I think it affected me the way it did because I knew just what it felt like. I knew what it was like to be in that exact same position.
And a part of me will never forgive myself. It's irrational, I know. But since when has love been rational?
The ring of the doorbell caused Hermione to take a deep breath. She turned to face her parents, eyeing her father with a hard look.
"If you love me at all, you'll be civil," she said seriously.
He crossed his arms and shrugged.
"Dad, I'm not kidding," she responded, her tone severe. "What happened between the three of us is our business, not yours." She turned on her heel, feeling irritation bubble inside her.
Taking another deep breath in to calm herself, she opened the door to reveal two very familiar faces.
Seeing Harry and Ron instantly caused her to smile, and she engulfed them both into bone-crushing hugs. A week had gone by since she'd last seen them, and frankly, it had been much too long.
Mrs. Granger instantly showered both boys with warm greetings, as well and ushered everyone into the sitting room where her husband sat stoically in his armchair.
Harry, who apparently had not noticed the look on Mr. Granger's face, immediately walked over to the older man and shook his hand.
"Good to see you again, sir," he said politely.
"Likewise. We've missed you, Harry," Mr. Granger replied, momentarily abandoning his scowl for a pleasant smile, as he clapped the boy on the shoulder.
The smile melted away quickly, however, as Ron extended his hand in greeting, as well. "Hello, sir," he said, the tips of his ears already red.
Hermione watched as her dad took Ron's hand and shook it rigidly. He didn't say anything in return, but she was grateful, at least, that he wasn't openly glaring at him the way he'd done the first time they'd met.
She was surprised, however, to see Harry smirking to himself in amusement.
"What's so funny?" she whispered to him.
"Your dad's doing his 'initiation' thing with Ron, isn't he?" he said covertly.
Hermione's eyes went wide at the thought. She wished Harry's words were true. Unfortunately, it didn't seem her father was in the joking mood at the moment.
"Yeah…maybe," she responded, weakly, ignoring Harry's questioning look.
Everyone took a seat and Mrs. Granger proceeded to ask the boys about their respective weeks. Harry responded with companionable ease, while Ron inserted a few words and there, content to let his friend do the talking.
"Er…are you alright?" she heard Harry ask her dad quietly as Mrs. Granger directed a question toward Ron.
"I'm perfectly fine, son," he replied somewhat distractedly, turning to look at him. "Why do you ask?"
Harry shrugged. "You just seem a bit quiet."
Mr. Granger folded his hands on his crossed legs and sighed. "Well, if I haven't anything nice to say, I shouldn't say anything at all, right?"
Harry furrowed his brows in slight confusion, but merely directed his attention back to the conversation at hand.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She was quickly growing tired of her father's stubborn attitude. He had absolutely no right to be angry at Ron.
She knew, deep down, why he was being so hostile. Ron had hurt her. And if there was one thing in the world her father couldn't stand, it was someone hurting his daughter. Merlin knew it had happened enough in her childhood. In fact, if it weren't for the calming words of his wife, David Granger would have blasted down the door of every house in order to get to those snotty-nosed children who had made his little girl's life miserable.
Indeed, Hermione had been somewhat surprised that her father had taken so quickly to Harry. And while she'd initially attributed it to his overall charming and polite disposition, she knew that wasn't the only reason. It was the fact that he never hurt her, at least not intentionally. Quite the contrary, really, Harry lifted her up and made her happy, safe, and protected. It was written clearly on her face, and she knew her father could see it.
Harry cared about her. And that alone gained him all the respect in the world from her father.
Unfortunately, that also meant that Ron was going to have to work extremely hard to get back in the good books.
"What are your plans for your birthday, Harry?" her mum asked, effectively breaking through Hermione's reverie.
"I dunno," he admitted with a shrug. "I nearly forgot it was coming up, to be honest."
"Forgot?!" Mr. Granger uttered in mock-outrage. "Even I know it's this Friday, what with Hermione yapping about it every two seconds."
"Oh relax, I mentioned it twice," she countered, brusquely.
"Well, I'm sure Molly has an amazing dinner planned," Mrs. Granger stated. "Your mother is simply an artist in the kitchen—"
"Do you cook, Ron?" Mr. Granger asked suddenly.
They were the first words he'd spoken to the red head since they'd arrived, and everyone in the room was rendered silent for a moment.
"Um…not really, no," he answered.
Mr. Granger raised one eyebrow, and Hermione internally groaned.
This didn't bode well.
"Oh?" he asked, folding his arms. "Why's that?"
Ron visibly gulped. "I don't know how, I suppose."
Oh, dear…
"Don't know how?" the older man asked in surprise. "Well, why ever not?"
"Dave…" her mum said warningly.
"Go on, answer," he encouraged in a tone that made Hermione cringe.
"Well, erm…my mum usually does all the cooking. She likes to cook…" he added.
"There you have it!" Mrs. Granger said, clapping her hands together and forcing a smile on her face. "Now, about that birthday party—"
"Do you cook, Harry?" Mr. Granger interjected again, turning to the dark-haired boy next to him.
This time, Hermione let out an audible groan as she threw her head in her hands.
"Nothing spectacular," he affirmed, shifting in his seat.
"But you can get by?" her father reasoned.
Harry looked over at Ron who seemed to be extremely interested in his fingers.
"I suppose…I mean…if I had to," he replied, his voice petering out slightly.
"Are you quite finished?" his wife muttered vehemently.
Mr. Granger merely smiled and waved his hand for her to carry on.
The conversation continued on pleasantly enough after that with her dad staying mostly silent or exchanging a few words here and there with Harry.
On any other occasion, Hermione would be thrilled at seeing the pair of them get on so well. Today, however, it only made her father's animosity toward Ron even more apparent. And while Harry had tried to include Ron in the conversation every now and then, or in some cases, even try to talk him up a bit, her dad simply would not cooperate.
He was, unfortunately, even more stubborn than she was.
"Ron's a wicked keeper, though, aren't you Ron?" Harry stated after her dad had said something that she presumed was about Quidditch.
"Keeper…that's the equivalent of a goalie, isn't it?" Mrs. Granger asked with interest, despite the fact that she held absolutely zero interest in sports.
Ron appeared confused. "What's a goalie?"
Harry eyes widened for a moment as if in fear. "It's like a keeper except for football. Remember, that muggle sport Dean told you about?" he muttered hurriedly to Ron.
"Oh," Ron replied slowly, comprehension dawning on his features. "That barmy sport with only one ball?"
"Dunno what the appeal is, really," he added in amusement, letting out a small chuckle. "All those players running around on the ground kicking at each other. Must be dead boring to watch."
One could have heard a pin drop in the silence that met his words.
It was funny—in an out-of-body type of way—to glimpse a sort of light leaving Harry's face. She could even see his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. He did have a nice Adam's apple, though. Very manly, she mused.
Hermione sighed heavily to herself, massaging her temple with her hand.
"Well then I must be a dead boring man to enjoy it," Mr. Granger declared, causing Harry to wince slightly.
Ron instantly blanched. "W-what?" he uttered.
Her mother immediately rushed to his aid. "Don't worry, dear. You're absolutely right, football is dreadfully boring," she said, offering the boy a smile.
Her father merely rolled his eyes.
"Well, do you like chess, Mr. Granger?" Harry asked suddenly, causing the man to give him a strange look.
"Not particularly…" he replied in confusion.
"So…you don't enjoy playing, or watching it for that matter?" Harry continued.
"Watch a chess match?" her father said, amused. "I applaud whoever has the patience to do that."
Hermione smirked, quickly catching on. "Oh? Do you consider chess to be boring, Dad?"
He looked at her with suspicion. "Maybe…why, what are you getting at?"
Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, er…the thing is, I happen to like chess, sir," he offered. "A lot, actually."
A look of dawning appeared on her dad's face, quickly followed by annoyance.
"There you have it!" Harry exclaimed, brightly. "To each, his own. Ron likes chess. You like football. Ron finds football boring. You find chess bor—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it, Harry," Mr. Granger interrupted, covering the younger boy's mouth and nudging his head to the side.
Mrs. Granger laughed heartily at her husband's expense. "It seems you've been trumped, your royal highness."
Mr. Granger merely scoffed. "This is all your fault," he addressed Harry. "You're a cheeky, little bugger, you know that?"
"Dave!" his wife reprimanded, despite futile attempts to keep a straight face.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Harry shrugged.
Her dad guffawed loudly, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder.
Hermione silently chuckled as she observed the scene before her. She turned to look at Ron and immediately noticed that he wasn't as amused as everyone else. There was a small smile on his face, but it didn't quite seem to reach his eyes.
She felt guilt wash over her as she watched him, knowing that he wasn't aware of the real reasons behind her father's animosity toward him, and wishing suddenly that she'd warned him beforehand.
What was he thinking right now? Did he assume that her father simply hated him for no other reason than his lack of cooking skills and aversion to football?
Oh, Merlin…how could I forget to warn him?
Hermione bit her lip, looking back and forth between a joking Harry and a subdued Ron.
She knew Harry didn't mean it, and had no idea he was doing it, but at the moment he was really making things worse for his friend.
Deciding that she needed to take matters into her own hands, Hermione stood up abruptly, effectively cutting off all conversation.
"Erm…I'm going to go make tea," she announced lamely. "Harry, can you come and help me?"
Everyone looked at her strangely.
"You need help making tea?" he asked, slowly.
Hermione was silent for a moment, searching desperately for an excuse. "Well, it's just…I've always found your tea to be the best tasting," she answered, mentally slapping herself repeatedly.
She knew she didn't really have anyone fooled, but thankfully no one seemed to spot her real motivations as she tugged on Harry's arm and pulled him into the kitchen.
"I never realized you loved my tea so much, Hermione," he joked, once she'd closed the kitchen door behind her.
"You know that's not why I dragged you in here," she said abruptly.
"Care to enlighten me on why you did?"
Hermione sighed. "Okay, I need to ask you a favour, but it's going to sound very odd."
He raised an eyebrow, but waited for her to continue.
"The thing is…well, you've probably noticed that my dad hasn't exactly warmed up to Ron yet," she started.
"Yeah, I was wondering about that. At first I thought he was just messing him about, but…" he trailed off, with a bewildered look. "I dunno."
She sighed again. "I foolishly told my parents about Ron walking out during the horcrux hunt. I don't even know why I brought it up, but I was already explaining everything to them and it just seemed easier to tell the whole truth," she explained in a rush. "Anyway, it really angered my dad—don't ask me why, it's a long story. The point is, he's now chosen to give Ron the cold shoulder, despite my protests and despite the fact that it's none of his business."
Harry crossed his arms and leaned back against the countertop, a pensive look on his face. "Damn…"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How very articulate of you."
"Well, do you think he'll let up on him?" he asked. "Your dad can be a bit harsh when he wants to…"
She scoffed. "You haven't even seen the worst of it," she replied. "However, there may be something you can do to help."
"Oh right, what was your favour?" he asked, standing up straight.
Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Okay, well, do you think you could just…not act like yourself for the rest of the night?"
Harry stared at her.
"Pardon?"
"How do I put this…" she said, looking around the room as if for inspiration and then letting her eyes land back on him again. "I need you to be…less likeable."
He looked at her as if she'd gone mad. "What?"
"I need you to be less likeable," she repeated with conviction.
"I didn't realize I was more likeable," he responded.
Hermione practically groaned aloud. "See, you're doing it now!"
"Doing what?" he exclaimed, utterly bewildered.
"Being charming and charismatic and witty. And of course my father can't get enough. You should hear the way he talks about you when you're not around, it's as if you're the best of friends," she said sardonically.
"You're insane," he stated, promptly.
"Oh, quite the contrary," she countered, turning around to set the kettle on the stove. "You see, you may not know this, but you're making Ron look bad, and let's face it, Ron does enough of that on his own. He's not exactly the best at first impressions."
Harry walked up and pushed her wand aside as she was about to boil the water. "My tea is the tastiest," he said, matter-of-factly causing her to roll her eyes.
"Now, if—and please note the special emphasis on the word 'if'—what you claim is true," he continued, doubt clear in his eyes, "How exactly would you have me act?"
Hermione took in a deep breath and proceeded to list off on her fingers. "Stay quiet, don't make too many jokes, refrain from laughing and smiling, and don't be overly interesting, entertaining, polite, or endearing," she outlined clinically. "If you can do that, I think Ron may have a chance of surviving dinner with my parents."
Harry's mouth opened ever so slightly. "So basically what you're saying is…I should just sit there and look pretty?"
"Precisely," she gave a nod. "Well, actually, no. Scratch the looking pretty. Just sit there."
"Now you're just asking too much of me," he declared, making as if to leave.
Hermione laughed, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him back. "When Ron finally gets into the good books, I promise you can go back to being your wonderful self," she said, her lips twitching slightly.
"Wonderful, am I?" he asked with a smirk.
"Oh, practically perfect," she assured him. "Now you go sit down while I bring out your award-winning tea."
Harry snorted, and then turned to walk back to the sitting room.
Watching him leave, she smiled to herself.
Yep, practically perfect…to me, anyway.
The rest of the evening passed smoothly enough, with the tension between her father and Ron lessening to a much more bearable standard.
Several times during dinner, however, both her parents discreetly questioned Harry if he was feeling alright. Indeed, he was abiding by all Hermione's rules quite spectacularly and only spoke when directly addressed.
She felt somewhat bad about the whole situation, but it was clear that his silence was allowing Ron to break out of his shell a bit, as he was now forced to make conversation on his own.
Later that night, after both boys had left, Hermione was in the kitchen with her mother washing all the left over dishes from dinner.
"Clever what you did there," her mum spoke suddenly, as she vigorously scrubbed a pot.
Hermione turned to look at her with her eyebrows furrowed in question. "What are you talking about?"
Her mum paused her actions to face her daughter, one arm placed on her hip. "Stripping poor Harry of his personality," she replied, pointedly.
Hermione didn't even bother trying to deny it, and turned back around to resume drying the dishes. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," she said with a shrug.
"Yes, I suppose," her mum conceded. "Remind me to hide the remote from your father tomorrow. You know how annoyed that gets him."
"He deserves much worse than that," Hermione declared, viciously drying a pair of knives.
The older woman carefully reached for the utensils and placed them further away from her scowling daughter.
"I agree," she replied. "But perhaps murder isn't the best answer, dear."
Hermione gave a small sniff of amusement as she slumped down into a kitchen chair. "I just want him to like my friends," she said grumpily.
Her mum smiled at her sympathetically. "He will," she assured her. "He's already half way there, and I'm sure Ron will grow on him eventually."
Hermione shrugged wordlessly.
Her mum took a seat across from her and grabbed the younger girl's hands. "Hey," she said in a conspiratorial voice. "Just be glad it's Harry that he's so fond of."
She looked up to see her mother give her a suggestive wink.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" she responded slyly, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Oh, you know—it'll just make things much easier if and when he becomes a real member of the family."
Hermione snorted loudly, and then slouched back against the chair, staring off into space. "Wishful thinking, Mum. Wishful thinking…" she murmured wistfully.
"And why do you say that?" the older woman asked seriously, propping her head up in her hand.
She turned and smiled sadly at her mother. "He doesn't feel the same," she answered simply.
"And he told you this himself?"
Hermione traced small circles on the wooden table top, as she felt a familiar sadness creep up on her that had been buried for a while now.
"Of course not," she whispered.
Her mother sighed, leaning back against her chair. "When are you going to tell him?" she said in an almost pleading tone.
Hermione gritted her teeth. "Not until I know," she retorted abruptly.
The older woman opened her mouth to respond but her daughter cut her off immediately.
"I love him. I love him so much," she stated, feeling a familiar stinging in her eyes. "And I just can't…I can't risk putting my heart on the line like that. I won't do it! Not until I know that he loves me back."
"Oh, Hermione…" her mum breathed, pushing the hair back from the younger girl's face and cupping her cheek. "How can you know if you never tell him the truth? What if he feels the same way, but he doesn't want to say anything? Are you really going to destroy your chances of being together simply because you're afraid?"
"Afraid…my daughter, afraid?" she continued fervently. "That's not the Hermione Granger I know."
Hermione felt a single tear roll down her cheek.
"It's not about losing him," she responded finally, her voice feeling slightly scratchy. "I know that no matter what, he'd never give up our friendship."
"Then what's it about?" her mother asked softly.
"I'd rather be in this state of uncertainty—this limbo, than ever have to hear those words come out of his mouth. To hear his rejection…I simply couldn't…" she trailed off, throwing her head in her hands in shame. "God, I'm such a coward."
The older woman engulfed her daughter in a warm hug, rocking her gently as if she were but a child.
"No, love…you're human," she whispered gently.
Hermione lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow was Harry's birthday and the first time she'd see him since her conversation with her mother. It was a thought that left nervous butterflies in her stomach.
It wasn't as if she was actually considering telling him about her feelings. However, for the first time, she wasn't wholly against the idea, either. There was a miniscule seed of possibility implanted in her by her mother, and it was definitely a start.
Hermione sighed loudly, turning on her side and running a hand smoothly across her pillow. She then brought her nose down and inhaled deeply, a small frown forming on her face.
It didn't smell like him anymore.
The first couple of days after Harry had moved back to the Burrow, his scent had lingered in her bed and she revelled in it. After all, it wasn't very often that she had to chance to breathe him in without any inhibition.
She wished she could just bottle it forever like some sort of fragrance. It was so calming, so familiar. It tickled at her very heart and enveloped her in its warmth.
Hermione eventually drifted off into sleep as her mind continued to try and recall, in vain, the memory of his scent.
"Mum!" Hermione shouted from her open doorway the next morning, frantically brushing through her wet hair. "Did you see my red blouse anywhere?"
"What red blouse?" her mother's voice sounded from down the stairs.
"The one you got me for Christmas a couple of years back!" she yelled back.
"It's in the laundry room!"
"Thanks!"
After getting dressed, Hermione surveyed her hair critically in the mirror.
"Frightful, as usual," she muttered to herself, blowing a strand away from her face.
She loathed admitting it, even to herself, but she desperately wanted to look presentable today. Maybe even somewhat attractive.
At that thought, she scoffed and stuck her tongue out at the mirror.
Ooh, very attractive indeed, Granger.
She shook her mess of hair so that it fell over her face, and raised an eyebrow in a ridiculous attempt at looking seductive.
"How do you like me now, Harry?" she said in a deep titillating voice that immediately caused her to break into a fit of giggles.
Oh, Merlin, I'm an idiot, she mused.
"Okay, stop. Be serious," she demanded, pointing a finger at her reflection.
She tapped her chin, pondering what on earth to do with the unfortunate nest that sat upon her head.
"Ooh, I got it!" she exclaimed excitedly.
Taking her wand, she muttered a quick spell that caused her hair to form a perfect braid behind her head.
Not bad, Granger, not bad.
"Oh, why thank you," she responded aloud in an overly posh voice.
Okay, I really am going mental.
There was only one thing left to do, now. The very thing she dreaded most.
Hermione took a deep breath and carefully unzipped her mother's make-up bag. She took out various items and placed them along her dresser, and then simply stared at them.
Most of the items, she'd never even touched before. Indeed, the only time in her life she'd worn anything besides good old cover-up had been the Yule Ball and Bill and Fleur's wedding. And on both occasions it was with the help of other, more talented people.
Where were Lavender and Parvati when you needed them?
And so, it was with unsteady and inexperienced hands that Hermione finally attempted the unthinkable.
And it was with those same hands that she dragged her mother to the loo half an hour later to fix the horrendous damage that she'd managed to create.
When she was finally finished, Hermione headed downstairs with her gift in hand to say good-bye to her parents and apparate to the Burrow.
Her dad's face broke out into an impish grin as his eyes travelled her up and down.
"What?" she said bluntly.
"Nothing," he replied much too innocently.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.
"I was just thinking that Harry is really going to appreciate your gift," he stated. "Oh, and also that box in your hands, as well."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she responded, practically snarling at him.
"Nothing!" he insisted with a chuckle as his wife pinched him painfully on his thigh.
"Ignore him, dear," her mother said. "He's just jealous that he wasn't invited."
Hermione pursed her lips, still eyeing her father distastefully.
"Look, what I meant to say was, you look very lovely today, Hermione," he stated in a pacifying voice. "Are you wearing make-up?"
"So what if I am?" she retorted, defensively, placing a hand on her hip. "I'm nearly nineteen years old, you know."
"I know, I know," he replied, raising his hands. "And the perfect amount, as well, may I add. Very natural, very beautiful. You'll knock Harry right off his feet."
Hermione stomped her foot childishly on the ground, throwing her father the same glare she'd given him since she was old enough to be self-aware. "This is not for Harry!" she exclaimed.
She was lying through her teeth, of course. It was all for Harry.
But she'd rather be thrown off a hippogriff than admit that to her father.
She watched with glee as her mum pinched him in exactly the same spot, causing him to cry out. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry," he declared, moving to sit on the opposite end of the couch.
"Yeah, I'm sure," she responded sarcastically, crossing her arms. "Just because you fancy Harry, Dad, doesn't mean the rest of us do."
Her mother gave an almighty howl of laughter and levelled her husband with a gaze. "Should I be jealous, Dave?" she inquired.
Her father merely rolled his eyes, and then shooed Hermione out the back door. She waved goodbye and disappeared with a loud pop, landing on the outer edges of the Weasley's large backyard.
Giving herself a once over on the shed window, she knocked on the back door which was opened seconds later by a smiling Ginny.
"Hey, Hermione!" the girl greeted, enveloping her in a hug. She then stepped back a back a bit and gave her an appraising look. "Wow…you look hot!"
"What?" Hermione squeaked, suddenly worried that everyone would immediately spot her true intentions.
She then shook that thought. It was perfectly normal to dress up nicely for someone's birthday. And she was wearing jeans for Merlin's sake! She just needed to relax.
"Yeah, red looks fantastic on you," Ginny responded earnestly. She then gave a loud snort. "If I ever tried to pull off that colour, I'd just look like an old scab being reopened."
Hermione grimaced at that mental image, but let herself be led by Ginny into the sitting room where Harry, Ron, and Luna were already seated.
As her eyes fell on Harry, she felt butterflies immediately erupt in her stomach. He wasn't dressed too fancy, by any means, but he did have on a button-down shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. It was actually quite ridiculous how much the green seemed to pop. Ridiculous, but oh so enticing.
She greeted Ron and Luna, and then went to embrace Harry warmly.
"Happy birthday," she said into his ear.
An unfamiliar fragrance met her nose as she breathed in. She could still detect the Harry-scent, but this other foreign smell was much stronger and had a much greater effect on the already erratic butterflies in her stomach.
She stepped back and raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you wearing cologne?" she inquired with a small smirk.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can thank Mrs. Weasley for that."
"I just might. It's quite…nice," she admitted, going in for another whiff.
He pushed her away playfully, and then levelled her with his own look.
"What?" she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
"Nothing, it's just…You look really nice," he said sincerely, giving her a small smile.
Hermione fought hard to keep her blush down. "Thanks…you, too."
"What are you two blabbering about?" Ron called from the opposite side of the room, abruptly ending their exchange.
She was actually somewhat grateful, though as she feared she was seconds away from word-vomiting all over Harry's nice green shirt.
Phrases in her mind such as 'Merlin, you're gorgeous' and 'Would you mind terribly if I just threw my lips on yours' had been floating dangerously close to the speech centre of her brain.
"Who else is coming?" Hermione asked, pushing those errant thoughts away as she took a seat next to Luna.
"Neville should be here soon. Hagrid, Bill and Fleur are stopping by later, Percy, too," Ginny answered, ticking off on her fingers. "Oh! And Andromeda and Teddy!"
Hermione brightened up at this. She'd only seen Teddy once and very briefly, and of course it had been in the very worst of circumstances as it was his parent's funeral.
"Have you seen him at all since…?" she asked, trailing off slightly.
"Andromeda brings him by about once a week now," Harry replied, understanding her implication.
"She even taught Harry how to change a nappy," Ron added amusedly, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder.
Harry groaned, slouching down in his seat. "Oh Merlin, don't remind me."
"Were you not successful?" Hermione asked with a small smirk.
"Success wasn't the problem. The problem was the…well, the…you know—"
"The excrement?" Luna supplied in a dreamy voice.
"Precisely," he stated, inclining his head toward her.
The other three immediately laughed at his expense, but were met with a glare from Mrs. Weasley who had just entered the room and apparently heard the latter part of the their conversation.
"Oh, hush up," she said sternly. "I think it's very admirable the way that Harry has fully taken on his responsibilities as godfather. You lot would do well to learn from him."
"We know, Mum, we're just teasing," Ginny stated, causing Molly to harrumph loudly.
"What's Teddy like, anyway?" Hermione asked with interest.
Before anyone could respond, however, there was a knock on the back door, and Mrs. Weasley opened it revealing none other than Andromeda and a baby Teddy nestled in her arms.
Hermione smiled softly as she noticed Harry's face light up when the pair walked into the sitting room.
"Happy birthday, Harry," Andromeda greeted warmly, adjusting the bundle in her arms as she placed a peck on the young man's cheek.
"Thank you," he replied, taking a peek at the bundle. "Is he asleep?"
"Unfortunately. Not even apparition can wake this one up. Heavy sleeper, just like his mother," she said lovingly, but with sadness clear in her eyes.
"May I hold him?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Of course, dear. You know you don't have to ask," she insisted, gently passing the sleeping child over to him. "Although, I don't know how much entertainment he'll bring in his current state."
Harry shrugged, nonchalantly. "I was getting bored with this lot, anyway," he responded, giving them all a good-natured grin.
As everyone continued their now softer conversations around her, Hermione could only stare at the image of Harry sitting on the couch with the small blue bundle in his arms. He seemed content to simply hold Teddy and gaze at him, as if this was the most fun he'd had all day.
It felt sort of strange admitting it to herself, but she realized that Harry had never looked more attractive in her eyes than at this very moment. He'd always been a very caring person, but this gentle side of him made her heart swell immensely.
Hermione walked over and took a seat next to him. "What's it like?" she asked softy, her eyes on the gentle rise and fall of the baby's chest.
Harry looked at her and she was taken aback for a moment by the emotion in his eyes. "Incredible," he said sincerely. "I mean, I know I'm just his godfather, and he barely knows me yet, but…I sort of feel as if he's mine. Like he's a part of me, somehow. Like he needs me…"
"I've never felt that way about anything," he added quietly almost as if to himself. "I just hope I don't screw this up."
She brushed a gentle finger on Teddy's sandy brown hair. "You won't...He's going to love you so much," Hermione proclaimed, with a sort of awe in her voice.
Harry didn't say anything for a moment, but simply stared at the child in his arms once again. "I'll love him more," he replied finally, his green eyes glistening.
Teddy shifted at that very moment, his eyes blinking rapidly as they adjusted to his new state of wakefulness.
Hermione, who had never had much experience with small babies, was struck by how adorable his fidgety movements and small noises of discomfort were.
Just as she thought this, however, he let out a shrill cry that nearly pierced her ear drums.
"Merlin, that munchkin has pipes on him," Ron said loudly with a pained expression.
Harry merely chuckled as he held the baby against his chest and started rubbing his back soothingly.
She watched in amazement as Teddy quickly quieted down and rested his plump cheek on Harry's shoulder, turning his head sideways to look at her. Her heart nearly melted as his large eyes scrutinized her from the safety of his godfather's arms.
"You're quite good at that," she told him, more than a little impressed.
"Well, it's all natural instinct, really," he replied smugly.
Hermione raised a sceptical brow, knowing full well that the first time he'd tried to hold Teddy, he'd nearly dropped him out of fear.
"And a little of Mrs. Weasley's help," he conceded. "But only a little."
"Oh, I'm sure. How old is he now?" she asked, leaning in to blow gently on Teddy's little face.
He gave a small giggle and squirmed away from her.
"About four months," Harry answered, grimacing as Teddy tugged forcefully on his hair. "He really loves doing that for some reason."
Hermione laughed delightfully, never having seen a more endearing sight.
"You're going to go bald very quickly if you don't learn to put your foot down, Harry," Andromeda declared, as she and Molly walked in.
Harry brushed it off, handing the small child to his grandmother for feeding.
Hermione glanced sideways at him, grinning to herself. She had a feeling Harry would never learn to put his foot down where his godson was concerned.
After about half an hour, the rest of the guests had at last arrived, and everyone sat around a large table outside. Mrs. Weasley had once again outdone herself and cooked enough food to feed all of Hogwarts and then some.
Pleasant chatter filled the air as everyone reacquainted themselves with their neighbours.
"What have you been up to this summer, Luna?" Hermione asked politely to the girl sitting next to her.
"Daddy and I have mostly been out hunting," she replied, attempting very carefully to cut a pea in half. "We haven't been successful so far, but it's been nice to get away. Sometimes the world can be very suffocating."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "I agree," she stated. "It's great that you have that. You know…to escape the world."
"Do you have anywhere to escape?" Luna asked with interest.
She passed a fork through her potatoes as she pondered the question. "Books, I suppose," she answered, looking into the other girl's large eyes.
Luna nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes. Books can take you on many journeys. An excellent alternative to reality, in my opinion."
Hermione smiled, knowing full well the truth of those words.
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could be the author of own lives?" the younger girl added, a dreamy look in her eyes as she nibbled on her half-pea.
Hermione shrugged. "You could have whatever you wanted, I suppose."
"Oh, but would you?" Luna disputed earnestly. "That would make for a rather dull story, wouldn't you agree? No…I think every book needs a good struggle. Otherwise…well, it's not really worth it."
"But what if someone doesn't care for a worthy story?" Hermione countered. "What if they just want to be happy?"
Luna tapped her fork against her mouth, appearing to be in deep thought about this. "I guess it would depend on your definition of happiness."
Hermione scrunched her eyebrows, feeling rather lost in this strange conversation. "And what's your definition?"
"Oh, I'd be much more interested to hear yours," Luna replied, smiling serenely.
The older girl sighed, suddenly regretting initiating this chat.
"You don't have to answer just yet. Questions such as these can take years, after all."
Hermione smiled wanly. "I'll get back to you then."
A small bout of silence ensued between the two girls.
"I should apologize," Luna said suddenly.
Hermione looked at her in confusion. "For what?"
"For my curiosity. Sometimes it makes others uncomfortable," she answered. "But you see, I was merely curious if you truly believed that having whatever you wanted would make you happy."
"Well...I didn't—I mean…what?" Hermione uttered, replaying their conversation rapidly in her head.
Before Luna could respond, however, their exchange was cut short by Mrs. Weasley bringing out a rather lovely looking cake and setting it down in front of Harry.
Hermione gazed at the scene before her, not really taking anything in as her mind continued to muddle through Luna's words.
Why was it that whenever she had a conversation with the whimsical blonde-haired girl, she was left with jumbled thoughts and a pounding headache?
She ignored these musings after a while, however, and let herself relax in the enjoyable atmosphere.
It was evening now, and everyone sat around the garden in lawn chairs or simply on the ground.
Mr. Weasley, Percy, Hagrid, Bill and Fleur were in deep conversation about the rebuilding of the ministry and having Kingsley serve as interim minister.
Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Tonks were farther down discussing life after the war, in general, each woman lending a sympathetic ear to the other when it was needed.
Harry, Ron, Neville, and George were sitting around a small table playing a game of cards and discussing Quidditch stats while Hermione, Ginny, and Luna were sat on the grass making faces at a giggling Teddy.
After a while, the three girls lay back on the ground as they stared up at the starry sky, Teddy in between them lounging on his blue blanket.
"I see a hamster," Luna stated, squinting her eyes and turning her head sideways.
Ginny mimicked her actions, and then frowned. "Nope, nothing."
"I can see the Big Dipper," Hermione offered.
Ginny gave her a look. "Minus five points for lack of creativity."
Hermione sighed in defeat, but returned to searching the night sky.
"How about you, Teddy? Do you see anything?" Luna asked the baby, who was currently chewing on a small toy owl.
"Ghrrrh gh mah…mmm," he gurgled, kicking his legs in the air.
"Hey, he's doing better than Hermione," Ginny said enthusiastically, earning a painful flick to the ear.
After some time, their star-gazing was interrupted as the boys came to join them on the ground.
"Looks like Teddy's got more game with the ladies than you do, Harry," George declared, watching as Ginny lightly tickled the baby's belly.
This earned a loud bark of laughter from both Neville and Ron, the latter roughly nudging Harry in the shoulder.
"Well I've taught him everything he knows," Harry assured them all.
"That poor, poor child," George stated, shaking his head solemnly.
Even Harry had to laugh at the unfortunate truth to those words.
"Do you suppose he'll be a metamorphmagus?" Ginny asked curiously.
"It'll be too early to tell. Metamorphmagi start exhibiting their powers after about a year. At first, they do it unconsciously, usually mimicking features such as the hair and eye colour of those around them. Conscious and full body transformations take years to master, however," Hermione answered, sounding as always, as if she swallowed a textbook.
"That must be wicked," Ron said wistfully. "I could make myself look much more buff."
"And much less ugly," George added, causing everyone to chuckle.
"I think I'd like to see the world through lilac-coloured eyes," Luna stated dreamily.
Neville frowned. "Wouldn't it just look the same?" he asked in confusion.
"Well I don't know, I've never had lilac-coloured eyes," she replied simply.
"Fair point," George said, inclining his head toward her. An uncharacteristically soft smile then formed on his face. "Look guys, the poor little bugger is completely knackered."
Everyone set their gaze on Teddy whose eyelids had indeed begun slowly drooping.
"He's quite lovely when he sleeps, isn't he?" Ginny sighed.
"He's always lovely," Harry corrected somewhat defensively.
Ron chuckled softly. "Not when he's screaming bloody murder, he's not."
They all gave small murmurs of assent.
"Shh, you'll wake him," Hermione whispered, covering the baby gently with his blanket.
Andromeda approached soon after, announcing that it was way past her and Teddy's bedtime. She said her goodbyes to everyone in the garden and wished Harry a happy birthday one last time before apparating home. Luna, Neville, and Hagrid followed suit not long after, and Harry thanked them all profusely for coming.
"Alright, everyone, it's clean-up time!" Mrs. Weasley declared, clapping her hands together.
Everyone groaned loudly, including Mr. Weasley much to Hermione's amusement.
"Ah, ah, ah, not you, dear!" Mrs. Weasley chastised Harry who was in the process of stacking chairs. "It's still your birthday, after all. You just go sit inside and relax, there's a good boy."
Hermione and Ginny shared an amused smile, knowing full well that Harry would never be able to relax with everyone else working. Nevertheless, he followed both girls inside and leaned awkwardly against the countertop as they proceeded to do the dishes.
It had become a sort of tradition many summers ago that the two of them would always share dishwashing duty. It proved to be a great time to catch up on girl talk, after all, as most of the boys endeavoured to stay as far away from the kitchen as possible. Therefore, they were both caught a bit off guard by Harry's sudden presence.
"Really?" Ginny asked him pointedly, as she and Hermione simply turned to stare at him.
"What?" he said, startled out of some sort of reverie.
"You look like a creep just standing there and watching us, Harry," Hermione supplied.
He flushed an amusing shade of red which caused Ginny to giggle. "I don't know what else to do," he shrugged sheepishly. "I don't really fancy sitting alone."
"Sit wherever you like, we're just joking," Hermione said, smiling at him good-naturedly.
The two girls then glanced at each other with mischievous glints in their eyes.
"So, I just had the absolute worst cramps this month, do you think there's some kind of potion for that?" Ginny asked somewhat loudly in conversational tone.
Hermione pretended to be deep in thought about it for a moment, before shaking her head. "Nothing specific that I've heard of. A general pain relieving one usually does the trick for me."
She fought extremely hard to keep a straight face as she caught sight of Harry. Never before had she seen him turn such a shade of red, and the discomfort was so clearly etched in his features.
"Harry, are you alright?" Ginny asked suddenly, feigning concern. "You look a little flushed."
"Wh—no—er—I'm," he choked out, standing up suddenly and running a nervous hand through his hair. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, walking up to him. She placed a hand on his forehead, and bit her lip. "Hmm…you're a little warm."
He turned, if possible, even redder.
"Maybe I should get him some pepper-up potion," Ginny suggested. "It usually works for me during—"
"I'm fine!" Harry interrupted loudly, stepping backwards and bumping into the table behind him. "I'm just going to go, um, you know…hang out with the guys outside."
He turned around and walked briskly out of the kitchen before they could say another word. And as soon as he disappeared, Hermione and Ginny instantly broke out into laughter.
"We're terrible. We are terrible human beings," Hermione said, wiping at her eyes.
Ginny only giggled harder, clapping her hands together like a seal. "I've never seen him so embarrassed," she exclaimed, her voice higher in pitch than normal.
"Well obviously, this is Harry we're talking about!" Hermione stated. "God, even Ron would have handled that better."
"Poor, poor, Harry," the redhead remarked, shaking her head. "Sometimes I forget that he's just an innocent little boy at heart."
Hermione smiled at that, letting the image of a blushing Harry replay in her mind as the two girls finally resumed their dishwashing duties. She couldn't help but find it so desperately adorable.
Once they were finished, Ginny headed upstairs for a quick wash and Hermione poked her head out the door to see if the boys were still out there.
"You all done?" she called, seeing only Ron laying on one of the lawn chairs outside.
He turned to look at her and nodded.
"Where did everyone go?" she asked as she walked over to take a seat next to him.
"Bill and Fleur just left, and the rest are inside, I think," he answered.
"And you're out here alone because…?"
"I was too tired to move."
"Of course," she replied, amused.
"What did you do to Harry, by the way?" he asked, suddenly. "He came out here looking like You-Know-Who had just come back to life."
"Why do you assume I did something to him?" she responded with one eyebrow raised.
"Because the only words I could get out of him were 'Hermione' and 'Ginny'," Ron said, crossing his arms in a superior manner. "What, did you two proposition him or something?"
Hermione scoffed loudly, throwing him a scandalized look and smacking him on the arm.
Ron simply chuckled. "Relax, I'm only joking."
"Obviously," she retorted, giving him a hard look. "And if you really want to know, Ginny and I were merely discussing matters of the feminine nature in front of him."
"What the bloody hell does that mean?"
"Language," she reprimanded. "And you know…girl things. Girl things that tend to occur on a monthly basis."
He stared at her in confusion for a moment before understanding finally dawned on his features, followed soon after by disgust. "Ugh," he shuddered. "Why on earth would you talk about that in public?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We were only doing it to mess with him," she admitted. "But boy was it worth it. His face was so red I thought he was going to burst."
"I can't believe you," Ron said, shaking his head. "And you call us immature!"
"Oh, relax," she stated, brushing her hand aside. "It's not like we went into any sort of detail."
"Ugh!" Ron repeated, waving his hands in front of him. "Stop right there!"
Hermione laughed vindictively, very much enjoying his discomfort.
"Can we talk about something else, please?" he practically pleaded.
"Fine," she conceded, lying back in her seat. "What would you like to talk about?"
Ron stared at her for a moment, his lips parted slightly.
She looked at him strangely. "What?"
"Er…" he uttered, turning his head away and looking around him as if he just noticed his surroundings.
"Ron?"
"Um…"
"Ron…?" she repeated slowly, now thoroughly confused with his behaviour.
"Actually, there is, um, something I wanted to talk to you about."
"What is it?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
"How's your dad?" he inquired abruptly.
Hermione scrutinized him for a moment. Somehow she was certain that this wasn't what he'd wanted to ask.
"He's okay," she responded, suddenly remembering what she'd been meaning to tell him. "Listen, Ron, about his whole…attitude problem the other day. Well, that was sort of my fault, really. He wasn't being harsh with you because of anything you'd done at the moment. It's just that I told him and Mum about you leaving during the horcrux hunt, and he sort of…resented you for it."
Ron didn't say anything, but his face had turned considerably paler.
"I shouldn't have told him. It was something private between you, Harry, and me. But it just sort of came out as I was telling them about the past year," she explained. "I feel terrible about it."
Ron cleared his throat and shook his head slightly. "No, don't. I mean…it's the truth, isn't it?"
Hermione sighed. "But it was none of his business to know. Harry and I forgave you a long time ago. It's in the past now, Ron," she insisted.
He just shrugged, avoiding her eyes.
She sighed again, this time louder. "Would you stop?" she demanded.
"Stop what?"
"Looking like someone's just kicked your puppy," she said, folding her arms. "It's only my dad, Ron. His opinion should hardly warrant such a miserable look on your face."
"Yet it does," he said so quietly that she had only just heard him.
She stared at him carefully. "Why?"
Ron rubbed his face suddenly, and leaned over with his elbows on his knees. He was acting in that same bizarre manner as he'd done before.
He exhaled loudly after a moment and finally looked up at her. "There's, um…something I've been meaning to talk to you about."
"Okay," she replied simply.
He visibly swallowed, and she was struck by just how nervous he appeared. What on earth could make him this nervous?
"It's about…during the final battle…"
And just like that, understanding crashed down upon her in forceful waves.
The kiss…
Oh, no…
Oh, please, no…
"Ron…" she said weakly, dread filling her very core.
This was just about the last conversation she ever wanted to have, but deep down, she knew it was inevitable. She couldn't run away from this any longer.
"You kissed me," Ron finally choked out, a hint of awe lacing his tone.
Hermione stared at her clasped hands for a moment, before pulling her head back up to see Ron gazing at her intently with his baby blue eyes.
God…that look in his eyes. It nearly broke her heart.
"Hermione…I…"
She shook her head silently at him, willing him to stop. But he didn't seem to understand.
"I have feelings for you."
Ron's eyes widened at his own proclamation, as if he couldn't believe the words had just come out of his own mouth.
She continued to stare at him soundlessly while her mind screamed an endless chorus of 'No's!'.
What was she supposed to say now?
How could she tell him that she only saw him as a friend, a brother?
Why, oh why, did it have to be her?
"You're not saying anything…" Ron said quietly, fear appearing in his eyes for the first time.
"Oh, Ron," she whispered.
He swallowed thickly as he stared at her. "Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly.
He cleared his throat gruffly, and looked away from her.
"Ron…that moment in the corridor, when I ran to you," she started hesitantly. "Well, I—I wanted to give you a simple kiss on the cheek. But then at the last second you…you—"
"No!" he exclaimed suddenly, standing up to tower over her. "I did not imagine this. Don't you dare tell me it wasn't real, Hermione. Don't you dare!"
"Ron," she whispered again, feeling her eyes start to blur. "I'm so sorry…"
He started breathing heavily as he stared at her, looking as if he'd just been betrayed.
"You turned your head at the last second," she stated in a small voice.
Ron whipped around on his heel so that his back was facing her. He then let out a loud noise that sounded somewhat like a growl as he kicked at the ground.
For the first time since the start of the conversation, and since the start of their friendship really, she felt just the smallest bit frightened by him.
He turned back around suddenly then, and by the look on his face she knew that he had seen the fear in her eyes. He stared at her for a moment with is mouth slightly open in shock, and then just like that he crumpled defeatedly onto his chair, holding his head in his hands.
"You're afraid of me," he said, his voice quavering slightly.
"Ron, no…"
"Not really the emotion I wanted you to feel," he continued. He then hung his head low. "Merlin, I'm such a bleeding idiot."
"Can we please talk about this?" she implored, touching his arm.
But he immediately yanked it away from her, leaving her with a feeling of coldness seeping into her very heart.
"What's there to talk about?" he snarled. "I fancy you, you don't fancy me back. It's quite simple. Even a prat like me could figure that one out."
"You're not a prat," she said vehemently.
"I can't believe I actually thought I had a chance…" he stated, giving a mirthless laugh.
"Stop it!" she cried suddenly causing him to jerk his head up. "There is nothing wrong with you. You're funny and caring and brave…"
She shook her head. "So incredibly brave…" she whispered. "To tell me how you feel? That takes a special kind of courage, Ron. And I so admire you for that."
He stared at her somewhat wearily. "None of it matters, though," he said in that same monotone voice.
But although his voice held no emotion, his eyes were practically overflowing with it.
And it was then that Hermione saw it, she saw it as clear as day and it made her insides twist with agony.
He was in love with her.
She didn't know how, and she sure as hell didn't know why. But it was there.
Ron stood up a moment later, staring anywhere but at her face. "Can we just forget this ever happened?" he asked, his voice sounding scratchy.
She nodded wordlessly. "Ron…I'm so sorry…"
"It's not your fault," he muttered mechanically, turning away from her to head back inside.
"Please don't let this change anything," she called after him somewhat desperately. "You're my best friend…"
His back tensed automatically at her words.
She waited for his response, held her breath lest she miss it. But no response ever came. He simply walked silently back into the house without looking back.
Hermione felt like falling straight to the ground where she stood, but with a willpower she didn't know she possessed, she apparated back home, greeted her parents with a fake smile, and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.
Not a moment later, however she heard a knock on her door.
"Hermione?" her mother said softly. "What's wrong?"
Despite her inner turmoil, she had to appreciate the fact that no matter how well she put up a mask, no matter that she could fool her father quite easily, her mum would always be able to see right through it.
And so, it was with a heavy heart that she explained all that had occurred, letting tears fall freely down her face as she broke down in her mother's arms.
Because she was cursed to love someone that didn't love her back.
And because she was loved by someone that she couldn't love back.
And most of all, because she now knew just much pain could be caused by putting one's heart on the line.
And she wouldn't risk it.
No…she was not going to risk it.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this new, and extremely long installment. The longest yet, I believe! Now, just because I know someone will ask this...what Hermione thinks and feels isn't always reality, therefore if she makes a statement about Harry's feelings, for example, we shouldn't assume it is fact. In other news, I recently updated my favorites section on my profile page if anyone is looking for some great stories to divulge in. I'm sure there are many other stories I've read that I've enjoyed but these are the one that stuck out to me, some for stranger reasons than others. But they're all great so yay! Anyway...as always let me know what you guys think! Questions, comments, complaints, whatever. Thanks so much for reading, good day :)