Disclaimer: I like to pretend I own Harry Potter sometimes, but in actuality I don't.

Chapter 31

Harry and Hermione stood rooted to the floor in fear before they heard knuckles rapping the front door. Before either of them could react, the voice of Mr. Granger carried throughout the house.

"Professor McGonagall!" He cried out in what sounded like pleasant surprise. "And, I don't believe we've had the pleasure, Mister…"

"Dumbledore." A familiar voice uttered from downstairs, and the fear Harry felt was quickly replaced by confusion. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It's a pleasure to meet you, ah! I presume this is your wife. A pleasure, my dear."

"What is going on?" Harry whispered, turning to an equally bewildered Hermione, who just gaped.

"Professor McGonagall!" Mrs. Granger's voice came next. "And it's nice to meet you too, Professor Dumbledore. Hermione has written about you a few times."

"Oh, dear, I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs." The Headmaster chuckled. "Are a certain two of my favorite students around?"

Hermione squeaked and began blushing furiously, and despite Harry's insurmountable perplexity he cracked a smile as his best friend began fanning herself.

"Harry! Hermione!" Mrs. Granger called out from downstairs. "You appear to have some visitors!"

"Coming, mum!" Hermione replied. The pair shared another confused glance before making their way downstairs. "Do you think we're in trouble?" She whispered to Harry, hastily sliding her hand into his. Harry shrugged, feeling a knot of nervousness manifest in his stomach. Was Dumbledore about to send him back to Privet Drive?

"Ah, there you are! I hope we didn't wake you." Dumbledore seemed peculiarly upbeat considering it was past eleven at night and everyone around him was either unamused or scared out of their wits. "You two look rather sharp, I must say. Did you attend a ball?"

Before anyone could even open their mouths, he clapped a hand to the side of his head in realization.

"Ah!" He exclaimed. "How could I forget? My sincerest apologies, Harry. Happy birthday!" His eyes twinkled, and Harry felt more confused than ever. "Alas, I cannot give you a gift because favoritism is frowned upon. Isn't that right, Minerva?" He winked at the Head of Gryffindor, and Harry swore she blushed. Harry remembered it was her who had given him his Nimbus Two Thousand and he nodded in realization.

'So, Dumbledore's too cheerful for us to be in trouble. Unless this is some kind of tactic. I can't think of a better good cop bad cop duo than a happy Dumbledore and McGonagall.' Harry grimaced involuntarily.

"Thank you, Professor." He managed to rip himself away from his thoughts. "But, did you come here just to wish me a happy birthday?"

"No, we did not, although it was a nice addition." Dumbledore sighed. "I trust you are all enjoying your summer holiday?" Everyone nodded uneasily. "No troubles?" He added with an intense gaze. Harry nodded, pursing his lips in anxiety. "Swell!" He said, clapping his hands together. "I suspect it is about to get better."

"What makes you say that?" Asked a suddenly amused Mrs. Granger.

"How would you all like the Ministry of Magic to sponsor a holiday in France? For all of you?"

Harry's jaw hit the floor.

"Why?" He gaped.

"Well, that's where things become less…light-hearted." Dumbledore sighed. "Have any of you heard of a man named Sirius Black?"

One Week Later

"How many words in French do you actually know?"

"Just the important ones. I know baguette, I know Madame and Monsieur, and Bonjour. Oh, and s'il vous plaît. How much more do I need to know?" Harry smirked as he, Hermione, and the Grangers took their seats at an outdoor table of a café in Cannes, France. It was the first morning of their impromptu holiday, and the four of them were eager to immerse themselves in their surroundings.

"Oh? And just how far do you think you'll get with that extensive vocabulary?" Hermione asked smugly, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. Harry narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, until a waitress arrived at their table and greeted them.

"Bonjour, Madame." Harry grinned, putting on the most suave voice his thirteen year old self was capable of. "Une baguette, S'il vous plait." He gestured to the table. Hermione just rolled her eyes at him. Harry, however, was just as surprised as his best friend when the server beamed, nodding in understanding before strolling off to find them some bread.

"I suppose he can get quite far." Mr. Granger couldn't hide his amused smirk as Hermione huffed, grabbing her menu and making a point of not looking at Harry, who was still grinning in self-satisfaction.

"What will you be having?" Mrs. Granger asked Harry from diagonally across the table.

"I think I'll just have this special with the croissant and hot chocolate." Harry couldn't read French for his life, but the menu had a picture of the famous French pastry next to a cup of hot chocolate with the word 'spécial' underneath it, and even he could deduce that much.

"I'll take it from here." It was Hermione's turn to narrow her eyes, her smug expression returning as she turned to the approaching waitress, who cheerfully placed a bread basket in the middle of the table. Before Harry could grab a piece, Hermione began spouting out words that sounded like utter nonsense to him –perfect French. She pointed to everyone at the table, even jabbing Harry in the shoulder when she got to him, pontificating in the language of King Louis like she was born to do it. The waitress diligently copied down what the bushy-haired girl was saying and flashed the table a quick smile before marching off.

"Well then." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, stunned at Hermione's sudden display of linguistic talent. "Erm, une baguette, Madame?" He asked her sheepishly, pointing to the basket in front of Hermione. "S'il vous plait." He added for good measure.

"Avec joie." Hermione said matter-of-factly, thrusting the basket into his hands.

"You're scary when you get competitive you know." Harry plucked a piece of bread. "Brilliant…but scary."

Hermione rolled her eyes again but finally cracked a smile, along with her much more amused parents.

"She learned when she was young." Mrs. Granger explained, leaning back in her wrought-iron chair. "The moment she learned it was the Language of Love she practically begged us to let her – "

"Mum!" Hermione gasped, her cheeks turning pink.

"What?" Her mother asked plainly. "She loves everything to do with France now. We've gone on a few holidays here in the past, but never to this region." She explained to Harry, gesturing to the stunning Southern France city that surrounded them.

"It really was quite generous of the Headmaster to offer this trip. Even if the circumstances are a bit…grim." He sighed.

"Well, he does kind of owe me." Harry said, his tone a bit darker than he intended.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione grabbed his hand under the table, and he gave her an appreciative smile. "Let's not talk about that. Or the fact that, you know…"

"The fact that the first person to ever break out of Azkaban wants to do me in, so Dumbledore sent me out of the country to protect me until school starts?" Harry asked innocently. Hermione inhaled sharply and squeezed his hand. "Oh, yeah, you were saying we shouldn't talk about that." He realized.

"On a happier note…" Mrs. Granger sighed. "What would you guys like to do for our first afternoon?"

The four of them quickly launched into a much more pleasant conversation about the sights and offerings of Cannes until their waitress returned with several plates of traditional French breakfast fare. Harry was happy to savor his pastry and sip his hot chocolate, not feeling particularly hungry.

He distractedly pursed his lips as he mulled over the words of Dumbledore and McGonagall a week prior. How a man named Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, and in the name of protecting his students, Albus Dumbledore convinced the Ministry of Magic to finance a trip for Harry and the Grangers in the name of safety. It was worlds better than what Harry thought he was going to say – the boy wizard half-expected the Headmaster to drag him back to Privet Drive in order to protect him.

"What do you say, Harry?" Mr. Granger asked, jarring Harry away from his thoughts. "Would you be interested in stopping by one of the art museums, then the beach?"

"Sure!" Harry grinned, eager to explore the city. The rest of the breakfast proceeded pleasantly, with Hermione teaching Harry a few phrases in French.

A few hours later, Harry found himself standing on a beach for the first time in his life, and he couldn't find the words to describe it. He stared in amazement at the sand and its gentle hue of gold, peaking in a cluster of dunes just behind him that rolled as far as the eye could see. He turned towards the ocean, watching the waves crash on the sand and pull back, over and over. The rhythmic lapping of water against shore reminded him of a pulse, as if the ocean were a living, breathing entity.

"Like what you see?" Mr. Granger asked from next to Harry. He looked as if he was born to stand on this beach, with a casual-looking button-down shirt opened to reveal a white T-Shirt underneath. He pulled off his sunglasses and winked at Harry, placing the lenses over his baseball cap. "Nothing beats the beach. At least for me." He smiled contentedly. "Hermione has libraries, you have the Quidditch pitch, and Jean and I have the beach."

"Are you going to continue your little soliloquy or are you going to help your wife set up?" Mrs. Granger sighed dramatically from behind Harry and Mr. Granger. They turned to see her and Hermione unfolding beach chairs and laying out towels on the sand.

"Right." Mr. Granger smirked as he joined the others. Harry followed suit, helping Hermione with a particularly stubborn beach chair.

"I like your swim trunks." She said rather meekly as they finally unfolded the seat and placed it in the sand. Harry smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

"Thanks." He said awkwardly. "Your dad was really nice about helping me pick them out." He paused. "You look really nice, by the way."

And she did. She was wearing a plain baby-blue T-shirt to go with a pair of white shorts that Harry had never seen before, and it took almost all of his willpower not to stare at her legs.

"Thanks." She blushed, pulling at her shirt distractedly. "Mum, dad, can Harry and I go for a walk?"

Mrs. Granger pursed her lips in thought for a moment before nodding. "Don't go off too far."

"Yes, please don't get lost or kidnapped or something. We'd hate to get on the bad side of that Professor McGonagall." Mr. Granger smirked, grabbing a novel from his bag.

"You have no idea." Harry chuckled, and Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile.

"We'll be back later." Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry's hand, and he waved goodbye to the Grangers before being tugged off. "Left or right?" She asked as they reached the edge of the waves.

"What?" Harry asked, focusing more on the feeling of Hermione's fingers interlocked with his than anything.

"Do you want to walk that way," she pointed to their left, "or that way?" She pointed to the right.

"Oh, erm…" Harry looked from side to side. "That way seems less crowded." He pointed to their right, and Hermione flashed him a pleased smile.

"Shall we?"

"I suppose we shall." Harry returned the smile, squeezing Hermione's hand and beginning their walk. The first few minutes were filled with a content silence, as they observed their surroundings with smiles on their faces. Harry spotted a shaggy black dog running into the water, only to come sprinting out just as fast, as if it were trying to race the waves. He turned and saw two boys not much older than him tossing a Frisbee back and forth.

"Those two remind me of you and Ron." Hermione smirked, nodding her head towards the teenagers. Harry watched with interest as one of them missed a catch and ended up tripping on a towel, face-planting into the sand.

"Please tell me that one is Ron?" He asked with an amused smile.

"Definitely." She giggled. "I would imagine the best Seeker at Hogwarts would be a bit more graceful."

Harry laughed along with her, and the two continued their stroll, admiring the natural splendors that surrounded them for another few minutes.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She asked, stopping in her tracks as she gazed at the horizon. "The way the sun shines on the sea. It's like there's a million sparkles on the water." She let out a wistful sigh. Harry raised his eyebrows at her sudden fascination. "And the water is so clear. Like there's two skies on top of each other. When the sun sets like it does now, it's hard to tell when heaven stops and Earth begins."

She took a deep breath before slowly meeting Harry's eyes. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

Harry stared in deep thought at his best friend. The way the sun kissed her skin, giving her a tanner complexion that made it look as if she was radiating sunlight. The way her hair was shining, a deep brown infused with flecks of gold that sparkled in the setting sun. The way her lips looked as soft as velvet, but softer. The way her eyes were so deep, so enchanting, he could stare at them forever until he withered away, and he wouldn't care.

"Yes."

Hermione blinked, unable to mask her confusion.

"Like what?"

'Now or never.' The inner voice chimed in. Harry took a deep breath, wincing at how shaky it sounded.

"Hermione, there's something I've wanted to tell you. For a while now." Hermione's confusion shifted to nervousness almost instantly.

"Oh?" Her voice cracked, and he instantly took her other hand in his so they were holding both hands. "Harry?"

"I didn't grow up watching a lot of movies like most other kids. Or reading as many books. Or exploring all kinds of interests." He blinked a few times, trying to will the nervousness out of his voice. "About a month ago, I saw a romance movie for the first time in my life."

"Oh?" Hermione repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

"At first, I wished I had never seen it." He sighed, a shy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Because it made me realize something that I had never noticed before. I don't know how I didn't notice it before." He admitted, his voice wavering less and less as he continued. "Hearing the way those characters described how they felt, it was like being woken up from a dream I didn't know I was dreaming."

"Harry…" Hermione whimpered, her eyes widening.

"Hermione, I –" He paused, looking around nervously. "Sorry, every time I get that far something interrupts me."

"Harry?" Hermione stepped closer to him, squeezing his hands.

"Hermione, I really like you." His voice was barely a whisper. "I think I've liked you for a lot longer than a month, but I didn't really know it until then. I guess I really am that dense." He laughed awkwardly, averting his eyes. "I know we're best friends, and I know that – "

"Harry…" Hermione cut him off, the smallest of smiles on her face. "I really like you too."

Harry's mind went completely, utterly blank. He couldn't bring himself to process anything. Not the water that lapped up and doused their feet every few seconds, not the setting sun illuminating the beach in the most pleasant shades of red and yellow the human eye could ever see, not the fact that they had wandered away from everyone else on the beach, nothing. Harry couldn't wrap his head around anything except the fact that his crush had just admitted to liking him back, and he was having trouble handling that alone.

"Really?" His voice cracked, breaking into a blissful smile.

"Really." She whispered, squeezing his hands again.

"Do you, I mean, do you like – "

"Honestly, Harry! I fancy you. Do you need it in writing?" She giggled, blushing furiously.

"S-sorry." He stammered, his face heating up as well. "It's just…I don't know. I wasn't expecting that."

"The five-hundred kisses on the cheek didn't give it away?" She asked, stepping closer to him. "Or the five-thousand hugs? Or that I blush every time you compliment me, or hold my hand?"

"I…wow." Harry blinked. "I guess I am a bit…dense. Aren't I?" He sighed, and Hermione just laughed again. "I don't, erm, I don't really know what to say now. Or do." He confessed, his blush deepening.

"I have an idea." Hermione squeaked, still smiling shyly. Before Harry could ask, she stood up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his for only a moment. It was soft, like a butterfly landing on his lips. It was long enough for her warmth to permeate the entirety of his body, but still too short for his liking. His entire body was on the verge of trembling with excitement as he stood in dumbfounded silence, his eyes closed and his lips curled into a giddy smile.

"That," he blinked his eyes open to see Hermione was blushing even more, "was one of your best ideas yet."

Hermione beamed at him, and Harry happily wrapped his arms around his best friend, resting his chin on the top of her head and gazing out into the sunset. The feeling of Hermione in his arms, staring at an undeniably beautiful sunset, took him back to an unforgettable night in the Forest of Dean. It felt like centuries ago, but at the same time he could recall the feeling of warmth that enveloped him like it was yesterday.

"It's you, by the way." He said suddenly.

"Hmm?" Hermione hummed in confusion.

"You're the…thing. That's more beautiful than this sunset." He explained rather awkwardly.

"Harry, I could have guessed that. Not everyone is as dense as you are." She giggled, tilting her head up to stare at him. "But thank you." She added, turning back to face the water.

"I like this." Hermione whispered into his shoulder, hugging him even tighter.

"I know how you feel." Harry smiled, planting a soft kiss on the top of Hermione's head before staring back out towards the setting sun, which was slowly but surely being swallowed by the horizon.

A/N: You're welcome.