a great writer. However, if you want to think so, please feel free to do that and tell me on a continual basis. I agree, I don't think JKR will pair Harry with Hermione. And I'm usually a Harry/Ginny fan, but this story just sort of came to me, so I'm writing it.
roxy123: Thank you for reading; I'm glad you're enjoying the story (especially the detail). I hope I can keep the story up to your standards.
Anyway, on with the story.
Chapter 4: The Truth Is
"Harry won again. So far I'd say those Italians don't know what hit them," Ron was saying as he perused Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet. He was sitting at a small breakfast table in their roomy London flat. Hermione was attempting to cook him breakfast. He had to be at the ministry in just over an hour, and she wanted to do this friendly gesture for him. Today was Friday, and she wouldn't have to report to the ministry until the following Monday.
The Daily Prophet, along with many other British wizarding journals, had made a huge deal about following Harry's career. It seemed that they always had a reporter following the young seeker, chronicling his every move. Ron noticed how much this bothered Hermione. "Why don't they just leave him alone?" he would here her say every time she saw an article about him. Ever since they moved in together, Ron had been picking up signals from Hermione that her feelings for Harry were beyond that of mere friendship. He was slowly becoming sure that what she felt for Harry was what she thought she should have felt for him when they were dating. Then, last Saturday evening, he heard her quietly crying in their den. When he asked what was wrong, she just sat quietly, hoping he'd get the hint and go away. Ron persisted, and Hermione eventually gave in. She poured her whole soul out to him that night. Everything she had been thinking and feeling. All of her feelings for Harry, the thing he asked of her the day he left that she didn't have the courage to answer, her letters to him (even the ones she couldn't bring herself to send), her need to be with him. They stayed up that entire night talking. Ron tried to be the friend that she needed. He wasn't jealous at all, after all he and Hermione tried and it just didn't work out. No, he was just sad for his two friends.
"Your eggs are ready, Ron," Hermione proclaimed, bringing Ron out of his memory. She brought his plate of eggs and sausage to the table and smiled gently at him.
"Thank you, Hermione," he said as he pushed the Daily Prophet aside and reached for the new edition of the Quibbler.
Hermione clucked her tongue. "Why do you even bother to read that rubbish?"
"Hey, its not always rubbish. Remember Harry's story in our fifth year? That wasn't rubbish," he said as he glanced down. Noticing the cover, his heart began to race as he tried to find a place to hide it from view.
Hermione turned and noticed Ron's hand retreating from under the placemat, a look of concentration and panic on his face. "What is it?" she asked.
"What? Oh, nothing, just didn't want to read anymore," he answered too quickly.
"Let me see, Ron," she demanded.
"No, it's my magazine and I don't want you to read it."
"There is obviously something in there that must be important."
Ron grabbed the magazine and made to dash to his room, but before he could get two steps, Hermione had her wand raised.
"Accio quibbler!"
The magazine in question flew through the air towards Hermione. She didn't even have to open it to see what Ron didn't want her to see.
"The Quibblers 'It' Couple of the Week: Harry Potter and Bianca Rosabella"
There was a photograph of the two on the cover. They were sitting at a table in a restaurant. Harry's mouth would move in conversation and the other girl, Bianca, would laugh. Then Harry would reach forward and gently place a few strands of her hair behind her ear.
Hermione's face crumpled in pain. He had truly moved on, like he said he would. Why hadn't he mentioned anything about this in his letters? She had received a few letters from him in the two weeks since he's been gone, but no mention of a girlfriend at all. She retreated to the comfort of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Crawling on her bed, she shoved her face into her pillow and sobbed out in pain. Was he doing this to her on purpose? No, he didn't know how she felt. She never told him. In fact, she told him the opposite of what she felt. She brought this pain upon herself, and that fact made it hurt even more.
"Hermione, do you want to talk?" Ron called through the door.
"No," she answered with a shaky voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. "No, Ron. I'll be fine. I just need a little time."
"Okay, but if you need me today, don't hesitate to call me at the office."
"I will."
She heard Ron apparate away. How could Harry just stop loving her? If he loved her half as much as she did him, then there is no way he could be over her. She had to know for herself.
"I have to go see him," she said to herself as she wiped her tears away. She rose to her feet and went to take a shower. The hot water felt good on her puffy face. When she was finished, she dressed in muggle jeans and loose blue top. After packing a few belongings and leaving Ron a note, she went to the fireplace and started a fire with her wand. She then took a pinch of floo powder and threw it in, causing the flames to turn green.
"La Grazia!" she stepped in and shouted. Suddenly, she was flying through the floo network at a blinding speed.
~~~
"Was ein durch Ferrucio spart!" Harry heard the German announcer call over the crowd as Ferrucio made a spectacular save. This was Harry's third match as a professional quidditch player. So far, he was undefeated. This game was a little more difficult because he'd just played another game yesterday. This game was a friendly (exhibition) against Berlin. The German league was excited when they heard that Harry would be joining the team early enough to make the trip to Berlin for this game.
The game itself had been going on for almost an hour and a half. Not once had he seen any sign of the snitch. What was worse, Berlin's seeker seemed to like to tail Harry very closely. He felt that if he were to stop suddenly, the other seeker would be permanently implanted onto his back. When was this match going to end? He just wanted to be back at La Grazia, away from the press and the public.
Before Harry knew what was happening, the Berlin seeker shot past him like a rocket. He jolted his Firebolt after the other player, darting his eyes around for the snitch. There it was, off to his left. The other seeker was trying to feint him. Harry twisted his broom around, leaving the other seeker diving toward the ground. He shot off toward the snitch. It flew just a few feet in front of him, soaring toward the sky before diving down to the pitch below. Harry was gaining on it slowly. When it seemed like he wouldn't be able to pull up in time, he closed his fingers around the pesky golden ball, spinning and twisting to his right to keep from crashing. He landed on his feet in the middle of the pitch, hand held high.
"Harry Potter fängt den snitch, Milan das Gegenstück gewinnt!" Harry heard the announcer scream. Many of the German fans looked dejected, but most cheered anyway.
Back in the locker room, Harry was enjoying the feel of a hot shower raining down on him. The past few weeks have been nothing short of a whirlwind. He was happy to be in Italy, but he was confused by Bianca. He knew he didn't love her, there was no question. What he wanted to know was should he continue to see her even though he didn't. After all, Hermione was with Ron. She was never going to be his. He had to keep telling himself this; it was the only way he could keep away his feelings for her.
Bianca was nice, but being with her just didn't feel right.
*It feels good, * he thought, *but not right. *
No, he needed time to think about things. He turned off the shower and dried off quickly before changing and exiting the shower area. Bianca was waiting for him by his locker.
"Hey, Harry. Great catch out there," she said.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"You want to go out? I know of a few good clubs in Berlin," she said, smiling at him.
"No thanks, I'm kind of tired, I think I'll just go home and call it a night."
"Okay, I'll come with you."
"No!" he said, a little more forcefully than he meant. "No, I really just want to be alone tonight. Please understand."
Bianca looked very put out.
"Fine!" she yelled and apparated away.
Harry just sighed and shook his head. He gathered his things and apparated away from the locker room.
~~~
He appeared on the doorstep of La Grazia. It was dark in Milan. Harry wasn't quite ready to go inside yet, so he walked the short distance into town and enter a local muggle pub. He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. He just sat at the bar and drank while watching football on the telly. He used to enjoy that sport as a child. Playing at school and watching snippets when he could at the Dursleys'. When he discovered quidditch, he initially lost all interest in football. However, recently he was beginning to appreciate the sport again.
He finished his beer and ordered one more. He wasn't going to get piss drunk tonight, he just thinks better with a few in him. The sports channel was now showing scores from the English League. Harry watched for the team he supported as a child.
"Hey," he said where only he could hear. "What do you know, Fulham pulled out a win over Arsenal." Harry smiled. That didn't happen often.
Harry paid the bartender for the beer in European muggle money; he always kept some on him just in case. He slowly made the trek back to La Grazia.
"Why can't I get you out of my mind, Hermione? Why? Why do you haunt me day and night? Why do you invade my dreams? Why won't you just leave me alone?"
These questions just seemed to flow out of him while he walked. He was truly perplexed by these things. Would he ever get over Hermione?
"Just stop!" he told himself. "It's not like your going to open the door to your house and Hermione's going to be there waiting for you."
Finally, he arrived at the entrance to La Grazia. He waved his wand, opening the door. When he entered, he could see a light from a fire in the fireplace dimly lighting the living room. He shut the door and progressed slowly, wand held at the ready. As he swiftly entered the den, he noticed a mound of familiar curly brown hair hanging from the edge of the couch.
"Hermione!" he said quietly. She didn't stir. "She must be asleep." He lowered his wand and set his bag down. Walking quietly, he knelt down by the couch, staring at her peaceful face. Harry raised his hand and gently caressed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered a little before opening and taking in the man kneeling down before her.
"Harry," she said.
"Hermione, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," she said, her eyes never straying away from his.
"Where's Ron?"
"He's in London."
"His mum said you two were living together."
"Harry, I need to talk to you about some things."
Harry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not now, Hermione. You're here, that's all that matters right now."
He bent down and hugged his love. She relished in his embrace as he did in hers. The moment was perfect.
"Are you hungry?"
"I haven't eaten all day," she said.
"C'mon, let me make you some supper."
They both went to the kitchen where Harry began to make pots dance as he used his wand to prepare a delicious pasta dinner for two. He soon had everything cooked the table set with candlelight and everything.
*Being a little obvious, are we? * he asked himself.
When everything was prepared, they sat down together and ate and talked about what they had been up to since parting. Harry didn't mention Bianca to Hermione; he didn't see the need to.
"So, Harry, have you learned any Italian yet?"
"A little bit."
"Tell me something it Italian."
"I don't think so."
"Please, Harry, for me."
"Okay. Lei sono le donne più belle mai ho collocato di occhi su."
"What does that mean?"
"You have pretty eyes," Harry lied. What he said was that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on (in very broken Italian).
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione blushed.
They continued to eat and talk for quite a while before Hermione looked at Harry with a mixture of anxiousness and fear. Before she could say anything, Harry cut her off.
"So, how are you and Ron doing?" he asked.
"We aren't," was her reply.
"What do you mean, Hermione?"
"We broke up the day we left Hogwarts."
"What? Why?"
"Because I don't love him, not like that."
Harry wanted to throw something. He had come to Hermione with his feelings, and she turned him away for nothing.
"Do you remember, a few months ago, when you told me about your feelings?" Hermione continued.
Harry visibly stiffened. "Yes."
"Well, things have happened since then, things that I can't explain. But the truth is, Harry. . ." she trailed off.
"What is it Hermione?"
Hermione steeled herself, gathering all of the Gryffindor courage she could muster. "The truth is, Harry, that I love you."
Silence surrounded the pair. Harry could do nothing but stare straight into Hermione's eyes. Why was Ron's timing so good and Hermione's so bad? Why couldn't she have told him this weeks ago, when he was still at Hogwarts?
"Hermione, I don't know what to say."
"Do you still love me?"
"Yes, of course I do, but things have changed. Our situation is no longer simple."
"Do you love her?"
Harry flinched. How did Hermione know about Bianca?
She must have read his mind, because she quickly said, "I saw a picture of you two in a magazine. Apparently you are the Quibbler's new 'It Couple.'"
"No, Hermione, I don't love her."
"Then why are you with her?"
"Because I thought you were with Ron. I thought you loved Ron. All I know is that you told me you didn't love me. I was trying to move on."
"I'm sorry for lying to you, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to tell you about my feelings. I got too caught up in trying to do the right thing, and I let the right thing slip away from me in the process. Can you please forgive me?"
"Of course," Harry replied softly, placing his hand on hers. "My house isn't called 'La Grazia' for nothing."
Suddenly a new voice made its presence known from the den.
"Harry, I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I wanted to surprise you."
Harry turned to see Bianca walking through the kitchen door wearing a very thin, lacy teddy.
"Who the hell is this?" she asked
"Erm. . . Bianca, this is my friend Hermione. Hermione this is Bianca," he said as he thought to himself:
* This is going to be a long night. *
A/N: This fic will probably be wrapped up in the next chapter or two. It was never meant to be a long story. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.
