Hi everyone!

I have received so many sweet comments, favorites and followers over the last couple of hours - you are absolutely amazing! Thank you so much for your kind words and your support :) It keeps me eager to update as soon as possible.

So, this chapter turned out to be a bit longer than expected, haha, but I wanted to do this properly. So, here goes! Enjoy Harry being extremely impulsive - like we're used to :)

Love, Flora

Chapter 2: How Harry ended up fake proposing to his best friend

Harry had been fidgeting. He had no idea why - there was no reason to be so extremely nervous about meeting Hermione's family. We're going to have a good laugh, he reminded himself. We're going to take the mickey out of some stupid relatives and that's it. Her parents already know me, they adore me, I'm with my best friend. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing, right? Nothing!

But his train of thought hadn't calmed him down. Years of working as an Auror had finetuned his instinct and he knew, he knew when shit was about to hit the fan and he had the gut-wrenching feeling that today would be such a day. Just stay calm. Don't do anything stupid. Nothing can go wrong.

Hermione's grandma had accepted her plus-one, under the condition that Harry would come "appropriately dressed". Apparently, a standard blouse and jeans would not suffice, so Hermione had bossily made him buy a tux. He tried a few on, but the assistant in the shop had kept buggering him to take a smaller size. Harry loved dressing oversize. Growing up wearing oversized clothes, he had come to appreciate the fact that it would hide his fragile figure and give him ample room to stuff his pockets. Not that he wore sizes that would fit Dudley anymore, but he liked to be able to move in his clothes without fearing to tear a seam. The shop-assistant must have caught him at a very insecure moment, because for whatever reason, he had listened to her compliments about "choosing something that would show of his frame", and now he was wearing this - a tight fitting, very sophisticated attire, that would surely show to Hermione and her entire family how much auror-training had forced him to work out over the last couple of years. He growled, trying not to feel so bloody self-conscious. He was way passed those teenage fears. These weren't his dressrobes and this was not the Yule Ball, for crying out loud!

With one last-ditch effort to comb his hair - fruitless, of course - he grabbed his wallet and keys, activated the security-charms on his apartment and apparated a block from the home of Hermione's parents. They would show op together to the diner in Mr. Granger's finest car. He understood how important image must be to those family members, so he had agreed immediately. With a stomach making somersaults (dear Merlin, that hadn't happened to him since he was sixteen!), he rang the doorbell. Mister Granger opened the door - a quite small man with large, triangular glasses and a big head full of curly hair, he looked incredibly eccentric, but Harry had grown accustomed to the man and his dorky attire.

'Harry, my boy! How long it's been! So kind of you to join us tonight - you sure made Hermione happy, I can tell you that!'

'Everything to make your daughter happy, Mister Granger, you know that,' he replied. 'I'm actually looking forward to meet this grandmother.'

'You're saying that now,' Mister Granger replied darkly. 'Oh, and please call me Jerome, boy. We've been over this at least a dozen times.'

'Jerome! Please come here so I can try to tame that crazy mane of yours,' Mrs. Granger yelled, her voice booming down the hallway.

'I'll try to remember it,' Harry replied, as Jerome give him a knowing look.

'Coming, Isa!'

They both retreated to the living room, where Mrs. Granger sat in a big arm chair, surrounded by pots of hair wax and gel. She greeted him happily, remarking on how good he looked, and Harry pressed his lips together in a shy smile. He wasn't good with compliments, he never had been. Then she began the attack on poor Mister Granger's hair. She looked very groomed, with a nice, appropriate dress and a clean face. Her brown eyes scanned Mister Granger's hair for options and Harry chuckled.

'Hermione will be down in a second,' Mrs. Granger remarked, as her husband howled under the admissions of her comb. 'Stay still, Jerome.'

They chatted a bit, about work and what-not, until Harry heard a stumble at the stairs. The door opened and Hermione emerged.

'Oh, Harry, you're already here!'

Harry took one good look at Hermione and he felt himself involuntarily begin to beam. She looked amazing. She hadn't chosen a dress for the occasion, which surprised him, but instead she wore an even more sophisticated jumpsuit, black, simple and absolutely stunning. The upper part of her hair was fastened with some sort of jewel, but the lower part of her hair fell down in soft curls, framing her face. She wore winged eyeliner and red lipstick to match her look. Hermione never really cared to dress up, she thought it a waste of time, so when she did, she always managed to completely floor Harry. This time, it didn't seem a one way thing, though. They both stared at each other, kind of at loss for words.

'You look... Good,' Hermione muttered, with a shocked stare.

'You... Too,' Harry replied, just as petrified.

They both heard Hermione's parents burst out in laughter, and that broke their incredibly awkward silence.

'Don't sound so surprised, the both of you,' Mrs. Granger said. 'Take something to drink before we go, it's quite the ride. If only Jerome's hair would be more co-operative-...'

'Ugh, mom, just use my products,' Hermione said, shaking her head. 'They actually work. You're torturing dad. Look at him!'

Harry smiled at the three Grangers bantering and sat back, feeling a bit more at ease.

The ride towards grandmother's Eugenia house - or, for lack of a better word, mansion - was a long one. Luckily, Mister Granger drove a very comfortable car, and they passed the time by chatting with each other about their jobs. Hermione especially amused Harry by remembering how Professor McGonagall introduced her and her parents to the world of magic, a story which Harry had never heard, and all his nerves and fidgeting was gone by the time they arrived at the enormous driveway that led to Eugenia Blisters's house.

'My name was never Blisters,' Mrs. Granger explained. 'My father's name was Goodall. She changed it back to her maiden name after he died.'

'Did she not have a good relationship with your father?' Harry asked.

'Oh no - he doted on her, absolutely spoiled her. But that's just mother. He died when I was fourteen. I guess she didn't want to be a widow for the remainder of her life.'

Interesting, indeed, Harry thought. Their car stopped at the entrance of the enormous compound and the car doors were opened by two very stern looking stewards. Harry felt slightly ill-at-ease, but when he saw Hermione roll his eyes at him and make a dramatic face, he chuckled. Right. They were here to have fun, remember?

'M'lady,' Harry said, striking a mocking voice, and Hermione laughed, as he gave her his arm. 'May I accompany you inside of this pit of beasts?'

'Of course you may, good sir,' she countered. 'I couldn't think of a more enervating activity!'

Merlin, he loved being in her presence. And when she let her guard down like this, she was even more amazing.

They got up the steps and then Harry realized that this birthday party was not a small one. It was huge. He had no idea how big this "other side of the family" was, but he saw at least 80 people already mingling and sipping at their appetizers, and they had been early.

'Come on, Hermione,' Mrs. Granger said, uneasy. 'Let's see if we can find Aunty Penelope.'

'She's the first big hurdle,' Hermione whispered in his ear. 'Almost deaf, nearly blind, but still thinks she can have an opinion about anything and anyone. She was the one who rekindled mom and grandmother, however, so I guess you could say we kind of owe her...'

Harry nodded and followed suit. They found Aunty Penelope - completely covered in lilac silk and pearls, clutching her silver walking cane, sitting in a large, luxurious recliner - and before they had properly greeted her, she decided to announce to everyone who wanted to listen in that Hermione "wore so much black, it looked like she was attending a funeral". The Grangers went pale, and Hermione was about to mutter an excuse, until Harry decided to join the conversation.

'Maybe that's true, Aunty Penelope, but she's one of the only ones in this room not wishing to attend one. Right, fellas?'

He gave a knowing grin to a few of the blood relatives and their faces went blank and then angry. Aunty Penelope was silent for a moment, but then she began to laugh hysterically, as she patted Harry on the arm.

'Oh, that's lovely! It's such a long time since someone has actually made a joke to me. Usually they don't have the guts, you know. Tell me dear, what's your name?'

'Harry, madam. Harry Potter.'

'Well, Harry. You certainly have a sense of humor. I like that very much, very much indeed!'

She urged him to sit next to her, and he chatted comfortably with her for a while, until Hermione felt safe to join in the conversation. Aunty Penelope was a lot sweeter to her this time around, and she kept patting Harry on the arm. When they excused themselves, after a good ten minutes of talking and laughing, she touched his arm one last time.

'It's great to actually talk to someone who doesn't treat me like I'm about to burst into flames any minute,' she smiled. 'You are very lucky to be dating this man, Hermione. Keep him close! Other girls will surely try to snatch him away from you!'

'Oh, Aunty Penelope, we are not-...'

'She sure is,' Harry said, loudly talking over Hermione. 'Take her word seriously, Hermione. Your old Aunty knows what's up!'

After they said there goodbyes, Hermione looked at him intently.

'Why did you say that we are dating?' she hissed, nervously. 'If they find out-...'

'Are we pranking them today or not?' Harry replied with a sneaky smile.

'Yes them, Potter! Not me!'

'Oh dear, you've used my last name,' Harry grimaced. 'I'm in trouble, aren't I?'

She looked at him sarcastically and punched him playfully.

'Stop it, you.'

He replied to her with a grin and she sighed.

'I just don't think it's a good idea if you go around spreading that rumor,' she clarified. 'I mean, you would have to accompany me on more dinners, if I don't want to look like a... You know. Slag.'

Harry snorted. Hermione had many sides to her, but he could never in a million years vision her as someone with that kind of reputation.

'You know what, if Aunty Penelope is at all your family engagements, I wouldn't mind accompanying you. I'd gladly chaperone you in this manner until you have found - someone.'

Hermione puffed.

'I might take you up on that, Potter. If you don't stop acting so brazenly, I'll have no other choice but to-...'

'Oh look! If it isn't the bastard of the family!'

A sneering voice pierced through the room and a small group of the crowd fell silent. Emerging from the flock of people was a young man, with a face so full of arrogance and hatred, it reminded Harry of someone he had feuded with, not that long ago.

'You didn't tell me you were related to Draco effing Malfoy,' he whispered.

'I know,' Hermione replied, trying not to move her lips as much. 'The resemblance is uncanny, don't you think?'

She was right about that, Harry thought, although this Malfoy had dark brown hair and brown eyes. Hermione's eyes, he realized. He never knew those beautiful eyes could look so ugly on someone else's face.

'What did you think, Curly? Are dresses beneath you? Are you too much of a "free-fought feminist" to wear skirts?'

The crowd that listened in on the conversation - almost all people of Hermione's age, Harry saw - laughed harmoniously at the bully's remark. Git.

'Absolutely,' Hermione replied. 'You have managed to see right through my psychological mind-games, cousin. It's a surprise they haven't handed over that doctorate to you yet, just because of your quick wits.'

'My doctorate is not far off,' the young man replied, now getting angry. Apparently Hermione had hit a sensitive spot and Harry loved her all the more for it. 'But even it it wasn't, that wouldn't matter, because in comparison to you, anyone seems like a career tiger, right? Someone's got to be the lousy slacker of the family - the big disappointment, the downfall of our family name, isn't it, Curly?'

'She's an acclaimed advocate for equal rights,' Harry heard himself say, before Hermione could reply. 'She's praised in our work field and has gotten promoted to Head of her Department last fall. I have never met anyone in my life who is so amazingly determined and smart. Hermione is not a slacker.'

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, while a girl in the crowd wolf whistled.

'Oh my God, Granger! Do not tell me you bribed someone to pose as your boyfriend!'

The cousin laughed and now a larger crowd payed attention to their conversation.

'You must have payed quite a sum as well, to hire this escort, look at those muscles-...'

'He is not an escort,' Hermione boomed. 'He... We...' She hesitated for a moment, looking at Harry for strength, but then she doubled down. 'We are dating, actually.'

The crowd howled.

'Dating? You?' Her cousin said.

'Yes, she is,' Harry replied, gritting through his teeth. 'We have been for quite some time now, actually.'

'No way, Stranger. Last year, you told us you were single-...'

Before Hermione could recant, a overdressed waiter announced that they were to be seated for dinner. The crowd separated, mumbling about Hermione and Harry's announcement, and he felt himself grasping her hand. She looked at him, puzzled.

'What are you doing?'

'Playing along,' he whispered back. 'We've held hands a million times, remember?'

'Yes... Harry, please don't do anything-... Rash or stupid.'

'You know me,' he reacted. 'The one who's known for his well thought-out responses.'

Hermione laughed.

'This was such a mistake, but at least I'm having fun. And-... I guess... Oh, what harm could it do to pretend like this for an evening, right?'

'Exactly,' Harry said. They had reached their seats - they were situated at the end of the table, far away from anyone of real importance, it seemed. He could see Hermione's grandmother now - dressed in a salmon gown with a ridiculously large hat, adorned with flowers and feathers. They both chuckled for a bit, as Harry exaggerated by pulling Hermione's chair back first and making sure she was properly seated before he did himself. She rolled her eyes at him again and smirked.

'Oh, look at you, being so smooth. Don't over do it, please.'

'Why not? I'm having a great time. I'm actually going to lay it on as thick as I possibly can.'

After an obligatory speech by Hermione's oldest uncle, they all toasted to Eugenia's health and began with their fist course. They had some small talk with a daughter of Aunty Penelope, vaguely describing what their jobs were, but they were able to keep the focus away from them for the first three meals. It was at that moment, that the douche of a cousin decided to mock Hermione once again, out of their earshot.

'Is that true, Hermione?' Eugenia's voice suddenly echoed through the room. Harry and her had been discussing muggle affairs with her parents, and he sensed how the room fell completely silent.

'What is, grandmama?'

'That you are dating this young man you brought. I thought you said you would bring a friend?'

'I-...' Hermione started to reply, but Harry saw how nervous she was, so he took a hold of her hand and smiled at her.

'That's right, madam. We are dating. I asked her not to tell you, as we wanted it to be a surprise for you. I am sorry it was spoiled for you - we tried to keep it hidden, but a few family members were all too keen on finding out, I'm afraid.'

Hermione looked at him with a glint of victory in her eyes. One - zero.

'That's quite alright, dear boy,' Eugenia said, her wrinkled mouth in a smile. 'Why don't you tell us something about yourself?'

All ninety gazes focused on Harry. He saw Mister and Mrs. Granger look somewhat frightened, and Hermione's cousin looked annoyed and bored at the same time. Damn you, Malfoy, Harry thought. I'm going to let you squirm. Here comes the whole tear-jerking lifestory, you prick.

'Of course. I am originally from a wealthy family, but my parents died during a tragic car accident before my second birthday. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, who unfortunately weren't quite keen on raising me, but who loved receiving child support.'

He received a few sympathetic sighs from the crowd and smiled humbly.

'Luckily, my parents had already taken care of my application for an expensive boarding school, and at age eleven I was allowed to get away from them. It was at this time that I met your wonderful granddaughter, Hermione. We were in the same year and we rapidly became friends. I have known Hermione for twelve years now and in all those years I have never met someone so truly wonderful as she.'

He squeezed her hand. She looked at him smugly. Right then. He was going to up his game. These uptight snobs wouldn't know what hit them.

'I work at law enforcement, in the secret service. I am not allowed to disclose much about my job, other than that about 90 percent of it is considered confidential. Hermione has helped me tremendously with her wits and charm. She actually flew with me to Bulgaria, six months ago, to stop a very brutal criminal circuit in Skopje.'

'That's right,' Hermione added. 'I got special leave from work to accompany him. Harry and I spent a few weeks tracking them down, but we managed to dismantle the entire organization.'

Hermione's family members reacted very positively. They asked interested questions and seemed excited. Mister and Mrs. Granger confirmed Harry's story and came through with some extra information regarding to Harry and Hermione's early years in "the force". There was some truth to it, of course. Being an Auror was like being in the secret service, and they had actually gone to Skopje last spring, to track down some remaining death eaters.

'That is highly fascinating, dear!' Eugenia said, enthusiastically. 'How long have you been dating? And why have you never told us about this man?'

'Oh, because of Harry's work, we try to keep as much of a low-profile as possible,' Hermione smartly said. 'He just kept on pushing to meet my family and well, he can be relentless if he sets his mind on something...'

'Of course I am,' Harry said jovially. 'And I'm actually sorry that I didn't push earlier, because these are lovely people, Hermione. Grandma, to answer your question, we have been dating officially for a bit more than three years now, right?'

'Three years, three months and five days, to be exact,' Hermione lied, with a bright face. 'And we are still as much in love as that first day.'

An unanimous "Ahw" rose from the table and Harry saw a few female family members actually bat away a tear. To appease the crowds, he bowed to Hermione and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. He had done that a million times before as well, but he felt Hermione's heartbeat quicken when his lips met skin. He couldn't blame her - it was kind of exciting to lie like this, and he was surprised at how much of the positive comments he had made towards Hermione he had actually meant out of the bottom of his heart.

'That's all absolutely fascinating,' Hermione's cousin said, angrily, 'and I'm sorry to be raining on your parade, but as you are only dating and not actually a serious couple, Lydia and I have a few announcement regarding our upcoming wedding. Right, honey drop?'

'That's right, poo bear,' Lydia said, flaunting her huge engagement ring. 'As you all know, Philip and I have been engaged for eleven months now, and our wedding is to be held at...'

Harry tuned out and he gave Hermione a smile.

'They seem to be liking you now,' he whispered. 'No one has called you an awful nickname in approximately thirty minutes.'

'And this agent facade is brilliant,' she replied, softly. 'It means I won't have to make excuses for you not attending any other events, you know.'

They both chuckled and whispered some more, but Philip and Lydia were relentless with pulling everyone to talk about their wedding, and they would seem rude if they wouldn't fake paying attention.

'-and we want white doves and peacocks at our venue,' Lydia cooed. 'See, Philip? We are still the talk of tonight's party.'

'Everything for my honey drop,' Philip added, with a sickening voice. Harry pretended to throw up on his plate and Hermione laughed out loud, drawing attention to them. They both looked down guiltily, as nothing had happened.

'Are you making fun of us, Stranger?' Philip asked, offended. 'Just know that you haven't arrived just yet. Just because you have a boyfriend who is somewhat successful, doesn't mean he won't drop you immediately if something better comes along, and believe me, if you're up against anything, something better will come along.'

'Don't be vile, Philip,' his father said to him, but Philip shrugged with an evil look in his eyes.

'You can't say that I'm wrong, father. We all know how secret agents are like, right?'

'Absolutely not,' Harry said, angrily, feeling blood rush to his head. 'Hermione is the love of my life and if you-...'

'Oh shut up,' Philip laughed cynically. 'You have been dating for more than three years now and you haven't even proposed, yet. Do you call that treating "the love of your life" with respect?'

Oh gosh. There it was. The hotheadedness that had almost cost Harry his spot for Auror-training. The impulsiveness that had always gotten the better of him. He thought he was able to control it, but apparently, he was wrong. Because, before he knew it, Harry found himself grabbing his wand, and transfiguring one of the rings on his key, and standing up and shouting.

'Way to go, Philip,' Harry heard himself shout. 'Way to ruin this surprise.'

The entire family gasped and looked at Harry, eyes widened. Then they saw the small, black box that he clasped in his hand. Hermione's eyes grew to the size of small saucers and dropped her jaw.

'What are you-...' she muttered, but Harry was determined to get down on one knee. He sat down, and took her right hand between his fingers.

'Dear, sweet Hermione. I wanted to do this tonight, in the privacy our your grandmother's garden, but because of someone's prying nature I see no other option but to do it right here, right now,' he said.

Hermione shook her head, but then she realized that there was no turning back now. She gasped, lifting her other hand to her face to cover her reaction as good as possible. He read it in her eyes, though. What the hell are you doing, Harry?! What the HELL?!

'You are my sweetheart, my soulmate, my one-true-love,' he heard himself say, trying to mimic one of the muggle movies Aunt Petunia had always watched when Vernon had been away on business trips. 'I can't think of anyone else to spend the rest of my life with. Having you by my side, completes me. So, dear Hermione Jean Granger, would you do me to honor in becoming my wife?'

Not a sound was to be heard in the packed dining room. A few seconds ticked by - excruciating, horrible seconds, in which he realized the gravity of what he was doing right now. He had gone too far. He had gone way too far, and now the only thing to safe him would be Hermione declaring that she had no intention of marrying him. It would make her desirable and a witch with a B at the same time, but it was the only way to get out of this wretched mess.

She didn't decline, however. She looked at Harry, her hand still pressed to her face, totally shocked with the entire situation, and nodded.

'Yes,' she said so silently, that no one would have heard, if the room hadn't been so eerily silent.

'What?' Harry asked.

'Yes,' she said, a lot louder now. 'Of course, Harry! Yes, a thousand times yes!'

Oh Merlin. Oh, sweet, sweet Merlin.

Harry had no idea how he managed, but he got up, scooted Hermione in his arms and held her tightly, feigning absolute happiness. When they broke apart, they looked each other in the eye, but they both knew there was no way back. Absolutely, no way back. He sighed, she sighed, and he didn't know who started, but their lips met.

Her lips felt so soft, Harry registered, as he clutched his arms around her, still holding the black box in his hand. Her lips felt soft, and sweet, as he tasted the wine of the last course on her mouth. He tilted his head, so he could deepen the kiss, and he felt Hermione put her hands in his hair. It actually feels really, really good, he thought, guiltily. It feels too good, if I'm being really honest. He felt his heart soar, his stomach making twirls, and when he let go of her lips, he immediately ached for her touch. Uh-oh. That couldn't be good. I mean, this whole situation was dead-awful, but the reaction that his body had given proved even more problematic.

'Congratulations!' a lot of family members yelled, and he felt himself smile somewhat genuinely right now, reveling in the feeling of... what? Their kiss? The fake proposal? Hermione seemed to actually smile as well, leaning into Harry's touch.

'Show us the ring, show us the ring!' Some younger girls yelled, and now Harry handed over the box to her. He hoped he'd managed to Transfigure something believable.

Hermione got out a delicate, silver ring, adorned with small, green emeralds. It was actually very intricate and Harry felt quite proud of himself.

'It's beautiful!' A girl squealed, as Harry assisted Hermione on putting it around her finger. He took the excuse to capture her lips with his own once more, softly but lovingly. Oh, this was not good. This was not good at all. He had never seen Hermione as anything but an amazing friend. He had meant the kind words he spoke, but he always thought he was so enamored with her because of the strong bond they had - a very platonic bond, a very "absolutely just friends"-bond, because man would it turn complicated if it was something more.

Harry looked at Hermione, at her family members, and realized that he had been right to feel that gut-instinct that morning.

Shit hit the fan alright, Harry thought, grimly. Shit absolutely and unquestionably hit the bloody fan.