A/N: I thought I would add that yes, this will have excessive fluff and love and all sorts of "I love yous". Not to the point that it gets sickening, though. And I love the angst. I think it builds character. LOL. Also, you may have noticed that I'm updating a tad slower than I used to. That would be because I am a high school senior and it's that time of year when everyone's rushing to get their college applications in. Just wanted to warn you that updates will be coming farther apart as I furiously try to collect my thoughts and write a college essay. I will try to update at least once a week, though. Anyway, thank you for the reviews and enjoy the next chapter!
Melissa follows me into the kitchen with a couple of bags of groceries.
"Is that it?" I ask her, hoping that I'll be able to usher her out quickly. Like, about now.
"Do you mind?" she asks sheepishly. "There's some more outside."
I volunteer to get them while she puts away the groceries she is carrying and take off in a near sprint.
Evidently, she is having another party. Or feeding a small army.
She comes up behind me.
"I'm sorry you missed the barbeque" she says brightly.
"Oh yeah," I say apologetically, "Work, you know?"
"Yeah," she smiles. "It was nice that Hermione came. Even though she didn't stay long."
"No?" I ask absently, thinking of Hermione upstairs, probably envisioning me flirting with Melissa.
"No, she seemed distracted. Like she had a lot on her mind. Is she okay?"
I shrug, "Sure."
"I think it's wonderful that you two are such good friends," Melissa tells me, grabbing a couple more bags and waiting for me to lead her back up to the house.
I load up as many bags as I can carry and start up the walk, trying to not look like I'm rushing her out.
"It is," I agree. "I love her."
Melissa stops and I realize what I've said.
"I mean, you know. I love her, she's great. She's one of my best friends."
"Of course," she smiles.
Inside the house, I attempt to cram the bags of groceries into various places of our kitchen as quickly as possible.
"Wow, what's in your kitchen?" I tease her.
"It's Jonathan's birthday," she says. Her boyfriend. "So basically, beer. Oh, and a cake." She shakes her head. "Last night was my birthday. Cute, huh? We're a day apart. So I got my barbeque and he's having a bunch of buddies over to celebrate his. I'm sure it will be quite the party."
She rolls her eyes and looks appalled at the prospect.
"It's supposed to be just for the guys," she continues. "But I guess they'll just have to put up with me."
"Why don't you go out?" I suggest.
She looks sheepish. "I haven't really been out here long. Jonathan is pretty much the only person I know, except for a couple of old ladies I work with."
"Oh."
She sighs, "Oh well."
She's fishing for an invite and I know it.
I really should check with Hermione. Not fifteen minutes ago, something was about to happen in our kitchen.
I think.
But she's still upstairs.
"I should go," Melissa smiles. "Thanks for storing my food. I'll come pick it up early tomorrow."
"Melissa, wait."
She turns back around, "Yeah?"
"Why don't you come hang out with us tonight?"
What is wrong with me? Why are my brain and my mouth not connecting? I mentally kick myself.
"Oh, that's sweet," she replies. "But I probably shouldn't."
"Oh, okay."
That was close.
"Harry could use the company," Hermione's voice comes down the stairs, followed shortly thereafter by herself.
I turn and give her a puzzled look.
"I have to go home for a few days," she says by way of explanation.
"Oh?" Melissa asks, truly concerned. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah," she smiles. "I just want to go see my mom."
"Herm…" I open my mouth but she shakes her head slightly and I close it.
"Okay, sure!" Melissa says, "If you don't mind, Harry."
"Sure," I say, the question already forgotten.
Melissa looks from me to Hermione and back and gives me another smile.
"I should get going. Jonathan wants to go get a few things for his party." She looks towards Hermione, "I'm sorry you won't be here later, Hermione. But have a nice trip."
"Thank you."
"I'll see you later," Melissa says to me and leaves.
"So, I'm going to get going," she says, turning to leave as well.
"You're running away," I state matter-of-factly.
"I need to think, Harry."
"So think."
"I can't do that here."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not giving me a chance! You're going point by point through that list and my head is spinning."
"You kissed me!"
She ignores me.
"I need to think about some things."
"So you are changing your mind about me…"
"I'm changing my mind about a lot of things. Maybe about living here with you."
That stops me in my tracks.
"What?"
"I need to clear my head, Harry. I need room to breathe."
"Hermione, don't you think that this is something we should talk about?"
"Not now, Harry."
"Well, what am I supposed to do?" I demand. "Am I supposed to just sit here and wait for you to make up your mind?"
She looks like she wants to say something and then shakes her head.
"Do whatever you want."
*
I have monday and tuesday free, so I can tie this up into a three day retreat.
The truth is, I'm worried about the validity of my list. 'We're friends.' That was point number one and I'd say it's still valid. It's as if he never even thought about that, he just jumped in, got both his feet wet as though it's the most natural thing in the world. I know he doesn't think of me as a sister and I don't know if we're each others' type, but it didn't seem to matter at all in the kitchen earlier on, so maybe he's right about that being an irrational reason.
I have just a light bag with me, and he's waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
"Well, I'm ready."
"I'll get you some tea." He points to the kitchen and runs off in that direction. I take a seat on the steps and wait.
He returns with tea and a smile. It's killing me that he's being this nice. I expected a blind fit of rage, and I'm getting this instead.
"Harry, why are you being so nice to me?"
"I love living with you, I don't want you to move out, I have no idea why you would. Things are good, I think."
"I'm not leaving because I need to run away or I'm afraid. I just need a bit of space because this morning, that was so fast, like a split second and I was already thinking ahead to what's next and you were pulling my shirt out and I didn't want to sleep with you like that." The words tumble out of my mouth quickly and I'm a bit embarrassed at the last part, not sure whether it was presumptuous of me to have said it.
"Why not?" He's not trying to be difficult, but he's asking anyway.
"Well, for one, I really like Mrs. Weasley."
"What?"
"And you know she'd have plenty to say about what you were doing today and what you were thinking of doing."
"You're not moving out on her account. That's crazy talk."
"Look, just forget about that list for a few days, forget about trying so hard. It'll be good for you."
He shakes his head. I finish off my tea. "You've completely fixated on this idea that you have to prove me wrong and prove that you're right. You're cooking even though you don't like it, you're lining up the magazines on the coffee table according to the the size of their surface area in order to prove that you can be neat, you've burned two of my shirts while ironing and you avert your eyes anytime a good looking woman passes by so that you aren't inclined to flirt with them."
"So, what, all those things are wrong?"
"If you want to go sit with Melissa for a night or take Holly out again, you should. And if you'd rather sleep in than make me eggs, then that's fine too. You can't change who you are and I don't want to force you into a mold to suit my needs."
"You mean to tell me you'd be fine with me going out with somebody else if that's what I wanted?"
I swallow hard. "Yes."
"Well, I wouldn't."
. . . .
I'm sitting in my mother's kitchen, having tea. We've got about 15 minutes before she drags me to somebody's house for show and tell. My father's down below the sink, trying to figure out why the garbage disposal is spitting instead of swallowing. I wanted to just fix it with magic, but my dad would have none of it. Some macho thing.
"He likes you?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Who likes who?" My dad yells.
"Whom." I correct him.
"Harry likes Hermione."
"Really?"
"She says so. Right, Hermione?"
I sigh.
"He's not really your type is he?"
"I told him that."
"He didn't care?"
"He's trying to prove me wrong."
"So, is he your boyfriend now?"
"I told him he could go see that redhead that lives across the street. She has a white poodle."
"Must be something in the water." My mom walks over to the sink and tells my father.
"What?"
"In London. You become a celebrity, go out with another celebrity and then you start to act crazy a little. And I have to read about it in the paper. Maybe you should stop drinking the water there." She turns around and says to me.
*
Melissa shows up promptly at seven o'clock.
"Are you sure Jonathan doesn't mind that you're spending the evening with me?" I tease her as she follows me into the living room.
"Oh, it's fine," she assures me.
"So, what do you want to do?" I ask.
"I don't know," she shrugs.
"We have lots of movies," I tell her, motioning towards the collection I had built up. Most people are astonished at how I live my life so much like a muggle. The truth is, I like it.
"Cool." She reads the titles and I go into the kitchen to retrieve some snacks.
"Hey, Harry?" she calls.
"Yeah?" I come back into the room balancing a bowl of popcorn and two glasses of iced tea.
"What's this?"
She hands me a piece of paper and I close my eyes. The list. THE list.
"Where'd you find that?" I ask defensively, frantically trying to recall why it would be anywhere but in my pocket. I must have dropped it. I mentally kick myself.
"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "It was just on the floor over here. I didn't read it..."
"Really?" I ask doubtfully.
"Well, maybe just a little," she admits.
"How much?" I groan.
"All of it? I'm sorry, Harry."
"It's nothing," I tell her and fold it hurriedly and shove it back in my pocket.
Melissa shrugs. "Okay."
"It's just this stupid list that Hermione wrote."
Why am I telling her this? I mentally kick myself again. I'm probably mentally bruised by now.
She doesn't say anything.
"I asked her why we aren't together," I blurt out.
Melissa nods.
"I mean, you thought we were together, didn't you? At first?"
"Sure," she shrugs.
"Why?"
She gives me a puzzled look and takes a sip of her drink before answering.
"You just seem so comfortable together. You seem like a couple."
"She doesn't think so."
"Of course not," Melissa replies. "She's your friend, right?"
"Yeah, and I'm hers and I've wondered."
"She's wondered too," she assures me. "It's just… have you ever given her any indication that you had deeper feelings for her? Have you treated her the way you've treated all the other women in your life?"
"What do you mean?"
She sighs exasperatedly. "I mean, did she know that it meant something when you flirted with her?"
"I guess not."
"And," she continues, "This list…"
"What about it?"
"How did you react to it?" she asks. "Wait, don't answer that. Let me. What did it say? You're a slob. I've never seen this house so clean. I was wondering about that."
"What's wrong with that?" I ask defensively, tired of asking the same question and never getting an answer.
"Have you looked at another woman since she made that list?"
"As a matter of fact, I have," I retort, thinking of Taryn.
"Okay," she says, "But then what?"
"Then I had to prove to her that I'd made a mistake."
"That's all well and good, Harry," Melissa says, tucking her legs underneath herself on the sofa. "But I think you're trying too hard."
"That's what she said," I mutter.
"You're killing yourself to get through this list and you're not listening to her?" she asks incredulously.
"I'm trying to give her what she wants!" I cry.
"Harry," she says patiently. "What she wants is for you to be yourself. What she wants is for you to show her that what you have to offer her is what she wants. And she wants you to focus on her, not the list."
"I thought that that was what I was doing."
Melissa sighs and grabs a handful of popcorn.
"You're giving her Super Harry. Right now, she's trying to deal with the idea that she might actually want Harry, the guy who has been her best friend. That's enough to deal with without the pressure of having to live up to Super Harry."
I shake my head. "She doesn't have to live up to anything."
Melissa smiles softly, "And you don't either; especially not a list. She just wants you to show her that she's important."
"Then what was that list about?"
"Focusing on her. And in doing that, giving her time."
I'm confused.
"She needs time to figure out how her best friend changed into someone she wants."
I mull over this for a moment.
"How do you know all this?" I demand.
She grins and hands me the movie she's picked out.
"You've never seen this? You learn a LOT from movies."
*
"Hello?" Too many people are around, I can barely hear anything, so I walk out into the yard.
"Hi, where are you? It sounds like a zoo." I could hear him smile. "Are you sure I can't use the fireplace? I hate talking on phones."
"I'm at little Petey's house."
"Oookay."
"He's the kid I grew up with, lived next door. Except now little Petey's getting married and moving to the States. And he's a muggle, so I don't think he'd appreciate you bursting out of his fireplace."
"Is your mom parading you around?"
"Just a little." I chuckle.
"I had pizza last night, half of a slice is still on a plate in the living room and I haven't taken the box down to recycling yet. There are butterbeer bottles all over the sofa."
"You wild man, you!"
"I've been thinking, maybe I should try being normal for the next little while. Or whatever normal is for me."
"So, I get to live with a slob who can't cook again?"
"I don't know, I make a mean omelet." He laughs.
"My gastrointestinal system would tend to agree with you."
"Hey!"
It's cold outside, and I'm shivering, looking through the sliding doors longingly. My mom is motioning wildly for me to come in. I'll probably get the pneumonia speech from her.
"Are you coming home tonight?" he asks hopefully.
"Yeah, around 7."
"I have some corporate shmooze fest to attend in the evening. I don't think I can get out of it." He pouts.
"That's fine. No big deal."
"Okay."
I make a quick excuse, then head back inside.
"She was on the phone with her boyfriend." My mom informs little Petey, who gives me the third degree.
"I don't have a boyfriend."
"She does." My mom says, trying to be hush hush about it. I roll my eyes.
"So, are you going to tell me who he is or do I have to beg?"
"Ask me the next time you see me, how about that?"
"Deal."
I head next door to finish packing, and he calls after me. "And Hermione? I know what you're making money now, with your new magazine or whatever, so the wedding gift better be a reflection of that."
"You're getting a blender." I wink.
"Well, so long as it's a deluxe one."
"Of course."
. . . .
"Why don't you ease up on him?" Mom asks me while I get ready to apparate to my and Harry's front door..
"I just wanted to be like those other girls." I sound like such a whiny teenager, and she looks at me like I've just spoken to her in Korean.
"Why on earth would you want that?"
"Because. He just liked them, not because he was on some kind of stupid quest, he just liked them for who they are."
"You're not them."
"Obviously."
"And that's a good thing."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
I shrug and tell her I have to get going.
She hugs me. "I miss you, I can't wait for Christmas."
"Me too." I smile at her.
"Call me in a few days so I can tell you I told you so? Because I know for a fact that I'm right."
I drop my head a little so that my hair falls over my face, concealing the smile tugging at my lips, but she can see it.
*
I'm sort of caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, I don't want to seem too eager to work through that list (which I've now folded and tucked away in the top drawer of my dresser). On the other, I don't want it to seem like things are back to normal, whatever normal was. I don't want us to go back to being friends. I don't want to lose her friendship, but I can't go back either.
I pick up after myself enough that she won't come home to a disaster and then I go downtown, willing myself to focus on something other than Hermione. I still have a job to do.
When I get home, I hear the TV on in the living room and wander in to find Hermione watching the news.
"Hi."
"Hi," she smiles at me. "How was work?"
"Work," I shrug.
She nods.
"How was your night?"
"Bored to pieces." She makes a face.
"As long as you arrived in one piece."
"I'm here."
"Good."
I stand in the doorway and feel awkward, not sure of what to say or do.
"I'm going to go take a shower," I tell her and she nods.
"Okay."
"Are you hungry?" she calls after me. "I can make something."
"Whatever," I call back and make my escape.
. . . .
She's made some kind of stir-fry and when I get downstairs, she hands me a plate and motions for me to take some.
"How was home?" I ask her.
"Good," she smiles. "How was your date with Melissa?"
"It wasn't a date."
"I know," she laughs. "I saw her with Jonathan a little while ago and they seemed happy, so I'm guessing that you weren't some kind of a homewrecker."
I stick out my tongue in reply and follow her into the dining room where we sit across from each other at the table.
"We got a few owls," she tells me and shoves a pile of it toward me.
"Bills?"
"No," she laughs. "I think your agency forwarded some of your fan mail or something."
"Great."
"Should be interesting bedtime reading," she comments, taking a bite of her food.
"Yes, I can just imagine," I roll my eyes. "'Harry, will you marry me?'"
She snorts, "More like: 'Harry, can you take me to my Yule ball?'"
"Oh, God." I groan.
"May I?" she asks, reaching for a letter.
"Be my guest."
She opens it and begins to read aloud.
"My dearest Harry," she reads. "I am your biggest fan ever! You are so adorable and so good and innocent. I read that you thought that it would be better to not lose your virginity until you were married." She stops and gives me a look and I blush.
She goes on, "I wanted to let you know that I think that's a very brave decision for you to make and you are a really big role-model for a lot of people. Stay true to yourself. You are a hero in so many ways."
Hermione looks up from the paper.
"I knew those words would come back to haunt me," I groan.
"You didn't mean them?" she asks innocently.
I laugh. "It seemed like the right thing to say. How do you answer the question 'So have you done it?' in front of the whole country? I couldn't tell the Prophet that I've slept with someone just the night before!"
Her face goes painfully neutral. I feel like banging my head on the upright fork. "You should've told them it depends on your mood." She tries to give a feeble joke.
"It depends on the person," I answer quietly.
She's thinking. "Harry, what would happen if people knew that we almost did something in our kitchen?"
"Who's to know?" I ask.
"You know what I mean."
"It doesn't matter," I shake my head. "This is about us, not them."
"Yeah, but…" she pauses.
"What?"
"Doesn't it make you seem sort of…"
"Like a self-righteous liar?" I guess and shrug, "Maybe."
"I thought your image was important. Your fans. . ."
"It is, but you're more important."
"Oh," she blushes. "Yeah, okay. But still…"
"Hermione, I'm not a child. I'm a man and I can't help that I want you."
Her cheeks are even redder now.
"I know I've had sex before." I say earnestly. "But if you're in love with somebody, that changes things."
Open mouth, insert foot.
She stares at me for a moment and then drops the letter back on the pile.
Neither of us knows what to say. I haven't said that I love her in so many words, but it's pretty clear to both of us that I wanted more in the kitchen the other day. One plus one does not equal three.
"My food is cold," she says and jumps up from the table to return to the kitchen.
*
This is the problem with having hypothetical discussions - you can never be sure of exactly what the other person meant.
I did the heating charm. So, the food wasn't exactly cold, but it felt that way.
He could have been hypothetically musing about say, one day, finding somebody whom he fell madly in love with, enough to come to the conclusion that the way he feels is fine and it's healthy and normal and he's not going to feel guilty about it. He didn't have to be talking about me. He technically also could have been talking in the present tense and referring to me.
I don't have much time to mull it over, because he walks into the kitchen and hops up onto the counter. He's kind of kicking his feet in the air nervously as I try to look busy with my wand.
"Why don't we forget for a minute what I said?"
I look at him sideways, and he's visibly jittery. If I did forget about this, maybe I'd relieve some of that discomfort, but somehow I doubt it.
"Were we having a hypothetical conversation, Harry?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"When you said...what you said, about love changing what sex was. . .were you speaking generally or. . .I mean, when you said it depends on the person. . .?"
"Honestly? I'm not really sure."
"Okay, fair enough."
The food is done, and I put away my wand, but don't head back to the dining room. He grabs my wrist and gently pulls me over to stand in front of him. His legs are spread apart, dangling, leaving just enough room for me to fit between them comfortably. I don't know if I'm up for an emotionally charged moment, and I look up to inform him as much, but he hasn't got that intense look in his eye, so I know that he knows there are upper and outer limits to what is appropriate and when.
His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me in for an odd hug - it's more him leaning against me than anything, and I know he's looking for reassurance that I'm not about to flip out and pack my bags because of his potentially hypothetical pronouncement.
"I like this. I like being with you."
My arms snake around his back. "I like this too." I want to enjoy the moment and not think of the ramifications of it or what it would mean if he and I should ever get together as a couple through and through.
"I think maybe I'm sure." His hot breath puffs against my neck.
"About what?"
"That it wasn't so much hypothetical. Or that I'm really quickly getting to that point."
I shift my face against his neck and kiss his jaw. It's late in the evening and the stubble rasps against my lips.
"Remember you asked me what I wanted for my birthday? How about a date?"
"Mrs. Weasley is coming over. She misses us and she is going to go check on the twins anyway."
"Is that a no?"
It takes me only a minute to figure it out. "No."
"So, that's a yes?"
"I'd like that. . .."
"We can still go out before they gets here, right?"
I laugh a little. "One day at a time."
"Your food's getting cold again."
I like this awkward pose we're in. It suits us and I'm in no hurry to move. "I'm not that hungry anyway."
*
Now I wish I hadn't invited Mrs. Weasley to come out here for my birthday. Or that she had invited herself. Whichever.
Hermione pulls back from me and smiles.
"I'm tired. I'm going to go up to bed."
"Oh?"
She laughs. "It wasn't an invitation."
"One can dream..."
"Goodnight, Harry."
She starts to move away and I grab her hand.
"What?"
I lean in and touch her lips with mine softly, not asking for more.
"I just wanted to kiss you goodnight."
She smiles and heads for the stairs.
It's a long time before I jump off the counter and follow.
. . . .
My room is a disaster area. It's the one concession I didn't make to that list. I carefully walk along the path I've made on the floor and collapse face first on my bed.
I'm not quite sure why, but I feel rattled by her sudden openness with me. It's not like she has suddenly agreed that we should see where this goes, but she's not pulling away either.
Quite frankly, I wasn't prepared for this and I don't know exactly what I want to do with it.
I groan inwardly, chastizing myself for having these thoughts at all. It's not about the thrill of the chase with Hermione, I remind myself. I still want her.
I just didn't expect this to actually happen. I didn't think she'd agree to this at all, even one day at a time.
Looming ahead too, is the prospect of having Mrs. Weasley, mother, come out here. I know that as soon as she gets here and takes on look at my face, she'll know what the deal is. And then there will be all these not-so-subtle hints about the inappropriateness of our living arrangements.
I sigh and turn over, burying my head beneath the pillow.
It muffles the sound of the knock on my door, but not enough that I miss it entirely.
I remove the pillow.
"Harry?"
"Come in," I tell her and sit up in bed. "I thought you would've been asleep by now" I say as she opens the door.
She shakes her head.
"Couldn't sleep?"
"No."
I nod.
"Remember when I used to do this? When I had something on my mind and I couldn't sleep? I just walk into yours or Ron's room and babble? And Ron would groan or something?"
I nod again.
"The thing is, I don't know if I can do that anymore with you, and I miss it."
I sigh, "Hermy, we're still the same. We can still talk to each other. You can still come and sit with me."
She shakes her head, "I don't think so."
"Why not?"
She smiles wistfully. "Because you're what's on my mind?"
"Oh."
"Yeah," she laughs to herself. "I don't know what to do with that. And I can't moan to Ron, because he's not here yet. And Lavender's probably asleep by now."
"You could stop fighting it," I suggest.
She looks at me slowly. "And then what?"
"What do you mean?"
"What happens to us, Harry?"
"I don't know, Hermione. What do you want to happen?"
She sighs and sits on the end of the bed.
"I don't know."
"People don't go into relationships knowing the outcome."
"I just want to know that I won't hate you."
"I hope not," I laugh.
"Are you friends with your exes?" she asks. "I'm not. Oh, there are a few, but they were mostly casual relationships."
"Yeah, for the most part, I am."
"I don't think we would be," she says quietly.
"Why not?"
"Because I couldn't be with you if I didn't mean it. Could you?"
It's a loaded question and I know what she's really asking.
"I think you know the answer to that," I say.
"Tell me anyway."
I sigh.
"Hermione, you mean so much to me. You know that. You know that neither one of us would've been able to put up with the things we've had to since we were eleven if we didn't have each other. I don't take you for granted. So the answer to your question is, no, I wouldn't be pursuing this if I didn't mean it."
It's not about the thrill of the chase.
"Then I want to do this right."
I give her a perplexed look.
"Slowly, Harry. No more groping in the kitchen. At least for the time being."
"What, do you want me to court you or something?"
She laughs. "Court? You really did spend a lot of time with Mrs. Weasley."
"Shut up," I laugh. "So this means you will go on that date with me?"
She nods and stands up.
"Where are you going?"
"To my room."
"Why?"
"To sleep."
"Stay."
She shakes her head. "I can't, Harry. It's one way or the other. You can't have both."
"Are you sure?" I wink.
She shakes her head, laughing and steps carefully back to the door.
"Goodnight Hermione."
"Goodnight. Oh, Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"If I was to stay, I would expect that it would be a little cleaner in here." She winks.
I make a mental note of that and close my eyes.
