Monday, 11/22/18

Clutching a bouquet of white flowers in his fist, Harry paced the length of the Gryffindor Common Room like a caged lion. Hermione had double Arithmancy on Monday evenings, so she would have only a brief window to return to the Common Room before heading to dinner. Not wanting to miss his chance, he had been pacing back and forth for a good 30 minutes, stopping occasionally to acknowledge the greetings of his housemates but never losing sight of the portrait hole.

"Cor, Harry, what's with the big bunch of flowers?" Dean inquired, stopping to greet Harry.

"They're for Hermione," Harry muttered, not moving his eyes from the entrance to the Common Room.

"What's the occasion?"

"She's my girlfriend." He spat, heaping venom onto the word "girlfriend" as though it meant "secret Death Eater." It's really a stupid word, if you think about it, someone just mashed the words "girl" and "friend" together as though that explains it at all. There needs to be a better word, like, uh...well, not wife, but, well...shit. Danger zone, danger zone...

"Yeah, but why the flowers? Is it your anniversary or something? Don't tell me she's got you celebrating it monthly, mate. That's just too much work."

"There's no bloody occasion, Dean!" Harry seethed.

Dean raised his arms in surrender, heading off to his dorm while muttering about something about "overeager blokes ruining it for the rest of us."

Harry resumed his nervous pacing.

Am I being weird for just getting her flowers out of the blue? I thought it was normal, but every bloody person I talk to acts like it's weird, even the girls. Why does there have to be an occasion? Will Hermione be annoyed? But she said she wouldn't mind…

After Hermione's positive reception to the gemmae molles, Harry had immediately rushed off to the greenhouses and gotten her another set of flowers on Tuesday. He had waited all of last week to find a moment alone to give them to her, but the whole castle seemed to conspire against it. Everywhere they turned, there was Ron, or Ginny, or Neville, or Luna, or some other tosser wanting to be in their company. When had they made so many bloody friends?

After almost a full week of waiting, Harry had decided sod it, and resolved to just give Hermione the flowers in the Common Room. He didn't care who saw them, or what they thought. He had every right to give Hermione some flowers, and he would be damned if he let the inevitable Hogwarts rumor-mongering and gossip prevent him from doing so.

Except now he was wondering if Hermione cared. She wasn't shy about the occasional public display of affection, but maybe this was different? After all, the last time Harry had gotten her flowers she had cried. His chest seized at the memory. Happy tears or not, he hated seeing her cry. It made him feel powerless, like his whole world was fraying apart at the seams and he could do nothing but wait dumbly for Hermione's smile to return. Then, he could breathe again.

Harry hoped desperately that he would not make Hermione cry again. He would keep a tighter rein on himself, and say all of the loving and positive things he meant to, and that was it. He simply could not bear to see her cry again.

He stirred from his internal debate at the sound of the portrait hole swinging open. Harry's breath caught in his throat as Hermione stepped through, swinging her beaded bag along one shoulder. The light from the Common Room sparkled in her chocolate brown eyes as her nose scrunched up in thought. Her rich brunette curls were pulled back into a practical ponytail, but a few strands had broken free during her walk. They framed her face like an angel's halo. Merlin, she's so beautiful.

Harry loved watching Hermione lost in thought. Right now she was likely debating both sides of some issue from class in her head, her pupils flicking back and forth as she switched roles. She was probably puzzling over some discussion she'd had with Professor Vector after class. Hermione always had a dozen follow-up questions after class, but she never felt like hindering Ron and Harry when they went through classes together.

Arithmancy, though, was her exclusive domain, where she could unleash her formidable intellect in full force. Hermione would fearlessly dominate the classroom discussion, recalling every fact and proof from her extra readings, answering every question flawlessly, and suggesting a hundred improvements to Professor Vector's ideas on top of that. Harry loved watching this side of her. Often, he would slip under his invisibility cloak and go to the class just to watch Hermione. He never understood a thing she said, but watching the spark in her eyes made it worth it.

God, he loved her so much. This girl, this angel, wanted a future with him? He could not pass that up, whatever it meant. For the first time in his life Harry was eager to find out what this future held in store for him. He needed to go to her, urgently.

"Hermione!" he bellowed, heedless of the crowd as he shoved his way towards her. He gripped the flowers tightly in his left hand, not bothering to hide them behind his back. He was halfway across the room before she even heard him, turning her heard at the sound. Catching his eye, she smiled in surprise. "Harry!"

He reached her in a few long strides, ignoring all of the eyes turned their way. His momentum carried him to 2 feet before her, and he promptly got on one knee before her and raised the bouquet towards her with both hands.

For once Hermione was at a loss for words, just staring at him in shock. The din of the Common Room vanished into silence behind him. Harry felt frozen, waiting for something, anything, to indicate he should proceed.

Wait, why am I on one knee? This is so weird. Shit, shit, shit. Should I get up? Or that be weirder? Does she think I'm going to propose? Should I just like and say these are the semper fideles flowers? But that would never work, she would know, shit, shit, shit, this is beyond danger zone, this is like instant death zone, shit….

She looked down at him, clearly shocked as her eyebrows shot up and her eyes went wide. Her mouth was slightly parted, and all he could think about was how kissable those lips looked, and how he'd love to snog her senseless until her hair was a mess and her lips were swollen.

She seemed to be frozen in shock, her eyes glancing everywhere but his. The din from the Common Room died down and Harry's heart redoubled his hammering when he realized practically the entirety of Gryffindor house was watching them.

"Harry?"