A/N: This fic was supposed to be a few short chapters of fluff but it's quickly turned into a fairly substantial one (still pretty fluffy, though). I know how it's going to end, but the middle parts just keep growing on me! Anyways, I hope you enjoy and would love to hear your reviews. I'm also on the HMS Harmony Discord if you ever want to chat there. Happy reading!

Tuesday, 11/16/1998

Harry's alarm woke him from a dead sleep. Groaning into his pillow, he groused to himself about the injustice of morning classes. He heaved himself up, sagging against the headboard as he blearily blinked and willed himself awake. Suddenly he gasped, almost tumbling out of bed as the events of last night came rushing back to him. He vividly recalled the feeling of Hermione in his arms, the memory filling him up like a hundred warm Butterbeers.

I'll gladly miss sleep for that.

He swung out of his four-poster with a starstruck expression on his face, unsure of whether to feel giddy or terrified.

So much had happened yesterday. He had said so much. He had admitted, inadvertently, that he needed Hermione so bad he had accepted her being in danger just to have her near him. He had not gone on the Horcrux Hunt alone for the same selfish reason. Yet, Hermione did not scorn him when hearing this. She had not run away, or even made fun of his stupid flower idea. She had embraced him and told him she was happy they had survived together.

Better yet, she had said that magic word, future, the one that had kept him tossing and turning long after he reached his bed last night.

Future. Fu-ture. F-U-T-U-R-E. He rolled the word around on his tongue, as if learning it for the first time. Last night had certainly given him a Patronus memory, but he wondered if one could also have a Patronus word. He felt so giddy and joyous at the sound of the word that he was sure he could produce a corporeal Patronus just from someone saying the word future in earshot. Did the spell even work like that?

Or maybe it was just that the word was inextricably linked to the memory now, and so he could not help but recall the memory when he heard the word. The words Hermione and future were now linked permanently in his head.

Danger zone, danger zone, DANGER ZONE! She said "future," not marriage, not kids, just "future." That could mean anything!

But it was not just the word, but the way she had said it, with the tears pooling in her eyes and her repeated assurances that she was happy. He had made her cry happy tears, and that meant he made her happy, and so what if he was in that dangerous corner of his mind again? She had practically beckoned him there!

And then he had said the word future as well, but to him it was crystal clear what it meant. That was the crux of it. Did she realize what Harry had meant, when he said he wanted a future with her? Hermione probably just meant sticking together through life, regardless of where their relationship took them. Maybe she pictured lunches together when they entered the working world, or a weekly pint at the Leaky Cauldron. Not this. Not Harry's ring and cottage and growing old together.

It was probably for the best that she didn't understand his meaning. After all, she had said yes to flowers but it wasn't like that was a marriage proposal or anything.

He stilled at that thought.

You could, technically, signal intent to marry with certain flowers. Maybe he could get them for her. Or maybe, he would just give them to her casually, and not explain the meaning, and then he could pretend she did know what it meant, and then he would put them in a vase in the imaginary cottage. He had just the spot. It would be right on the hearth, next to the photos of their family and her rows and rows of books.

Shaking his head as he stepped into the shower, Harry sighed. I really am a total ponce, aren't I? Hopeless. But the starstruck grin did not leave his face.

After dressing for the day, Harry had reread the description of semper fideles, the flower used to propose marriage, about 8 times in Ars Floris. When he finally looked up from the book, he realized everyone had already gone to breakfast and rushed to the Great Hall in a dead sprint. He hoped he could still catch his friends. Ron would gladly maximize his meal time, but Hermione liked to get to classes early, and they only had 20 minutes before Transfiguration.

Thankfully, Ron and Hermione were at the Trio's usual spot at the end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione was nursing some tea, clearly ready to get going with their day. Ron was still eating like a vacuum, consuming a super-sized version of the full English breakfast with superhuman speed.

Still sporting his stupid grin, Harry slid into his usual seat, nudging Hermione's side as he stole a sip of her tea.

"Hey!" He shot her a wide grin. "Thanks for saving me some tea."

Snorting, she snatched it back. "Hey. Glad you liked it. There's a whole pot over there, you know."

"Yeah, but I like your tea especially. The pot just won't do."

"Why's that?" she challenged.

Leaning in to whisper to her, he paused a beat.

"Because it tastes like you."

Hermione blushed scarlet, mouth agape as she struggled to retort. Shocked at his own vulgarity, Harry turned away to hide his embarrassment. Where the hell did that come from? Am I turning into Cormac McLaggen?

As Harry fumbled for the teapot, he felt Hermione nudge his arm. He rotated to face her with apprehension, fearing a stern lecture or a slap.

She had turned to fully face him, nervously biting her lip as she held out her tea mug to him with both hands. He stole a glance at her eyes, bright in the morning light from the enchanted ceiling. She's...not mad? But then, does that mean...

"For me?"

She nodded, her hair falling out of place as she did.

Harry glanced back down at her small hands encircling the mug, feeling a flare of warmth shoot through his chest. He covered both her hands with his, bringing them up with the mug as he took a small sip of the tea. The warmth spread slowly through his throat, working its way down his esophagus before settling in his stomach.

It felt incredibly intimate, holding her hands and drinking from the same mug in full view of the Great Hall. This was the kind of thing lovers did. It was so casual and small, just drinking tea, but Harry felt like he would do anything just to get this little moment with her every day for the rest of his life.

I know I'm in the danger zone, I don't care, I don't care, I don't bloody care….

Still firmly covering her hands and the mug, he leaned over to ghost a kiss on her forehead, and then turned to whisper to her again.

"Is this how it'll be, then, in the future? You give me tea and I get you flowers?" He whispered.

He could feel her intake of breath, and lingered in place, eager to hear her affirmation.

"Oi! Some of us are trying to eat, you know" Ron interjected from across the table, jarring them both.

Ron, I will snap your little wizard in half, I swear to Merlin -

"Oh honestly Ron," Hermione snapped, turned her head from Harry's, "why are you even sitting here? Just go eat at the Ravenclaw table already. The way Luna is glancing at you every 5 seconds, I'm sure she'd like to have you for breakfast. So be a dear and make us both happy."

Looking rather chuffed, Ron quickly assented, leaving Harry and Hermione alone at their corner of the table.

Chuckling, Harry pulled Hermione towards him as she tucked into his side. "Scary," he observed, voice full of pride. "Maybe that'll be the next theme for the flowers. My scary, strong witch."

Huffing, Hermione crossed her arms and burrowed her head into the crook of his shoulder. "Leave it to Ronald to ruin a nice moment. I pity Luna sometimes, I really do."

Am I allowed to do that, then? Call you my witch?

Chuckling again, Harry reached for the tea mug, offering a sip to Hermione before taking one himself.

"So, what did you do with the flowers yesterday? I was only joking, you know. If you don't like them I'll stop. I just thought-"

"I loved them, Harry. I conjured a vase for them and put them on my bedside table."

Just like the vase in the cottage. Do they look the same? Can I get a look at it so I can make the one in the cottage look the same? Danger zone, danger zone, danger zone...

Harry turned to face her, disbelieving. "Really? You actually kept them?"

"Of course I kept them! It was so sweet and thoughtful of you, I wanted to keep them right where I could see them every day."

Losing all his earlier boldness, he ducked his head and muttered to the table "And you wouldn't mind...more?"

She laughed brightly. "Would I mind more flowers? You really are a funny man, Harry James Potter. No, I would not mind that at all. Not at all."

Laughing himself, he squeezed her again and reached for their tea mug.

Well, I can promise you many, many more flowers in the future. As many as you could possibly want.