Day Nineteen
"Harry wake up!"
Harry sat straight up in bed, blinking as he reached for his glasses on the nightstand. Finally locating them, he put them on and Hermione who was running all over his bedroom, hair wilder than he'd ever seen it, wearing one of his old tee shirts came into focus. She was a frantic ball of motion, but she didn't appear to actually be doing anything.
"What's going on?"
"We're late!" She squeaked. "We forgot an alarm and we're late to go to the Burrow!"
"Huh?"
She stopped and turned to face him. "It's Sunday, Harry. We overslept, we're already supposed to be at the Burrow!"
Harry remembered now. It was Sunday. He had a hangover, and the end of Saturday night was a blur due to the over consumption of various drinks he wouldn't have been able to tell you the names of on pain of death. Because instead of tossing Hermione over his shoulder and going home early the night before, they'd gone out dancing with Amelia, Dudley, Ben, and Ben's boyfriend Stephen.
Harry had wanted nothing more than to take Hermione home, and show her exactly how much he loved her and how amazing he thought she was. Especially for standing up to the Dursleys on his behalf. Something he hadn't known that he needed.
But after he and Hermione had gone back inside and Hermione had apologized to the Bertrands for interrupting the meal (Harry had made her promise not to offer even a token polite apology to any of the Dursleys) they had finished dessert. John, Anne, Amelia and Ben had kept a tense conversation going. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Marge had left soon after the meal was officially finished.
Harry was not foolish enough to believe there wouldn't be some kind of attempted retaliation for the way that Hermione had spoken to them, but he felt no sense of dread over that inevitability. He could and would deal with whatever their petty minds could come up with.
Harry had expected that he and Hermione would follow soon after their departure, but Amelia had pulled Hermione aside under the pretense of showing her her wedding dress, and they'd returned after about twenty minutes thick as thieves. They had then announced that they were going to sit down and have some more wine with Amelia's parents, and then they were driving back into London and going to a club.
Hermione had seemed so genuinely excited over the prospect that he hadn't even tried to argue. And one glance at Dudley when they'd announced their plan told him that his cousin was in desperate need of some fun. Harry was almost surprised to discover that he felt no resentment, only pity for Dudley.
As they drove into the city in the car they'd borrowed from Hermione's parents in order to drive to dinner in the first place, she had explained to him that Amelia had confided in her that she- and the rest of her family- had been biting their tongues in the face of the Dursleys behavior for months. Amelia had refused to listen to another apology from Hermione, claiming that she hadn't ruined the dinner at all.
"Honesty, Harry," Hermione had said, "no wonder she was so interested in getting to know you. I mean you're wonderful on your own, but a normal relative of Dudley's must have felt like a miracle."
Harry thought that was just about the most ironic thing he'd ever heard.
So they'd gone dancing, an activity Harry hadn't known he could do, much less enjoy. Or maybe what he enjoyed was having Hermione's body pressed and writhing against him for hours at a time in a dark room full of strangers, and with the added benefit of alcohol running through his veins and lowering his inhibitions. They'd stumbled into Grimmauld place even later than they had the night before.
It was no wonder, really, that they'd forgotten an alarm or that they'd overslept.
"I promised Emily I would be there to take some of the pressure off of her!" Hermione was still unspooling in front of him, oblivious to the way his fuzzy mind had wandered.
"Love, what are you talking about?" He asked.
She huffed. "Today is Emily's first brunch at the Burrow. She was really nervous, so I promised that I would be there to protect her."
Harry almost laughed at that characterization. Then again, Hermoine wasn't exactly wrong. He'd considered the Weasleys to be family for so long that he sometimes forgot that the way they teased each other could be very intimidating to outsiders. Harry was surprised Ron was bringing Emily home so relatively early in their relationship. Ron had only introduced one other witch since Hermione to his family. He said as much to Hermione and she laughed.
"He brought her to the Yule Gala, Harry. Molly cornered the poor girl and made her promise to come. Molly means well, but you know how she can be. I can't leave Emily to fend for herself, and now everybody will be wondering why we're late!"
"Okay," he rubbed his face and jumped out of bed. Nothing was going to ruin his good mood this morning, and Hermione's little freak out was actually kind of cute, but if he let it continue for too long she'd become really upset. "Give me a second."
He made his way to the bathroom where he pulled two vials out of his potions cupboard. He returned to the bedroom and handed one to Hermione. She examined it and then sniffed it hesitantly.
"I didn't brew it," he laughed.
She rolled her eyes. "You're perfectly capable of brewing a hangover tonic, Harry. That wasn't my concern. You don't drink enough to need these often, I just wanted to make sure it wasn't past its efficacy."
Harry wondered briefly if there could be a danger in your girlfriend knowing you too well. There really was no hiding anything from her. Then again, he'd never been very good at doing that and he didn't have any intention of starting now, so maybe that wasn't something to be concerned about.
"Kreacher keeps track of all the potions in the house, makes sure I'm fully stocked and that none of them are expired," he explained. "It's an easy job that he doesn't need specific orders to complete, and it makes him feel like he's taking care of me even when he's not here. There's no point in a semi-retirement if he's always worrying when he's supposed to be resting," Harry explained.
Hermione's expression immediately grew tender. She tossed the potion down her throat and then stepped forward to take his hand. "You're a good man, Harry Potter."
"Thank you," he responded, taking his own tonic. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "Do you want to run home and change, or wait for me and I'll go with you?"
"No, I'll go and then come back, we can head over together, is that okay?"
"Sounds great."
She pointed a finger at him. "Don't dally."
"I won't!" He laughed.
"I'd kiss you, but I need to brush my teeth," she smiled, "I love you and I'll see you in a minute."
Harry took a deep breath, happiness threatening to overwhelm him. "I love you too."
She took a hesitant step back, and then turned and practically bolted from the room. He watched her until she was gone and then went to take a shower. He was going to get dirty again, but he knew better than to arrive at the Burrow smelling like sweat and liquor.
He had just come downstairs when she returned. She was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and one of his old Weasley jumpers that had gotten shrunk in a laundry accident and had belonged to her for years, but was still big enough that you could tell it had been his, especially given that it was the same color as his eyes. He wholeheartedly approved.
She smiled at him and pulled up the leg of her jeans to reveal the festive socks he'd left in her Advent calendar for the day, which she was wearing with her boots. He bought several pairs of garish Christmas socks every year in Dobby's memory and he always gave at least one pair to Hermione. Recently he'd started to include Teddy in that tradition as well.
"Reindeer again, I see," she commented.
"Those reindeer have red noses, they couldn't possibly be mistaken for Prongs," he retorted.
"Okay, okay," she relented, going up on her toes to give him a kiss. "Good morning."
He chased her lips, kissing her much more thoroughly. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"
"I slept well, I was with you. And I had fun last night. Did you?"
"I did," he nodded. "Who knew the thing I needed to bring out the dancer in me was standing in front of me all along."
She giggled and then looked up at him shyly.
"What?" He asked.
"Nothing. It's just that it's kind of great, isn't it, being in love with your best friend?"
He took her hands, spread her fingers between his. "I find that I'm liking it quite a lot, actually. But may I ask what makes you say that?"
"I'm enjoying this time with you so much, Harry, exploring these feelings. It's all so new and exciting, but also, I already know you. We've loved each other for years, albeit differently. I don't feel like I have to be careful with myself or watch what I say," she finished with a shrug.
"I know what you mean."
"Also, be careful or I'll be sleeping in that bed every night. I had no idea you were so hedonistic about your sleeping arrangements."
He swooped down and kissed her again. He really couldn't get enough of being able to do that whenever he wanted, or being able to tell her exactly how he was feeling. "That's no threat at all sweetheart."
A few minutes later Harry stepped out of the floo at the Burrow and ran right into Hermione's back. "What's going on?" He asked, when he noticed that the house was abnormally quiet. He hadn't known the Burrow could be this quiet. He finally looked up, once he'd extracted himself from Hermione and brushed off his clothes, to find what appeared to be the entire family sitting or standing dotted around the ground floor, staring at them.
"Well," George stepped forward with a terrifying smile on his face and a paper clutched in one hand, "look who decided to grace us with their presence. It's Magical Britain's own Golden Couple," he announced grandly, and then he actually bowed to them.
.
"Oh no," responded Hermione, voice laced with dread.
Harry couldn't even be insulted, he felt the same way. He eyed the paper George was holding. "Well let's see it then," he said, holding out his hand, indicating he wanted the other man to hand him the copy of the Prophet.
After Friday night they had been expecting this. Hermione had even theorized that they'd hold the story until Sunday when a larger, more widely circulated edition was published each week. However, yesterday's events had made him forget that they had been expecting it, so he still felt caught off guard.
George handed it to him with a little smirk. Harry unfolded it, holding it so that both he and Hermione could see. There was a large headline which did, in fact, name them the 'Golden Couple,' he hoped Ron wouldn't be too upset about that. There was also what appeared to be a substantial article; but the thing that drew his attention was the photograph of the two of them that took up half of the front page.
Harry's heart lodged firmly in his throat at the sight.
The two of them were pictured dancing at the Gala on Friday. It had been edited to look like all the other couples on the dance floor were blurred into the background. Or maybe it just seemed that way to Harry, whose eyes were focused solely on his and Hermione's faces.
All he could see was the way that they looked at each other like they were the only two people not just in the room, but in the world. The myriad of emotions captured flashing across his face broadcast every word he didn't possess, but desperately wanted to be able to articulate to tell Hermione how he felt for her. And those emotions were reflected on her face as well. It was breathtaking.
He knew that she saw it too, she leaned into his side and sighed. After a minute she glanced up at him and smiled. "Okay?"
"Yeah," he whispered.
She turned back to the paper and started to read the article. He followed suit, but because she could process the written word at somewhere approaching the speed of light, she finished before he did. But he still felt like he was able to get a good feel for what it said, which was that it was probably the most positive thing he'd ever had written about him without also being wildly inaccurate or over the top.
It was quite flattering to Hermione as well, which is really all he cared about. It even went into some detail about her work in creature rights at the Ministry and various charitable organizations, which he knew was important to her. It had obviously helped that most of the Weasley family had been present at the Gala and had been openly supportive of their relationship. Ron, in particular, who had been spotted socializing with them both and dancing with Hermione. Emily even got a mention.
"Well, this is actually quite nice. Certainly as good as we could have hoped for. What do you think?" Hermione looked up at him.
"I'm happy if you're happy," he answered with a shrug.
"Yes!" Harry heard Ron whoop, snapping his attention away from Hemione.
He looked up to see his best mate standing, his arms raised in the air in a display of victory, his feet performing some kind of jig.
"Yes, yes, yes!" He turned in a circle and pointed to each of his siblings and sisters-in-law, and even to a very sheepish looking Arthur in turn. "Did I tell you, or did I tell you? Pay up!"
Bags of coins began to appear and make their ways into Ron's hands.
"This is so unfair!" Ginny whined, turning to glare at Harry after she'd handed her own bag over, though there was no real heat in her expression. "This should have been an easy win! The entire front page is about them! That photo is huge! This had all the classic signs of an impending Harry Potter melt down!"
"I agree," said Bill, the expression on his face as close to a pout as Harry had ever seen.
George snorted. "Have the two of you never met Granger here?"
"Excuse me," Hermione said sharply, "would anybody care to explain what's going on?"
Harry was glad she asked, because he didn't think his brain was processing what he was seeing and hearing correctly.
"Well you see it's like this, Mione," Ron said as he began empting the bags and organizing the coins into piles on the kitchen table. Emily was standing at his side looking from him, to Harry and Hermione, and back nervously. "All these losers decided to bet on which of you was going to freak out the most about this article. I told them they were all wrong."
"I feel so betrayed," moaned Ginny, collapsing dramatically onto a sofa and laying her head on a very amused Amanda's lap, "your temper was really supposed to be good for something Potter," she griped.
Ron snickered. "Anyway, I told them they were all wrong," he reiterated. "I said that after you got here, together," he looked at them pointedly. "Oi! Percy! Where's my bonus for guessing she'd be wearing Harry's clothes?"
Percy hurled another bag at his younger brother's head, Ron caught it easily, but Harry had never felt such commiseration with the other man.
"I said," Ron once again picked up his story, "that neither of you would, because Hermione would have seen this coming. Then I said you'd let her read the article, and as long as she was okay with it, that you would be okay with it. And since Skeeter didn't write it, I figured we were all good," he held out his hands as if to finish with: 'see how right I was?'
Harry just stared at his friend who had apparently just anticipated their reaction down to the details.
"Well," Hermione huffed, she was trying to sound put upon but not quite succeeding, "it seems as if we've made Ronald quite a lot of money."
Ron grinned at them. "I'd say I'd buy you both really excellent Christmas presents but I just consider this hazard pay for being your friend," he gestured to the piles of gold, silver, and bronze. "You," he pointed at Harry, "for just being you. And you," he pointed at Hermione, "for being bloody scary."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.
Molly walked up behind Ron and slapped the back of his head with a spatula, but she was having a hard time looking stern. Ron didn't even look at his mother, his smile just grew wider and he actually batted his eyelashes in an exaggerated manner. "Which I say with love, of course." Then he glanced at Harry and winked.
Harry's heart felt like his heart was going to crash out of his chest at this odd but completely in character display of love and unconditional acceptance, not only from Ron, but from the entire Weasley family. Just when he thought things couldn't get any better, they did.
Hermione edged a little closer to him and he knew she'd interpreted all of this in the same way. She clapped her hands together. "Okay, well, are we all going to sit and watch Scrooge McDuck here count his gold, or are you going to play quidditch, because for once I think I'd prefer quidditch."
Everybody else in the room looked at her with varying degrees of confusion on their faces, except for Harry: "If he tries to swim in that gold, love, we're out of here."
Author's Note: Y'all filling my inbox with shared hatred for Marge and the Dursleys as well as talking about how sweet Harry and Hermione are, really made my day. Does anybody else miss Estelle? I miss Estelle. I'll have to see what I can do about that. Thanks for reading!