AN: I'M BACK Y'ALL. For real, I'm back. This is it. We're doing this. I'mma finish this fic if it kills me (hopefully it doesn't though). I'm gonna try really, really hard to stick to a once-a-week posting schedule until this story is finished - which is super close to happening! Thank you guys so much for sticking with me and for all of your lovely reviews, it means so so much knowing that there are people out there who care about this story.

I know it's been a long time but sadly writing fanfic does not pay the rent and my day job has been super stressful lately and I haven't had the motivation to write. But I really didn't want to abandon this fic because I've been on the other side and abandoned fics make me sad and I didn't want to do that to you wonderful people. That being said, I am going to try really hard to stay on schedule and finish this, but I'm only human and sometimes fanfic has to take a backseat to real life. So thank you all for your patience and support, and I am giving all of you rainbow hugs filled with sparkles!


Changing Scenery

Chapter 26: Carmen

Harry was extremely reluctant to leave Draco's hospital room, but Robards had only given him two hours off work, and even that was pretty generous. Besides that, Draco was looking a bit pale despite all his assurances that he would be fully recovered in a few days.

As he was getting ready to leave, Hermione left for a minute to go to the loo and the second she was out the door, Draco gave him a supremely unimpressed look.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "What?"

"She wrote you and you didn't write back?"

"Er, no. I meant to but I, uh, wasn't sure what to say."

Draco looked up and sighed heavily. "Potter, literally anything is better than nothing. The word 'sorry' all by itself would have been better, even in your terrible handwriting."

"I know, but I just…I couldn't think of what would, I don't know, make things better, I suppose."

"Sometimes it's not about making things better. It's just about making things right."

Hermione returned before Harry could think of a response, which was just as well considering he didn't have one.

As she took a seat in the chair on the far side of bed, Harry stood up. "I've got to be getting back to the Ministry. But I'll come by tomorrow?"

"Mother's coming to get me in the morning, actually, to take me back to the Manor while I recover. But you're welcome to visit me there, both of you."

"Doubtful," Hermione muttered, her face dropping and her voice only just loud enough to be heard. Harry wasn't entirely sure she'd even meant for them to hear.

Draco looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she said, voice short.

Draco didn't look remotely convinced but he didn't pursue it.

"I guess I'll see you…soon, then," Harry said. "Both of you," he tacked on hurriedly, seeing Hermione's too-blank face.

Hermione stood. "I should be going as well, actually. I'm sorry, Draco."

"Of course," Draco replied, smiling. "Don't worry about it, Hermione." He grabbed her hand as she walked around the bed. "But please, don't think you're not welcome, because you are." He said it so low that Harry was sure the words were for her alone.

He turned away to give them a moment, but he was unable to keep from glancing at them from the corner of his eye. But all they did was share a glance and Hermione smiled so sadly that Harry knew he was worst prick in all of England.

"Goodbye, Draco," Harry said as Hermione joined him by the door.

"See you soon, Harry, Hermione." Draco gave him a look as they left and Harry ducked his head with guilt.

The walk to the lift was filled with excruciating silence. He knew Hermione was upset, but he wasn't at all sure why. Everything had seemed to be going well – he'd finally apologized and she'd forgiven him – and now everything was wrong again.

When the lift doors opened and no one was inside, he was grateful. He didn't want an audience to a disagreement between two members of the 'Golden Trio,' especially since it would end up splashed across the gossip pages of the Prophet the next morning.

Glancing over at Hermione as the lift slowly descended, Harry knew he had to fix this. Somehow he'd broken whatever they'd begun to have and he only just now realized how badly.

"Go out with me," Harry blurted.

Hermione looked over at him in confusion. "What?"

He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks turn pink. "Go out with me, please?"

She looked at him skeptically. "Why?"

"Because we're…" he wasn't sure how to finish. What are we?

She smiled sadly. "We're not anything, Harry, not really. Friends, I suppose. Although my friend Harry would never have treated me the way you have."

Harry flinched. He had been a terrible friend this past week, and longer if he were being honest. "No, he wouldn't have. I should've been a better friend, let alone…anything more."

Hermione sighed. "Maybe we're just not meant for anything more."

Harry frowned. He didn't want that. He didn't want that at all. And he should have realized earlier how important Hermione was to him. And she needs to know. "No, we just didn't give it a real chance. And that's my fault, because I was so focused on Draco that I didn't give us a chance because I thought that being friends would make being more easier, but it doesn't." He snorted. "It really doesn't."

Hermione looked at him properly for the first time since leaving Draco's room. "So you want to go out?"

Harry nodded firmly. "I do. I want to give us a proper chance."

She smiled. It was small, barely there, but he saw it. "Alright."

Harry grinned. "Great! Okay, I'll owl you then, and let you know the details."

The lift slowed then, as they approached the ground floor. Just before the doors opened, Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'm going to make this up to you, Hermione Granger. I promise."

Hermione gave him a look just a shade shy of a smirk. "You'd better, Harry Potter."

When he got back to his flat that evening after putting in another few hours at the DMLE, he felt lighter than he had in ages. He didn't even notice the person on his couch until they threw a book at his head.

He ducked, whipping out his wand, only to see Ginny lounging on his couch, holding another book in one hand.

"You really are the worst, Harry."

Harry sighed. I should have seen this coming. "I know. Believe me, Gin, I know."

Ginny pointed at him with one gold-painted nail. "See, I don't think you do. Because you don't realize how intolerably single-minded you can be. Which was great in bed, don't get me wrong, but it's less great when you're working on a case and you don't wash the dishes for a week."

Harry blushed and cleared his throat. "Was I that bad?"

Ginny raised a single brow. "Worse."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to be."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well obviously. You're a good person, Harry, you don't mean to be a prat, it just happens sometimes. But you're trying to be in a relationship with two other people now – you, quite literally, can't be single-minded."

He cleared his throat. "You've been talking to Hermione, then?"

"That would be telling, wouldn't it? But you see, the fact that you jumped to that conclusion means you know you've been a prat, which is better than before, but still a problem. It also means that you know, or you should," she paused to give him a look, "that you're going to need to do something pretty damn romantic to make up for how awful and pratty you've been."

"I'm working on that part. Hermione and I are going to go on a date."

"Just the two of you?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, yeah, that's the point. And besides, Draco's not really fit to be going anywhere right now," he pointed out.

Ginny sighed heavily, her entire body deflating. "Harry. Darling, darling Harry. That's exactly my point."

Harry stared at her, before walking into the room and plopping into the armchair. "I don't understand."

"Look, if this is really going to be a date for the two of you, then Draco can't be there."

"He won't-"

"In any way."

He paused before shaking his head. "I don't know what you mean," he admitted.

"It means that you need to be focused on Hermione. Don't talk about Draco, don't bring up the whole clusterfuck that your relationship has become. Don't mention the case. Don't ask about her relationship with him. Focus on your relationship with each other."

Oh. "I think I get it now."

"Do you? Because it seems to me like you're doing the same thing to her that my horrid brother did all through Hogwarts. He trusted that she'd be there when he got around to figuring out his feelings, and she was, because she loved him." She wrinkled her nose. "Although why I will never understand." She shrugged insolently. "But that's not the point. The point is that you're doing the same thing. You're trusting that your friendship is enough to sustain your relationship, and her feelings, while you, both of you, sort things out with Draco. And that's not fair to her."

Harry hadn't realized that he'd been doing that until that moment. And here I'm the one who listened to her cry all those months sixth year. He felt horribly ashamed, not least because he hadn't realized how that must have felt for Hermione, to relive the same relationship over again. "That's why she compared me to Ron," he muttered.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You really are thick. Men."

Harry looked at her. "I don't suppose you'd know how to get reservations at the most romantic, expensive restaurant in Diagon Alley, would you?"

She grinned slowly, reminding him eerily of the cat who'd eaten the canary. "As it happens, I do."

The next morning, Harry carefully crafted what felt like the most important letter he'd sent in years. He carefully avoided the details Ginny had provided when she'd owled him late the night before with the reservation. He sent the owl before heading into work, smiling giddily.

His good mood was obvious to everyone, even his more oblivious coworkers, but only a few people bothered to comment on it, and those all assumed it had to do with the progress on Draco's case. Tangentially, he supposed that was true, but he was trying very hard now to separate his relationship with Draco from his relationship with Hermione. Not because they weren't related, but because he needed to build them up separately. He couldn't rely on one to strengthen the other.

I really should have figured that out sooner.

While Ginny could be blunt to the point of rude, Harry had never really minded because she had a way of seeing right to the heart of things in a way he'd never been able to.

With a clearer mind, he was far more productive and less preoccupied than he'd been in weeks. Robards didn't say anything about the change, but his silence spoke volumes.

On Wednesday, he went to Malfoy Manor to visit Draco. He Apparated outside the gates and then began the long walk up the drive. While technically he could have Apparated directly outside the front doors, it was tricky to navigate old magicks like the kind Malfoy Manor was steeped in, even if most of the general wards had been removed after the war. And besides, it was nice to be outside in the fresh country air after the stagnant smog that had encased London for the past few days. It was nearly December and the air was cold, but his robes kept him warm even as his breath created clouds of frost.

Once he reached the large front door, he knocked and the door swung open almost instantly. Harry knew it wasn't magic but house elves. The house elf who'd opened the door took his outer robe, leaving him in jeans and a thick jumper, though it was a pleasant temperature inside the house.

"Where's Draco?" he asked as the elf sent his robe sailing into a closet.

"Master Malfoy is resting in his room upstairs." The subtext and you should not disturb him was louder than his deferential voice.

"Thank you," Harry said politely.

He vaguely remembered where Draco's room was from his last visit, though more from leaving than arriving. He did make a wrong turn on his way there, but one of the less unpleasant portraits sent him off in the correct direction.

He knocked and then went in once he heard a muffled call of "Come in."

Draco was sitting in one of two large armchairs beside a bay window reading a book that looked far too heavy to hold comfortably for long periods of time. It was the kind of book that Hermione had loved to check out during Hogwarts.

For a moment, Harry was thrown back to memories of studying beside Hermione in front of the hearth in the Gryffindor common room. The heat of the fire and the comfort of true friendship warming him in ways he'd never dreamed of those longs years locked away in the cupboard under the stairs. He'd always done a bit more daydreaming than studying on those nights.

He shook his head to clear away the cobwebs and nodded at Draco, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Hi Draco."

Draco carefully marked his page before setting the tome down on a nearby table and then turning to face him. "Harry."

Harry grasped for something to say. He hadn't really thought beyond coming to visit. "You're looking well," he managed to get out. It was true, at least. Draco looked much better than he had three days ago lying in a hospital bed, though there was a tightness around his eyes that suggested he still wasn't quite in peak form. That, and he still hadn't gotten up from the chair.

"I'm feeling quite well, thank you. Mother has been exceedingly diligent in her care of me."

"I'm sure. She must have been worried."

Draco nodded. "She was."

"Is she here?"

"She's gone out. And now, if you would, I have no desire to keep discussing my mother or my recovery." He waved at the armchair opposite him. "Tell me how you've been."

Harry crossed the room and settled into the surprisingly comfortable chair. He glanced out the window and noted that it looked out over a garden that might have looked clean and well-kept at first glance but was beginning to show signs of neglect.

"I've, uh, I've been good. Work's been less stressful the past couple days, as I'm sure you can imagine, which is a relief. Robards even smiled yesterday."

"He did seem a rather dour man."

Harry shrugged. "He's got a lot on his shoulders."

Draco hummed. "I suppose. And how is Hermione?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Good."

"Oh? Did you finally remove your head from your arse and apologize?"

Harry coughed and suddenly wished he had a cup of tea. "Uh, yes."

Draco raised an eyebrow in an expression eerily reminiscent of Ginny.

"I mean to say, we're going out, on Friday. On a date."

"There's hope yet," Draco replied dryly. "Where are you taking her?"

"Carmen."

Both of his eyebrows went up. "How in Merlin's name did you manage that?"

"I asked a friend. She knows people."

Draco paused for a moment and then grinned. "I'll have to thank Blaise."

Harry stared for a moment before he realized what he meant. "Oh, er, yes. I suppose I hadn't really thought about how she got the reservations but it makes sense…" he trailed off. He wasn't sure how he felt about Blaise being so intimately familiar with his love life, but he would probably have to get used to it if Ginny and Blaise continued seeing each other.

Draco interrupted his train of thought. "I hope you have better dress robes than the ones you always wear to Ministry functions."

"I have the ones I wore for Samhain." A beat passed and then Harry flushed red at the thought of what they'd all gotten up to in the Manor that night. He shifted subtly in his chair, but by the satisfied look on Draco's face, he knew exactly what he was thinking about. I will not be made into a teenager again from the memory of a kiss. The tightness in his trousers begged to differ.

"Attractive as those were, you really ought to own more than one suitable set of dress robes, Potter."

Harry tried to think if he had any other robes that weren't the robes that he used whenever he had to go to some Ministry party and came up short. Draco may have a point. "I can go out and buy another set," he said finally.

Draco shook his head sadly. "Off the rack? You wound me, Harry."

"I may not know a lot about clothes, but I'm pretty sure you can't get bespoke robes made in two days."

Draco looked very satisfied. "You're quite right."

Harry frowned. "Then what do you suggest I do?"

Draco stood up and walked out. Harry got up halfway, wondering he was meant to follow, though Draco hadn't said as much. He was out the door anyway before Harry made up his mind.

He returned a few minutes later, wand out by his side and a heavy garment bag bobbing along in the air behind him. With a flick of his wand, the bag unzipped itself, revealing a set of deep green dress robes.

"This is what I suggest."

Harry tugged at the cuffs on the dress robes Draco had finally talked him into. He'd refused them at first until he realized that not only was Draco right – he really did need another pair of dress robes, and in a hurry – but there had been a hint of vulnerability in the set of his shoulders. For whatever reason, whether it was the Veela or just Draco, he'd very much wanted Harry to have the robes.

He hadn't been able to say no after that.

Standing in front of Hermione's door, he tamped down the urge to keep fidgeting. The robes fit perfectly, even if they weren't at all something like he would have picked for himself.

Another moment passed before the door swung open. Harry almost swallowed his tongue.

Merlin's balls.

Her hair had been tamed into big, loose curls that fell down her back. The dress she was wearing was held up by a strap on one shoulder, the other bare, flowing into the rest of the dress. The crimson red dress. He'd never loved his House color so much.

"Hello, Harry."

He cleared his throat. "Hi, Hermione."

"So, where are you taking me? You didn't say in your letter."

Harry grinned a bit. "I know."

Her eyes brightened. "A surprise?"

He nodded. "The good kind, I hope."

"Well then, let's go." She stepped all the way out into the hallway, closing the door gently behind her before locking it with a key she then tucked into a small purse. He felt the wards that fell into place as the lock clicked. She swung a heavy cloak around her shoulders, the wool brushing against him as it settled into place. She turned and gave him a small smile.

He took her arm and Disapparated them.

They landed a couple blocks away from Carmen, the restaurant Ginny had recommended. Harry had heard of it, though he'd never thought of going. It was the kind of restaurant that was clearly for couples, and since he'd never had anyone to take he'd always glossed over it even though it was just off Diagon Alley in one of the most fashionable lanes.

As they walked down the street, straight through Diagon Alley, they drew more than a few stares. He'd planned on that, hoped for it. He wanted to show Hermione off tonight, show her that their relationship wasn't a secret, something he wanted to hide away, something to be ashamed of. She was one of the strongest, bravest, most brilliant women he knew. He felt very nearly ordinary compared to her, and he didn't mind at all.

He looked over at her, walking tall with her shoulders back. I love her.

Hermione gave him a dry look as they walked slowly toward the restaurant. "I didn't realize we would be the entertainment this evening," she murmured to him, leaning in close.

He didn't know if it was intentional, the way her breath brushed against his ear, but it sent a shudder through him anyway. He grinned at her. "At least no one is asking for an autograph."

She huffed a laugh. "If they do, I'm going home."

"That would be waste of a beautiful dress," he told her, surprised at himself even as the words left his mouth.

Hermione was surprised too, if the look on her face was anything to go by. "I, um, well." She blushed. "Wouldn't want to waste the dress."

Harry laid a hand over the arm she had tucked into his and he could feel the gooseflesh beneath his palm. Well then.

As they finally arrived at the restaurant, Hermione stopped short.

"Carmen?"

"It was recommended by a friend."

"Probably the same friend who talked me into a red dress," she muttered darkly. They shared a commiserating look.

"I think she means well," he said.

"I don't think Ginny's meant well in her entire life," she retorted.

Harry laughed. A laugh that came from deep inside, the place that had been terrified when he realized he'd almost lost one of the best friends he'd ever had, the same place that recognized, at a base level, that he belonged to Draco and Draco belonged to him. But that instinct said the same thing about the gorgeous witch standing at his side. He didn't think he could ever repay Ginny for helping to mend what was broken.

She's going to be so smug.

"No, I don't think she has."

They made a bit of a stir when they walked inside, but the other diners quickly went back to their meals. The staff made no outward show of what they felt about standing in front of two of the Golden Trio.

"Mister Potter, this way," the maître d' said, gesturing with a hand.

I'll probably never have to introduce myself ever again.

They followed him to a table that managed to be tucked away without feeling claustrophobic. It felt intimate rather than stifling – a round table in front of a half-moon booth so small that when they were both seated, their thighs touched.

After handing them each menus, the maître d' vanished, leaving them in the dusky half-light of the restaurant, their little booth illuminated by a gas lamp in the center of the table that created an oasis of light.

"This is…cozy," Hermione said.

"A little cozier than I anticipated," Harry admitted.

They looked at each other and Hermione burst into a giggle she muffled behind her hand.

"I'm sorry, it's just," she paused to choke back another laugh, "this is such a Ginny place to send us."

"I think Blaise is a bad influence," he said dryly.

"I think Ginny might actually be the bad influence."

"She probably eggs him on."

"I wonder if they have competitions trying to think of more and more scandalous things to do."

Harry snorted. "Probably. I think Mrs Weasley very nearly had a heart attack after their last photo in the Prophet."

"Ginny told me she got a Howler the next morning so loud that a neighbor from three doors down came knocking wondering what all the noise was."

"What did she say?"

She gave him a look. "Cat fight."

They both burst into laughter they quickly tried to muffle in their napkins when a nearby couple looked over.

It was quiet for a few minutes as they both looked over their menus. Even though he'd promised himself that he was going to focus on Hermione, he couldn't help but think of his dinner with Draco – was it only two weeks ago? Then, he'd been nervous, the air filled with the kind of tension that fills every new relationship. This, being with Hermione, didn't have that same tension, but there was a sense of change, of being on the edge of something new. It felt…good.

After a waiter had collected their orders and brought back a bottle of the wine Hermione ordered, Harry turned to her. He almost lost his train of thought at the sight of her, gently illuminated by the gaslight. She was a vision of gold and red.

"So how've you been? How's work?" he blurted when he realized he'd been staring far too long to be polite.

Hermione gave him an odd look. "I'm fine, I suppose. Better now, I think. Work has been tense. Kingsley still isn't happy that I'm leaving."

He blinked. Somehow in all that had happened he'd completely forgotten that Hermione was leaving the Ministry. "When's your last day?"

Hermione fiddled with her half-empty glass of wine. "Next Friday. With Dunham in custody and the trial set for next week, there's nothing keeping me at the Ministry. I told Kingsley I was done with the case was over, it just took longer that we were anticipating." She grimaced. "If you can call a break-in and kidnapping a delay."

Harry frowned. Robards was still furious that it had happened at all and the Department of Mysteries was in an uproar. For a moment, he almost told her about preparations for the trial but Ginny's voice rang in his head and he asked instead, "Are you ready to leave?"

She took a long drink, emptying her glass. He poured her a new one.

"I think so. I did have second thoughts, there for a moment. This is the first time in years that I haven't had my future planned out. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself."

"Maybe that's good," he suggested.

She looked at him curiously.

"I mean, you've had your whole future mapped out since you were thirteen years old, maybe it'll be good for you to do something spontaneous. Do things just because you want to, whenever you want to."

She considered that. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'll go to the continent. I haven't been to France since my parents took me the summer after third year. And I've never been to America, and I've always wanted to visit Egypt and Morocco." She smiled thoughtfully.

"See? I think this will be really good."

She nodded decisively. "It will be."

She didn't mention anything about Draco and how he might fit into that future, but Harry didn't either. He didn't want her to feel like he and Draco were something she had to fit in. It should be natural, something that fell into place. Hopefully, it will be.

When their dinners arrived, the conversation lightened up. They talked about Ministry gossip, Luna's newest venture to Finland, Lavender's pregnancy – normal things. It felt good to set aside the heavy things, even if it was just for one night.

By the time dessert came around, they'd gone through most of a second bottle of wine and Harry couldn't take his eyes off Hermione as she licked chocolate mousse off a small silver spoon.

"I should really send Gin a thank you note," he murmured, staring at her.

She glanced up. "Why's that?" She took another tiny spoonful.

"Because you look bloody gorgeous in that dress."

She blushed, the color suffusing her cheeks and spreading lower. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You can thank Draco for that. He insisted that I couldn't wear the same robes I wore on Samhain again. Probably a faux pas among the wizarding elite."

She gave him a long look up and down. "I really should thank him."

His mouth suddenly felt dry. He barely heard the gentle clink of silver hitting ceramic as she set down the spoon and leaned toward him.

When her lips were just a fraction of an inch away, his control vanished. He slid his arm around her waist and tugged her closer until she was nearly in his lap and pressed his lips to hers.

Her tongue peeked out to taste his lip and he returned the favor, tracing her upper lip before dipping inside. The soft moan she made almost made him forget that despite the low lighting and the quiet, they were still in public. He kissed her again before pulling away.

Her eyes were bright but her lipstick was still perfect. He brought his other hand up and used a thumb to rub at the edge. She nipped at it and he almost Apparated them away to somewhere more private. He pulled his thumb away and looked at it but none of her red lipstick stained it.

She was smirking when he met her eyes.

"Ginny knows a truly staggering amount of cosmetic charms. She thought I might need some tonight."

He leaned in and kissed her hard. "She was right."

Hermione ran a hand down the edge of his outer robe. "You know, I really think we should put it to the test." She looked at him from under her lashes. "Are you ready to leave?"

He swallowed. You have no idea. "Let's go."

He set her to one side as looked around for the waiter who appeared almost instantly.

"Sir?"

"We'll take the check."

"It's covered, sir," he said smoothly. "By the gentleman who arranged the table."

Harry blinked. Right then. "Thank you."

The waiter vanished back into the shadows.

"I'm not sure whether to thank Blaise or punch him."

"Both, probably," Hermione said dryly.

He looked at her and instantly remembered why they'd been in a hurry to leave. Despite her perfect lipstick, she still looked like she'd just been kissed. He wanted to figure out what it would take to smear that lipstick.

"Shall we?"

They collected their cloaks and then stepped outside. It was fully dark and the chill in the air only reminded him how warm he felt. He took her hand.

"Ready?"

She smiled at him. A smile he hadn't seen in weeks "Absolutely."

The crack of Disapparation echoed down the street.