Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc.
Chapter Eleven : Never Ever
It was the aroma of bacon and eggs that awoke Hermione the next day from her sleep. She frowned, wondering why she was smelling breakfast when she had not set any cooking charms the night before. Sitting up in her bed, she looked over at the clock, which read half past eight. Hermione yawned and rubbed the sleep away from her eyes before finally getting out of bed. She was not about to forgo breakfast simply because she could not recall casting that cooking charm last night. Her stomach was too empty to let her get away with that.
Still half-asleep, Hermione was surprised when she saw who had been cooking all this time.
"Good morning," said Harry cheerfully. "Do you want some coffee?"
Hermione blinked. When did he get here? And what is he doing here so early in the morning? Best ask him, I guess. "Why are you here?" she asked.
He looked at her critically. "Still sleeping?" he muttered. "Don't you remember last night?"
Last night? Nothing happened last night . . . and certainly nothing happened between us. She sighed softly. But then, I never had a chance, did I?
"Do you remember anything about me being thrown out of my flat . . . ?"
"Oh!" Hermione said. "You were? How did that happen?"
"Yes, I was." He handed her a cup of coffee. "Drink it, Hermione. You're still sleeping."
She took the cup from him and inhaled its rich aroma. It was better than chocolate. She took a sip and sat down at the table. "Remind me again why you're here?" she asked.
"Because I happened to get kicked out of my flat," Harry repeated. "Should I hold off on telling you all this until you're more coherent?"
"I am coherent," she said, frowning. "I'm always that."
"I thought so until I saw how you are in the mornings."
"Be nice," she chided him. Her face wrinkled up as she tried to recall the events of last night . . . and how Harry had arrived at her doorstep. All at once, it hit her. "And now I remember! Mrs. Stewart told you to leave last night, and you came here. Because you had no where else to go."
"Took you long enough."
"It's early on a Saturday morning. And I stayed up far too late last night."
"It's not my fault that you kept insisting on rematches."
Hermione scowled. "Bad enough that I always lose to Ron in Wizarding chess, but to you as well? I ought never to touch the game."
"But if you did that, Ron would be heartbroken," said Harry.
"I doubt that. More likely, the two of you would come up with some witty repartee whenever you brought the chess board out on how I can't play anymore as the chess pieces won't listen to me."
"Good idea! I'll have to jot that one down to share with Ron later."
"Hey! Think up your own insults!"
"Why? When you're willing to do the work for me?"
Hermione snorted. It was time to change the subject. "I thought we were supposed to go shopping today?"
"Yes. Because you said your spare room is completely empty."
"It is," she said. "Do you know of any furniture shops we could visit?"
"I'm one step ahead of you. I've already owled Mrs. Weasley asking her where we can find furniture here in London."
"And?"
"She said that there's this street off of Diagon Alley called Spectacular Row that we should visit."
Hermione shot a hard look at Harry. "That wasn't very funny," she said.
"I wasn't trying to be. That is actually the name of the street."
"You must be kidding."
"Except that I'm not."
"Sometimes I have to wonder who named half the streets and shops in the Wizarding World," she said.
"I know. Whoever did had an . . . interesting sense of humor."
Hermione yawned. It was too early for her to be up without more caffeine in her system. Finishing her cup in a single gulp, she headed back to the counter to refill it. She added her cream and sugar there, and then returned to her seat at the table. "When do you want to leave?" she asked.
"It doesn't open for a bit, so there's no rush. Maybe in a couple hours? As there's no rush but—"
"We should probably try to get an early start anyway so it doesn't take all day," Hermione added.
"I doubt that will happen," Harry said.
"Have you ever really shopped for anything?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," he said. "School supplies every August."
"That doesn't count."
"Says who?"
"Ask any witch and she'll tell you the same. It takes time to chose things, Harry, and to make sure that everything goes together and . . ."
"I think I'm beginning to see why wizards shudder at the thought at having to go shopping with a witch," he said.
"If you like, I can stay here," Hermione offered. It was immature, but she couldn't resist sticking her tongue out at him.
"No, no, I'm sure I'll need your help. Besides, I thought I might get a few things for the living room as well as it's . . . it's . . ."
"Sparsely furnished," Hermione supplied for him. She shrugged. "I'll be the first to admit that, but I haven't had much time to go around looking for new stuff."
"You work too hard," he said.
"Hopefully not for much longer," she said. "Just for this one last project, I hope. So do I actually smell breakfast, or am I hallucinating out of hunger?"
"Yes, that's breakfast. Would you like some?"
"No, I'm getting full off of the fumes." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course I would like some."
"You could have just said that," Harry said.
"Yes, but you should know by now that I am not a morning person," she said.
"That shocked me when I figured that out. I had thought that you always got up so early to study because you enjoyed being up at the crack at dawn."
"Ha! I would have never done that if I could have studied later into the night, but oh well. At least, it put me in good stead for actually having a job."
He placed a full plate in front of her, and she dug in. It was delicious. Whatever else could be said about Harry – such as the fact that he had atrocious taste in witches – the boy was a good cook. Noticing that he was not eating along with her, she asked, "Aren't you hungry?"
"No, I ate earlier."
"How long have you been up?" she asked.
"A little over an hour," he replied.
"How about you go and get ready first before I tie up the bathroom for the next hour?" she suggested.
"You never take that long," said Harry.
That was true. She never took that long, but Hermione had remembered one of her rules from living with him. She didn't want to use them any longer for they were only a crutch used to prop up her crush. She needed to prove to herself that she could break them and not embarrass herself by jumping him. If she could, then perhaps there was hope that Hermione could one day get over what she felt for him. But for now, she had to concentrate on not needing her rules one rule at a time.
"I know," she said. "It was just an expression. Wizards always complain how long it takes witches to get ready."
"I can't imagine anyone saying that about you," Harry said.
Hermione suppressed the urge to slap the boy. Was he trying to imply that there was no use in her trying to look good? Or was he extraordinarily dull and attempting to compliment her? "I'm not sure if that's a compliment," she finally settled on saying.
"It is, it is. You don't take that long, and you don't need to. You look good anyway," he said.
Damn! It was always like this. With just one remark, he was able to take her breath away and make her wish that . . . but it was best not to think that way. "Go on," she said over the lump in her throat. "Get ready. You cooked, so I'll wash the dishes."
"Okay," he said.
After he left the kitchen, Hermione furiously wiped away at her tears. This is no good, she thought. I can't start crying every time I think of . . . damn! Again! Pull yourself together, Hermione! He won't be in the shower forever.
Fortunately for her, she was able to do that before he returned. Not wanting another conversation with him at the moment, she smiled and fled towards the bathroom herself, on the pretext that she wanted to leave as soon as possible. What started out as a pretext, however, turned out to be necessary once they reached Spectacular Row.
As Mrs. Weasley had promised, there were plenty of furniture shops there. Too many, in fact, to look through in one day.
They started their search in a promising shop called Enchanting Embellishments. Hermione thought that the prices were a bit high, but Harry pointed out that the quality more than made up for it. Hermione shrugged her agreement, as it was Harry's pocket that would be lightened. It was going well, with Harry selecting a bedroom set to his liking, when the shopkeeper noticed who his first customer of the day was. The shopkeeper became effusive with thanks, insisting that Harry take the set for free and calling for one of his assistants to go fetch a camera so he could get his picture taken with Harry Potter. Hermione did not wait to hear anything else. Holding Harry by one arm, she dragged him out of the store.
"What did you do that for?" he asked when she stopped on the pavement in front of it.
"I didn't think that you'd want that exchange. That man was obviously looking to use you in an ad," Hermione said.
"I knew that. I was going to tell him that I wasn't interested in that sort of a deal," he said.
"I don't think he was going to ask."
"I know." He sighed. "Let's drop it, okay? Something tells me this is going to be a long day without us snapping at each other."
"I hate to admit it, but I think you're right," she agreed.
It turned out to be a very long day indeed. A good half of the shops they visited, they had to leave immediately because of the attention Harry attracted. After each escape, Harry would brush at his fringe, trying to cover up his scar. It was cute and endearing, and it was all Hermione could do not to help him. Another good portion of shops had nothing that either of them was willing to purchase. Harry rather caustically pointed out that he would like to buy something that was made within the last five centuries, causing Hermione to choke on her laughter. Some of the furniture may have been antiques, but she didn't want to be awoken in the middle of the night because of Harry breaking his old bed due to too much activity.
It was not until well past five in the afternoon before they finally made a purchase, at a shop nestled between two larger ones. Hermione suspected that the old witch who owned it was half blind and so couldn't see who was handing her the galleons in payment, but she was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. When the transactions was completed, Hermione whipped out her wand to perform a shrinking spell, so they could carry his purchases home.
"Finally," she said. "I didn't think it would take that long."
"Me too," he said. "Hermione . . ."
"Yes?"
"I know I promised to cook dinner tonight, but would it be all right if we ate out instead? As I'm too bloody tired to cook anything after today."
"That's fine with me, Harry," Hermione said. "The sooner we eat, the sooner we can go to sleep."
"And sleep sounds like such a good idea now," Harry said.
"I know. I never want to go shopping with you again."
"Hey!"
"Well, not unless you're in disguise . . ." Hermione groaned as she realized that was what they should have done.
"Why didn't you think of that earlier?" Harry whinged.
"Believe you me, I'm busy kicking myself for not. That would have made it so much easier."
"At least, we'll know better next time," he said.
"There is that," she said. "So where do you want to eat?"
"The Leaky Cauldron. Because Tom won't try to snap photos of us all throughout dinner," Harry said.
"That is an excellent idea," Hermione said.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was Monday morning and once again, Hermione Granger was dragging her feet into her office. Somehow, Hermione was never at her best on a Monday morning. There was something about the day that always managed to throw her off. This time around, she thought the fault was with her weekend – she felt as if she had hardly slept a wink the whole time. After her strenuous Saturday looking for furniture, she had hoped to have a more restful Sunday. Her on-again, off-again roommate, however, had other ideas that included dragging her off for a picnic. It had been fun, up until the point where Harry had thought it would be a brilliant idea to try and teach her how to ride a broom.
The only good thing about that particular escapade was that Harry now knew just how scared she was of heights. If you asked her, she would have said that was not worth it as she hadn't been able to sleep for thinking about that horrific experience.
"You look like hell, Granger," Malfoy said to her by way of greeting.
"I love your concept of politeness," she snapped back. It's too early for this, she thought. I've only had one cup of coffee.
"I thought you appreciated honesty," he said mildly.
"Sod off," she said.
"I am detecting more than little hostility here. Tell me, Granger, what have I done?" He sat up in his seat, leaning towards her. "I haven't seen you since Friday so clearly I'm not responsible for whatever got your knickers in a twist."
Hermione resisted the urge to go and kick the smarmy bastard's desk. He was right, damn it. Though she supposed it was not unexpected that Malfoy would have the gall to be smart enough to see what was bothering her on a Monday morning. For all his faults, he was smart. Sighing, she said, "I had an awful weekend. Can we just leave it at that?"
"That bad?" he asked.
"Yes, damn it." She stomped over to her desk and sat down.
"Fine, I won't ask. But I'm sure it could have been worse."
"Oh, I sincerely doubt that."
"Just think. On top of everything else that happened, your perky roommate could have moved back in with you." He paused when he saw Hermione's face twist up in a grimace. "Merlin. Don't tell me that—"
"He did. Though he had practice early today, so he wasn't there for too long this morning."
"You have my condolences," Malfoy said gravely.
Hermione looked at him, wondering what he was up to. "Might one inquire as to the sudden change in your attitude?"
He sighed. "Granger, you're not very forthcoming when it comes to making small talk, no matter what I say. So I thought if I was bluntly honest, I might get a response out of you. So you could say that I was being true to the spirit, if not the letter, of our agreement."
"Remind me again why you didn't decide to become a barrister?"
"Too much work."
"I suppose that's true." She frowned. "Though I was very surprised when I learned that you didn't even bother trying out for any Quidditch teams."
"Because I would like to live to see my thirtieth birthday," he replied.
"There must be something wrong with my ears. A wizard admitting that Quidditch is dangerous? Has hell frozen over? Have pigs grown wings? Has—"
"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Granger. I give you full marks for the effort, but you need to work on your delivery," he said sarcastically. "If you must know, Quidditch would be more dangerous for me than for Potter given my father's . . . loyalties. There are some Beaters in the professional league that are wickedly accurate, you know."
"Oh," she said. "Did you want to play professionally?"
"At one time, yes. But it grew to be more of a duty rather than something I did for fun as I grew older." He shrugged. "I find that I don't miss it that much."
"I would have never expected you to say that," said Hermione.
"I know," Malfoy said. "Neither would I when I was younger." He smiled. The expression lit up his face, and for once, Hermione could appreciate what other witches saw in him. "But it's amazing how much you can surprise yourself and everyone around you if you give yourself the chance."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Twisting her hair into a bun, Hermione trotted into the kitchen. "Good morning," she said as she passed by Harry, who was sitting at the table and reading the Prophet.
"Good morning, Hermione," he said. He smiled, thinking that she looked absolutely lovely. Though try telling her that she's pretty, and she won't believe you. I wonder who is to blame for that, he pondered silently. "You're looking good today," he told her.
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you had an early practice today." She poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to the table. Harry offered her the front page of the newspaper, which she gladly took, before returning to read the sports section.
"It's been canceled," he said. "Our coach's wife had a baby girl last night, so he hasn't had much sleep and canceled the morning practice. There might be a practice later today though."
"Lucky for you."
"Um . . . I don't know about that. I'm sure he'll make up for it later this week."
"So are you going to enjoy your day off?"
"It might only be a half day. In fact, I rather expect to get called in later, if only to go through drills with the assistant coach."
"Fine. What are you going to do to enjoy your half day off?"
"I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it." Harry shrugged. "Which reminds me . . . do you want to go out to dinner?"
"What's the occasion?" Hermione asked.
"None really. More of a thank you for letting me stay than anything else," he said.
"I've told you that you needn't worry about that. You did the same for me."
"I know. But . . . well, I'd like to thank you."
"I'm surprised you're not sick of me by now," Hermione said, laughing. "We spent all of Saturday and Sunday together, and then yesterday night, we stayed up late watching movies . . ."
"Not to mention the seven years before that?" Harry added. "Honestly, Hermione. You should know that I couldn't get sick of being with you."
"I could have sworn there were some times when you wanted to be rid of me," she replied. "Especially in our—"
"No fair bringing up ancient history," he said.
"Harry, we're not even twenty yet. We don't have any ancient history to bring up!"
"It's all relative. I think we do, and anything before we were friends qualifies. So about dinner . . . ?"
"I'm sorry, Harry. I can't tonight. I'm supposed to see my parents tonight. You can come if you want though."
Harry winced. He didn't think it would be a good idea for him to see Hermione's father again for awhile, given his predilection to being hostile towards her male friends. Especially not after she had spent a few days at her parents' house, after suddenly leaving Harry's flat the way she did. "I think I'll pass on that one. How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" Her brow furrowed, as she thought about that. "I can't tomorrow either. I've a previous engagement."
"With who?" he asked.
"A co-worker," she replied evasively.
"Are you trying to hide something from me, Hermione?"
"No, not at all," she said, but Harry knew she was lying. For one, she was refusing to look at him and staring intently at her coffee instead. For another, Hermione was biting her lip, as if she was afraid that something was going to upset him.
"Hermione, I don't mind you not being able to go. I was only offering as a way to thank you."
"I know."
"So who are you going out with tomorrow night?"
"You won't like it," she said.
"Should that matter?" he asked.
"No . . . but . . . okay. Promise you won't yell at me?"
"Promise."
"I promised Malfoy last week that I'd go out to dinner with him on Wednesday."
Harry's jaw dropped. That could not be true. He knew he couldn't be hearing her right. Malfoy wanting anything to do with Hermione . . . it was not bloody likely. "What did you say?" he asked.
"I said I'm going out with Malfoy tomorrow," she repeated herself. "I said I'd go out with him, so I can't go with you."
Author's note: That's it for this week. The next chapter should be up on Friday once again. I hope you enjoyed this one and I'd be grateful if you could please leave a review to let me know what you think.
Finally, thanks to Carolyn, Danski, LeslieGlady, Anonymous9, mikeus, v-weasley, Leah6, Katebo, Shawn Pickett, ears91, Phoebe, Blood57, MasterDeath, Candy, sally, myman-harry526, EuphoniumGurl0, ravenclaw's heir, malu, Cool Like Ice, Kage Miko, iceangel, Fatima, Jen, rodrigo, rokjai, athipsou, aveda kedavra, Broken_wings, hpangel, Lightning Sky, tOmLoVeR17, Emma-Lee14, LilyEvansPotter3,bamaslamma29, Seakays, monkeychika2006, TheSilverLady, and zidane3 for their reviews of the last chapter. ^_^ Thanks everyone! I really appreciate the reviews you left.