Been quite a while hasn't it my dear chums? I'd say it's been about two and a half months if I'm not mistaken. I hope you're all still reading this story. So sorry I haven't written. School has kept me quite the busy beaver. But here it is! I've managed to get this baby down in just a few days.
Thank you to everyone who's supported me and my work so far! You rock!
And a special thanks to quirkyslayer and Meager Words. You're stars.
Disclaimer: Don't own HP.
Enjoy!
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Everything Is Just Roses
Chapter 7: "The Perfect Date"
Slowly, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. Managing to lift her heavy head up, she peered around and found herself curled up on the couch still clad in her dress from the previous night. Then, she realized she was all alone.
Alone. Alone on Christmas morning.
Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall as she loosened her overly tight embrace on the pillow on which she had been sleeping. Eight o'clock. Where the bloody hell was Ron?
If she remembered correctly, she, Ron, Lavender, Dean and Harry had all left the party together the night before. Ron let Harry ride with Hermione in one taxi and told them he'd be right behind them in another with Dean and Lavender.
Harry and Hermione's taxi stopped in front of her apartment. Harry had told the driver to keep the meter running and wait for him. He stepped out and followed Hermione up the front steps of her building.
Wordlessly, Harry picked up Hermione's hand and placed a soft kiss on it. He then allowed his lips to gently brush her forehead. "I had a wonderful time tonight," he told her. "Thank you."
A strange emotion filled her insides and she could do nothing but softly echo his gratitude with her own, almost inaudible, thank you.
When she'd gone up to her flat, she sat waiting for Ron. Nearly an hour had passed and nothing. 'Where the bloody hell is he!' She owled Luna who promptly sent back a reply saying that he'd left already. Then she tried owling Ron himself and sat on the couch waiting. Sleep overtook her two hours later when she still hadn't received an answer.
A gentle tapping at her living room window jolted Hermione out of her memories. Tripping over her discarded strappy heels in her haste to stand, she padded to the window and opened it, letting in a tiny silvery grey owl. Discovering it was from the one person she was waiting to hear from, she was about to rip open the note when the owl flew up to her shoulder and cooed into her ear.
"Oh! I'm sorry sweetie, you must be famished!" Quickly hurrying to the kitchen, Hermione retrieved two tiny bowls from the cupboard, filled one with owl feed and the other with water, and doubled back to the living to set the bowls on the window sill. The petite owl nourished itself gratefully and flew back out into the morning air.
When the owl had gone, Hermione sat on the sofa and eagerly tore open the note from Ron. Her eyes ravenously devoured the words on the small piece of parchment. It read:
Hermione,
Sorry I couldn't make it to your place last night. After we dropped Dean off at his place, we hit loads of traffic. With all the people going home to see their families…you know how it is. So we stayed at an inn close by. Anyways, I won't be able to make it to you until late this evening 'cause Lavender's got tickets for the Christmas Day Quidditch Match. And guess who's playing? Yup! Chudley Cannons! I swear, I'm on my own professional team, but they've still got themselves a soft spot in my heart. Um, you can come if you want, but I don't think you'll enjoy it very much. Besides, Lavender only got two tickets… And she knows how much I like the Cannons… So you have yourself a nice day today. Go home and see your family, eh? I'll be there at ten tonight. 'Fraid I can't get there any earlier 'cause these matches always run overtime. But don't worry, I've already contacted the restaurant and bumped the reservation to a later time; 10:30. What do you think?
Ron
For quite a few minutes, Hermione didn't know what to think. Not just about the reservation time, but the whole thing. It was Christmas day and Ron wanted to spend it with Lavender? Why didn't he just say "To bloody hell with it. I love Hermione and I'm going to her" instead of indulging Lavender's whims? What about Hermione whims? Weren't they important? She didn't want to seem like a clingy annoying girlfriend, but even though she knew that Ron adored the Chudley Cannons and all that, she want him to be with her. After all, it was Christmas day.
But with all this, Hermione realized that she wasn't as upset as she thought she would normally have been. It was as if lately something in her had changed; like a switch had been turned off…or on. Whatever it was, it was definitely making her react to certain situations a lot differently than usual.
Maybe she would take Ron's suggestion into consideration and go visit her mum and dad. She was positive it would be a welcoming surprise.
Bounding off the couch and dashing to the bathroom, Hermione washed her face, pulled up her messy undone tresses, and changed out of the dress from the preceding night.
Hermione rushed around her bedroom gathering the things she'd need to spend the day at her parents' and threw them into a large tote bag.
After dressing in her coat, scarf, and hat, Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated hard on the one place she wanted to be. Suddenly she felt a pull. Crack!
When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the driveway of number seven, Millstone Avenue, in a cozy town just outside London. She was home. With each stride towards the front door, Hermione was more and more excited to surprise her parents.
"Coming!" a female voice answered when she rang the bell. Hermione instantly recognized the voice of her mother. The door opened to reveal a petite but slender woman with her light brown hair pinned elegantly into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her large brown eyes gazed through thin rectangular spectacles. "Oh my goodness! Hermione!" Her mother immediately drew Hermione towards her, squeezing her tightly in her arms. "Come inside from the cold, love." Hermione obeyed, entering her childhood home and feeling a rush of old memories fill her. It was good to be back. "Jude!" Her mother called out. "Look who's home!"
Hermione's father, a tall lean man, also with light brown hair, and a dignified air about him appeared in the foyer. "Yes, Kate?" Upon seeing his daughter, a huge smile spread across his face exposing very even white teeth. "Sweet pea!" Mr. Granger scooped his daughter into an embrace.
"We thought you weren't coming home this year!" Hermione's mum wondered aloud, as her father took her coat and hung it up it in the closet by the door.
"Well, you know…Ron had this thing to go to…important for work and stuff," Hermione found herself lying. "He was going to come with me, though."
Mrs. Granger nodded, but Hermione could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.
"So sweet pea, why don't you go on up to your room and place your things there and then you can come down to kitchen," her father suggested. "Your mother and I will fix you something nice and healthy."
Hermione smiled warmly. "Thanks."
When she entered her old bedroom, Hermione breathed in deeply. She looked around and happiness filled her. No one at Hogwarts ever knew, but her room at home was what she liked to call "cozily sloppy". Small stacks of books were scattered here and there on the thick and fuzzy, light blue carpet, triangular Gryffindor banners adorned the walls along with a couple of posters of the Weird Sisters. A giant, dark red armchair stood by her closet with her winter dressing gown draped over its back and a her favorite teddy bear sat on the seat.
Hermione kicked off her shoes and pulled off her hat and scarf. Throwing them on the chair and picking up her bear, she threw herself on her huge white canopy bed. She loved every part of her room, but her bed was her favorite. The white wispy chiffon curtains surrounded equally snowy white, lacy sheets. She always felt safe in it. Like she did now. Hermione hugged her bear tightly and closed her eyes.
Why had she lied to her mother like that? Because the truth would have sounded awkward and she wasn't in the mood to explain. But she still felt bad lying to her mum. After all, her mother was so excited about this wedding. What would she do?
Looking around her and trying to forget about Ron, Hermione felt happy, really happy. She wished she could come here more often—just apparate in the middle of the night and fall asleep in her old bed. And that was precisely what she proceeded to do; fall asleep.
When she awoke, she found that it was one o'clock in the afternoon.
Quickly, Hermione kissed her bear, placed him on her pillow, and got up to wash her face in the bathroom that was connected to her bedroom.
Mrs. Granger set a plate of fresh cut raw vegetables and a turkey sandwich in front of her daughter when she sat down in the kitchen. "And for good measure…" Her mother placed a mug of steaming hot chocolate by the plate. She then took a seat across from her with a plate and mug of her own.
"So tell me," she began. "How's everything going with Ron?"
"Oh just perfect!" Hermione exclaimed between bites. She realized she was famished, for she hadn't eaten anything all day.
"That's nice to hear. Anything new going on?"
"Well…you remember Harry Potter?" When she said his name, her heart raced.
"Of course. Haven't heard from him lately, have you?"
"Actually…" Hermione told her mother about the events that occurred a week ago, leaving out the fact the Harry had taken a shower in her bathroom and that he'd slept over…in the same bed. She also left out her feelings about the whole ordeal.
"So he's back! That's wonderful!" Her mum's face lit up. "Too bad about him and Ginny, though. We'll have to invite him to the wedding then. Maybe he'll meet someone there."
"Maybe…" Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy. She swirled the chocolate in her mug. "Mum?"
"Yes, love?"
"Um…" How would she say this? "Were you ever about to make a huge decision in your life and then something came and made you think twice, turning your world completely upside down?"
"Hmm…" For a long while Mrs. Granger surveyed her daughter. "Why do you ask?"
"I just… I wanted to know…what would you do if something like that happened to you," Hermione managed to say.
Taking a sip from her mug, Mrs. Granger answered, "Well, I guess I would do what I felt was right in my heart."
Hermione nodded softly.
"Does that help?" her mum inquired.
"Mm hmm, yeah. Yeah, it does. Thanks, Mum."
"You're very welcome, love."
Hermione spent the rest of the day with her parents, enjoying herself more than she had in a very long time. They talked about anything and everything, from her shop to her days at Hogwarts. She didn't even notice the when nine o'clock rolled around, eight hours had gone by.
After getting her things from her room, she was bid her parents goodbye.
When she was back in her apartment in Hogsmeade, Hermione felt like crying. She always got this way after leaving her parents.
By ten o'clock, Hermione was dressed and waiting in her living room for Ron to arrive. She'd put on a short silvery dress and matching strappy sandals she recently purchased especially for this occasion.
Twenty minutes later, agitation began to creep into Hermione. Ron had made a reservation for 10:30 p.m. That was in ten minutes. They were going to be late. Not to mention he was late picking her up. 'He said he'd be here at ten! I'm trying to not be worried, but I'm getting sick of waiting! That's all I ever do!'
Just then, there was a knock on her door. Ron was standing there to greet when she opened it. "Ready?" he asked, offering his arm.
Hermione didn't budge. "You're late," she told him, her tone slightly perturbed.
Ron's arm fell. "Yeah," he agreed. "Look, I'm really sorry. The match went into overtime like I said, but the Cannons won! Afterwards, they really wanted me to go to their victory party. And well…I'm a star player so I couldn't say no. I mean, they asked me in front of everyone. Anyways, do we have to talk about this now? We're going to be late."
For a few moments, Hermione didn't move or say anything. She would've kept on arguing with him but she really didn't want to be late and this was her Christmas gift so she put on her coat said, "Fine, let's go."
"May I take your coat, Miss?" was the first thing a tall elegant man with his hair combed back asked Hermione when she stepped into 'Patils' Petals' .
"Oh, thank you," she replied graciously as she slid out of her coat. The hostess sat them at a nice quiet table for two in the back by a warm fireplace.
'This is good,' Hermione thought after the hostess had given them their menus and left. 'A good table. Maybe this dinner will turn out great.'
Neither Hermione nor Ron attempted conversation. A few minutes later, their waitress arrived. She was a short blonde witch with a slightly squeaky voice. "Hello, I'm Cora and I'll be your waitress for tonight. What kind of drinks can I get you to start off your meals?"
"Fire Whiskey, please," Ron answered.
"And for you, Miss?"
"What kind of red wines do you have?"
"Well we have this lovely new high-end stuff called Indian Blood Wine—"
"That'll be perfect," Ron interrupted.
"Very good. I'll be back with your drink orders in a second."
"So," Ron tried, after the waitress had gone. "How were your parents?"
"Well."
"Did you have fun today?"
"Yes." Realizing that their conversation was rather dull, Hermione asked, "And how was your day? Tell me about the match."
And off he went; talking and talking and talking animatedly about each maneuver the Cannons played. He was still talking when Cora reappeared with their drinks.
"Thank you," they both told her.
"Have you decided what you'll be ordering to eat?"
"Umm, I think we'll need a bit more time," Hermione responded.
"I'll be back in five, then."
"Okay."
As Ron talked, Hermione's thoughts trailed elsewhere. She began comparing this night to the night before. Merlin, did she have fun last night—just she and Harry, with no interruptions or annoyances.
"Hey Herms, why aren't you drinking your wine? Here…" But as Ron leaned over to place Hermione's drink closer to her, his fingers hit it and it toppled forward, spilling all over the tablecloth and Hermione's dress. She gave a yelp of surprise and jumped out of her seat. "Oh my God, Hermione, I'm so sorry! I just—and it just—"
"Miss." A waiter rushed over to their aide. Upon seeing her dress, he murmured, "Love, don't even try to remove that with magic…"
"What!" Hermione cried in alarm. "This doesn't come off with magic?"
"I'm afraid not, Miss. This is very high-end, bred from our finest Wizard Wineries in India. It's not exactly meant to be spilled. I'm very sorry."
"Oh my God…" whispered Hermione helplessly.
"Why don't you go on to the ladies room and this gentleman"—he motioned to Ron—"and I will try to fix things up here."
"Yes, thank you…" Hermione headed for the restroom in a daze.
As she tried desperately to get the large crimson stain off her dress, she thought, 'What a date this has turned out to be.' She didn't even know why she was trying to get the stain off like this. Maybe she didn't feel like going back…
After fifteen minutes of hopelessly wiping her dress with water and standing under the hand dryer, Hermione returned to her seat, the stain still as prominent as ever.
"They changed the tablecloth," Ron told her quietly.
Hermione nodded. She didn't exactly feel like talking anymore.
Their waitress came back. "Are we ready to order?"
"Mind if I choose for us?" Ron asked Hermione. "I looked over the menu while you were gone."
Hermione nodded again.
"I'll have the Grilled Salmon Teriyaki, and the lady here will have the Roasted Chicken with Gourmet Sauce and rice on the side."
Cora repeated their order to them to make sure it was right and told them that it should be ready in about a quarter of an hour.
While they waited, Ron tried to ease back into the conversation about the game he'd seen that day. Hermione let him. She certainly didn't have anything to talk about.
Their food arrived just as Cora had predicted. The food was good, that much Hermione had to admit.
"You know," she said to Ron for the first time since the wine incident. "This Gourmet Sauce is really good. What's in it?"
"I'll ask for you," Ron replied and stopped a passing waiter to inquire about the sauce.
"Ah! Now that is a very special recipe made with the finest sesame oil—"
Hermione almost choked. "Did you say sesame!"
"Why yes I did, Mademoiselle. Is there a problem?"
"Yes," Hermione answered slowly. "There is a problem. I'm allergic to sesame…" And then she felt it. Her stomach began to turn. Every time she ate anything with sesame, it never agreed with her stomach. "I'll be right back."
For the second time that evening, Hermione headed for the ladies' room, this time she raced there. Her gag reflex was definitely about to get some exercise. She leaned over the toilet and heaved everything she'd just eaten out in waves. Everything she'd just eaten. When she'd finished, she sat at the floor and leaned her clammy forehead onto the cold wall of the stall feeling absolutely abysmal. What a feeling. Hermione felt as if she'd just puked out all her insides.
Despite how she felt, she had to force herself to stand up. 'I can't let this night go entirely to waste,' she told herself. Gently, Hermione pulled herself to her feet, flushed the toilet, and washed her mouth out in the sink. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she saw that she looked like hell. Trying desperately to fix her appearance, she smoothed back her hair and touched up her make up. She left the bathroom struggling to feel optimistic.
But when she got back to her table, Ron wasn't there. 'Probably went to the bathroom,' Hermione thought as she took her seat. Then, one of the waitresses approached her.
"Miss?"
Hermione looked up.
"Your gentleman has already taken care of the bill. And he also left this note for you." She handed Hermione a small piece of folded parchment.
"You mean he's already left?" asked Hermione in stunned, heartbroken disappointment.
"Yes he has."
Hermione couldn't say anything else and after a minute or so, the waitress left. Unfolding the note, Hermione read:
So sorry I had to leave, but Puddlemere's called an emergency practice session. We didn't know, but we have a game tomorrow. Stay and enjoy the rest of your dinner. I've paid them extra for you to get something else. I hope you feel better. Sorry again. Happy Christmas.
Ron
For a long time, Hermione just sat staring at a spot on the tablecloth, unable to do or think anything. Tears began to brim in her eyes and all at once, she crumpled the note, threw it into the fireplace, and stood up. As fast as she could, Hermione headed for the door. When she stepped outside, she discovered that freezing rain was pouring down from the night sky. A violent shiver racked her frame. She'd forgotten her coat.
Just as Hermione turned to go back in to the restaurant, her sandals slipped on the wet stone steps and she fell down, her backside hitting the pavement hard. A tall, built waiter came hurrying out to help her to her feet. He placed her coat around her shoulders.
"Are you alright, darling?" he queried concerned.
"Yes," Hermione winced. "I'm fine."
"Will you be alright getting home? Would you like me to hail you a Knight Taxi?"
"No, no. It's okay. I can do it from here."
"Take care of yourself, love. Please."
"I will. Thank you."
After he'd gone, Hermione hobbled down the steps and hastily hailed a taxi as the rain beat down harder.
"Where to?" the driver asked when she'd slid onto the back seat.
Hermione gave him her home address and leaned back onto the seat as the taxi lurched into movement.
If only there was someone she could go to for comfort. She didn't think she could handle going home alone right now. She needed someone to talk to. She needed…
"Change of plans!" Hermione exclaimed to the driver. "Take me to The Three Broomsticks instead, please."
"You got it." And the taxi took a sudden turn.
Hermione's heart raced as she stumbled out of the taxi and hurried into The Three Broomsticks. She saw Madame Rosemerta behind the bar and exasperatedly asked her what she needed to know. When she got her answer, she raced up the stairs to the rooms on the upper floor despite Madame Rosemerta's further questioning.
Hermione knocked ten times in a row on the door to room number four. When it opened, Harry stood bewildered before her in a pair of pajama bottoms and a white cotton undershirt.
"Hermione…" he said in surprise.
And like a worn out doll, Hermione crumpled into Harry's open arms, sobbing.
And that's how the story ends… JUST KIDDING! –lol- Did I get ya?
Stay tuned for: Hermione spends the night with Harry. What will happen? You'll see…
Until then…review please!