Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc.
Chapter Ten : Birds
Glancing at the clock, Hermione stifled a curse before it left her throat. She had promised to meet Ron for lunch in ten minutes on Thursday the weekend before. She had been so caught up in her work that she had almost forgotten all about it. Working quickly, she assembled all the books she had to go through that afternoon in a big pile on her desk. Casting about until she found some quill and parchment, Hermione assembled the makings of a basic Puzzle Charm. While Puzzle Charms were no replacement for manually reading the text of each and every research book, they were excellent at finding words and key phrases within a group of texts. The charms did not require constant supervision, further increasing their usefulness. Hermione had begun to rely upon them to meet her deadlines as she had finally admitted that it was impossible for her to read every single thing that was ever written on any of her research subjects.
She muttered the words of the spell quickly, and the charm soon set to work. Hermione knew that when she returned, there would be a list of places were the charm had found any reference to the Cyclops or any one-eyed monster for that matter. She would be able to use that list to narrow down her search for a list of its weaknesses once she returned from lunch. That being done, she reached down below her desk for her bag and set out the door.
"Going out for lunch, Granger?" Malfoy asked from behind a large stack of scrolls on his desk.
"Yeah, I promised I'd meet Ron today at Future Foretold," she told him.
Malfoy grimaced. "Granger, your taste in restaurants is . . ."
"Hey, what about being civil?" she reminded him.
"I was going to say less than exquisite," he replied. "Though that is hardly being accurate."
"True enough," she conceded. "But it is the fastest place to get your lunch. I've learned that lesson after trying to get to the Leaky Cauldron and back in a single hour."
"You'd need a Time Turner to pull that one off," Malfoy said. "But again, the Leaky Cauldron is not high on my list of favorite places to eat."
"Then why don't you suggest one of those places to me? As it is true that you're better acquainted with the Wizarding World outside of Hogwarts than I," Hermione said.
Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. "I thought any such suggestion would have been perceived as rude. But if you're willing, how about tonight? I can owl the Forgotten Rose to make reservations for us."
"Tonight?" Hermione repeated. "No, I'm sorry. I can't make it. This week is actually very bad for me as I'm busy putting everything away still in my flat."
"You see, Granger, this is why I don't do nice things for you. I offer, but you always turn me down," Malfoy complained.
"When else have I turned you down?" Hermione asked.
"Last weekend, remember? You practically kicked me out of your house after I had waken up far too early on a Saturday morning to help you move," he replied.
"Oh. That's right," Hermione said. "I had forgotten about that."
"You've been working too hard, Granger. It doesn't sound like you to forget something like that."
"Probably I have," she said. "I'm sorry to say no again, really I am, but if it's next week, I promise I won't turn you down a third time."
"Next Wednesday after work then?" Malfoy asked.
"That should be fine. And if you'll excuse me, I really must run," Hermione said.
"Fine, fine. Have a nice lunch," he said, waving her off. "But I'm warning you, Granger. If you forget, I get one week where I can insult you freely without retaliation."
"That's very childish, Malfoy," she said.
He shrugged. "If that's what it takes to get you to remember a promise to your former arch-enemy . . ."
"You were never that," Hermione said. "Annoying as hell and deserving of every hex and prank we sent your way, but never that."
"I think your friends would beg to differ with that," he pointed out.
"Ron . . . probably. He hates your family," she admitted. "But I like to think that Harry is more open-minded than that."
Malfoy suddenly sighed. "Hermione, your willingness to give him the benefit of the doubt is sometimes . . . disheartening."
"Huh?"
"Nothing, forget I said that. Shouldn't you have left by now?"
"Gah! Yes, I should have left five minutes ago. See you later!" Hermione sprinted out the door and towards the restaurant. By the time, she had reached Future Foretold, she was out of breath.
Future Foretold was the Wizarding version of fast food, and it was almost as bad. The main difference was that instead of promising to have your food ready soon after you ordered, Future Foretold promised to have your food ready before you even arrived. Hermione liked to refer to it as the divination scam to end all divination scams. Nine times out of ten, the food the waitress put in front of her was nothing she would ever order on her own. As she arrived, she immediately saw Ron – he was easy to recognize given his bright-colored hair and height – and she made her way through the crowded restaurant, stopping only when she had reached his table.
"Hello, Hermione," Ron said. "You're late."
"I know," Hermione said. "I'm sorry about that."
"It's all right." Ron frowned at the food in front of him. "I told the waitress that there were two of us . . . and she already brought the food as you can see."
Hermione took the seat across from him, looking at the food on the table there. It looked like an ordinary salad, but it was best to check in the Wizarding World. "What is this?" she asked.
"An ordinary garden salad, with Italian dressing on the side," Ron replied. "It should be safe. Not for me as I don't eat rabbit food, but you're a girl, so you ought to be happy with it."
Hermione rolled her eyes. Salad was fine with her, but not for the reason that Ron implied. Unlike other witches in her peer group, she did not obsess over her weight. "And what do you have?" she asked.
"Surprise stew with bread on the side," Ron replied faintly.
"That's not Transfiguration Surprise stew, I hope," she said.
"Merlin! I was trying to not to think of that ever again! Did you have to remind me?" It had taken Ron all of a day before figuring out he should never eat on the job while working at the twins' joke shop. They had presented him with a perfectly innocent-looking bowl of stew on his first day as a treat for lunch. It was only after Ron had finished devouring it when they revealed it was Transfiguration Surprise stew.
Then they had told him that the stew had originally been a big mass of slugs before they had changed it.
Ron's reaction to that news was best left to the imagination. He had yet to trust anything else that the twins offered him to eat since then.
"The bread ought to be safe," Ron said, pushing the bowl away from him. "Why do you always chose to eat here, Hermione? Why not some place decent like the Leaky Cauldron?"
"That's because not all of us have lenient bosses who don't care how long our lunches might run," she told him. "Unlike you, I have a set schedule to stick to."
"That must be awful," he said.
"It's actually not that bad," she replied.
"I guess I'll get something to eat after we're finished here," he said. Chewing on his bread, he continued, "So is there anything you want to talk about?"
"Like what?" Hermione asked.
"You know . . . if there's something that you feel the need to get off your chest . . ." Ron hinted broadly.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Hermione replied with asperity.
"I mean you don't have to pretend around me. That you're not . . . upset over what happened last week," Ron said.
"Me? Upset?" Hermione said nonchalantly. "I admit I thought it was a tad rude for Harry to . . . surprise me like that, but honestly! There is nothing for me to get upset about."
"Hermione, this is me, remember? Ron, your best friend since you were eleven. I can tell when you're lying," he said.
"Oh really?"
"Yes, because that big fake grin of yours screams that you're not happy," he replied.
"I do not have a big fake grin!" she objected.
"Fine. Deny it if you wish. But I know what I've seen grow between the two of you . . . and if you ever need to talk to someone, you can always come to me. Okay?"
"Thanks," she said. "Though I doubt I'll take you up on that offer."
"Me too," he sighed. "And a bit of friendly advice. Harry's going to get a bit suspicious if you keep avoiding him."
"I haven't been avoiding him," she said.
"Oh yes you have. He's been complaining to me about it. Says that you must be mad at him because he hardly ever hears from you now," said Ron.
"That's ridiculous," Hermione said. "The difference between now and then is that he saw me every day before I moved out. So naturally, it seems like I'm not talking to him as often simply because we don't live together any more. But that doesn't mean I'm avoiding him."
"Hermione, when was the last time you talked to Harry?" Ron questioned.
"Last Saturday, when you two helped me move," she promptly replied.
"And have you heard from him since?" Ron continued.
"Yes, he's owled me every day since. It's getting to be annoying. I'm not about to wither away and die because he doesn't want me around any more."
"That wasn't my point. My point is that the old Hermione would have responded to every owl, instead of making Harry worry whether there's anything wrong with you."
"I've been busy," Hermione explained. "Between work and trying to get settled in, I haven't had much time."
"Yet you have the time to meet me for lunch."
"I can't very well meet Harry for lunch as our schedules don't coincide."
"That sounds like you're making excuses to me," Ron said sharply.
"Fine, fine. I need a break anyway," Hermione said. She took a bite of her salad, considering what they could do that evening. "Hey Ron . . . remember that time we took you to a Muggle theatre to see a move?"
"Yeah. That was a disaster. What sort of place doesn't let you talk back to the gorgeous blonde whose making eyes at you?"
Hermione's eyes sought the ceiling, and she sternly commanded herself to be patience. "Ron, it was a movie. The blonde wasn't talking to you, she was . . .oh never mind! The point is she wasn't talking to you or anyone else in the theatre, and you're supposed to be quiet and watch the show."
"What's the fun in that?" Ron asked.
"It can actually be quite entertaining," Hermione said. "I was going to suggest that the three of us could get together and see a movie tonight. That is, if you're willing to keep your mouth shut for the duration of the film."
"I don't know about that," Ron said.
"Well, I don't feel like getting kicked out and told never to return because the dumb redhead with us can't keep his mouth shut no matter how many times we tried to tell him to stop talking," Hermione remarked.
"Fine, fine. I'll give it a try. If you promise me that you'll come with me to attend Harry's first home game," he said.
"If it doesn't conflict with my work, then yeah," she agreed. "I've never missed a game of his before. I don't know why you think I'd start now."
"Oh you know perfectly well why I think you'd start now," Ron retorted. "So the three of us tonight, right?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "Could you meet me outside my work?"
"That's fine. And you'll owl Harry to invite him?"
"I think that I might be busy this afternoon, so it might be better if—" Hermione stopped at the glare Ron was giving her. "Fine then. I'll owl him as I can see you don't want to help your poor, overworked friend."
"Harry's really worried about you, you know," Ron told her. "Try and reply to those owls once in awhile, okay? He needs you more than you think."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please. Harry's a big boy now. He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself."
"Just because a person is perfectly capable of taking care of himself doesn't mean that he wants to. That can get lonely."
"Trust me, Ron, I am all too aware of that," Hermione said shortly. "I don't need anyone to lecture me on what loneliness feels like."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Hermione hadn't replied to his owl on Monday, Harry had put it up to her either being too busy at work, too tired from moving, or a combination of both. When she hadn't replied to the two owls he sent on Tuesday, he had wondered if they had been delivered properly, which earned him a peck on the head from Hedwig. By Wednesday, he was convinced that she must be upset at him and therefore, duly ignoring him.
He hated it when Hermione ignored him. It was as simple as that.
When Harry received a reply from Hermione on Thursday afternoon – finally! – he was overjoyed. It got even better when he read how she wanted to meet him and Ron to go see a movie and maybe dinner after work that day.
His bubble was burst, though, when she confirmed his suspicions by insisting that Ron sit in the middle instead of him. Hermione had claimed the seating arrangement was because she wanted to keep an eye on Ron, as he had caused them to be kicked out the last time they had tried to see a movie together, but Harry knew better. A simple silencing charm would have done the trick. He had even mentioned it to Hermione, but she had glared at him and told him that she didn't see any reason to treat Ron like a second-class citizen.
Those words had stung.
Hence, instead of a fun night out with his best friends, Harry was absolutely miserable. It was no fun being on the outside. Ron wasn't ignoring him exactly, but he wasn't his normal talkative self. Of course, this wasn't an entirely bad thing as it meant that Ron was paying attention to the movie.
Except for those times when Hermione leaned over to whisper a comment in his ear.
That should have been me she's whispering to, Harry thought jealously. I've already apologized. I'd apologize again if it'd make things better. Hell! I'd do just about anything to make things better . . .if she could let me know what she's so mad about! Witches! In some things, they're all alike! He scowled.
After the movie had ended, Harry trailed along sullenly as Hermione and Ron chattered brightly amongst themselves. This was worse than the brief time that Hermione and Ron had decided to try dating each other. At least then, they had both made it clear that they still considered him to be their best friend and wanted him to remain so.
"Something wrong there, mate?" Ron asked him.
"No. Not that I know of," Harry replied bluntly.
Ron let out a long-suffering sigh. Hermione merely ignored him . . . again.
"You know what would be nice?" Harry began. "It would be nice if a certain someone would let me know what she's upset about, instead of ignoring me all the time."
That caught Hermione's attention. "I'm not upset, and I am definitely not ignoring you," she said.
"Really? So why did it take you so long to reply to all the owls I sent you?" he asked.
"I was busy, Harry. I have a new job, I have a new flat . . . surely you can understand that?"
"So busy that you never had five free minutes to scribble out a reply?" he asked disbelievingly.
"I replied to you today. I invited you to see a movie."
"And you've been ignoring me since," Harry complained petulantly.
"You're being impossible. If I was ignoring you, I wouldn't be talking to you right now," Hermione said.
"I am not being impossible. You're being . . . you're being a brat, for lack of a better term," he said.
"Harry, if you mean bitch, say it," Hermione retorted.
"I didn't mean that so I didn't say that. I'm only asking you to let me know why you're upset . . . and don't say you're not. We've been friends for how long now, Hermione? And this is the first time I feel like you don't want me in your life any more," Harry told her.
"Welcome to the club," she mumbled under her breath.
"Is that what's this about?" he asked. "Oh Hermione . . . I wish you'd have said something . . . I was only celebrating, I didn't mean to chase you out. I've not seen her since." He paused to lift up her chin so he could meet her eyes. "You should know that you mean more to me than a random witch I've just met."
"Of course, Harry," she replied bitterly. "You've a lovely way of showing that."
"Okay, I'll let that one slide. I deserved that. But . . . please Hermione . . . don't be mad. And if that's not possible, at least be honest. At least admit that you're mad at me, okay? Because you being mad at me and ignoring me is bad enough . . . but you lying to me about it is even worse."
Hermione sighed. "I tell myself that I ought not be mad. When I think about it logically, there's no reason for me to get upset. If anything, you ought to be upset since I intruded on you so suddenly—"
"I was never mad at you for that," Harry said.
"You two are going around in circles," Ron interrupted. "Harry doesn't want you to be mad, Hermione, and evidently you don't want to be either . . . but you are. Because you feel betrayed or—"
"Hey! I didn't betray her!" Harry protested.
"Sorry, bad choice of words on my part," Ron apologized. "But my point is . . . it's damn uncomfortable trying to be friends with you both when you're fighting like this . . . and I can see Hermione's side—" Ron yelped as Hermione kicked him.
"Why did you do that for?" he asked, wincing. "See if I ever try to understand you again."
"That was for your bad tendency to leap to conclusions," Hermione said. "But you're right about us going in circles." She sighed. "And to tell the truth, I'm more embarrassed about it now than anything else. So if we can drop it and all forget it . . . that would be nice," she concluded.
"You're not upset any more?" Harry asked, not quite believing his ears.
"I didn't say that. It's not easy to stop how you feel . . . but I'll try, okay?"
"Which means if I owl you tomorrow . . ."
"You'll get a quicker response," she said. "I can't promise an immediate response but . . ."
"I know," Harry said. He smiled for what seemed like the first time in days. "But hearing from you more often sounds good to me. I do miss you." Hermione blushed at his words and looked at her feet, leaving him to wonder what was it she couldn't stop feeling for him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was Friday night, and Hermione Granger had no plans.
It was glorious.
Back when she was living with Harry, it seemed as though they always had something to do on the weekend. It was exciting, yes, but sometimes Hermione yearned for a more laid back lifestyle. She liked having nothing to do, nowhere to go, at times. It allowed her to take deep breaths, to catch up on her reading, and to really relax.
Which was precisely what she was doing now.
Hermione had already pampered herself by taking an hour-long soak in her bathtub. She had ordered out for pizza, rather than attempting to cook, and now she was settling on to her couch with a good book in hand.
Life was good.
Hermione dozed off after finishing her dinner, lulled to sleep by her full stomach and the music that was softly emanating from her stereo. It was a bit after eight when she was awoken by a sharp rap on the door.
Startled as she hadn't expected anyone and a bit groggy from being woken up so abruptly, she made her way to the door. Hermione looked at the clock, which told her that she had been asleep for a couple of hours. She opened the door, wondering who it could possibly be.
To her surprise, Harry Potter was standing outside it, with a piece of luggage in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other.
"May I come in?" he asked, but he didn't wait for a reply to do so.
"Certainly," Hermione said tardily. "Make yourself at home."
"Thanks." He set his luggage and the cage down. Bending over, he opened the cage, setting Hedwig free to stretch her wings.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.
"I'm moving in," he replied.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"But why?" she asked, for once in her life completely dumbfounded.
"Because I've been kicked out of my old flat, that's why," he replied.
"But why?" she heard herself asking again.
"It's your fault you know," he told her.
"How is it my fault that you got evicted tonight?"
"You remember Mrs. Stewart, right? My former landlady. The one who you told that you were my fiancée." Harry strolled across the room and took a seat on her couch. "Turns out that she could hear . . . well, you know."
"I still don't see how this is my fault," Hermione said.
"I'm getting there. It seemed that she remarked to one of my neighbors earlier today when they met at the chemist, how Potter and his fiancée are a charming couple, but she wishes that they'd be quieter . . . and he tells her that he can't blame me because my young, blonde fiancée was quite the looker."
"Oh."
"Yeah. So she knows you're not blonde and gets suspicious. She sets up an alarm to let her know when I get home so at least she's not waiting in ambush, but I'm not home ten minutes, when she's there, demanding to see you. When I tell her that you've moved out, she goes spare, tells me how she's sorry to have ever met me, that I'm a complete cad, and that I better move out this evening. I didn't want to make a bigger scene, so I started packing my bags, and here I am," Harry finished.
Hermione winced. She supposed that she was a teensy bit at fault, though she thought Harry was more at fault as it would have never happened if he had used a silencing charm. Better yet, it would have never happened if he had never slept with that witch, who he apparently didn't even care for.
"So you came here to crash for the evening?" she asked. That was not subtle, but Hermione did not know how she could obliquely hint that she'd prefer for him to live elsewhere. After I've resolved to get over him . . . he moves in, she reflected silently. This is not good for my health, mental and otherwise.
"Actually, I came to move in," he replied evenly.
"What?" was Hermione's startled exclamation.
"I thought you said you'd try and not be upset with me," he said tersely.
"I did . . . and I'm not . . . but . . ." she stammered. "I thought you'd . . . you'd prefer a place with more privacy."
"You have a spare room," he pointed out. "But fine. If you don't want me here, I'll leave."
"No, no," Hermione protested. Damn. I should let him leave. I don't need this . . . but I can't turn him out. What sort of friend would I be? If I did that . . . I'd deserve my broken heart. "You're more than welcome here. I wouldn't refuse you. You know that. You let me stay with you although you had less space . . . if it's fine with you, then please stay."
Harry stared at her, the look in his eyes inscrutable. "Hermione . . . I would rather not stay here if we're going to argue all the time," he said.
"I don't think that we'll argue all the time. Your name is Harry Potter, right? You've not morphed into Ron Weasley?" That comment of Hermione's earned a smile out of him. "I was shocked, that's all." She laughed softly. "I guess . . . I know what you must have been feeling that night when I barged in on you."
"Hardly," Harry replied with a grin. "For that, I'd have to Apparate and land on your head."
Hermione winced. "I am glad you spared me that. But I am afraid to say that my spare room is unfurnished . . . I hadn't figured out if I wanted to make it a spare bedroom or a study and so I've not done anything with it yet."
"If you'd rather have a study—"
"I'd rather have a friend," Hermione said emphatically. And that is true. I would rather have Harry here as my friend than to not ever see him again. It may be painful but . . . but to throw away seven years of friendship because he doesn't return my feelings? I'd always hated witches who acted like that, and I'm not going to be a hypocrite. At least I'm going to try not to be, and I'm going to try, really try, to be nicer . . . I just hope that lasts when I see him with someone else again.
"If you're sure . . ." Harry said hesitantly.
"Positive." She smiled. "Besides, Crookshanks was getting lonely being by himself all day."
"So was Hedwig actually. It's fortunate that our pets like each other, isn't it?"
"Very," she agreed. "But back to the no furniture bit . . ."
"I'll sleep on the couch, of course," he told her. "And this time you won't convince me otherwise."
"What about everything you had before?" she asked.
"That? It came with the flat so it's not mine to take. That was one of the reasons I took the place originally," he said. "And tomorrow, we can shop for new furniture. I can afford it."
"You know, I never thought I'd hear that . . ."
"Hear what?"
"I never thought I'd hear a wizard volunteer to go shopping with a witch. Even if it's for a good cause, such as furniture for you to use. I thought spending a day shopping was the stuff nightmares were made of."
"No, not quite," Harry said, with a sad look on his face, as if remembering past events.
"I suppose not," Hermione said. That had been rash of her to say that. She knew what Harry's nightmare were made of. Anyone who had lived through those years at Hogwarts knew that. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It was never your fault," he said. "So don't tell me sorry, okay? That only makes me feel worse."
"Sorry," she said again, feeling guilty for making him feel worse.
He sighed. "Don't be. Just don't be."
"I'll try," she said. Suddenly remembering the pizza she had ordered earlier, she asked, "Would you like something to eat?"
"That depends. Did you cook it? If so, then no," he said.
"Bastard." Hermione marched over to where Harry stood, determined to stomp on his feet, but he was too quick for her.
"I knew that was coming. You can be too predictable at times," he said.
"You say that as if it's a bad thing . . . wait, it is a bad thing! I don't want to be predictable!"
"No, it's not. And predictable can be good. I like that about you, you know. That I almost always know where you stand. That I know I can count on you to be by my side, no matter what else is going on, no matter what anyone else is saying about me."
"Thanks," Hermione said. "I could say the same about you."
"I hope so," Harry mumbled, half to himself. "Sometimes I wonder, but I really do hope so."
"So about dinner . . ."
"Did you cook it?"
"I ordered out."
"You ordered out what?"
"Pizza."
"Typical."
"Hey! I normally do not order out pizza!" Hermione stated.
"No, you don't. But you have to admit, you're more prone to eat out than I am," Harry reasoned with her.
"That's only because you're a better cook."
"I know. You'd think that someone who is as good at Potions at you would be tolerably skilled in the kitchen," he noted.
"Cooking and brewing potions are two entirely different things," said Hermione.
"Obviously. But if it's pizza, I'll take some." He grinned. "And tomorrow, you can count on me to cook dinner. As I know you can't rely on yourself for that."
Hermione smiled back. She would not have chosen for him to move in with her, not after that evening, but she was not going to turn her back on him now. She thought that this would be a good test of her resolve to get over him . . . and that it would be good for her as well.
After all, no matter how upset, frustrated, or disappointed she had
been with him in that last week, she had always missed his friendship.
Author's note: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. As always, I would really appreciate it if you could leave me a review to let me know what you thought of it. The next one should be up on Friday once again.
Finally, thanks to Carolyn, LeslieGlady, Laydeextrinity, Star19, bamaslamma29, rodrigo, Harpee-Lady, nienie, malu, Crinos-X, Fatima, mikeus, Muse, sweetheart87, Tiffie101, ears91, Bad Boy Harry, Sarmi, sally, Izabel, Seakays, Leah6, athipsou, candygoddess, Jen, Ramy, Ravenclaw's Heir, avada kedavra, becka5, v-weasley, rokjai, dRaCo_LoVeR**, angie2190, Kage Miko, and Katebo for their reviews of the last chapter. ^_^ I really am grateful that you took the time to leave them.