Summary: Hermione's fallen. Hard. And quite frankly she's not too happy about it. It's so illogical, so inconvenient, so irrational. Falling for your best friend - how cliched.
Authors Note: I made Chapter One a little bit longer … okay, a lot longer, because I felt that more stuff had to happen at the Weasley's. I'll try to get Harry and Hermione into as many more cliché-ish situations as I can (I certainly haven't got a lack of material in that department :). Feel free to offer suggestions.
On a side note, I'm trying to keep this as close to canon as possible, as well as remain in character. I once read an article that said that you cannot write H/Hr fluff because any fluff wouldn't be in character. I disagree. For one, we know nothing about how either would react in an adult relationship with each other, because we simply haven't been shown that kind of situation in the books. I think that H/Hr can be as fluffy as the next couple and stay in character (as far as my interpretation goes). But if you do happen to see a totally OOC moment or think any of the characters are acting particularly psychotic, please don't hesitate to tell me. I can take it!
Also, on the subject of keeping with canon, I realise that I can't completely illustrate the characters with all their experiences of their 6th and 7th year as well as the events leading up to the fall of Voldemort (any stuff pertaining to those circumstances will be conveniently glossed over), because I simply cannot imagine what JRK has in mind for those years. All you have to know is that Harry defeated Voldy at the end of 7th year and – well duh – survived. Since this is a rather light-hearted interpretation, I will be keeping the angst to a minimum.
How Clichéd
Chapter Two
Hermione was right. She didn't get a wink of sleep.
She'd traipsed upstairs with a red-faced Ginny – who was looking everywhere but at her brother – followed by an eerily silent Ron, a seemingly bemused Harry, and a very flushed Neville. Ron seemed to have forgotten Ginny and Neville's predicament and was more than happy to be led back to his room, still somewhat catatonic. The poor boy was clearly traumatised so Neville was safe for the moment.
It was almost five by the time they'd all gotten back into their rooms.
The second she'd gotten back into bed, her thoughts, already racing around with a veracity that surprised her, had only accelerated most inconveniently. She found herself flooded with the memory of Harry; the feel of his hands against the skin of her waist, his breath in her hair, his whisper in her ear … she was positively giddy with the recollection of it all.
It had only lasted minutes and yet the memories lasted the entire morning, at least until Ginny had sat up abruptly in bed at two o'clock in the afternoon, white-faced and wide-eyed, yelling something about storks and peanut butter.
Lunch that day – a rather late one that should probably have been classified as an afternoon snack (it was more of a banquet really, seeing as Mrs Weasley was cooking) – was certainly an interesting affair. Everyone was sitting around the table, looking decidedly bleary eyed and tousled.
Apparently there hadn't been a great deal of sleep happening the night before.
From the snatches of conversation that Hermione had caught, Charlie and Janna had spent the early hours of morning chasing after the girls who, having deprived their father of his wand, had then proceeded to turn the garden into a pseudo menagerie. Janna had spent an entire hour chasing a multitude of wild animals through the shrubbery while Charlie sought out the girls, who had disappeared after their exhaustive play session. He found them at half past eight, curled up in a corner of the upstairs bathroom, fast asleep.
Fred and George were unperturbed, as usual, and were as cheerful as they had been last night, although they did direct the occasional amused glance toward the five seated at the far end of the table. Meghan and Katrina were quite curious as to what had their husbands so amused, but were just too hot to pursue the subject.
It appeared that Bill and Fleur had been the only ones who'd gotten any sleep at all. Although Hermione wasn't too sure about that one either.
Blushing slightly, Hermione kept her gaze intently focused on her ice cream, studiously avoiding looking at Harry, who was on her right, and at Mr and Mrs Weasley, who were seated at the head of the table on her left. She knew that Ron, seated beside Harry, and Ginny across the table, were also peering intently into their bowls of fruit salad as though they held the meaning of life. Neville was staring straight ahead, barely blinking.
If anything, Neville had probably taken last night's events the hardest. He'd explained earlier this morning to Hermione that he wasn't expecting to be getting to know his future in-laws quite so intimately, especially not just after he and Ginny had been –
Ron had then – bless him – interrupted this conversation and Hermione, distraught enough as she was, had been ready to kiss him then and there. She didn't want to know what Neville and Ginny had been doing – she'd been lucky enough to walk in halfway through, thank you very much, and she didn't particularly want to relive it.
She hadn't really had a chance to delve into her own personal demons after that because, at that point, she'd been snapped out of her musings at the startled 'eep' coming from Neville. Ron had been stalking toward him, circumventing the couch, hands outstretched, and looking rather murderous. Hermione had grabbed Neville and promptly yanked him out into the garden and out of harms way.
"What do you think Neville?" Mr Weasley was saying. "Shall we do it in the kitchen?"
Hermione started violently and, trying not to come into contact with Harry, nearly fell off her chair. She couldn't help but look up at Mr Weasley, hand frozen, spoon poised above her ice cream.
Neville promptly spit out his mouthful of pumpkin juice. "Do … it?" he squeaked (rather unmanfully it must be noted). "In the … kitchen, sir?"
Ron, who was sitting directly across from Neville, choked on a grape. Ginny tightened her grip on her spoon and surveyed her dessert with renewed interest, visibly flushed.
"Yes," Mr Weasley said, completely oblivious to the various odd happenings around the table. "In the kitchen." Mr Weasley paused and, when Neville's answer was not forthcoming, he nodded decisively, an excited smile lighting up his face. "You're quite right, the kitchen is too small. We'll go into the living room. We can move around more, work up a real sweat. Perhaps the others might like to join us!"
"The more the merrier," Mrs Weasley added cheerfully.
Neville looked positively horrified.
Mr Weasley continued, completely unaware, "Sounds rather exciting, doesn't it?"
"Exciting?" Neville said shakily. "Very."
This time Hermione couldn't keep herself upright. In her attempts to curtail bodily contact with Harry – any contact with Harry, really – she slid sideways and off her seat. She landed on the grass and, momentarily stunned, blinked in surprise, wondering at how she'd lost altitude so quickly.
Harry was out of his chair and at her side in an instant, holding out his hand and biting his lip to keep from laughing. Unthinkingly, she took it and he hauled her up, steadying her with an arm around her shoulder. Hermione bit her lip and glanced around at Ron, then Ginny, and then Neville, who was still looking rather green. She caught the glimmer of a smile on Ginny.
Ginny gave a slightly hysterical hiccup and tried to cover it up with her napkin.
Ron snorted into his dessert.
This was enough to send Hermione completely over the edge. She let out a giggle, which then progressed into a full-on laugh. Ginny collapsed into hysterics; she dropped her head into her arms, almost burying her face in her fruit salad and laughed all the harder. Ron had tears falling down his face. Eventually, even Neville had joined in.
Hermione slid back down onto the grass, taking Harry with her, as they collapsed into a new fit of laughter (not unmanly giggles this time).
"Hermione, Harry, children," Mrs Weasley said, looking around at her cackling guests, obviously quite perturbed. "Are you all alright?"
"Don't worry, mum," Fred said nonchalantly from his place further down the table. "They're probably just sleep deprived."
"Yeah," George agreed, reaching for another banana. "All that time around the cereals and the spreads. Probably scrambled their brains a bit."
And the twins turned back to their conversation.
Mr and Mrs Weasley shred a mystified look. They certainly had no idea what to make of that particular comment.
Hermione took in the bewildered expressions on Meghan and Karina's face, the politely bemused expression on Janna's face, the surprised expression on Fleur's face, and the rather amused expression on both Bill and Charlie's faces, and launched into a fresh wave of giggles.
Finally Harry, calming down enough to help a hysterical Hermione back into her seat, said, amidst the continuing laughter of his companions, that "Yes, Mr Weasley, we'd be delighted to join you in a game of Twister."
Sadly, they never got around to playing. Mr Weasley was called back into the office at half past four, much to the consternation of his wife, who promised bloody murder on the Ministry wizards who kept him out past his bed time. (At the mention of bed time Neville had promptly dropped the glass he was holding and flushed dramatically.)
With the departure of Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley had immediately summoned a set of seating charts from the bookshelf, thrusting the entire set of folders and loose bits of paper at a slightly frazzled looking Fleur. The older male Weasley's, having an inkling as to the excessive talk of gowns and shoes and ribbons and lace that would no doubt soon follow, felt absolutely no desire to stay and participate.
Fred and George had grabbed their wives, some provisions from the kitchen (pickles, ice cream, peanut butter, and bananas) and their bags, and retreated out the front door, declaring that they had a Portkey to catch at five o'clock in the next field over.
Charlie, still traumatised over being included in his wedding plans so long ago, blanched and whispered heatedly to Janna, insisting that the children were undoubtedly ill and needed to go home immediately. They decided to join Fred, Meghan, George, and Karina and followed at great speed, magicking Maddi into a stroller on their way out the door.
Neville quickly decided to partake in this universal plunge out the door and quickly made his excuses to Mrs Weasley (who had her nose firmly stuck behind a bridal magazine and was murmuring the occasional absent reply) and then proceeded to haul Ginny out the door, insisting quietly but vehemently that they never let Mrs Weasley within fifty metres of their own wedding preparations. Ginny, having been through three Weasley weddings already, agreed wholeheartedly.
Hermione, Harry and Ron took similar advantage of Mrs Weasley's distracted state and had Disapparated before the woman even realised her house had emptied rather dramatically in the last several minutes.
"We escaped," Ron said to Harry, leaning against the door. A spark of magic gave him a shock and he stepped back quickly, glaring at Hermione, who had Apparated into the study – the only place she herself could Apparate into – and was opening the front door.
She ushered them inside and waved her wand, muttering an incantation; the air inside grew noticeably cooler.
Ron and Harry sank onto the living room couch and placed their feet up on the coffee table. Hermione shook her head at the sight and disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing moments later with a jug of chilled pumpkin juice and three tall glasses following her.
After almost seven years, it was practically a routine.
She wasn't quite sure why, but since they'd graduated and become 'independent wizards' – Ron's words – and moved into their own abodes, her apartment had quickly become their unofficial meeting place. Whether it was because the modest two bedroom (second bedroom converted to a study) apartment was situated in Diagon Alley, within walking distance of the Leaky Cauldron and all things magical – or the fact that hers was actually clean – was up for debate. But whatever the reason, Ron and Harry probably spent more time at her place than they did at their shared accommodations. They actually spent so much time there that both had a key to the front door.
And yet Ron was still trying to Apparate inside. Would the boy never learn?
Harry spent a great deal of his time at Quidditch and probably only went home to sleep, and Ron spent any time away from work at Hermione's place, so their apartment usually appeared somewhat neglected. There was, at any given time, at least three months worth of dust floating about the kitchen (the least used room in the house – the stove had probably never even been turned on since they moved in).
She certainly wasn't complaining about the fact that they spent so much time together, but honestly, lately it had been extremely hellish. Just the idea of bringing a male wizard home was enough to make her cringe. Harry and Ron were protective enough as it was under normal circumstances, but when it came to her 'virgin purity' – again, Ron's words which were, admittedly, erroneous – they were somewhat fanatic.
Then again, under the circumstances she wasn't likely to be bringing anyone home anytime soon, was she?
But still, it would be nice to have a choice in the matter!
She distinctly remembered the first time she'd brought a wizard home. It had been the one night that Ron and Harry, despite having been absent that entire week for one reason or another, had decided to visit. They'd perked up immediately at the mere mention of a potential date and, while Hermione ducked into her bedroom to change her shoes, had questioned one Michael Malkin extensively.
She'd come out of her room, tucking her wand into her cloak, and found, watching television, a grinning Harry and Ron.
But no Michael.
And she hadn't seen him since. She could only imagine what they'd said to the poor guy.
Harry was perhaps better at the interrogation process than Ron, although admittedly Ron did get into the spirit of things a whole more than Harry did. All Harry had to do was remind said interviewee about his exploits (very modestly off course), drop a few names – the words 'Lord' and 'Voldemort', especially used in conjunction with each other, usually sent any potential suitor flying right back out the door without so much as a backward glance – and intimidate the beans out of anyone.
By the number of questions those two managed to ask in the space of five minutes, Hermione decided that one day she'd just help them out and provide a full questionnaire to every eligible bachelor who showed an interest. The very first question would probably be along the lines of 'Have you ever defeated a Dark Lord? And if so, could you handle an interview with the infamous Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley?" If the answer to part one were a no (it would be highly unlikely that anyone who hadn't vanquished a Dark Lord would be brave enough to stand an interview with Harry and Ron), she could just cross them of her list and move on.
It would probably make life easier for everyone concerned.
Of course, the blame for her lack of a love life couldn't necessarily be placed on them. She wasn't exactly out socialising every Saturday night, nor was she involved in a great deal of activities that would promote such activity. She spent a great deal of her time at work, and whenever she wasn't there, she was usually hanging out with Harry and Ron.
And then there was her current situation.
Oh yes, her romantic prospects were certainly looking decidedly bleak.
She sighed and set the glasses and jug down on the coffee table, shoving off two pairs of sneakered feet in the process. She collapsed onto the floor in front of the couch and flicked her wand lazily, pouring out the cool liquid.
"Got any crisps?" Ron asked, grabbing a glass and downing it in one motion.
"Of course," Hermione said. "in the cupboard."
Ron looked at her expectantly. And then, when he received no response, he crossed his arms and said, "Well?"
"Get them yourself," Hermione said blithely. She turned her head and flicked on the television, studiously ignoring the dark look Ron sent in her direction. She grinned. "Try not to Summon Crookshanks again; he was rather disgruntled last time. It took me over half an hour to retrieve him from underneath the dresser after that particular episode."
"If you would be so kind as to remember, at the time of said incident I was distracted," Ron said defensively, flushing slighly. "And I was talking to Harry. It was a mistake anyone could have made."
Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement. A smile hovered at the edges of her mouth. "Oh yes, I can see how you can mistake a large orange cat for a package of shortbread biscuits."
Harry bit out a laugh. He winked at Hermione. "Yes, Ron, a very common mistake."
Ron shrugged dismissively, but his ears went red. "Oh, shut up you two."
Harry and Hermione grinned at each other. Hermione settled back against the foot of the couch, decidedly pleased. Harry smiled at her. That smile that told her they were still on the same side. Everything was back to normal.
Whatever 'normal' actually was.
Harry didn't appear to be harbouring any discomfort over the events that had transpired in the pantry (well, in regards to their actions – the other, slightly more disturbing, stuff was liable to reconsideration). Then again, Hermione reminded herself, nothing did happen between them. At least nothing that couldn't be attributed to a severe lack of sleep and way too many distractions.
She sighed. She wasn't any closer to figuring things out that evening than she had been at six o'clock that morning. Hermione was not used to unanswered questions. It just wasn't done!
Hermione looked up, distracted, as Ron retrieved his wand from his back pocket.
Luckily for all concerned, Ron didn't Summon Crookshanks; instead, a large packet of crisps came zooming out of the kitchen and landed in his lap. As Ron stuffed a handful of salty chips into his mouth, Hermione wrinkled her nose.
"Remind me to stock up before your next visit," she said, her attention vaguely tuned into the comedy programme on television. "Every time you two come over, every scrap of food in the house disappears."
Ron mumbled something unintelligible around a mouthful of crisps.
Hermione was about to respond, but at that moment, there was a knock at the door.
"Hermione, it's me," Ginny yelled.
"It's open," Hermione called, settling back against the couch.
As Ginny and Neville walked inside, Hermione Summoned two more glasses from the kitchen. One narrowly missed Neville, who was visibly startled as a frosted glass whizzed a couple of millimetres past his nose. He flopped down between Ron and Harry.
"Pumpkin juice?" Hermione offered.
"Oh, yes please," Ginny said, sinking onto the floor beside Hermione. She fanned her flushed face. She was wearing plaid shorts and a white t-shirt, which was sticking to her back. "It's so hot out there."
Hermione nodded. Being British and thus being exposed to ridiculously low temperatures throughout the entire year, they were certainly not used to such excessively high temperatures. "That's the one thing that the magical world has in common with the Muggle world; neither can do anything significant about the heat."
Everyone seemed content enough to just sit about sipping pumpkin juice and chatting, until Ginny, who couldn't sit still for more than five seconds if her life depended on it, declared that she was utterly bored and wanted to do something.
"Anything at all," she said emphatically.
"Ginny," Ron said, attention entirely focused on the television. "It's thirty seven degrees outside. What are you proposing we do? Because if it involves actually leaving the apartment, then you can certainly count me out."
"Oh, quit whining, Ron," Ginny said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Of course we'll stay indoors. I'm not proposing that we pop down to the park to play a game of Quidditch or anything. But we could, theoretically, go somewhere that's not here and do something that's not this."
Hermione considered this for a moment. "It's certainly an idea. But don't you think we've had enough excitement this weekend? What with the family get-together and the … um …" she trailed off, seeing that Neville had gone rather green and Ron now had his packet of crisps in a strangle hold. She decided to take a little detour and continued hastily, "What I mean is does anybody have any suggestions?"
"We could play Twister," Harry suggested, completely straight faced.
Neville, if it was possible, turned a lovely shade of purple. The packet of crisps exploded in Ron's hands in a shower of crumbs. Ginny giggled helplessly, and in doing so, managed to choke on her pumpkin juice. Hermione pounded Ginny on the back, stared at Harry and made a slicing motion across her throat, suppressing a smile.
"Or," Harry said, unperturbed. "We could watch a movie."
"Hey," Ginny said, sounding rather excited, amidst a fair deal of spluttering and coughing. "Dad's told us about them. Aren't they like the telly programmes or something?"
"Or something," Hermione agreed, grinning.
Ginny had also spent the last several years developing a fascination for Muggle entertainment. She had recently become rather attached to soap operas, and could be seen regularly sitting in front of Hermione's television set, utterly enthralled.
She had the same interest in Muggle music. Hermione had even bought her a portable CD player with a selection of random disks for her last birthday. (In retrospect this, really, was a mistake, seeing as Ginny was now constantly humming along to Britney something or other.)
Even so, Hermione found it odd that she'd never shown Ginny an actual movie. She racked her brains … no. To her knowledge Ginny had never sat through a movie.
"Hey," Hermione said suddenly, getting a rather ingenious brainstorm. "Why don't we actually go to the movies? There's a cinema a few streets away from the Leaky Cauldron. There must be something reasonable playing."
Harry arched an eyebrow and glanced down at her. "You obviously haven't been following the Muggle entertainment news. From what I hear, there aren't any good movies on until early June."
"That may be so," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "But there must be something we can all watch."
"Oh yes," Ginny said, her eyes sparkling. "Lets!"
"It does sound interesting," Neville said. He looked well pleased at the idea of a distraction. "Gran never let me anywhere near the Muggle world. Said it was too primitive. Besides, I've never seen a moobie."
"Harry? Ron?" Hermione asked. "What do you think?"
"Sure," Harry said after a moment. "It's been a very long time since I've seen a movie."
Everyone looked at Ron.
Ron looked up, seemingly aware of everyone's gaze on him. After a long moment, he brushed potato chip crumbs off his lap and onto the floor. (Hermione glared.) "Right, before I agree to anything, I have to know one thing," he said.
Hermione looked at him expectantly.
"Will this involve walking?"
An hour later, Hermione felt that this entire thing had been a very big lapse in judgement. She hadn't considered the ramifications of her actions. And she blamed the entire thing on Harry – for being so adorable, for being continually on her mind, for just being there … it was all his fault, damn it. She was no longer thinking straight.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. A night out in London with her friends. To see a movie. She honestly couldn't think of an activity that could be more innocuous or normal.
Of course, it wasn't until later that she realised that it was a night out in Muggle London with her wizarding friends. Friends who had, up until that particular point, spent a grand total of half an hour – if that – in the presence of real Muggles and outside the wizarding world.
Thinking back, she probably should have confiscated their wands before they left the apartment.
The group had set out of the Leaky Cauldron at a shuffle – with the weather, they weren't feeling up to travelling any faster than that – each rather excited at the prospect of doing something different. Ron had grumbled the entire way, claiming that to walk that far – the seventy-five metre stretch of road between Hermione's apartment and the Leaky Cauldron – was wrong and immoral.
Ginny had told him, none too politely, to shut up. Hermione had agreed.
It wasn't until they'd passed through into Muggle London that Hermione realised the possible catastrophe that awaited them. Her first hint of an idea gone wrong was the reaction that her companions had to the traffic lights.
"Wow!" Ginny said, looking up at the red neon letters. "Muggles are amazing aren't they, to be able to do so much without magic …"
And, having said that, she then proceeded to cross the street on the red light, hand in hand with Neville.
"Gin –" Hermione began, glancing up at the lights. "Don't …!"
Harry, with reflexes undoubtedly attained from his extensive Quidditch career, had grabbed Ginny by the back of her shirt and hauled her back onto the pavement. Neville looked slightly startled to suddenly be walking backward. A car whizzed by, the driver too intent on the road to pay much attention to the couple that he'd nearly flattened.
"My, wasn't that exciting!" Ginny said animatedly, her eyes following the progress of the vehicle around the nearby corner.
Neville watched the seemingly endless procession of cars speeding their way up and down the road. "Quite impatient, these Muggles, aren't they?"
Hermione suppressed the urge to bury her head in her hands. "Gin, I can't believe you just … oh, never mind!"
The lights flickered to green.
Ron was too busy to notice much of anything related to their conversation; he didn't even notice that his friends were halfway across the street. He appeared to be too busy ogling the scantily clad girls traipsing up and down the streets. Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand.
"Maybe we should've put them on a leash," Harry mused as he ushered Ginny and Neville across the street.
"Why didn't you think of this before we left the apartment?" Hermione asked blithely. Then she grabbed Ron's arm. "Come ON, Ron."
"Hey Harry," he said – allowing himself to be hauled across the street – grinning at a particularly vivacious blond who was walking in the opposite direction. "Perhaps we should reconsider moving …"
Harry glanced sideways at the aforementioned blond and grinned. "Perhaps we should," he said.
Hermione couldn't help it; her eyes narrowed dangerously.
The blond smiled back at the two men, her blue eyes sparkling. And then she tossed her hair over her shoulder.
Both Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows simultaneously and let out a low, "Whoa."
Hermione shook her head mournfully. "Oh, regressed back to adolescence, have we?"
"Never left," Ron replied cheerfully, his gaze rapidly flickering to the next attractive girl to cross their path.
Ginny and Hermione shared a look and despaired in unison, "Boys!"
Luckily, they managed to make it to the cinema relatively unscathed. It took a lot longer than it probably would have normally. Ron spent a great deal of the time walking headfirst into poles and walls due to distractions of the female persuasion.
In his defence, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen so many girls in short shorts and tiny t-shirts. Wizarding robes allowed very little leg showing.
Ginny, on the other hand, spent a fair deal of time marvelling at the wonder of cars. After one particularly long dissertation on the wonders of Muggle ingenuity, Hermione couldn't help but say something.
"Ginny," Hermione said with infinite patience. "You've seen cars before. Your father used to own a car. The Ministry has an entire garage of cars. Why are these so bloody fascinating?!"
"Because they belong to Muggles!" Ginny declared.
Hermione couldn't bring herself to argue with that particular piece of logic.
Oh well, Hermione reminded herself. If anything, Ginny was certainly enthusiastic. Although the merits of that were certainly up for speculation – the moment they stepped inside the air conditioned cinema, Ginny was presented with an opportunity to use Muggle money. The poor girl nearly had a nervous breakdown on the spot.
"Really?" she said, looking at Harry in wonder. "I get to pay? With pounds and shillings and everything?"
"You can take care of the children, Harry," Hermione interjected smoothly, suddenly noticing that Ron was noticeably absent from their little group. She spotted him making a bee line in the direction of the popcorn and gestured toward him. "I'm going to make sure that one doesn't buy out the entire refreshment stand."
"Could I have one of those, one of these, some of that, and … one of those," Ron was saying, waving his arms wildly about as though he were directing a rampaging Hippogriff through a maze. "Ooh, that looks good too. I'll have two of those as well."
The girl at the counter – whose name badge said a cheery 'Hi! My name is Ashleigh!' – gave him a searching look before she moved away. As the confectionary piled on the counter, Hermione couldn't help but wonder how much of Ron's purchase would actually last through the previews.
"Twelve pounds, please," Ashleigh! said with a vacant smile.
Hermione dug into her pocket for her cash point card.
Ron held up his hand. "I'll get it," he said magnanimously, sticking a hand into the pocket of his jeans.
"Ah," Hermione said, arching a slightly incredulous eyebrow. "Will you? And you're going to pay with that, are you?" she said, looking pointedly at the handful of coins he'd pulled out of his pocket.
For a moment Ron looked confused; his brow furrowed and he stared at the eleven silver Sickles and five bronze Knuts in his hand. Then the realisation dawned and he glanced up at Hermione, smiling sheepishly. "Good point," he said. "Carry on."
Hermione couldn't help but grin as she handed the cash card over. Ron watched the entire transaction with wide-eyed wonder.
"Wow," he said as the girl handed the card back to Hermione. "Bloody brilliant, that is."
The girl looked up at him curiously.
Aware that they were currently being scrutinised, Hermione shot the befuddled girl a smile. "He's from overseas," she said by way of explanation. "They don't have cash point cards in, erm –"
"New Zealand," Ron supplied helpfully, with a flirtatious grin on his face.
"Ah," the girl said, nodding her understanding. Then she frowned and stared at Ron and Hermione.
Ron, oblivious to everything but the sugar laden snacks, he scooped up two packets of Maltesers, three chocolate bars, a package of crisps, and a massive plastic cup of soft drink.
Hermione decided to exit, stage left, as soon as was humanely possible. For one, she was running out of explanations for her friends' erratic behaviour. And secondly, she didn't want Ron to remain so near so much food; she wasn't quite sure how much money she actually had in her Muggle savings account. Making a mental note to check that on Monday morning, Hermione grabbed the remaining container of popcorn, then Ron's arm, and hauled him away, calling a brief thanks to the confused girl behind the counter.
"New Zealand, Ron?" she said once they were well out of earshot. "Of all places!"
"It was the first thing that came to mind," Ron said, shrugging. He shifted the mountain of snacks in his arms in an attempt to keep one of the chocolate bars from falling to the floor. It was balanced precariously atop the soft drink container and looked ready to dive off any second.
"We've got the tickets," Harry said, coming up behind Hermione. He reached over her shoulder and grabbed a handful of popcorn. "Sure you've got enough there, Ron?"
Ron was currently trying to take a sip of his drink without dropping everything else. "I can always come back for more, right?"
Harry laughed.
Hermione froze completely. He was still standing behind her and his breath sent a series of light as air sensations rifling through her damp hair. Resisting the urge to lean back into him (or pass out at his feet, whichever circumstance happened to come first) she titled her head sideways and caught his gaze.
"Where are Ginny and Neville? Don't tell me you've let them loose."
Harry grinned and shook his head. "Ginny likes Muggle money. She's buying popcorn, I believe."
"Because this certainly isn't enough," Hermione added ruefully, looking down at the excessively large container of popcorn in her arms.
"Hey, I'm not sharing that with anybody," Ron said indignantly.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Harry noticed her expression and leaned close. "Hey," he reminded her cheerfully. "Try to keep in mind that this was all your idea."
"Thank you, Harry, for reminding me. Thank you so much."
If anyone asked Hermione if she'd enjoyed her evening, she probably would have declared that she had the time of her life. In fact, she had so much fun that she couldn't for the life of her remember what the damn movie was about. Hell, she didn't even know what they'd ended up watching in the first place.
And the reason for this sudden bout of amnesia?
She'd fallen asleep three minutes into the previews.
Well, with the night she'd had, she could hardly be surprised by this turn of events.
When she woke up, the couple on-screen were well on their way to a happy ending.
But that wasn't what had her practically faint with pleasure.
She blinked her eyes open slowly, momentarily wondering where she was. There was almost total darkness; the only light came from the screen. The cinema was more or less silent. She heard a few muffled sobs and the rustling of tissues.
Shifting slightly in the rather unusual comfort of her seat, she turned and buried her face in her –
– wait a minute. In her what? Surely she hadn't had the foresight to bring a pillow with her?
This time her eyes snapped open and she found herself staring at a white and blue checked shirt. And then she became aware of two things: it wasn't a pillow, and it most certainly wasn't hers. At least not to the extent she wanted it to be.
As her drowsy mind adjusted to her surroundings, she suddenly realised why she was so damn comfortable. Any girl would be excessively comfortable if she were sprawled on top of Harry Potter.
At some point, one of them must have raised the arm dividing their two seats. She couldn't remember either of them doing this – of course, she couldn't remember falling asleep on him, either, but that was really beside the point.
His arm was draped across her shoulders, pressing her against his side, his fingers swirling soft (but incredibly delightful) patterns across her upper arm. Her cheek was practically plastered to the front of his cotton shirt (it was very hot tonight) and his chin was resting on the top of her head.
Hermione couldn't remember feeling so comfortable in her life.
And where was her hand? Oh, there it was, resting unobtrusively on his thigh.
Hermione resisted the impulse to leap up and bolt for the hills.
Instead, although it almost pained her to do so, she shifted in his arms and straightened up.
"You're awake," Harry murmured softly, letting his arm fall away from her shoulder. "Enjoy your nap?"
She pushed her dishevelled hair back off her face and glanced at him sheepishly, nodding slightly.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to do that. I didn't sleep much last night."
Harry grinned at her. "I imagine none of us did. For so very many reasons."
"I probably would have had nightmares if I'd managed to drop off," she agreed wryly. She stretched twisted around slightly and, in doing so, caught sight of Neville and Ginny. Her eyes widened.
Earlier, Ginny had taken a little too long to buy her popcorn, and so they'd arrived late. Apparently everyone in London (and probably all of England, too) had decided to catch a movie. The cinema was almost completely packed and, not finding seats to accommodate their party of five, they had been forced to split up.
Hermione, Harry and Ron had taken three seats in the second to last row. Ginny and Neville had taken two directly behind them, right at the back of the cinema.
And now Ginny and Neville had seemingly stumbled upon the reason most adolescents went to the movies.
"Didn't they get enough of that last night?" Hermione whispered heatedly.
Harry followed her gaze and smiled. "Oh, I believe they've been going at it for a while now." He then placed a hand on her shoulder and steered her back to face the screen. "It's too bad taht Ron's so engrossed in the movie or it would have been incredibly interesting."
Either way, it was still incredibly interesting. From the sniffling and tissue rustling, and the occasional giggle, Harry, Ginny and Neville had apparently settled on a romantic comedy for their outing.
And Ron, sitting on Harry's other side, was now dabbing the corner of his eyes with the collar of his shirt.
"Ron?" Hermione said, too incredulous to keep her voice down. She received several discouraging glares.
Ron, looking like a deer caught in headlights, blinked. He then straightened and said in a choked voice, "It's a very emotional movie, Hermione!" and went right back to sniffling in peace.
Hermione wordlessly handed him a tissue.
"Thank you," Ron said shortly.
Hermione stared at Harry, eyebrows raised.
"Oh, he's very deep," Harry said.
Hermione responded with a sudden yawn. She blinked sleepily, rubbed her eyes and yawned again.
"You're still tired," Harry observed.
"Only a lit –" Hermione yawned again.
Much to her surprise, Harry reached a hand toward her, settling his arm around her shoulder again and giving her a gentle nudge toward him. Hermione instinctively straightened up and pulled back, although she didn't have the faintest idea why.
"Come on," he said at her slight hesitation. "You're exhausted. Come to Harry."
She couldn't help but grin at the adorable smile gracing his lips. She leaned into his embrace, settling her hand on his stomach and pressed her cheek against the smooth fabric of his shirt. She felt his arm tighten around her shoulder and she smiled sleepily.
"You guys spoil me too much, Harry," she said quietly, snuggling against his warmth. "You should be careful. A girl could get used to this, you know."
"Only one girl, Hermione," Harry murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "Only one."
But Hermione, already half asleep, wasn't sure which Harry had said it. The real one or the one that lived in her dreams.
Her bets were on the Fantasy!Harry.
tbc …