When I get a little money, I buy books;
and if any is left, I buy food and clothes.
Desiderius Erasmus
"Don't leave me hanging here, Harry. What is in the letter?" I pester him.
He looks at me with that expression that usually prefigures some sort of mischief. "What would you say to me accompanying you back to Hogwarts?" he asks.
"Why, is the Ministry sending you there?"
"No, not at all. In fact, based on this letter, I am most definitely not going to go back to the Ministry. Did you know that the DADA professor retired at the end of the year?" he asked.
"Harry, are you going to be teaching DADA?" I ask, now fully awake and terribly excited.
"If I answer this letter from McGonagall in the next two days, then yes," he answered, smiling.
I jumped up and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Oh, this is so fantastic! Now I won't be the only person under the age of fifty on staff!"
Much as I have learned to admire and love my co-workers, there is something to be said when you are literally at least half their age. With the added incentive of having my best friend in the same building again with me I was already looking forward to the new term.
"So are you going to accept the position?" I asked. Then I thought of something, "Harry, do you really want to do this? You're not doing this out of some warped sense of duty to Minerva or something?" I questioned him.
"Stop glaring at me like that! For crying out loud 'Mione that's the same look you gave me every time I tried to copy your essays for potions!" he laughed. "Yes, this is really what I want to do. It was always in the back of my mind, teaching I mean. I loved helping the other students in DA." He paused and got that look, the one where he was caught in the past. Luckily those moments were more brief and further between.
"Besides, some one needs to make sure you have a bit of fun. You take yourself far too seriously when you are in that building. You know Ron and I feel it our duty," here he smirked, "to ensure that you are never completely grown up."
"Honestly!"
"Yes, I told Ron I could get one out of you before you finished two cups of coffee!"
I sighed. I forgot about the contest the boys perpetually ran about my little catch phrase. I don't think I use it that often.
"So what do you win?"
"I am not at liberty to say. Our wagers are confidential," he put on a superior sort of air as he cleared away the dishes.
"You'd better clean those up and put them away, mister!"
"As you wish my lady," he smirked over his shoulder as a quick Scourgify cleaned the dishes and a quick flick of his wand restored them to their proper places I had put them in yesterday afternoon.
"So what now?" I asked.
"First, I'm going to scribble a quick reply to Professor McGonagall. She can enjoy trying to decipher my writing again. Then, we, my lady, are going out. I do believe you are in desperate need of…"he paused, "shopping."
Here is a hidden truth about the Boy Who Lived, the Bringer of Light, and all that rubbish; he likes to shop more than any female I have ever encountered. Mostly he likes to shop for other people, especially those he cares about. He pretends to get frustrated and impatient, but he eats it up.
I jump up, give him a hug, and rush to my room to make myself presentable. It is a warm day so a comfortable cotton skirt, a camisole, and flip flops with a scarf for my hair. I am good to go. No matter how short of a time I take, Harry always beats me. He has on a pair of khakis, the shirt I gave him for Christmas, and sandals. He cleans up well, I must admit. Probably helps that he no longer needs to wear hand-me-downs from that cousin of his.
We thus head out to face the shops. While I love to shop, something no one in my dormitory at Hogwarts would ever have suspected, my great love is bookshops. Predictable, I know.
Our first stop is this magnificent old shop not far from Diagon Alley. They are tucked into a corner and have shelves upon shelves of antique books, rare first editions, and all sorts of treasures. I make a pilgrimage there on the first full day of each holiday. The Miss Trimbles who own the store know me by name.
"Why Hermione, home again are you?" an elderly woman in a dress with more lace than you would imagine could fit on her petite frame, calls from her perch on a ladder. I told them I taught at a boarding school in the north.
"Hestia, what are you making such a fuss about?" calls Henrietta from the back room. She shuffles into the front looking like a woman from another era, with just as much lace on her slightly plumper frame. Miss Henrietta and Miss Hestia truly seem to be relics from the turn of the previous century. Though only in their seventies, they seem to have their hearts firmly planted in the Victorian era.
"Henrietta, it is Hermione Dear." I seem to acquire Dear as a surname in the shop. "And she brought that charming boy with her. The dark haired one."
"What a wonderful surprise! Come in, come in, have a spot of tea dears." Henrietta ushered us to the red chairs that fit well with the Victorian sensibility of the shop and its owners. While breakfast had just settled, I still love their biscuits. Harry never got a word in to the conversation; then again, I rarely said anything. Henrietta and Hestia carry on quite well with themselves. I think they just like an audience.
The ladies showed me new arrivals after tea while Harry milled around. After deciding on just a dozen or so books, I paid the women and we left the shop. "Where to now, Harry," I am set for my shopping.
"I don't think so, Hermione," Harry shook his head as if scolding a toddler. "As even Ron picked up that you are wearing the same dress several times and your blouses are a bit 'used' in his word, we are going shopping for clothes for you."
I can't believe this. I am being tugged down the street by a grown man to go dress shopping. Oh, if Rita Skeeter could see him now, she would have enough to keep her quill busy for years. Harry continues to pull me towards some rather posh shops that normally I avoid due to cost.
"Harry, I can't afford anything in there!"
"That may be, but I can and it is my treat."
For the next two hours Harry succeeds in his favorite pastime, spoiling those around him. He periodically will do this. He will take the Weasleys on family holidays, something his childhood never afforded him, but that he could now do. When Ginny married, he insisted on buying her gown and paying for the reception. That was quite the row; those two are so stubborn and proud. The rest of the Weasleys were in shock that Harry won. Fred and George were pestering Harry for weeks to give them tips on handling Ginny. Ron was a tough one for Harry now that he was doing so well with Quidditch. He found ways to sneak in new 'Muggle toys' for Ron. The video games and movies were just the start. Ron went crazy over the laptop and internet. He's still working on his fear of the web, that arachnophobia is a bit more intense than we all though. Me, Harry spoils me by forcing me to be a girl. I gave up years ago trying to deny that I liked to dress up during my time off. Harry bought things anyways and then would manage that little puppy look if I refused to wear them.
After two hours of shopping, Harry had his arms loaded with packages and bags. I had shoes, dresses, skirts, blouses, and all sorts of things. Including a few that I did not let Harry see me model as a girl does have to draw some lines as to what her male friends are allowed to see.
We fell through the door of the Leaky Cauldron and Harry promptly shrunk down the bags to fit in his pocket. "That must be the handiest charm. Let's take a break and get something to drink."
Thanks to Tom protecting us from the first days after the Final Battle, as long as we were in our regular spot, he kept everyone we did not wish to speak with, away from us. There were few places in Magical London where we could be in public and not be interrupted by a fan, thankful witch, or proud wizard wishing to shake our hands. At the Leaky Cauldron, Tom ensured we were just typical wizards and witch enjoying themselves.
Harry and I spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and enjoying each others company.
